Chapter Text
Tokyo Chatroom Log 20:01 13 September 2015
gameboyk: This is so cool! Just talking to strangers based on where we live. Who came up with this?
1984: That would be me.
gameboyk: !!!
gameboyk: Also have you heard about the living statues?
jellyfish: living statues?
gameboyk: Yeah, they're finding dismembered bodies around Tokyo, like works of art. Plasticized.
dime: That's ridiculous.
gameboyk: Huhhh??? I'm just stating what I know.
dime: Anyone who would actually do that doesn't exist.
1984: Some people have quite the imagination.
gameboyk: Why are you such a doubter? I've seen pictures!!
theinformant: So have I.
hound1: So have I.
dime: …
dime: You could be lying to me. I can't just take your word.
Hacker: I've seen more than pictures.
gameboyk: Ohhhh, creepy.
dime: This isn't funny.
jellyfish: please tell me you're joking.
Hacker: -_-
gameboyk: ?!?!?!?!?!
hound1: That's enough internet for today.
*
“There's a man at reception.”
Kougami jumps and nearly bashes his head into Shion's face. He almost wishes he did, if it would get her to stop sneaking up on him whenever she needs to tell him something.
He turns around and backs up a little, so there's an acceptable distance between them. (Shion looks disappointed.)
“You ruin all the fun, Kougami,” she says.
“There's a man at reception?” Kougami asks. “Does he want me?”
“He might if he saw you,” Shion says with a wink. “But no, I just came to tell you that he's there, and he's cute, and you should go look at him.”
“I told you to stop trying to set me up.”
“Just take a look.”
Kougami sighs and stands up, knowing that Shion won't leave him alone if he doesn't at least take a look. It isn't like he has to talk to the guy. At least five times per week Shion sees someone come into the office whom she thinks is cute. Some of them are criminals, but after Kagari actually tried to date one, she's stopped suggesting them.
Akane is already standing by the window separating the offices from the main lobby of the building, though she hasn't looked yet. She gives Kougami a knowing smile when he comes over. “Shion?”
“Shion.”
“It's not my fault that you two won't leave work long enough to get a date,” Shion says. “Anyone would be lucky to have you, but the only ones who do are criminals. Which is a crime in and of itself.”
“You don't have bad taste,” Akane says. “I just don't really want to date anyone right now.”
“It takes up too much time,” Kougami says. “Too much focus.”
“That's not really it,” Akane says. “I just don't feel like dating anyone. I'm new to this. I probably will eventually.”
“Have you two even looked at the guy?” Shion asks, coming over. “He won't be there forever.”
“Oh, right.” Akane and Kougami turn to scan the lobby area. The reception desk isn't so close to where they are that anyone standing there would immediately notice three people staring at them, but at the same time, if they did notice, it would be awkward.
Akane makes a small “Oh!” of surprise, and Kougami makes a small “Oh” not of surprise, but of appreciation.
“I told you,” Shion says.
“I know him,” Akane says. “He's my friend.”
“Would you consider dating him?”
“No! He's my friend.” Akane sighs. “This is the last place I'd expect to see him, but...”
“Okay, what about you, Kougami?”
Kougami watches the guy. He's tall and thin with straight black hair covering most of his face, the rest pulled back into a small ponytail. He takes a rather large envelope from the woman at reception, nods at her, then turns and walks quickly out of the building.
“Well?” Shion asks.
“I couldn't see half his face,” Kougami says. “What was he doing?”
“Do you think I keep track of everything that goes on in this building?” Shion asks.
“Yes,” Akane and Kougami say at the same time.
Shion flicks a piece of hair out of her face. “Well, I don't know what he's doing. Maybe Akane can enlighten you.”
Akane's eyes widen. “Um, his name is Ginoza Nobuchika. He works at a flower shop. He's a florist.”
“And do you think I should date him?” Kougami asks.
Akane laughs. “Don't ask me things like that! Besides, he'd probably kill me if I said yes.”
“Because he doesn't like men?” Shion asks.
“No, because he'd rather see for himself.”
