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It begins with a hairtie.
(Okay, fine, it doesn't really begin there, since he's pretty sure this has been brewing for longer, but this is the first discernable sign, and—yeah, okay. Anyway.)
He enters the gym on a typical Saturday morning, as he's been doing every Saturday for the past couple of years. Ever since his demotion to Enforcer, he can't leave the building without an Inspector, so he finds ways to while away his time. One of them is staying in good physical condition.
But this Saturday morning, someone else is in the gym, too. He can't be sure because he's never seen her dressed like she is now, in a tank top and leggings, but it really looks like—
"Inspector Tsunemori?"
She turns in place. "Ginoza!" she seems genuinely surprised. She puts down a kettlebell. "Do you come here every Saturday morning?"
He has nothing to hide, he knows that. But he still feels embarrassed admitting it to her, the fact that his Saturdays are pretty lonely. Your social life tends to take a big hit when you become a latent criminal.
He clears his throat, suddenly feeling the dryness of his mouth. "Yes, every Saturday morning. What brings you here, Inspector?"
"Ginoza, we've been over this. Call me Tsunemori," she says good-naturedly, "in fact, because it's Saturday, I think you should call me Akane."
He almost drops his tape. "If you don't mind, I'll stick to Tsunemori."
"As long as it's not Inspector," she acquiesces.
He observes her silently for a few moments. She's certainly at ease this morning. In fact, she's downright cheerful. Not that it's strange for him to see her like this—they have spent a lot of time in each other's company since her assignment nearly four years ago, where they've run the full gamut of emotions. He supposes it's just a change of pace from her seriousness of late. After the Kamui disaster, she seems to be lost in thought more often than not.
"I take it that you're sparring?" she says now, sounding a lot closer than he remembers. Once he snaps to attention, he can see that she has taken a few steps toward him.
He eyes the training drones stacked against the mirrors. "Yes. Saturdays, I do a few rounds of defensive maneuvers, then offensive ones, then both."
Her eyebrows rise and her eyes brighten. "Ginoza, I would never have guessed."
As if this is the first time he's been here, he fumbles the tape in his hands. He doesn't know what to say to that.
"I'll leave you to it. I've got a bit of work to do on my core," she says casually, then wanders off to a different area of the floor.
Self-consciousness lessening bit by bit, he tapes up his hand. The cybernetic one can do without. It comes with its own set of worries: reaction time, maintenance, connection to his flesh-and-blood shoulder. He has a very specific set of exercises for his phantom shoulder and limb in order to maintain muscle symmetry.
But as it is, he sets up the drone, programs it to the offensive setting at his target difficulty, and begins.
It always starts the same: right, left, forward jab. He's not sure if it's a programming error or some psychology thing about knowing your opponent. But his reaction is lightning-quick all the same. The drone gives him very little room to recover between its shots, so he keeps his balance centered marvellously for a speedy recovery between dodges and blocks. When it starts throwing bigger, more arching punches, he's forced to roll back over his toes and sweep its ankles. It falls to the ground with a clatter. And then he sets it up and goes again.
By the third round, he's broken a sweat. He always starts sweating at his chest and armpits first, but he knows from experience that by the time all of his sets are over, sweat is dripping down his temples and sticking his hair to his face. His breathing becomes the loudest noise in the gym.
Which is why, when he's done his last session between himself and two drones, and Tsunemori is still in the gym, he grabs his towel as fast as he can.
She walks over with measured steps. He notes that her hair is a little more out of place than usual, but aside from that she looks perfectly presentable (unlike himself). "Ginoza, are you doing anything now?" she asks, placing some free weights back on the rack.
He hides his face for a little longer in his towel, sure that he looks a mess. (And then the thought hits him with mortification: does he smell sweaty? And then right after this thought comes another: they've seen each other basically on the brink of death, why does he even care?) But he's pushing the boundaries of politeness now, and the last thing he wants is to be rude to Tsunemori. "You mean, other than taking a shower?" he tries to laugh self-deprecatingly. In all his effort to sound nonchalant, he misses her laughing along. "Just lunch and then working in my greenhouse."
Why are you telling her all of this?
