A productive Sunday morning (for at least one of the twins, that is…)
For Lily ( @books-tea-ghosts )! I hope this is considered twins fluff! I had this image of them trying to study together and Luella buys them some snacks, but of course, Gene just lounges around and doesn’t actually work. He’s just there for the food. XD
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Here is the list of all the works received this year. This list, along with the lists of past years’ works can be found on our exchange page.
As always I want to thank everyone who worked so hard to make the 29 works this year!
Spring 2018 GHW
Art
A Productive Sunday Morning, by @soulsborne123
Smiles in a Familiar Place, by @chibijirachiwish
Z is for Zephyr fanart based off of a chapter (with the same name as the piece) in @writercorianarose‘s story The Not Too Distant Future, By @books-tea-ghosts
It was supposed to be a typical run-of-the-mill case but then, the cases they took were always anything but typical. With that thought in mind, Mai took in the quiet street behind her, a short glance down the empty road, and straightened. It wasn’t like her to be intimidated by a fancy neighbourhood like this yet her scuffed and worn trainers looked glaringly old on her feet as she followed Naru and Lin towards the house up the long, spacious driveway. The modern three-storey house loomed above them. Mai couldn’t help but peer through the wide glass windows, seeing only a wedge of darkness beyond.
“You won’t be able to see anything inside,” Naru said pointedly. “The windows are designed to stop nosy people like you from looking in.” He hadn’t even glanced at Mai and he knew what she was doing. Mai pouted, gave him a mock glare, and stopped leaning over the garden. She couldn’t help but be curious at a house like this, an overly spacious grandiose display of wealth that made her feel small.
Lin rang the doorbell and they waited in a pensive silence. Mai swallowed and adjusted the hem of her shirt, tried to smooth her hair into something respectable as the wind tried to make a mess of it again. A cool wisp of air brushed over the back of her neck and she shivered instinctively, feeling cold even beneath the hot sun. A door slammed down the street and Mai jumped. She whirled, seeking out the noise, finding a man walking up his driveway. No spirit. No strange activity. Only a man minding his own business. Great. They weren’t even inside and she was already on edge.
The front door clicked open, revealing a modestly dressed woman in her mid-to-late thirties with short cropped dark hair. Her gaze drifted over the three of them, studiously lingering on each of them in turn, before she smiled. A gentle, amicable-yet-stiff smile that made her appear more nervous than friendly.
“You must be the… uh, ghost hunters?” Her smile became strained, obviously not used to the idea of ghost hunters or even ghosts themselves. She turned her dark eyes to Lin and her gentle smile returned. “You must be Mr. Shibuya, correct? We spoke on the phone.” She held out her hand to greet him.
“That would be me.” Naru stepped forward, offering her a full-wattage smile, perfectly disguising the edge to his voice.
Mai held back a snort of laughter.
Their client’s eyes widened, hand frozen mid-air, before she nodded and composed herself. The smile returned once more. “Oh, of course. My mistake. It’s nice to finally meet you. You may call me Chiyoko.” Her voice was light and airy; brushing off that mistake as one would flick off a speck of dust from their shoulder. “I assumed you would be older… you’re quite young to be doing this sort of thing, aren’t you?”
Naru’s smile didn’t fracture the slightest, to Mai’s continued amusement. “Age has nothing to do with it, I assure you.”
Chiyoko’s smile was as perfect as Naru’s. “Of course.”
Mai took that moment to end the war of perfect smiles between them to introduce herself and Lin quickly. It was as she finished that three young girls peeked out from behind Chiyoko.
Chiyoko glanced behind her, following Mai’s gaze, and chuckled. “Oh, these are my three girls.” Her smile faded as she introduced them as Naoko, eleven years old, Hanako, eight years old, and Setsuko, six years old. “As you can see, this… situation has been hardest on them.”
The girls stepped out from behind their mother and Mai gasped. The sight was so sudden, so shocking, she couldn’t stifle herself in time. All three of them had bruises dotting their skin in a wash of colours from dark purple and blues to fading yellows and greens. The bruises spread up their arms and down their legs. Mai’s heart rose into her throat at the botch of purple across Setsuko’s neck.
It looked like a hand print.
“Your daughter’s arm is from when she was pushed down the stairs?” Naru asked matter-of-factly, drawing Mai’s attention to Naoko and her right arm securely held in a cast. She’d been so focused on the bruises that it had completely slipped her attention.
Chiyoko swallowed. “Yes. That’s right. It’s because of that that I called you.”
Pushed down the stairs.