*
Tokyo Chatroom Log 23:14 14 September 2015
hound1: it looks like we're the only ones here
dime: yeah
hound1: so...any interesting news?
dime: I haven't seen anything about disfigured bodies, if that's what you're getting at.
hound1: oh. Well, good.
dime: I was hoping this chatroom wouldn't be all about murders.
hound1: ah, yeah. It can get pretty morbid. We can talk about something else.
dime: Other news?
hound1: it doesn't have to be about the news. You know the guy who created this place?
dime: Not personally. Just that his username is 1984.
hound1: have you read it?
dime: read what?
hound1: 1984 by George Orwell.
dime: no.
hound1: it's a really good science-fiction book.
dime: What if 1984's username just refers to the year he was born?
hound1: Then I'd be disappointed, because it's a really great book. Do you read much science fiction?
dime: No. I haven't read much of anything lately. It would be nice to get back to reading.
hound1: Well, 1984 is short and compelling.
dime: You really like this book.
hound1: It's one of my favorites. I like to read. Especially sci-fi.
dime: I've never really gotten into fiction. I used to read a lot of non-fiction.
hound1: You might change your mind, after this.
*
“What is that?”
Ginoza nearly falls off his seat. He quickly puts down the book he's been reading, revealing Akane standing there, grinning at him.
“It's a book,” Ginoza says, standing up. His face feels hot, probably because he's been caught slacking off on his job. Well, it's not slacking off if there's no one around. Some days can be slow, and on those days he either pays extra attention to the flowers or does something else. Today he feels less foggy than he has been, so he's chosen to read.
Akane picks up the book and looks at the cover, raises her eyebrows. “1984 by George Orwell? Really? Since when do you like science-fiction?”
“It was recommended to me,” Ginoza says.
“By who?” Akane places the book on the counter and leans forward.
Ginoza looks away. “This guy on a chatroom,” he mutters.
“Ginoza! That's great! You've been talking to someone. Are you going to meet them?”
Ginoza stares at her. “Meet them?”
“That's the next step, isn't it?” Akane asks.
“Is it?” He hasn't thought about it like that. “I mean, it's just a chatroom for people from around the city. You said I should get distractions--”
“Things to do,” Akane corrects him.
“--so I signed up. Most of the people are strange, but this one person recommended me a book. They might not be a guy, actually.”
“You should meet them,” Akane says.
“I don't even know who this person is,” Ginoza protests. “What if they're...I don't know...a criminal? Shouldn't you be against this sort of thing?”
“You meet in a public place,” Akane says, “during the day, and let me know where you're going beforehand. You can be smart about it. Besides, it'd be nice to have a friend.”
“You mean, someone else so that I won't bother you when you're busy working.” He doesn't mean for that to come out.
Akane frowns at him. “No. You never bother me.”
Ginoza keeps his mouth shut against the irrational protest he has, that he is bothering her. Which makes him feel a bit pathetic, that he can't just take her word.
Akane, perhaps sensing his mood going downhill, nods towards the book on the counter. “How is it?”
“Disturbing.”
“I know someone who's a huge fan of that book,” Akane says. “I've never read it myself. I mean, I don't get to read much. But let me know how it goes.”
“The book?”
“And the meet-up.”
“There is no meet-up.”
Akane smiles at him.
“Who do you know that likes this book?” Ginoza asks.
“Oh, just a co-worker. Kougami Shinya.” Akane shrugs. “He tried to get me to read it but I didn't have the time.”
Which reminds him: “Don't you have work?” Even though he'd rather she didn't go back.
“Lunch break,” Akane says. “Wanted to see how you were doing. Good, apparently.”
Good. Yes, Ginoza thinks. Things are going well. The book is disturbing and he's not sure that he's enjoying it, but things are going well. He's talking to more people than he normally would, he's settled into his new apartment. He gets to work in a peaceful environment all day, arranging flowers in ways that are aesthetically pleasing, that please other people.
So he nods and even offers Akane a small smile.
She practically beams at him, which makes him wonder if things had really been so bad before that she's genuinely happy that he seems content.
