When YF went back to the koban he collapsed into his seat, slouching forward with his arms crossed. For a while he continued staring up at the ceiling, trying to process all that had happened since Erika suddenly showed up. Get rid of the house in Nishida? How did Erika know about it in the first place? YF assumed from their last interaction that the two of them would slowly start to live their own lives: him working toward a position at the Ward Office and her continuing to build whatever it was she was building in Ikusayama. What was Erika building in Ikusayama?
That was always Erika’s problem; she didn’t explain things. Early in their marriage they had fought over that issue several times. Which apartment to rent, which car to buy; come to think of it, Erika always went ahead and did whatever she wanted before telling him. Each time Erika insisted there was no time to explain and that YF should trust her. When YF heard her explanations he tended to grudgingly agree with them. Or at least that’s what he thought when they were living together. Now that they had been separated so long he was no longer sure what he thought of their relationship, either past or present. He became so used to the idea of Erika as a concept that now that she was present, the clash between her and the image of her became too jarring.
Get rid of the house in Nishida? He still wanted to be transferred to the Ward Office. Kita seemed willing to put a word in for him. What would happen to him and Erika if he went? Where would they stay?
YF suddenly thought about his Tanaka R1 that had been confiscated. The investigation into who had abducted Reina was never concluded and would probably never be concluded. It would reveal too much about what Reina was doing. That bike was the only thing he could think of that was really his. True, Hiroyuki had bought it for YF when the former first started making it big, but it was still one of the only things YF had from before their marriage. Now even that was gone.
YF pulled out his receiver and swiped through it until he got to Kita’s card. He went to the card settings and pressed the option to delete the information. When “Are you sure?” popped up on the screen, he hovered his thumb over the “Yes” button. It took him a few moments longer to press it and pocket the device.
***
“Come over when you can,” said the message from Lydia.
Erika had told YF to minimize as much contact with her as possible to avoid tracing. Tracing from whom, she never explained. Before he left her at the Black Hat she also said to come back at least once a week to check on her. But the Black Hat was in Nishida Ward, and there was no way he could justify being away from the koban that long on such a regular basis. He had made some sort of noncommittal response and rushed back to the koban to resume his duties.
“I can’t just leave my post,” he replied to Lydia.
“Just come,” she quickly texted back.
“Something wrong?”
YF turned to see Torii returning from whatever temple duties she was was conducting, brushing her hands on her hakama. YF visited Torii’s shrine during patrol a few times again, purposefully alternating days so as to avoid suspicion. He did not catch Misaki there on the first Gold Day she prayed, and it seemed that she had not returned since then. While Torii did not appear particularly fond of his visits, her attitude was visibly less hostile now than it was before.
“No, just work stuff,” YF replied.
“I see,” said Torii.
YF recalled Torii’s comment about he and Erika’s firstborn, and thought it strange she had made it right before Erika reappeared in Itsugo pregnant.
“You keep up with Erika at all?” asked YF.
“We were in some mutual chatrooms, though most of those became inactive over the years. Why?”
“We don’t always talk about our friends and Itsugo’s a big place. Just thought about who still talks to her is all.” Misaki didn’t like Erika, and apparently Misaki had been praying at Torii’s shrine. That connection was a stretch thought; YF felt he was probably thinking too much into it.
“I need to check on the shop. Let me know if you need anything,” said Torii with a polite smile.
“Sure,” YF replied.
Of course Torii would have come to expect YF’s donations on each visit. Perhaps she thought he was trying to flirt with her or something. Requesting the receptionist’s company at a hostess club would certainly seem that way. YF pulled out his receiver. Without Kita’s card, each hit to his bank account was now acutely felt. Perhaps that was how it was meant to be, though. YF winced and swiped up toward the donation box. He then clapped twice and closed his eyes. When he peeked with his left eye he could see Torii hesitate for a second before disappearing through the shop door. She never reappeared at the window; Kondo, the other priestess, continued to stand there.
YF bowed once and walked back to his scooter, which he purposefully parked close to the chozuya. Kondo did not seem interested in what he was doing, instead dividing her attention between the shop and the van. And so YF crouched under the vehicle and placed a tracker on the back of the chozuya inside the trough.