Mai remembered vaguely reading that in the case notes earlier but seeing the end result, right here in front of her, made her feel sick. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. This case was going to be anything but typical.
With the introductions out of the way, Mai, Naru and Lin were ushered inside. The second Mai walked through that door she felt something was off. And it wasn’t the overpowering scent of lavender in the air that was causing it, nor the polished marble floors beneath her feet that practically sparkled. It wasn’t the towering ceiling, the majestic paintings hanging on the walls with exquisitely detailed wooden frames. It wasn’t the biting chill the wind had adopted, rushing in after them before the door slammed shut.
It was the laughter that chimed in her ears, a sweet, child-like giggle, that made Mai’s skin crawl.
None of the girls had laughed.
“Is there someone else here?” Mai asked, a slow feeling of dread creeping down her back. She glanced down the hall, half expecting another girl appear. Another, younger girl.
“No… why do you ask?” Chiyoko slowed to a stop, giving Mai a worried frown.
Naru sent her a scathing look and Mai shrunk, realising quickly that her comment wasn’t helping. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten their client. Mai and her big mouth. Already off to a great start, making a splendid first impression. Great.
“It’s nothing, never mind,” Mai quickly amended. From the quizzical look on Chiyoko’s face, Mai thought she was going to press further and was surprised when she didn’t, nodding instead.
It was easy to brush off that shaky start as they got to work and fell into routine. After what Chiyoko called a brief tour of the house – as if a tour of a house that big could ever be brief – and they were shown a decent room to begin their operations, it felt like a normal case once again.
Even Naru’s expectant glare felt normal. He stared at her, pointedly, waiting for her to explain herself.
Mai plonked herself down on the leather lounge suite with a sigh. It was a delightfully comfy couch, Mai sinking into it as she leant back. “I heard laughter,” she said, glancing to the door to make sure it was closed fully.
Naru seated himself opposite her, his glare warming into curiosity. The cogs were already turning behind his eyes. “What kind of laugh?”
Mai thought back, remembering the trickle of laughter. It had sounded close. Inside the house, right in front of her. Right into her ears. Mai rubbed her hands up and down her arms at the cold feeling that draped over her.
“Like a child’s laugh. A young child. And it wasn’t… happy, exactly. More… mischievous? It didn’t sound malicious to me, at least.” Mai shrugged, frustrated at herself, frustrated that all she’d heard was a laugh. Nothing more. There wasn’t much to go on.
Naru nodded. “How young? Younger than Setsuko?”
“Yes, like… two or three years old. Really young.”
At least Naru seemed to be onto something. He looked to Lin, who flicked through his notes.
“Chiyoko only has three children. There was no mention of any others,” Lin said.
Naru nodded, his gaze wandering as he thought. As silence descended over them, Mai decided it was time to make tea. Soon they each had a cup and Mai could finally relax. The warmth and familiarity of drinking a cup of tea settled her nerves. She was just being jumpy, she told herself. Skittish. A classic example of first-day-on-a-new-case nerves. A mixture of excitement and apprehension churned in her stomach.
With a cup of tea warming Mai’s body and soul, she skimmed over the facts of the case. It was a recent haunting, six months old, if Chiyoko and her children’s accounts were correct. In fact, it had started right before they moved into this house. The haunting had followed them here.
Mai blew gently on her tea before giving it a tentative sip, making sure not to scald her tongue, and continued reading. It was a classic haunting. Objects moving by themselves – though not seen by anyone – things going missing, lights flickering, doors shutting… Mai felt like she’d read this list a thousand times before.
And then it became serious.
A feeling of being watched. Movement out of the corner of their eyes. Windows and lights shattering, objects being tossed, things thrown across the room and breaking. All three children had been dragged out of bed. They’d been tripped, seemingly on nothing. Setsuko had been choked, although it had stopped before it turned serious. Naoko, the oldest, had been pushed down the stairs, resulting in a broken arm and a nasty concussion.
Something was missing.
Mai stared at the notes, neatly typed by Lin, and flipped it over. The reverse side was blank. There was no note of the laughter she had heard.
Downing the rest of her tea in one last gulp, Mai stood and gathered her note book and pen. They’d decided early on that she would take care of interviewing the three girls, leaving Naru and Lin to interrogate Chiyoko. That was completely fine with Mai, and it meant they’d fast track the first stage of their investigation before things got any more serious.
Mai exited the base and paused. She already felt turned around, disorientated in the sprawling house, and really didn’t want to get lost this early on. At least there were only three floors. Sending a quick glance down the hall, Mai let out a sigh. Houses like this should’ve be easy to navigate after that labyrinth of a mansion they’d worked in and yet, here she was, as confused as ever.