*
Tokyo Chat Room Log 00:08 16 September 2015
hound1: just us two again. Unless you forgot to log off and are away.
dime: I'm here. This book is disturbing.
hound1: Isn't it? Especially because it could so easily become reality.
dime: There is that.
hound1: I can recommend more if you want. No one at my job listens to my recommendations.
dime: Why not?
hound1: They're all too busy. And then we can talk about them. The books.
dime: Won't we annoy the other people here?
hound1: True. Maybe we can start a private chat? Or...we can meet up.
hound1: Is that weird? One of my friends says that it's not a big deal these days.
dime: We could do that.
hound1: Great. I mean, my work schedule is really irregular but I'm sure we can figure something out.
dime: Are you a doctor or something?
hound1: Good guess. But no, I'm a detective.
gameboyk has signed on.
gameboyk: That's so cool! I wanna be a detective!
hound1: It's hard.
gameboyk: But it's not boring. Do you want to be a detective, dime?
dime: No.
gameboyk: Awwwwww
dime: I have to go.
dime has signed off.
hound1: You scared him off.
gameboyk: I'm the least scary person you'll ever meet, unless I have a gun.
hound1: Why would you have a gun?
gameboyk: Because I work with you! You're my boss!
hound1 has signed off.
*
The only sounds in the apartment are Dime's low whine and Ginoza's erratic, too-fast breathing. It stays that way for a while.
Then Ginoza, in a moment of clarity, realizes that he's having some sort of panic attack and that he'd been told, multiple times in the past, to call someone if he needed help.
He calls Akane.
Akane picks up on the first ring, probably because Ginoza doesn't usually call her. He texts, because he knows that she isn't able to pick up calls in her line of work. At least, not very often.
“Ginoza,” Akane says, and she sounds surprised, and also like she's in a public area. He can hear background noise, talking.
“I'm sorry, I've interrupted you.”
“What's wrong?”
He wonders if it's that obvious just from saying five words. And if it is, that's pretty bad. “I just—you know.”
“What happened?” Akane asks, in a way that tells him that she does know. “Should I come over?”
“I—no—I...he's a detective,” Ginoza blurts out.
There's a pause on the other line. “Who's a detective?”
“The guy in the chatroom that I've been talking to,” Ginoza says. “H-he's a detective and I can't deal with that right now but...”
“But you enjoy talking to him.”
“Y-yes, but he's a detective, Akane.”
Another pause. And then, “what's his name?”
Ginoza's mind short-circuits a bit, because he hadn't expected Akane to ask that of all things. “W-what?”
“He's a detective. He likes 1984. I'm a detective. I know someone who likes 1984. I might know him.”
“Oh. I don't know. It could be the same person, but I don't see how that would help.”
“Did he want to meet up?”
“Yes.”
“You know, your therapist said facing your fears is the best way to deal with this,” Akane says.
“No, she said acknowledging them--”
“Facing.”
Ginoza closes his eyes. “Akane, I can't. You know why.” He's practically pleading with her right now.
“You're friends with me,” Akane says.
Yes, Ginoza wants to shout, but I worry about you every day and I lose sleep over it on my worst days and if you don't text or call I start to think the worst and I can't eat or concentrate on anything... But all he says is, “I know.”
“Tomorrow I'll ask him. And if he says that he is the guy you were talking to on the chatroom, I'll take you to meet him.”
“Tsunemori!”
“Ginoza, I think this will be good for you.”
Ginoza exhales. He considers throwing the phone across the room, but then he'd need a new phone.
“This might be...exactly what you need.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ginoza asks.
“I have to go,” Akane says, “but I'll text you.”
“Akane--”
The phone clicks off.
Ginoza sets it aside and scratches Dime behind the ears. His hands have stopped shaking. He has to admit, even if Akane didn't make him feel better, she did manage to distract him. The panic attack is fading, leaving him exhausted, but he knows he won't be able to sleep. Because if he does, his mind will be turning over the idea of detectives and danger.
And he can't go there. He can't face that, even if Akane thinks he should.
And he hates himself for it. He feels weak. So he lies in bed, curled up next to Dime, and waits for Akane's text.
*
“I'm not even going to think about how weird this is,” Kougami says, “that you know the person I've been chatting with online. And that it's the same person Shion pointed out to us the other day.”
“It's a funny coincidence,” Akane says, “but then again, it's not surprising. Ginoza has a connection to the Tokyo police force.” Then she claps her hand over her mouth.
Kougami can't resist something like that. “What connection?”
“Me,” Akane answers, a bit too quickly.
Kougami frowns at her, but she turns away and starts shuffling a stack of reports that don't really need to be re-arranged.
“Anyway,” Akane continues, very deliberately not looking at him, “I think you two will get along. Just maybe don't talk about your job so much.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Kagari chimes in from where he'd been eavesdropping a few desks away, “not everyone cares about the police.”
Kougami turns to him. “You.”
