Chapter Text
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‘Tough case, I hear.’
He sighed as he took a seat opposite the woman, and she continued to flip through the file. He had a long week, with Tsujimura constantly on his back about reports and endless case requests.
They had a serial murder case at a Tokyo restaurant: guests had been dying mysteriously. Initial reports couldn’t find traces of any poison in any of the dishes, and combined with the fact that the guests had all previous health problems, it had been ruled out as natural causes and coincidence. However, the latest victim had ties to the government, and that meant they were called in. It turns out that the maitre d’ had been poisoning guests that looked down at him; years of anger had led him to take such drastic measures. Of course he had ended up dead at the end of it all, his prize swordfish being his undoing.
‘Yeah, well,’ he took out his kiseru and lit it, ‘we got him in the end, so what difference does it make?’
After the whole Kyogoku ordeal, he had promised to visit occasionally. To keep her updated on her daughter’s situation. She seemed to look forward to their meetings; she obviously couldn’t have too many visitors. Considering she wasn’t technically alive, and even though Ayatsuji pretended it annoyed him, she knew better.
‘I heard she threatened to quit.’
‘She does that from time to time,’ he leant back, blowing smoke, regarding the pattern on the ceiling. ‘She never has though.’
Tsujimura has her phases; he’s not sure what brings on these mood swings, but they are quite entertaining. She had accidentally fallen into the fish tank attempting to retrieve a possible piece of evidence, blaming him for not holding her. He had warned her that he had only been contracted to solve mysteries, not entertain wild goose chases. He had also apparently deliberately kept her out of his plans, leading her to once again be thrown at a wall. So still damp and in pain, she told him that if he kept up with this, she would quit.
‘I’m sure you would regret it if she actually did quit,’ she chuckled at his recollection of events. She had already read both of their reports, and Tsujimura’s one had clearly been written with bitterness, her writing looking extra scratchy when it came to his name.
‘Yes,’ he took another long drag from the pipe. ‘No one else in her department is quite so easy to control.’
She shook her head, disappointed but not surprised. She knew her daughter’s character, her stubbornness, her strengths, and her weaknesses. She could be partnered up with worse people; she knows the department is full of them.
‘And?’
He shot her a confused look, ‘And?’
‘How much longer are you going to deny it?’ She’d read about the Kyogoku incident in detail. Details that her daughter was never made aware of, like how he had made the choice to let Kyogoku go in order to save her life—of course that was before he knew the whole truth. Or how initially he had chosen her life over his. It was exasperating to watch him put on this performance of not caring.
‘Deny what?’
She shut the folder and sighed. She forgot how difficult he could be. With that sharp tongue of his, ‘Aren’t you tired of this?’
‘Again, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,’ he sat up, making eye contact with her. ‘Mizuki Tsujimura-dono.’
She shook her head, the lengths he would go just to avoid talking about things he didn’t want to. She could see why her daughter struggled to take charge of him; she was much too insecure in her own strength. And perhaps unaware of just how much power she had.
‘After everything you’ve done for her, are you still going to deny what she means to you?’
‘Ah,’ he went quiet for a second, choosing to look away. ‘You seem to forget that your daughter isn’t like us.’
‘Meaning?’
‘In this business you have to keep everyone an arm’s length away,’ more cryptic nonsense. He went back to leaning, choosing to smoke instead of elaborating. He just couldn’t admit it, could he? Even though they both knew what he was thinking. However, what was clear was that he had put a lot of thought into this; how anyone could forget he was human was beyond her.
‘I fear you might be past that now.’
His response was almost immediate and almost too quiet for her to hear: ‘She doesn’t know that.’
‘You underestimate her, Ayatsuji-kun; she’s grown so much,’ she smiled fondly, recalling all the reports she’s read about her daughter over the years.
‘I don’t disagree,’ he remembered the first time he had seen her. It had been soon after she received the news of her mother’s death. She had just started at the military academy, and Ango was offering her a job after she graduated, courtesy of her new ability. To everyone’s shock she had requested to be placed near him, usually people requested the opposite. ‘Tsujimura-kun has changed considerably, but I—I don’t know.’
'Don’t know what?’
‘I don’t see a future where it will end well.’ Their lives were in constant danger. His is in the hands of the government; what happens when they decide they don’t need him anymore? Tsujimura didn’t take the last kill on sight order well. Well, she didn’t listen at all, choosing to risk her life instead. Would she do that again? More importantly, he didn’t want her to, nor did he want to hear her cry like that again.
‘You forget Ayatsuji-kun, that even you cannot predict the future.’
‘Well forgive me for being a realist,’ he stood up to leave, dusting his clothing and tucking in the chair before turning away.
‘Leaving so soon?’ Of course he would leave like nothing important had been said.
‘She’s going to chew my ear off about being late to some meeting or other,’ he gestured noncommittally; at least this time he was attempting to lie.
‘Think about it, Ayatsuji-kun,’ she called out to him as he walked away.
He didn’t bother turning back to answer, just waved as he waited for them to open the doors again.
He’d thought about it enough.
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