It was a relief when Mai stepped into the living room and found the stairs. Her instinct to turn left down the hall had been right. She made for the staircase with a spring in her step when movement outside caught her eyes. She turned, staring through the glass doors into the garden, to find the clothesline spinning. Mai’s shoulders slumped. It was just a stupid clothesline. Spinning around and around aimlessly… except there was no wind to push it. None of the trees, none of the bushes or plants were swaying in the garden.
And yet the clothesline span. Almost as if…
Mai slid open the back door and stepped out into the spacious garden, scanning the area. It was lush and well maintained, bushes neatly trimmed and roses blooming beautifully. A gorgeous ceramic bowl overflowing with succulents adorned the table.
The garden was empty and silent. There was no one out there.
Mai was inside and halfway up the staircase in a heartbeat.
-
Mai found the girls where they said they’d be, in the games room on the second floor, and gave them an amicable smile and a gentle wave when they glanced at her. It was time to get to work.
The three girls exchanged glances as Mai sat down, making her pause. “Is something wrong?”
Naoko shook her head slowly. “No… it’s just… we’ve heard it too.”
“Heard ‘it’ too… meaning?”
“The laughing,” Hanako said. “We’ve all heard it.”
Mai’s eyes widened. She glanced down to her notes, the bullet-points she’d taken on the events that had occurred. There had been no mention of laughter.
“Mum didn’t want us to mention it,” Naoko said. She sat down, careful of her arm in the sling. “Or any of the things we’ve seen.”
Now that got Mai’s attention. Her eyebrows rose at Naoko’s admission. “What have you seen?”
Naoko looked to Hanako, who frowned. “What?” Hanako grumbled.
“You’re the one who saw it properly,” Naoko said.
“Setsuko did too!”
Setsuko shook her head quickly, her black hair swishing across her face. “It’s scary!”
“See? She’s scared. Just tell Mai what you saw,” Naoko huffed.
“Fine!” Defeated, Hanako folded her arms and dropped into a chair, slumping. “I’m scared too,” she muttered under her breath.
Mai gave Hanako a sympathetic smile. “Did you all see the same thing?”
Hanako, still folding her arms and pouting, nodded.
“Then you can all tell me what you saw,” Mai said. “It’s very important. Even the tiniest detail.”
Hanako glanced up at Mai, unsure. “Really?”
“Really.” Mai nodded.
That made Hanako brighten a bit, unfolding her arms. “It was really small,” she said, drawing out the syllables of ‘really’ for emphasis. “Like, it came up to here.” She held her hand, gesturing the height, which fitted the assumption of it being a two or three year old.
“It was taller than that,” Naoko said. “It was like here.” Naoko gave her own estimation of its height which was hardly different to Hanako’s.
Hanako blew out a puff of air. “No, it wasn’t. I saw it better than you.”
“Well, then your eyes are wrong! Because it was way taller than that.”
“You wanted me to tell Mai because I saw it properly!”
“She said the tiniest detail is important and you’re getting it wrong!”
Mai shrunk in her chair as Naoko and Hanako traded words that soon turned into throwing insults, their voices rising and rising as they snapped at each other.
“All right, all right!” Mai stood, trying to placate them with her hands raised in a calming gesture. “I get it. The height’s not really that important. What it looked like, what it did, that’s more important.”
Naoko and Hanako glared at each other for a moment longer before Naoko huffed. Hanako rolled her eyes and folded her arms. Mai pursed a smile at the childish display and glanced at Setsuko, who had been silent the entire time. She was busy drawing, scribbling something on a piece of paper with a black crayon.
Mai meandered over to Setsuko to let the older two cool their heads for a moment. “What’re you drawing?” she asked, leaning over to catch a glimpse of it as Setsuko scribbled furiously.
Setsuko paused, looking up at Mai with her big, round eyes, and held up her drawing. “It looked like this!”
Mai blinked at the scribble, unsure of what she was seeing for a moment in the mass of dark scribbles. The lines were thick and dark, swirling over and over each other to create what looked like a crudely drawn person. A small, misshapen person with a large head.
A child.
“That’s… what it looks like?” Mai asked, studying the drawing. It was hard to tell what was artistic liberty and what was accurate. The swirls creating the head bled into the space above.
“Yup.” Setsuko took her drawing back and added a few more scribbles here and there. “It’s all… fuzzy.”
“It looks like a shadow,” Naoko said, peering over at her sister’s drawing. “Like… it’s not really… there.”