“Me!”
“Is everyone in this office also on that chatroom?” Kougami asks.
“It's a good way to keep track of what's going on,” Akane says.
“You two are hopeless,” Kagari says. “At least try not to bring work into your leisure activities.”
“You're on there too!”
“Yeah, but that's because I think it's a cool concept. So, Akane-chan is setting you up on a date with dime?”
“It's not a date,” Kougami says, at the same time as Akane says, “It's a meet-up.”
“Just don't bore him to death by gushing about George Orwell the whole time,” Kagari says.
Kougami glares at him. “No one asked you.”
“Anyway, don't be late,” Akane says. “I'm sure you won't be, but just in case. Ginoza likes being on time.”
Kagari takes the opportunity to go back to his own desk, and Kougami turns to Akane, confused. “I'm never late.”
*
He is late. By ten minutes.
The ramen place Akane had chosen for them is small, and there's plenty of people sitting alone, so it doesn't actually look bad that Ginoza is sitting by himself at a table near the window.
Kougami recognizes Ginoza from the brief sighting in the police station lobby, although it's still a bit of a thrill seeing him up close. Not that he's easier to decipher, with his hair obscuring part of his face and glasses that obscure his eyes. He's tapping his fingers on the table. Part of Kougami wants to hang back and observe him for a bit—detective instinct—but Akane's reminder not to be late repeats in his head and he heads towards the table.
“I'm Kougami Shinya,” Kougami says, and Ginoza stands up. Kougami is surprised to see that Ginoza is taller than him. “Or hound1, online.” He shakes Ginoza's hand and they both sit down.
“Nice to meet you,” Ginoza says, folding his hands around a small cup of tea. “I hope you don't mind, I ordered a drink already.”
“I don't,” Kougami says, flagging down the waiter to take his own order. That done, he turns his attention back to the man across from him. Ginoza looks tired, and a bit nervous judging by the way his fingers seem to be involuntarily tapping against every surface within reach.
“You work with Akane,” Ginoza says, haltingly. “What are the chances?”
“Akane's your friend?” Kougami asks.
“Yes. We've known each other for quite a while.”
“Ah. She's fun to work with. A brilliant detective, really,” Kougami says.
“I'll take your word for it,” Ginoza says. He adjusts his glasses. “I finished 1984.”
They talk about 1984 for quite a bit while they eat. Kougami has a lot to say on the subject, and Ginoza looks like he's willing to listen. He seems to relax when Kougami talks about science fiction, and Kougami finds himself wanting to put a smile on Ginoza's face. Maybe it's because Ginoza looks tired. He isn't sure.
The conversation reaches a lull, because there's only so much to say about the book, so Kougami asks, “Do you sell synthetic flowers at your shop?”
“How did you know I'm a florist?” Ginoza asks.
“You just told me.”
Ginoza looks a bit annoyed at that, so Kougami adds, “Akane mentioned it.”
“It's not my shop,” Ginoza says, looking a bit relieved. “Why do you ask?”
“I don't really like synthetic flowers,” Kougami says, “but I can't always tell the difference. I always feel cheated when I think that a flower is real and it turns out that it's fake.”
“Aren't detectives supposed to be able to distinguish those sorts of things?” Ginoza asks, and there it is, a smirk. Not quite a smile but close enough.
“We're not all flower experts,” Kougami says.
“We don't sell synthetic flowers.” Ginoza says. “Most people who come into a flower shop want real flowers, so there's not really a point in selling fake ones.”
“I guess the advantage of a fake flower is that it doesn't die.”
“But then you appreciate the arrangement less,” Ginoza says.
Kougami raises an eyebrow. “Because it won't always be there?”
“Yes.”
Kougami twirls his spoon in his near-empty bowl. Ginoza's eaten less than him. Kougami realizes that he's probably trying to be too analytical while off the job, but it's instinct, and instinct is hard to shut down.
He goes with another instinct instead, one that's served him well in the past. “Want to go back to my place?”
Ginoza hesitates.
“You don't have to worry,” Kougami adds. “I meant for a drink. Getting to know each other in a more relaxing environment.”
“You don't have work?”
“I have the afternoon off. Have to go back tonight, though.” He grins. “Please? I'll get bored otherwise.”
“Okay,” Ginoza says. “As long as you don't find me boring.”
“Of course not.”