***
When YF returned from the shrine he pushed open the inner door to see a person sitting in front of his terminal. YF jumped back and instinctively reached for his chest. The man stood up quickly, bowing once to YF. “Senpai,” he said.
YF could feel he said the word more out of courtesy than anything else. He lowered his hand. “Sakai.” YF bowed slightly back.
“I’m called Katayama, please take care of me.”
YF glanced around the koban. “Looks like we’re going to need another desk.”
“Property Control said we should make do with what we have. One person patrols while the other can attend to administrative duties here.”
“Only one terminal for two people?” YF thought.
“Of course I will defer to senpai’s preference on who does what. This arrangement is also temporary. Koban 5-17-2 is undergoing renovation and repairs. The Magistrate thought it would be instructive for me to do my duties from here until 5-17-2 is complete.”
YF nodded slowly. “Sounds reasonable to me.” From when he started the new job until now YF thought that having a partner would relieve some stress. He was surprised to feel some more burdened now that one had actually arrived.
“Senpai?”
“Yes?”
“Would you prefer to patrol?”
Of course he would. It would probably give him time to clear his head too. “I—”
There came a bang on the door. Someone was hitting the security door with an open palm, but YF could tell from the lack of urgency that it was not Erika. He turned around and fully opened the inner door, revealing Numata standing behind the metal meshed outer door, dressed in her work clothes.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
YF opened the security door just as slowly, looking her up and down. “Hey…what are you doing here?”
Numata brushed a few stray hairs behind her ear. “I made some gyoza last night and thought I’d bring you some,” she said, lifting a plastic bag. She leaned her head slightly through the opening. “Oh! Is he your partner? You can have some too, of course.”
Katayama stood up and bowed to Numata. “I am called Katayama. Please take care of me.”
Numata smiled politely and bowed back. “Yoroshiku-onegaishimasu.” She looked past the two of them, searching around the room. “You do have a microwave right?”
YF pointed back. “Yeah it’s in the garage, with the fridge and stuff.”
“That’s good then,” said Numata, brushing a few stray bangs behind her ear again.
YF turned to see the way Katayama was looking at Numata, and for some reason it bothered him. He planted his hand in the doorway, using his arm to block the gap. “I have an idea. You have a bit?” he asked Numata.
“I don’t have to get on the train for about an hour or more.”
YF glanced at the wall clock and realized that she had come very early.
“Let’s go to breakfast then, the three of us,” YF suggested, looking back toward Katayama.
“Sounds good to me,” Katayama replied.
“What do you think?” YF asked Numata.
“That’s fine,” she said.
With only one scooter among the three of them, YF suggested they take the bus instead of trying to figure out how to give everyone a ride. He decided to forego his usual udon shop in favor of a traditional breakfast shop that served fish, miso soup, and boiled vegetables.
When they sat down at the restaurant — situated almost next to the train station — YF could tell that this was not the type of food that Numata liked to eat. He felt bad but was too proud to admit he did not ask about her preferences, instead concentrating downward at the menu. A few moments later he looked up to see her forcing a neutral expression.
She lowered the menu. “What are you getting?” she asked.
“The only other time I’ve been here I got the standard breakfast set. I thought it was pretty good.”
“I’ll have that then,” she said.
YF turned to Katayama. “I’m buying, so get what you like.”
“I’ll get the deluxe set,” said Katayama.
YF put down his menu and raised a hand. “Sumimasen!” He placed the order with the waitress when she arrived, placing all three menus in the wooden slot.
“So are the two of you friends?” asked Katayama.
“We’ve known each other a while,” YF replied.
“Same high school but different years,” said Numata.
“Oh, which high school did you two go to?”
“206,” said YF.
“Here?”
“Yeah, Gochome,” YF replied.
“I went to 175,” said Katayama. “Quite a ways.”
“Isn’t that one of the vocational schools?” asked Numata.
“It is,” Katayama replied.