Mai nodded, quickly jotting down their descriptions into her notebook. “When did you guys see it? What was it doing?”
Silence fell. Setsuko stopped scribbling and bit her bottom lip. Naoko and Hanako said nothing, both looking elsewhere. Mai’s stomach flopped. They’d been so eager to tell her moments earlier.
“What’s wrong?” Mai asked, giving them an amicable smile. She needed to say something, anything, to break the silence. To get them to talk.
“I… saw it push Naoko down the stairs…” Hanako said, her voice barely audible even in the silence.
Oh.
The reason for their silence was obvious now. They’d seen it when it had hurt them. No wonder they didn’t want to talk. They didn’t want to remember that.
“Thanks, Hanako,” Mai said softly. “I think I get it now. You’ve been really helpful.”
“Really?” Hanako sniffed, her gaze unsure. She looked smaller now, arms folded tightly, as if withdrawing into herself. It was obvious now just how frightened these girls were.
“Definitely.” Mai beamed a smile at the girls, trying to lift their spirits. She decided to leave it at that and not press them any further, even though she was still curious about one thing. Why Chiyoko told them not to mention what they’d heard or seen. That thought spun around and around in her mind as she made her way back down to their base to report what she’d learnt.
-
When Naru and Lin returned from their interview with Chiyoko, they exchanged notes. Mai gave them a quick run through of what she’d learnt, how the girls reacted to Mai’s questions and, finally, the fact that Chiyoko had asked them not to mention the laughter or what they’d seen.
Naru studied Mai’s hopefully-intelligible scrawl, his eyes scanning her notes, already well into his second cup of tea.
“They didn’t say why?” Naru asked, not even glancing up at Mai as he continued reading.
“I… didn’t exactly ask.”
Naru shot her a look, his question obvious in his glare.
“I didn’t want to press any further. They’d already scared enough as it is!” Mai folded her arms defensively, remembered Hanako doing the same thing and promptly unfolded them. She took to flicking through the notes Lin had taken and paused when she reached a picture of a house. It was a small, shanty looking house. The white paint on the front porch was peeling and curling back, revealing the wood beneath. The grass was overgrown, weeds springing up from between the cracks in the driveway. It was a poorly kept house that, from the looks of it, was about to fall to pieces.
“What’s this?” Mai asked, holding up the photo. It was a strange thing to find buried within their notes.
“The house they were living in six months ago,” Naru answered.
“What? Really?” Mai gaped, staring down at the photo, before glancing around the room. The house they were in now was a world and a half away from the one in the photo. “Did they win the lottery or something? How did they afford this place?”
“That’s the question.” Naru answered plainly, his lack of reaction meaning this was old news for him. Of course he’d known about this beforehand. Typical Naru.
“Look at this,” Lin said, calling Naru over to the computer. “Her husband has been reported missing.”
“Missing?” Mai repeated. Her stomach sank deeper, deeper into her gut. She no longer felt like drinking her tea.
“Just over six months ago,” Lin said.
“Interesting.” Naru scanned the screen, deep in thought. “But does it have any bearing on our case?”
“If he’s regarded as missing she won’t be able to access his life insurance policy,” Lin said.
“Wait, wait, are you saying Chiyoko did… something?” Mai asked, her shock washing over her voice. Naru and Lin both turned to face her. Naru raised a brow. “I mean… isn’t the ghost a child? What does her husband being missing have anything to do with that?”
Naru sighed. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. For now, we’ll consider Chiyoko’s husband missing, not dead. But it’s a point to remember.”
Mai’s head was spinning. She didn’t want to begin to think about the suggestion in Naru’s tone, in his words. Her mind kept flicking back to the girls, to the fear in their eyes. The way Hanako drew into herself, the bruises on their skin, Naoko’s broken arm. The laughter that sounded in her ears.
There was a ghost here. That much, Mai was certain of.
She needed some air. Mai stood and left their base with the excuse to make more tea, her own cup sitting discarded on the coffee table, now lukewarm. She made her way to the kitchen, plodding along at her own pace. She was in no hurry to get there, though she knew the route to the kitchen off well by now. It was one of the first things she always made note of.
Tea was important, after all.
Mai set off automatically, filling the kettle and setting it to boil on the stove. By now, she was sure she could make a brilliant cup of tea blindfolded. The routine of making tea was familiar and calming and she could set herself to work and not have to think for a moment. And it was silent. No paper turning, not keyboards clacking. For a moment, Mai could breathe.
