by Katsue






5.  OFFICE CHAOS
“Tatsumiiiiiii!” Watari chirruped, looking around for the secretary, eager to divulge the news he’d managed to dredge up about Sugimori Etsuko, and bored stiff because the network had subsequently crashed due to server problems.

“Kacho’s chewing his earholes off about Kurosaki-kun,” Terazuma informed him, jerking a thumb in the direction of Konoe’s office.

“Ummmmm,” Watari paused, wondering what to do. “It’s not really a good idea to disturb them, is it?” he asked, turning his head to look at 003. 003 shook her head. “But we want to know what’s going on, don’t we?” he continued. 003 looked at him with big wide eyes and ruffled her feathers in response. “It wouldn’t hurt just to listen in, would it?” Watari grinned mischievously. 003 put her wings up to cover her ears, and scuttled into Watari’s hair, peeping out from time to time.

“Y’know, I really should have got myself that mouse-mat,” Watari continued conversationally, attempting to aim his words at the bundle of feathers currently burrowing into the side of his neck. 003 made a confused sound. “The one that says: ‘I must be a mushroom – they keep me in the dark and feed me bullshit’,” the scientist explained. It was only after he’d lent the laptop to Hisoka that he learnt that the boy was planning to leave. Had Wakaba and Terazuma been out on a case, he probably still wouldn’t have known. Konoe hadn’t bothered coming out of his office and Tatsumi was stick-up-ass uptight and unforthcoming, which wasn’t really surprising under the circumstances, but hey, it would have been ever so nice to be kept informed.

Despite a sharp warning peck at his ear, Watari tiptoed over to the door of Konoe’s office, Wakaba openly following his movements and Terazuma pretending not to. Pressing his ear up against the door, the blond man listened intently....

“I am well aware that it would be a problem,” Tatsumi said, stiffly, “I hope it won’t come to that.”

“You must have some idea what happened – after all, you were in the office with Tsuzuki-san and Kurosaki-san all of yesterday. Did they have some kind of major argument?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Have you talked to Kurosaki-san about what prompted his decision?”

“Er, yes...”

Watari pulled a face, and resisted the temptation to go in there and rescue Tatsumi from Konoe on some rapidly fabricated excuse about urgent budget matters and/or casework.

“Well....?” Konoe prompted.

Silence.

“Watari-san?”

Wakaba’s voice made Watari jump, his mind being so focussed on the earwigging at hand.

Watari moved a little way from the door, so as not to give away that he was snooping the moment he opened his mouth.

“Aa?” he replied.

“Did you get any idea when the server might be back up?”

Watari shook his head: “None whatsoever.”

Wakaba sighed impatiently, a hint of a worried frown lingering on her face. “I really do need to contact the other GenSouKai gatekeepers,” she said, twisting her ribbon in her fingers. She went silent and stared emptily into space for a few moments, then stood up, hurriedly. “I think I should go and find them,” she said, her tone edgy and her eyes strangely blank.

“Just like a woman to interfere,” remarked Terazuma, a hint of fondness in his voice giving lie to the apparent insensitivity of his words. He hadn’t noticed just how disturbed his partner seemed. Watari, however, saw it.

“Wakaba?” he asked, a little warily.

“I’m getting bad feelings about this,” she said, uneasily,

Watari looked at her questioningly.

“I can’t be sure what it means,” she said, with a shake of her head, her voice tinged with foreboding, “Just that it isn’t good.”

Watari and 003 both stared at her, hoping that she would enlighten them as to what particular “this” her premonition was about, and feeling uncharitable for hoping that the problem was restricted to GenSouKai and wouldn’t affect them.

“I’m going out – I shouldn’t be long,” Wakaba informed her partner. Terazuma stood up and made as though to follow her. “No,” she shook her head, “no need. I’m only going to find the other gatekeepers.” Her tone lightened. “So don’t worry, Hajime-chan!” She reached out to ruffle his hair, and he backed off.

“I’m not!” he retorted, grumpily, sitting down again. Wakaba turned, and with a swirl of long hair and light, hurried steps, she was gone, leaving the two men just looking at each other.

“Women!” said Terazuma, as though he felt that was what he ought to say.

“I wouldn’t really know.” Watari shrugged. It seemed that the female of the species was going to remain a mystery to him for the foreseeable future. His mind, however, was on issues other than gender; namely the mysterious disappearance of Sugimori Etsuko’s name from the Kiseki. Her husband was dead, but she, apparently, wasn’t, which was a tad strange given that other records confirmed that she did indeed die fifty-two years ago. Maybe Tatsumi would be able to shed some light on this, as EnmaCho’s currently non-existent computer network clearly wasn’t going to.