Which is how, half an hour later, they end up in Kougami's apartment. Ginoza takes a seat on the couch, but he has to move quite a lot of papers to be able to sit there. Kougami apologizes for the mess as he hands Ginoza a small glass of whiskey. Ginoza pales when he sees the glass of amber liquid and ice.
“You okay?” Kougami asks.
“Yeah,” Ginoza says, placing the glass on Kougami's messy coffee table. “You really need to clean this place.”
“Hey, I wasn't expecting company,” Kougami says, sitting down beside him.
“Even if you weren't, wouldn't it be easier to think in a place that's better organized?”
“I can think just fine,” Kougami says. “Besides, I know where everything is.”
Ginoza casts a doubtful glance around the room. “Really?”
“Yes. I'm guessing you're a clean-freak.”
“I am not a clean freak,” Ginoza says. “I just like to be organized.”
Kougami takes a sip of whiskey. It warms him from the inside out, and perhaps that's why he asks, “So why did you become a florist? Don't say because you like flowers.”
“I do like flowers,” Ginoza says, perplexed.
“Lots of people like flowers, and they don't become florists,” Kougami points out.
“Why did you become a detective?” Ginoza shoots back.
“I like analyzing and problem solving,” Kougami tells him. “I enjoy being able to bring criminals to justice.”
“You could have become a lawyer,” Ginoza says.
“Ah, but being a lawyer is just paperwork and talking,” Kougami says. “I like action.”
“You like action,” Ginoza repeats. “You like putting yourself in danger every day.”
“In order to keep other people safe,” Kougami says. “I think it's a good trade off.”
“What about the people who care about you?”
“What about them? They're safer because of what we do,” Kougami says. Ginoza tenses. “I mean, plenty of people on the force have families. And it might not be the best job for them to be doing, but at the same time, it makes them feel satisfied to be protecting this city.”
“You want to protect people,” Ginoza says, though it's quiet. Like he's thinking to himself rather than engaging with Kougami.
Kougami frowns. “Yes.”
“Well, then,” Ginoza rubs the back of his neck and gives Kougami a weak smile, “I suppose being a florist is a silly thing in comparison.”
“No,” Kougami tells him. “You make people happy.”
“Temporarily,” Ginoza says. “Flowers die.”
“Then why are you a florist?”
Ginoza bites his lip, actually thinking about it this time. Then he says, “Different flowers mean different things. There's a whole language that individual flowers and combinations of flowers make up, and even if you don't know the language, you can still get a feeling. They're very expressive. Even if you don't know what a flower means, you can still express a feeling with a flower. Or a group of flowers. I like finding different ways to express different feelings with them.”
Kougami stares at him.
“Sorry,” Ginoza adds. “That probably sounds like nonsense.”
“No, it doesn't,” Kougami says. “You'd be surprised at the meaning people find in different things. Like,” he says the first thing that comes to mind, “the people who analyze blood spatters.”
“That is nothing like flowers,” Ginoza tells him, but he looks amused.
“Yeah, I didn't think so,” Kougami says, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I guess it's just that in my line of work, that's the kind of language we're dealing with.”
“That sounds...” Ginoza trails off.
“Horrible?” Kougami finishes for him. “Yeah, I guess. Blood spatters, finger prints, injuries on dead bodies or live ones. It's all a bit morbid, the way criminals communicate.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Ginoza says.
“Well, you know, as detectives we need to read into everything,” Kougami says. “Follow everything up. Some of it doesn't mean anything, and some of it does. But you never know what will lead somewhere.”
“I don't have that problem with flowers,” Ginoza says, half-rising. “Speaking of which, I do have to get back to the store. It's not as rigorous as detective work but we have to make money somehow.”
Kougami stands up as well and walks him to the door. “Thanks for coming. I'd, uh, like to see you again?”
“Text me,” Ginoza says. He fishes out a slip of paper, a receipt, and a pen and writes his number on it, which he hands to Kougami. Kougami takes it, automatically looks at the receipt (Ginoza bought bread and tea two days ago) and pockets it.
For a moment, with the door half-open, they stand there, unsure of what to do. Whether they should shake hands, hug, or something else.
Ginoza breaks the silence by ducking away and heading down the hall. Kougami watches him go for a moment before closing the door and heading back to the sofa.
He notices Ginoza's glass of whiskey, still full and the ice melted, and wonders why he didn't drink it.