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“I think Nakai and Goro might be doing it.”
Shingo reached his chopsticks over and stole a piece of pickled daikon from Kimura’s bento. “Doing what?”
Kimura grinned. “Doing it.”
Shingo’s reflexive jump sent the daikon flying over his shoulder, where it hit the cafeteria wall with a wet splat then slid pathetically to the floor. “What?! Where the hell did you get that idea?”
“Well – remember how I finished on the carrot salesman sketch before you? There’s that old armchair on the side of the sound-stage, the one we’ve been fighting over all week, right?”
“They really ought to take the damn thing away or provide enough armchairs for everyone, that’s what I say.”
“They will, apparently. Sato-san says he’s going to take it home, but he takes forever, you know what the guy is like. Anyway. I walk off the set, and there’s Goro and Nakai sitting in the armchair checking over their scripts.”
“They’d never both fit into that chair!”
“No, I mean Goro was sitting in the chair and Nakai was sitting on the arm of it. And this is the thing.” Kimura leaned in, eyes bright. “This is the thing: Nakai was touching Goro’s hair.”
Shingo looked at him askance. “What, like his hand was just resting on his head?”
“Nuh-uh. Not just resting. It was stroking.”
An arresting mental image. “And what was Goro-chan doing?”
“He was just reading his script like he hadn’t noticed, or was completely used to it. And there’s no way he hadn’t noticed.”
Kimura had a point; Goro was pretty protective of his hair. But Shingo still didn’t buy it. “I can’t imagine Nakai-kun stroking anybody’s hair. He’s not exactly the touchy-feely type.”
“Nevertheless,” said Kimura, “that’s what I saw.”
Shingo thought Kimura might be having him on, and could at any moment turn and point and let out peals of his high-pitched, joyous laughter. And even if he really did see this clandestine hair-touching episode, did that really mean that Nakai and Goro were - ?
Surely not.
The idea was ridiculous, amusing, and strangely appealing. Nevertheless, Shingo was able to pack it away into the storage area of his mind without much effort, and there it stayed for nearly a week. That was when it came right to the front of Shingo’s brain and set up camp. And it never would have happened if he hadn’t been thinking about giant teddy-bears.
He was more sleep-deprived than usual, enough that when he entered the toilets he nearly bumped into Nakai, who had just come out of the near cubicle. Shingo used the urinal and washed his hands, wondering what he should get Tsuyoshi for his birthday. Not that he always bothered with presents - they knew each other too well for that - but last year Tsuyoshi had gotten him not one but three unbelievably cool hats (“I couldn’t decide what colour”) so this time he had to buy Tsuyoshi something good. Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but a giant teddy-bear sounded like a really good idea right now. Or maybe four or five giant teddy-bears. Shingo imagined lying in a hammock with five giant teddy-bears, all fuzzy and warm, with the sun shining down on him... and then jerked awake - he had actually nodded off for an instant - at the sound of a cubicle door opening. In the mirror he saw Goro walk straight out of the bathroom without glancing up. Surprised at Goro’s sudden appearance and disappearance, Shingo looked over to the still-swinging door of the cubicle from which he’d come.
It took a long moment for the pieces of information to click together in his brain.
Goro had been in the cubicle nearest to the door.
Goro had been in the cubicle that Nakai had been in.
At the same time.
Doing what?!
Shingo suppressed a giggle: probably not hair-stroking.
He absent-mindedly washed his hands a second time and went to get his hair done for the ending song. The stylist chatted away as usual, but Shingo wasn’t listening - he was trying to think up more rational explanations for Nakai and Goro to be in a toilet cubicle together.
Perhaps, Shingo theorised, Goro had been having a wardrobe malfunction, like a stuck zipper or something, and Nakai went in to help him. (They could have done that in the dressing room, though.)
Or perhaps Goro was upset and Nakai was comforting him. Comforting him? Okay, telling him to pull himself together. (Shingo hadn’t gotten a good look at Goro’s expression as he left, but he looked perfectly happy now.)