Watari slunk up to the door of Konoe’s office and listened to find out whether or not it was a suitable moment to interrupt.

“I think you know something, so why can’t you tell me?” grumbled Konoe.

Okaaaaay, not a good time for Watari to butt in... or was it? What the hell was Tatsumi supposed to say? ”Kurosaki-san came across myself and Tsuzuki-san having sexual intercourse in the office and this would appear to be the cause of his resignation”?? Yeah, right.

“I don’t see why you feel the need to involve me in this,” Tatsumi replied, coldly.

“Because I’m the one who has to officially deal with this – much though I’d rather not. I don’t want him to leave over some petty argument that could be resolved, and I doubt you want to see Tsuzuki-san hurt again.”

“Talk to Kurosaki-san about it – I really have a lot of work I should be doing,” retorted Tatsumi, striding towards the door and roughly pushing it open. Muffled squawks and swearing came from the other side as he did. Baffled, he looked around and saw no-one. He was about to walk away when it occurred to him to look *behind* the door. Amber and sapphire eyes met in a mutual glare of “What the f**k??” Watari rubbed his shoulder, which hurt from the sudden impact with the wall, and 003 made her feelings clear by cursing him in Owl. She didn’t much appreciate suddenly being propelled backwards into a hard surface.

“What are you doing, Watari-san?” enquired Tatsumi, evenly.

“Coming to talk to you about the Sugimori Etsuko case.”

“Can I talk to you about that later?”

“HER NAME ISN’T ON THE KISEKI,” stated Watari, moving to stand right in front of Tatsumi.

Tatsumi adjusted his spectacles and gave Watari a hard look. “That’s impossible,” he said flatly.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“She died in December 1951, Watari-san.”

“Well, her name isn’t on the Kiseki now.” For a few moments, there was a less than amicable silence between the two men, Watari slightly disgruntled at having his research capabilities questioned. “Tatsumi,” he insisted, stepping closer to look the older man directly in the eye, “we both know that there is a word for people are dead and who have been brought back to life, whatever the means and circumstances, and we know damn well it happens – we deal with it often enough.”

Tatsumi frowned, raising his hand to his face, more to hide his discomfort than his displeasure. “I don’t see how she can have been resurrected. There will be nothing left of her body now but bones... hardly a suitable vessel...”

Watari repressed the urge to just *glare* at Tatsumi and forced himself to accept that the secretary’s mind was pretty much elsewhere right now.

“This is what I need to investigate,” he announced, an exaggerated twirl suggesting his imminent departure. “It would seem likely that someone’s body is being used as a host vessel, and if my calculations are correct, that someone is at or has a connection with ShionDai.”

His carefully-chosen words had the desired effect: “What do you mean, “I”, Watari-san?” Tatsumi enquired, putting one hand firmly on Watari’s arm. “We will investigate this. I will accompany you on this case.”

Watari contemplated the partial success of his persuasive tactics and wasn’t entirely sure that he relished the prospect of himself and Tatsumi alone together on the case, given Tatsumi’s current state of mind – the man was holding his life together with a mixture of pride, repression and denial, and Watari wasn’t sure he was the right person to deal with the fallout should Tatsumi’s mental restraints snap. The implied “I cannot allow that person to join us on this case,” wasn’t exactly going to make for an easy time of it, either. Tsuzuki’s feelings of guilt, responsibility and pain regarding this case were an emotional scar that had never fully healed and that had now been opened again. Watari knew that this case had been their last together as partners, and suspected that it was a sore point in ways that he could only guess at. Nope, Tsuzuki wasn’t going blithely accept being “protected from himself” and quietly stay away. But, what if.... Oh shit, how was Tsuzuki going to react when he found out about Hisoka’s resignation? Watari himself did not believe in a million years that Hisoka would actually go through with leaving Tsuzuki, but he knew equally well that Tsuzuki wasn’t going to see Hisoka’s decision as a blinkered and desperate teenage impulse.

Tatsumi started to ask something about Sugimori Etsuko’s family, then halted abruptly, words frozen in mid-air. Normally, the sight of Tsuzuki with bed-hair, tie at half-mast and a sheepishly apologetic grin as he finally arrived at work several hours late would not be cause for consternation. Today, however, was *not* a normal day. Tatsumi made hastily for Konoe’s office and Watari wondered whether to greet Tsuzuki as though nothing was wrong or go shut himself in his lab before Tsuzuki had fully registered his presence.