The silence drifted on. And on. Mai waited, turning the packet of tea leaves in her hands absently. She leant against the counter and waited for the familiar sounds of water bubbling and boiling, the familiar shrill whistle of the kettle.
It didn’t come. The stove was off. Discarding the packet of tea leaves, Mai huffed and turned the dial on for the second time. She leant over, making sure the flames lit properly this time. So much for being able to make tea blindfolded.
Mai turned her back and readied three mugs, setting them gently on the counter. She couldn’t wait to down another cup of hot tea. She was beginning to feel cold without it and regretted abandoning her previous cup. Impatient for the water to boil, Mai glanced back to the stove. The flame was off.
“Again?” Mai huffed, frustration raw in her throat. All she wanted was a nice, hot cup of tea. “You’d think a house this fancy would at least have a working stove…” Mai grumbled to herself and moved the kettle to a different position before turning the stove on again. She went to turn the previous dial off except it already was. Her fingers stilled mid-air. She hadn’t turned it off.
Someone laughed behind her. Mai whirled to find nothing there.The kitchen was empty. The dining room was empty. It was as silent as ever.
That didn’t stop Mai’s heartrate from spiking, her pulse thundering in her ears. She waited a moment, then two, in the silence. Listening to the silence. To her heartbeat, to the stove and the water beginning to bubble and boil. To the laughter.
It was a quiet, gentle giggle. Almost playful. The kind of laugh that makes people smile, that fills their heart with joy, not the sickly dread that crawled down Mai’s back.
It was close. Mai shot a glance down the hall. The door to the base was shut. They wouldn’t be able to hear it. They’d hear Mai if she shouted, though, which gave her the confidence to step forward, to creep around the kitchen counter.
Something darted up the stairs. Something small and dark, moving in a flash, a blur of shadow. It was gone in an instant and so was Mai, following after it with her heart in her throat. She stormed up the stairs, footsteps sounding heavy thuds as she chased after the spectre.
Around the corner and it was gone again, up another floor. Mai gave chase. Higher and higher, taking the steps as fast as she could, racing up to the landing to find the hall empty. She glanced left and right, seeing only doors, only plush carpet and picture frames. No shadow. No ghost child. No laughter. All Mai could hear was her heavy breathing, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
A door opened behind her. Mai whirled on her toes, hands raised to protect herself, to call the nine-cuts, and found Chiyoko, not a ghost, staring at her with wide eyes.
“Is everything all right, Mai?” Chiyoko asked with a gentle smile, her gaze tinged with concern.
Mai sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. She’d worked herself into a right state after seeing the spirit and probably looked rabid. Her face was flushed, she was still catching her breath. Mai glanced back down the hall, down the stairs, before nodding. “Yes, sorry. Everything’s fine.”
“That’s good. I was just wondering if you’d be able to check something out for me?”
Mai smoothed down her hair, turning back to Chiyoko with a pleasant smile. “Of course. What is it?”
Chiyoko’s smile softened and she clasped her hands together apologetically. “I know I didn’t mention this before but I’ve been hearing noises from our attic. If you could just duck up there really quick and make sure it’s all okay, that would be perfect.” Her smile was dazzling, her tone absolutely pleading for help, and Mai couldn’t refuse.
“Sure. No problem.”
Noises in the attic were the least of their problems.
Chiyoko beamed. “Oh, thank you! It’s right this way.” She turned with a swish of her hair and led Mai down the hall to where she opened a door nestled at the end to reveal a set of stairs. “There you go!” Chiyoko said, flicking on the light to the attic.
“Right.” Mai steeled herself and headed up the stairs. A shiver danced down her arms and legs as she climbed higher, grateful for the light illuminating her path as she arrived at the attic and opened the door. It was spacious, with exposed wooden beams and flooring. There were a few boxes scattered here and there, and old wardrobe propped up against the wall. It may as well have been empty. Even without the light on there was hardly any chance of bumping into anything. Most of the room was vacant.
Mai stepped into the attic and gave it a quick glance. A thin layer of dust had settled on the boxes but for the most part it was clean. The air was a bit musty but it was nothing compared to some of the attics she had been in before. In fact, there was no sign of rats, no sign of anything that could be the cause of the noise at a first glance.
“It doesn’t look like there’s anything up here,” Mai called over her shoulder, not really expecting her voice to travel down the stairs. What she didn’t expect was the door to slam behind her. Mai yelped, heart racing again, and the light above her flickered. The walls creaked and groaned. The air grew cold, an icy chill settling over the room.
Mai wasn’t going to stay there any longer. She raced to the door and yanked the handle, finding it stuck. The door was stuck.