Or perhaps Nakai had been throwing up and was pretending to be okay, which he often did when he was sick, but Goro heard and went in to try and convince him to stop being an idiot and take the day off. (But Nakai didn’t seem under the weather in the least.)
Or perhaps Kimura was onto something.
It niggled, like having an itch in the middle of your back where your hand can’t reach. It was a mystery, and Shingo decided that it needed to be solved.
* * *
“Testing, one two. Over.”
“Um, Shingo, you’re right next to me.”
“So go around the corner. Testing, testing, do you read me, over.”
“Coming through loud and clear.”
“Say ‘over’! Over.”
“Over.”
“That’s the spirit! Over.”
“Shingo... do we really need walkie-talkies?”
“Of course we do!”
“We couldn’t just text on our mobiles?”
“You can’t text and spy at the same time. You don’t have enough eyes.”
“I can’t see any of your eyes, your sunglasses are in the way.”
“Exactly, Tsuyopon. That way no one can tell where I’m looking.”
“I think I’ll put mine on too. Do you have any spare pockets? You look like you do, with a trench-coat like that.”
“Depends. What for?”
“An apple, in case I get hungry.”
“No apples! Apples are loud. You need quiet food.”
“Um... a banana?”
“Good thinking! No, bad thinking. I’m not putting a banana in my pocket - for two reasons. One: we’ll probably have to split up. You follow Nakai-kun, I’ll go after Goro-chan. And, two: it would get squashed by the magnifying glass.”
* * *
“Come in, Heron. Come in, Heron. Do you read me? Over.”
“Yes, I read you. Over.”
“What’s your status? Over.”
“I have the Gull in sight. Over.”
“What’s he doing? Over.”
There was a pause before Tsuyoshi’s voice came crackling over the tiny speakers. “The Gull is in a convenience store. Over.”
“And? Over.”
“And he’s buying a magazine and… I’m not sure. Looks like some fried chicken. Over. I mean, not over. What’s your status? Um, over, actually over this time.”
Shingo sighed. “The Duck is shopping for clothes. Looks like he’s going to buy another striped long-sleeved T-shirt, as if he needs any more of those, over.”
“The Gull has exited the convenience store! The Gull is getting in his car. The Gull has flown! Repeat, the Gull has flown! Shingo, what should I do?!”
“Don’t call me Shingo, I’m the Eagle! And you’ve got to fly too, Heron! Over!”
“Right, Sh - Eagle. I’m gonna fly… in this, uh, taxi. Over.”
“Good work, Heron. Keep in contact. Over and out.”
10 minutes later
“The Duck is still in the clothes shop. He’s left the striped shirts, but has now been trying on the same two scarves alternately for the last five minutes straight. Please tell me something more exciting is happening on your end, over.”
Silence.
“Come in Heron, over.”
Silence.
“Calling Heron, calling Heron. Heron, do you read me? Over.”
Silence.
“Tsuyopon?”
Silence.
“Damn it, he’s out of range.”
Shingo spent an incredibly tedious forty minutes slowly sipping cheap takeaway coffee on the bench outside the clothes store. He kept worrying that he could be recognised, but since no one actually approached him the curious glances were probably because of the trench-coat, hat and sunglasses. Anyway, it seemed like the false moustache was helping.
At last Goro emerged with a shopping bag in hand, looking bright and cheerful – the weight of the scarf choice off his mind, Shingo supposed – and got in one of the taxis lined up alongside the busy street. Shingo immediately got up and jumped in the taxi behind. Then he turned to the driver and took a deep breath. He’d been wanting to say this for a very long time. “Follow that cab!”
“Yes, sir,” said the driver, and smoothly pulled out into the traffic to follow Goro’s taxi without question.
Despite his earlier comments, he couldn’t resist texting Tsuyoshi: “The Duck has flown!!! OVER.”
Tsuyoushi didn’t respond. Shingo assumed he must be using both his eyes for spying.