School designations that were multiples of twenty five typically were. They were more or less feeder schools to desirable jobs and universities. There were exceptions and things became complicated when corporations like Sumida or Aritomo “sponsored” many of the public schools to avoid accusations of only recruiting from their own elite private schools. But typically the number system still applied. That would explain why Katayama looked so young — he probably went straight from school to the newly established Town Academy. Katayama would not have to find something to do for years before getting a normal job like everyone else.
“That must have been difficult,” said Numata.
“It was all right,” said Katayama.
“So how long have the two of you worked together?” asked Numata.
“Today’s the first day,” said YF.
“Oh wow. Do you need help with anything? The office seems a bit…sparse. I could try to get some more chairs,” she offered.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Katayama. “It’s a temporary rotation so only one of us will have to be present while the other patrols. When my koban is finished I will move there.”
“Oh…when will it be finished?” asked Numata.
“Should be within two weeks,” Katayama replied.
“So who’s patrolling today?” asked Numata.
“I was thinking of taking Katayama with me on patrol for just today,” said YF.
Katayama frowned. Numata’s lips drew into a thin line.
“Just once so he gets used to the schedule. His route may be different but I struggled a lot in the beginning with making it back to the koban on time. I’m sure Kuroda informed him.” YF smiled and turned to Katayama, but Katayama did not laugh at the joke.
“Come on, eat. The soup is getting cold.” YF started to eat, deciding he did not have time to care about this hopeless conversation or how they felt. The other two also finished their meals in silence.
When YF and Katayama had sent Numata off at the train station, YF motioned for Katayama to follow him. “We would normally take the scooter but we came all this way and I don’t intend to go back. There are some rental cycles at the kiosk there. We’re taking those.”
The two of them approached the kiosk and YF swiped from his receiver toward it to pay for the rentals. They mounted their bikes, with YF leading Katayama toward the entrance of Daimon-dori. He pedaled slower than usual, taking in the smells and sights of the various shops as they made their early evening preparations. He decided that talking to Katayama was not going to be very pleasant nor productive, and wanted to delay it as much as possible. But eventually they reached the gate of the open air shopping area. YF pulled over at the small public park near the entrance, where a mother was pushing her daughter on the swing.
“Will we have to visit every park?” asked Katayama.
“Not only every park. Every business and apartment office too. In theory that’s what we do, but you will get a feel for the places where you need to go a little more often. Some places draw more suspicious characters. Some businesses have more problems. I’m sure you’ll see what I mean soon.”
“Do we visit the places at set times?”
“We’re supposed to,” said YF.
“What does that mean?”
“I find it doesn’t help if we’re too predictable.”
“Senpai?”
“I’m not sure what they’re telling you at the academy,” said YF. “But this is not a koban in Nishida where generally things don’t happen. You might have grown up in a nicer part of Gochome but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. I wouldn’t let anyone know exactly where you’re going.”
“Is there an incident every day?”
“It depends on what you mean by incident.”
“Reportable ones?”
If YF reported every drunken brawl, theft, harassment, or disturbance that happened in Itsugo the way the rules stipulated he should, he would just be filling databases with information no one else would ever read. Any issues he could not solve himself he usually found a local he either already knew or somebody he knew, knew to mediate. YF accepted that some of these mediators may be sectarian. But as long as they did not tell him he would not ask.
“Reportable ones? No,” YF replied.
“What sort of things would we report?”
“If someone gets killed.”
Katayama frowned. “Will there be trouble with the higher ups?”
“I don’t want to suggest things that may make it to the wrong ears. All I will say is I’m confident you’ll feel your way through things.”
“I see.”
YF pointed to an apartment complex down the street. “You see that building?”
“Yes.”
“Go and ask Ms. Sato if anyone’s been troubling her or the residents.Write down any names and we’ll visit some people I know if we have to.”
Katayama nodded slowly. “Sure, I will do that.” He seemed slightly disturbed as he mounted his bicycle again and rode down the platform toward the apartment complex.
When Katyama disappeared through the automatic doors, YF pulled out his receiver and sent off an encrypted message to Toa. “I need you to find out if any corporation sponsors high school 175 in Itsugo Gochome. And if so, which one it is.”