“Chiyoko!” Mai called, pulling again and again on the door. It didn’t budge. The air was growing colder and colder with each passing second. “Chiyoko! Are you there? The door won’t open!”
Chiyoko’s voice sounded clear from the other side. “Please, don’t take this personally, Mai. But I can’t go back to the way things were before.”
Chiyoko’s voice, calm and deliberate, made a cold chill run down Mai’s spine, colder than the frosty air wrapping around her. The realisation hit Mai like a train. Sudden and hard, shattering the last fibres of her confidence. It washed over her in a torrent of panic.
The light shattered, drowning Mai in darkness as it rained glass.
“Chiyoko!” Mai cried, tugging, yanking the door handle, before deciding to pound on it instead. “Chiyoko! Let me out of here!”
Mai was answered with a laugh. A trill of bright laughter from behind her, from inside the attic. Mai whirled, back pressed hard against the door. The attic was empty still. The laughter sounded again from all around her. From the walls. The floor. The door. It was everywhere at once.
It was here. Dark wisps of smoke collected at the end of the attic, swirling into a small, crouched form that began to rise. It grew bigger. Changed shape, tendrils shifting into limbs, pooling into a body, into its head.
Mai sucked in a gasp of frosty air. She snapped her hands together and began the chant Monk had taught her long ago. It was automatic by now, she ran on instinct as her heart thundered in her ears. She chanted over the creaking walls and floor. Over the laughter.
It was still growing. It staggered forward a step, its form rippling and shifting. Completely undeterred by Mai’s chant. She raised her hands for the nine-cuts.
The door shuddered behind her.
“Mai!”
Despite the danger, despite the lumbering shadow descending upon her, Mai’s heart soared. “Naru!”
He was right behind her. Mai raised her hands with more confidence, Naru’s presence like a blanket of calm washing over her, and prepared herself.
“Chiyoko, call it off,” Naru ordered from behind the door. “It will still listen to you. Stop it before you take another victim.”
Mai threw the nine-cuts as the shadow staggered forward. It fell back a step, then two, wisps of smoke and shadow flying off. It was only a second before it grew back the mass it had lost.
“Naru!” Mai cried again, pressed right up against the door until it hurt. As far away from that… thing as she could get. It kept growing. Kept advancing. Mai threw the cuts again, falling right back into the chant. Again.
Naru’s voice was calm. “We know what happened to your husband. How you could suddenly afford this house. The endless promotions at your work.”
Chiyoko didn’t answer. The shadow slumped and staggered closer. Dragging its feet, heavy across the floor. Growing taller. It barely resembled the child it had once been, rising taller than Mai.
“Stand away from the door.” Lin’s order was clear. Mai swallowed her fear and shifted over, still calling the chant. Her hands trembled. The shadow was halfway across the attic.
“You give it a sacrifice to calm it for now and it will need another later. It’s never going to end,” Naru continued. “It will always want more. By keeping it here you’re endangering your children. It was a broken arm this time but next? Are you willing to risk the life of your children for this?”
“The more you ask of it, the more you treat it like your own child,” Lin said. “Kuman Thong are jealous spirits. It is your children’s lives you are putting at risk, no matter how many times you appease it.”
“End it now.” Naru’s tone was final. “Before you take another life.” The ground creaked as the shadow grew closer, closer still. It rose to the full height of the attic, spilling forward to lean over Mai. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t scream.
Naru!
“Stop!”
At Chiyoko’s command, the door flew open. A shrill, ear-piercing whistle sounded and a flash of light cut forward, splitting the shadow into pieces. The wisps dissolved into the air, into nothing. Lin and Naru rushed into the attic and the spirit was gone. It was quiet. Mai slumped against the wall, the tension draining from her body.
It was over.
It didn’t take long for Naru to locate the Kuman Thong. Neatly wrapped in a checked cloth in one of the boxes by the wall was a tiny mummified baby coated in a layer of thin, gold leaf. It only took a single glance for Mai to tell it was too small. It had never even gotten a chance to live itself.
Chiyoko didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at them, as they descended from the attic. Mai kept her arms wrapped around her body, the chill from the attic having seeped into her bones. Lin took the Kuman Thong outside to burn and purify as Naru and Mai packed up the base in silence. It was only after they had left, driving down the road, that the police were called and given an anonymous tip about the fate of Chiyoko’s husband. Whether there was anything left for anyone to find, Mai would never find out. She had other questions to ask, anyway.
“That… thing. What was it?” Mai asked, staring out the window at nothing as they drove back to the office. She could still see the tiny form wrapped in the cloth. She could still remember the laugh.