The road started to look familiar. With an gasp of excitement, Shingo tried his walkie-talkie again. “Come in, Heron. Do you read me, Heron? Over.”
No answer – not close enough yet. But soon, surely…
He saw the taxi ahead stop and Goro get out. “Here, please,” he said promptly to the driver, paid, and waited till Goro was ten metres ahead or so before getting out and sidling after him. He stopped briefly to strike a moodily-lit pose under a lamppost for no one in particular, then continued. He dared to creep closer to Goro as they approached the corner. Yes – this was definitely in the vicinity of –
“Come in, Heron!” he whispered. “Do you read me, Heron? The Duck is going to the Gull’s nest!!”
“Who’s a fucking gull now?”
Shingo stopped dead. Goro rounded the corner ahead of him.
Now that was not Tsuyoshi’s voice coming through the walkie-talkie.
Shingo pressed the “speak” button, and said the only thing that came to mind. “…Hello?”
“Come around the corner, dipshit.”
Slowly, Shingo rounded the corner. Directly ahead of him was Goro, who turned around to look in comical surprise from him to the other two figures and back again. Two metres ahead of Goro, right out the front of the entrance to Nakai’s apartment building, were Nakai and Tsuyoshi. Nakai had a face like a thundercloud and was brandishing the walkie-talkie accusingly. Tsuyoshi, slightly to one side, was looking very foolish indeed.
“Aha!” exclaimed Shingo uncertainly, trying to make the best of it.
“What do you mean, ‘aha’? That’s my line,” said Nakai, marched up to Shingo, and ripped his moustache off. “Aha!”
“Shingo, that was you?!” Goro said in astonishment. “I’ve been trying to ignore you, I thought you were a crazy fan.”
“I’m a detective,” said Shingo, trying to regain his aplomb.
“And you’re here too, Tsuyoshi?”
“I’m. Um. I’m a detective too.”
Everybody paused.
“Well, I should be getting home,” said Goro, falsely bright.
But Nakai laid one hand on his arm and said, “Don’t.”
Goro stopped. They shared an unreadable glance.
Then Goro turned back with greater confidence to face Shingo. “Why are you detectives?” he enquired. “Do you suspect us of committing a crime?”
Shingo whipped off his hat and sunglasses guiltily. “No, that’s not it. I just thought... I wanted to know... I couldn’t help wondering...”
“...if you’re together,” Tsuyoshi finished helpfully, coming over to stand by Shingo.
Nakai and Goro turned to share a glance again. Then Nakai said, “You could call it that.”
Shingo stared with a mixture of delight, vindication and embarrassment. He opened his mouth.
“If you say ‘aha’ one more time,” said Nakai, “I’m going to knock you flat.”
Shingo closed his mouth.
“And don’t think you’re a crash-hot detective. You were just lucky. If you’d followed Goro twenty days in a row you wouldn’t have followed him here. You just happened to pick the right day. Lucky.”
Shingo didn’t feel too lucky right now.
Nakai advanced. “So you decided to stick your noses into other people’s business, huh? So you found it so incomprehensible that I would go out with an idiot like him - that he would go out with an idiot like me? So you thought we wouldn’t just tell you if you asked?”
“You would’ve told us?” asked Tsuyoshi in awe.
Nakai looked back at Goro. “That’s what we agreed,” he said, before turning back to Shingo and Tsuyoshi.
He eyeballed them and waited. The ball, it seemed, was in their court. Shingo and Tsuyoshi stood in silence, trying to think of the most appropriate thing to say.
There was one question that was at the forefront of Shingo’s mind, so - appropriate or not - he asked it. “Are we allowed to tell Kimura-kun?”
“No,” Nakai said. “Now give me your phone.”
“What?”
“Give me your phone!”
Confused, Shingo nevertheless dug his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Nakai.
Nakai scrolled through the address book and clicked on one of the names. “Kimura? It’s me.”