To his surprise, her posture turns a bit sheepish. "Could I join you? I don't feel like heading home just yet," she proposes.
When he doesn't immediately respond, mind skipping over her sentence—of course she's not joining you for a shower, moron—she seems to draw the same conclusion and promptly throws out a hand in his direction. "I didn't mean for the shower, of course! God, that's—I'm just—I swear I'm not trying to... be untoward. Oh, crap."
He watches in surprise as she buries her face in her hands. It's been a long time since he's seen her so flustered. He even hears her mumble something that sounds like human resources and sexual harrassment under her breath.
And he just can't help it—her nerves have eased his. He starts to laugh.
Tsunemori slowly lowers her hands and stares.
He plants his gaze squarely on hers, feeling looser than ever. "Lunch sounds great," he tells her, feeling his smile in his words. "I'll join you in the cafeteria shortly?"
Her brow kind of rumples and her smile goes wonky, but her words leave him feeling bouyant.
"I'll see you soon."
+
He's not surprised to see her the following Saturday morning, nor the Saturday after that. Although they barely ever talk while doing their own exercises, he still comes to find her presence familiar.
What he is surprised by is her offering.
He stares, almost uncomprehendingly, at the little loop she pulls off of her wrist.
"It's a hairtie," she says, looking up at him. He often forgets how much taller he is than her, and the difference is only augmented when they stand so close to each other.
She twirls it a bit. "I notice that while you spar, your hair gets in your eyes and mouth," she explains.
The gesture is touching, even with all the other things she's done for him. (For example, when she leaned on administration to give him dog-walking privileges in the outside courtyard: his psycho pass is the most stable its ever been, and his dog needs to dig at something once in a while!)
So he accepts it easily. "Thank you, Tsunemori." He ties his hair back right away. She gives him a little thumbs-up and a smile, then heads off to the elliptical.
He tries to return it to her at the end of their time in the gym, but she firmly refuses. "It's yours," she says.
And he supposes a hairtie is a small thing to Tsunemori anyway, so he thanks her once again and keeps it.
+
The next time the hairtie comes out is on a disgustingly hot day in the middle of the week. He would have no qualms about wearing his usual suit and tie, except today the air-conditioning has broken down. Their office becomes so unbearable that they seek respite in the labs with Karanomori, which is at least below ground. Karanomori makes some small fuss about them only visiting her when they want something, but when she catches sight of a drooping Inspector Tsunemori, her heart seems to soften.
He and Hinakawa carry the department's portable computers into the lab so that they can try to maintain some semblance of productivity. Karanomori eyes them with cheerful disdain.
"My, my, you two look absolutely dreadful," she chirps.
Ginoza halfheartedly rolls his eyes and tries not to feel his shirt slowly starting to stick to him with sweat. "Good to see you, Karanomori-san."
"And where is Akane-chan?" she asks, pressing her chest against the backrest of her chair. Ginoza is unaffected by her tricks, but Hinakawa's nerves seem to fray a bit. Ginoza chalks it up to a lack of practise dealing with her... mannerisms.
"Inspector Tsunemori is leaving a note for the others to come here once the shift changes," he says, deadpan.
Karanomori eyes him boredly. "Ah, Ginoza-kun. You're no fun," she dismisses.
"Any time, Karanomori-san," he responds, shutting his eyes matter-of-factly.
She whips back around in her seat. "Ah, Ginoza-kun, do I detect a hint of playfulness? What's got you in such a good mood?"
Absurdly, he flashes back to the past Saturday when Tsunemori handed him the hairtie. He remembers the feel of his ponytail bobbing against his skull during blocks and hits. He has the hairtie stowed away in his bag, actually.
But back in the lab under their analyst's stare, he coolly responds with, "Nothing."
Karanomori's gaze only doubles in intensity. Then her lipsticked mouth falls open and she ventures a guess. "Don't tell me—you finally got laid?"
Hinakawa's squeak of alarm echoes throughout the room. He promptly turns the colour of his hair, carefully places the laptop on the table, and dashes out of the room—presumedly after wetting his pants in mortification.