“A Kuman Thong,” Lin answered. “An ancient Thai tutelary deity. It’s commonly said to bring luck and wealth to those who keep one, though it isn’t that simple.”
It never is, Mai thought bitterly.
“The spirit is that of a child and grows in kind with their master’s desire. If you do good, it will bring good. If you use it for bad purposes, however…” Lin sighed. “They are jealous, needy spirits. They need attention and care to be properly maintained. Giving it blood from a sacrifice is a crude way to placate a spirit.”
Mai chewed her bottom lip. “Is that what happened to her husband…?”
“We assume so,” Naru said matter-of-factly. “But it’s not us to figure that out. We aren’t the police.”
Mai sighed and wished she could accept that, wished she could tear her mind away from the three young girls left behind. The spirit was gone. They were no longer in any danger but it still didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel complete.
Ok, so here’s the horror part of your exchange! I hope it lets me send both! I really hope you like it! I had a lot of fun with this one. Possessed!Mai is just such a fun subject to draw!
Summary: The first morning on the mountain.
Timeline: Before the Forgotten Children Case / Word Count: 1350
For: @samantha-girlscout
By: @radiowrites
Original prompt: ‘I’d like to receive something focusing kind of more of the group family dynamic? It can be between just a few of them, or all of them, and in whatever situation, but I’m kind of in a wholesome mood.’
Masako was woken up by pleasant smells of breakfast cooking. She rolled over and surveyed the room. It always took her a moment to remember where she was when she slept in a strange place. The food smelled like home, but there were bird sounds outside, and a gentle breeze moved through the trees. No traffic, no hum of the city in the summer. The quiet of the countryside had grown on her since staying at the Yoshimi home. She had needed to return to the city for a recording when the guys had still been in the hospital, and the very air there made her head ache.
The countryside didn’t make the world any more peaceful, though. There had been serious problems at the last house, and there were dark undercurrents outside this cabin as well. She wanted to drift off to sleep again, but the voices in the kitchen wouldn’t let her. Masako got up and shuffled to the kitchen doorway.
“Naru and Lin-san will say they don’t want anything anyway,” Mai said. The front door was open and she was sitting on the stoop.
“Can you ask them anyway? You have nothing to lose,” Ayako said. Ayako had on an apron pattened with flowers. Masako had to wonder if she had it packed with her. They had been lucky the cabin had been stocked with some basic pots and pans. Masako and Mai had been concerned they would only be able to make their meals over a campfire — though Yasuhara had seemed excited over the prospect.
Mai mumbled, “I do.”
“What?” Ayako’s tone said she had heard Mai clearly.
Mai flinched. “Naru’s going to say something mean again! Why can’t you go?”
There was a pot steaming on the stove, and Ayako stopped stirring. She raised the ladle, her attitude menacing. “Then do you want to cook instead?”
There was silence from Mai. She finally said, “I can’t.”
Ayako nodded. “Just go. I’m worried they didn’t eat last night, too.”
“Okay.” Mai stood up and slumped away without turning around.
Masako started to back up into the bedroom again.
“Masako.”
Caught.
Ayako continued, “Do you think you can stir this for me?”
Masako entered the kitchen in the same slumped manner that Mai had left it. She went to take the ladle from Ayako, who proceeded to direct her to the sink to wash her hands first. Masako felt her ears redden. She knew that.
There was miso soup in the pot, and Masako diligently stirred, though she had the feeling it really didn’t need her help at this point. In fact, it really didn’t look like Ayako needed her help at all. The meal was mostly set out. Next to the rice, there was a loaf of bread. Masako couldn’t remember if it had been on Ayako’s shopping list. She wondered if Takigawa had bought it. Or maybe John.
“Where did you learn to cook?” Masako asked. “Didn’t you have servants for that?”
Ayako paused in chopping a stack of green onions. “We did, but we had a cook during my teenage years that encouraged me to help. She told me the last thing I would want to happen is end up in college without knowing how to even boil water.” Her knife moved through the green onions again. “I balked, at first. Just because I could, I guess. I wanted my nails to look nice, I didn’t want to smear my makeup in a hot sweaty kitchen. But when I would come home before dinner, there would be a little chore she suddenly needed help with. Stirring a pot. Retrieving a spice. Slicing a vegetable. When I realized my mother hated the time I was spending there with a servant - well, that sealed the deal. And she was much too good a chef for my mother to get rid of her just to spite me.”
Ayako swept the pile of green onions into a bowl. “So, what about you? How did you not learn how to cook?”