Shingo and Tsuyoshi couldn’t really hear what Kimura was saying, but he sounded surprised.
Nakai looked at straight at Goro as he spoke. “I’m going out with Goro.”
There was a pause as Kimura said something.
“Yeah, I thought you’d say that. Anyway, that’s all I called to say. See ya.” Nakai hung up.
Goro smiled at Nakai, a mysterious, confused little half-smile. “What did he say?”
Nakai rolled his eyes. “ ‘Fantastic’. Now let’s get the hell upstairs, huh?”
Goro nodded. “Let’s.”
Nakai slapped the phone back into Shingo’s hand. “Him and me together might turn out to be a stupid idea, I don’t know - but if it does, then that’s our problem. So hurry up and get over it.”
He then slung his arm around Goro’s shoulders and escorted him into the elevator.
Shingo and Tsuyoshi gazed after them.
“We’re going to have to apologise to them, aren’t we.”
“Yup.”
“Aw, hell.”
“Come on, Shingo,” said Tsuyoshi. “Let’s go and eat something loud.”
* * *
It didn’t take long for Shingo to engineer an opportunity to have a beer with Kimura so they could share their amazement, amusement, and delight at this unexpected turn of events, as well as speculate on how, when and why Nakai and Goro had gotten together. Shingo guessed it to be a recent event, while Kimura argued it could have been going on for a year or more; both of them agreed that it was probably a case of opposites attracting; and neither of them could even begin to guess who had made the first move.
“It’s a mystery,” said Kimura, smiling.
“A mystery...” repeated Shingo, staring off into the distance (or, more accurately, the curtains). Then he finally asked Kimura something he’d been wondering ever since Kimura had originally brought the subject of Nakai and Goro up. “Did... did you ever...?
“Have thoughts like that? Sure.”
Shingo stared at him, open-mouthed.
“I just don’t get much of a chance to act on them these days.” Kimura grinned. “As you might imagine.”
“Oh. Oh.”
“Actually I thought you might be too - my other theory was that you and Tsuyoshi were doing it on the sly.”
“We’re best friends!”
“It was the hats last birthday that got me thinking.”
“What’s a hat a or two between friends!”
“I counted three...”
“You’re a pervert.”
Kimura smiled devilishly. “And you love me for it.”
“Piss off.”
* * *
Shingo had to whine and cajole and harass quite a lot before Goro agreed to come over for dinner and (they both knew it) extensive questioning about Nakai. “I can stay for half an hour,” said Goro, “I’m meeting up with him at 8.”
Goro politely accepted a slice of pizza, which was delicious but impossible to eat elegantly. This didn’t stop him from trying, though it was hard to do while also trying not to laugh at Shingo’s energetic curiosity about the nature of his relationship.
“Do you go on dates? Has he ever sent you flowers? Did he confess his love dramatically?!”
“It’s Nakai-kun,” said Goro. “What do you think?”
Shingo deflated. “Then what is it like?”
Goro shrugged. “Not much different to how it was before.”
“What about the sex?”
Goro grinned. “What about it?”
Shingo goggled. “Didn’t... didn’t that change things?”
“I think that we’re much better friends now that we’re having sex.”
Shingo shook his head in amazement. “I can’t even imagine. Well, I did sleep with a friend once, but it didn’t turn out well.”
“She wanted a relationship, you didn’t?”
Shingo smiled ruefully. “Other way around.”
“Ah. Yeah, I’ve had that happen.” Goro smiled. “Not this time, though.”
“But what do you guys do?”
“That,” said Goro, “is between me and Nakai-kun.” He stood up to leave. “And I wouldn’t try to spy on us again, if I were you.”
Shingo raised an eyebrow. “Goro-chan, are you threatening me?”
“Yes,” said Goro. “With Nakai-kun.”
It was true, thought Shingo - Nakai would probably punch him in the face. And he didn’t want to see that sort of thing, anyway.
...Okay, maybe just a bit.
The End!