After watching Hinakawa disappear, Ginoza turns back to Karanomori. "I think you raised his blood pressure for the rest of the week."
She waves a hand carelessly. "He's not that delicate," she insists. Then she zeroes in on him again. "If it's not that, what is it? Are you seeing someone? You must be seeing someone!"
He hears the door slide open. "Who's Ginoza seeing?"
His spine stiffens at the sound of Tsunemori's voice, but Karanomori couldn't sound any happier. "Akane-chan! You're a sight for sore eyes. It's nothing—Ginoza-kun here just won't spill the details on the girl he's seeing."
Ginoza really, really wishes Karanomori would shut up.
Tsunemori turns interestedly in his direction. "Oh? When did you start dating?"
Normally, Ginoza would tell everyone that we're not discussing this and to buzz off, it's not any business of yours. But with Tsunemori standing in front of him, her gaze somehow making him sweat even more, he says, "I'm not dating anyone."
Karanomori heaves the mother of all sighs. "Ginoza-kun, what's the use in lying? You're obviously very happy these days, and I happen to know that there's one thing that can make a man quite so... pleased."
Tsunemori's apprehension only seems to grow. Her shoulders lock. "Ginoza?"
He feels his brow twitch. To distract himself from his irritation, he slowly peels off his suitjacket. "I don't know what you're talking about, Karanomori-san. I'm never happy," he says, aiming for the joking route. Hopefully this will get Karanomori off of his back.
Her peals of laughter echo throughout the room. Bingo. "After twelve years, he finally develops a sense of humour!"
He rolls up his sleeves to counteract the heat that doesn't seem to want to leave. Though he doesn't need to roll up the sleeve of his cybernetic arm, he does so for the sake of symmetry. As his fingers catch on the fabric, he feels Tsunemori's gaze on him still. She must not be comforted, but he doesn't want to revisit the topic.
He shoots her a glance. I'll explain later?
Though she's thrown off, she recovers quickly. She piques her eyebrows. You better.
Karanomori silently watches their exchange, eyes gleaming.
Hinakawa's timing must be divine, since he enters the room right then. He's toting an armful of snacks, all of the crispy and salty variety. Without knowing it, he dissolves the previous mood in the room. "Onee-chan, want some?"
As her eyes leave his, her expression goes from skeptical to beaming. (Sometimes, it really is scary how quickly she adapts.) "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you, Sho-kun."
Hinakawa's smile is so pleased that no one can say anything.
The room settles into a comfortable silence. All four of them click and tap away at their computers, with the occasional rustle of chip bags coming from Tsunemori and Hinakawa on the couch opposite his. Every once in a while, HInakawa will pause to softly ask Tsunemori a question, and she'll indicate where to find the information he needs or tell him to ask Karanomori—the analyst—for more details.
But soon, the body heat coming from all four of them permeates the room to the point that it rivals upstairs.
"Ah! I knew I shouldn't have taken pity on you all," Karanomori complains, deciding to light a cigarette instead of say, taking off her lab coat.
Tsunemori only smiles. Hinakawa cowers. As for Ginoza himself, he searches his belongings for the hairtie. Lifting his hair off of the back of his neck sounds great right about now. His fingers close around the little black band. Ah, there we go.
"I'm sure maintenance is doing their best," he says, trying not to jump headlong into throes of misery, unlike Karanomori.
"Well, their best needs to arrive faster," Karanomori asserts, taking a long drag.
He doesn't bother responding this time and instead focuses on looping the band around his hair. Hopefully, his concentration will improve once he starts to cool down. He's pulled at his collar and tie one too many times. (Sometimes, he catches Tsunemori staring at him when he does this, and his nerves return because he really does have some explaining to do. At least she musters a smile up for him.)
He's been ponytailed for about half an hour when Karanomori leaves for coffee and returns. "Gino-kun, you tied your hair back," she observes from behind him.
He turns with the intention of replying, and when he does he finds himself almost nose-to-nose with her. He quickly whips his face away. "Karanomori-san, please," he says, annoyed. He reaches for glasses that are no longer there, the classic move he used to regain some composure, then drops his hand almost immediately when he remembers that they're not there.