Too late.

Still grinning inanely, Tsuzuki ambled over to the kettle and the sorry remains of the morning’s pastry selection. He fingered a small and squashed-looking cake apathetically, then popped it into his mouth with all the gusto of someone taking their daily medication. When he proceeded to vacantly poke a spoon round in the jar of instant coffee without any sign of actually transferring any of the contents to his mug, Watari wanted to intervene. Telling Tsuzuki to go home and back to bed seemed like a good idea. Slipping a him a sleeping potion to ensure his compliance in this matter seemed like a better idea.

“Finally got your arse out of bed then?” enquired Terazuma, dryly, eyeing Tsuzuki from over the top of what appeared to be a girlie mag.

“Uhhhh, yeah...” responded Tsuzuki, shrugging his shoulders and staring vaguely into the middle distance. “Where...” he paused for a moment; “Where’s Hisoka?”

Watari shot Terazuma a glare, daring him to say a word.

“How should I know?” grumbled the former detective, retreating behind his reading material.

Watari took a deep breath: “He’s gone home with a migraine – needs to be on his own and rest up quietly.”

“Oh.” Tsuzuki looked woebegone and far from convinced.

“He really did say that he needed to go home because he had a bad headache,” persisted Watari, smiling encouragingly, hoping that he could persuade Tsuzuki to let things drop. Given time to think things over, surely Hisoka would calm down and realise that he’d made a rash decision?

Tsuzuki managed a half-hearted smile, and continued to prod pointlessly at the contents of the coffee jar. “I’ll give him some peace and quiet, then – he doesn’t need me acting like an idiot around him,” he mumbled, to the accompaniment of the spoon clinking against the side of the jar.

Watari inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, and headed over to one of the desks with the intention of phoning the network service providers and getting an updated status report.

“Is Tatsumi mad at me?”

Watari paused, hand over the phone, and looked at Tsuzuki. “Er, why should he be?” he asked, cautiously.

Tsuzuki shrugged. “It’s nearly mid-day, and there’s still that paperwork I didn’t finish last night...” he answered listlessly, putting the coffee jar down and absently picking at the crumbs left in the bottom of the pastry box.

“He’s been pretty busy – haven’t seen much of him this morning.” Watari reached towards the phone again.

“Do you know where he is?” “Nope.” Finally, Tsuzuki made for his desk, and began to sift through the disorganized mess of paperwork. Watari dialled the network and spent the next several minutes listening to a combination of a recorded message plus canned classical music and “Where did I put that piece of paper?” wails of dismay from Tsuzuki. 003 bobbed her head cheerfully in time to the muzak. At least somebody was getting something out of this...

Watari started as he saw Tsuzuki rise from his desk and head towards Konoe’s office. Before he could think up any way to stop him, Tsuzuki had opened the door and poked his head inside.

Abandoning all thoughts of contacting the network so-called helpline, Watari promptly ended the call and followed Tsuzuki, earning himself a disgruntled nip on the ear from 003. Perhaps he should have left her to enjoy the delights of Mozart being played cellphone ringtone-style. It wasn’t like the helpline staff were going to answer the call anytime soon.

“Resigned? Who... What...?” Tsuzuki was sounding confused, by the time Watari reached the office.

“Tsuzuki-san, I was having a meeting with Konoe-kacho. Was there something you wanted?” Tatsumi’s voice was positively brittle. Watari stepped inside the office just in time to see Tsuzuki home in on something on Konoe’s desk. The room fell still and silent as Tsuzuki picked up the letter with shaking hands. Those few moments seemed to go on forever, frozen in a kind of suspended animation. The paper slipped from Tsuzuki’s hands and fluttered to the floor. No-one moved to retrieve it.

“Hisoka... leaving...” said Tsuzuki, eventually, his face a blank mask, his voice hollow.

“No, he’s just being...”

“Tsuzuki-san, I’m sure he...”

“Tsuzuki, you...”

Tsuzuki ignored all of them, barely aware of their presence, and walked slowly towards the door. Tatsumi followed him, reaching out to grasp his former partner’s arm. Tsuzuki shrugged him away. “I’ll be fine,” he murmured, “Don’t worry about me. I’m just going outside for some fresh air.” And with that, he was gone, before anyone had the presence of mind to actually stop him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours, several fruitless phonecalls and visits to an empty apartment and a phonecall to Hisoka later, there was still no sign of Tsuzuki.



[Notes]  [1]  [2]  [3]  [4]  [5]



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