"When did you start tying your hair back, Gino-kun?" her self-satisfied voice sings, much too close to his ear. He can smell a blend of perfume and cigarette smoke wafting from her. She's drawn the attention of both Tsunemori and Hinakawa as well.
He sighs. "Why does that even matter? And why are you calling me Gino-kun?"
Karanomori's hand lands on his shoulder, his flesh one, and he stares at it in bafflement. Her red manicure flashes brightly against the white of his shirt. "Oh, no reason," she says, looking at him with an expression that clearly means something, even if he can't figure it out. "You should tie it back more often," she says, winking at him through the curtain of her hair. When she leaves to walk back to her station, she trails her hand down his arm.
Hinakawa's characteristic squeak sounds, and he's off. Tsunemori's gaze becomes searing.
What the hell just happened?
Needless to say, Ginoza's productivity drops considerably for the rest of the afternoon.
+
That Saturday at the gym isn't quite as awkward as Ginoza was anticipating. In fact, Tsunemori seems to already believe him when he assures her that nothing is distracting him from his work with the MWPSB, and that he's been working on himself as well. Actually, his crime coefficient has dropped about 10 points as of late, and—
That's when she stops him, laughing. He doesn't need to prove himself to her, she insists. He thinks otherwise: she's the one who encouraged him to lead a more balanced lifestyle in the first place. He just smiles awkwardly at her in thanks. (Smiling is still something he's working on.) She doesn't fight him when he offers to pay for lunch, so he supposes it's all blown over.
But, well. There's always room for awkwardness on other days of the week.
A crazy case hits Monday afternoon, one that ends up sprawling through half of the city and requires the entire division to come in, so Tuesday they are all in the office working on their reports.
Ginoza has taken to tying his hair up at all times now, as it's less fussy. (And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with Karanomori's weird attitude the other day—in fact, it's in spite of it.)
His fingers are resting idly at his keyboard when Kunizuka taps him on the shoulder. "Ginoza-san, could I borrow a hairtie?" she asks softly.
Hinakawa hears her and uncharacteristically interjects. He tosses the stick from a lollipop into the trash. "Where's your usual hairtie, Kunizuka-san?"
Kunizuka takes one look at Hinakawa's innocent face and freezes. "Don't worry about it, Hinakawa-kun," she says, sounding stiff. (Suddenly, Ginoza knows that a certain analyst is involved.) She turns to him again. "Ginoza-san?"
"Sorry, I don't have another," he tells her.
"Don't those come in packs?" Hinakawa interrupts again, while munching on a cookie.
"Yes, they do. Thank you anyway, Ginoza-san," Kunizuka says. She shoots a questioning glance at Hinakawa, but she chooses instead to say, "That's an unusual amount of snacks."
Hinakawa finishes the cookie in two more quick bites. "Keeps my mind off of the antidepressants," he explains, crumbs tumbling down his front.
Ginoza and Kunizuka take a beat for this information to sink in. Then Ginoza clears his throat and addresses Kunizuka, "If they come in packs, Inspector Tsunemori should have some."
"Inspector—"
"—Onee-chan?"
Ginoza stands, rolling his shoulders. Maybe it's just because he's had so much of it lately, but his tolerance for awkwardness is lower than usual, and it is practically rolling off of the two of them in waves. "Yes. Inspector Tsunemori. She gave me this one. Now, does anyone want coffee or tea? I need to stretch my legs."
Kunizuka and Hinakawa shake their heads no. Out of politeness, he asks Inspector Shimotsuki, and of course she says no. After stopping briefly by Sugo's desk and picking up a request for a black coffee, he goes to Tsunemori's desk. She stands almost instantly.
"I can just bring it back for you," he tells her.
She stretches, throwing her hands above her head. "Don't be silly. I'll walk with you."
When they leave, several pairs of eyes are fixed on their retreating backs.
+
"Kunizuka-san?"
"Yes?"
"Onee-chan's hair isn't long enough to put in a ponytail."
"Right."
"Which means that she bought those hairties for—"
"Right."
"Kunizuka-san?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think onee-chan—"
"Yes."
"Do you think Ginoza-san knows?"
"Not a chance."
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—fin