“My manager reprimanded my mom for allowing me to wash dishes,” Masako said. “Something about ruining my hands for a recording. Then I wasn’t allowed into the kitchen again. My mother sometimes overreacts like that.”
“Sounds like you need a new manager.”
Masako had thought she was going to say it sounded like she needed a new mother. She smiled slightly at the thought. “She’s my aunt. My mother’s younger sister.”
Ayako shook her head slightly. “I stand by what I said.”
Masako wanted to say something sharp back — how dare you, you don’t know me or my family — but she realized that was exactly the problem Mai had been struggling with. Nobody really knew each other. How had they managed to work together so closely for all this time? Was it really all going to fall apart when Naru and Lin left?
Ayako came over and examined the pot. “That looks good. You should go get ready for breakfast before the guys arrive.” She glanced at Masako. “If you need anything to wear, don’t hesitate to go through my bags.”
“Okay,” Masako said. She stepped aside and watched Ayako fiddle with the setup of the small table. Ayako was muttering something about maybe they should eat outside. Masako didn’t really see her as a mother figure, or the big sister that Mai did. Masako saw Ayako like the aunt Kimiko never had been. Someone who actually took care of you, and didn’t hold back if she saw a problem with something.
Masako stopped in the doorway to the bedroom. “Ayako? How did you get what you want, even if your parents disagreed?”
“How so?” Ayako said. She had been in the process of untying her apron, and she looked up at Masako expectantly.
“My father still thinks I’m making everything up when I’m talking to spirits. My mother hates that I became a celebrity and wishes I had done something sensible with my life, and I’m not even an adult. My aunt just uses me since she couldn’t become famous herself.”
Ayako pulled the apron off and set it on the counter. “Well, I think you misunderstand. I don’t have it much different from you. My parents never believed me about being a Miko. They still don’t. They just see me as a failure who shows up occasionally when she needs money. I couldn’t change what they thought of me, since each person wanted something different.” She shrugged. “I hope that makes sense. I’ve never been good at giving pep talks.”
“Yes. Yes, it does.” Masako could hear voices approaching the cabin. “Do you think you could… let me help in the kitchen later?”
Ayako nodded, and Masako scurried into the bedroom to get dressed.
Takigawa’s voice carried into the cabin. “That smells good.”
“No thanks to you,” Ayako called back. “Help me carry these dishes out, there will be more room outside.”
Masako had chosen a kimono from her bag, and bumped into Mai on her way out of the bedroom.
“Oh, I thought you might still be sleeping,” Mai said. She grinned. Her eyes were red rimmed.
“Ayako didn’t let me,” Masako said. “You okay? Is Naru and Lin-san coming to eat?”
“Ah, no,” Mai said. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine. They just haven’t changed a bit.”
“Good morning girls,” Yasuhara said. He was looking around the cabin, which Masako doubted looked any different from the one he was staying in. His movements were stilted since his stay in the hospital. He gave off the feeling that he was concerned he was going to crack a rib again if he moved too fast.
Ayako came in, finger pointed at Yasuhara. “Quit acting like you broke an ankle. Take the plates outside.”
Yasuhara bowed his head too deeply. “Yes ma’am.”
He leaned over and stage whispered to Mai and Masako, “If she is too much for you two, there is room in our cabin.”
Mai smiled, more genuinely than before. “I don’t think John will allow that.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Yasuhara waved a hand in dismissal. “Just like he wouldn’t let me drink with Takigawa last night.” He picked up the plates, and the girls followed him outside.
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Hello! I had quite a bit of fun writing this. Originally I had planned for this to be about a Mairu trip in the fall… But then the story went in a completely different direction. It’s not often that I let my muse wander this much, but I hope that you’ll enjoy the path that it has led me on.
“Hi, Boss,” Yasuhara said as he walked into the office, a bright smile on his face as he waved at Mai. “How are things going today?”
“Oh, busy as always,” Mai said with a roll of her eyes as she gestured to the pile of paperwork on her desk that was carefully organized to hide her homework. “What are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”
“Can’t I come in just to say hello to my favorite people?”
“Last I heard your days off were ‘treasures that you wouldn’t squander if your life depended on it’. Unless you decided to give up your partying ways…”
“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m a great college student. I only go to parties once in a while and every other moment I have is devoted to homework.”
Mai hummed. “And I’m sure your latest post about, what was it, the wonders of Shots Sat—”
Yasuhara promptly covered Mai’s mouth as he looked around the office to see if anyone had heard her. As per usual, neither Lin nor Naru were anywhere to be seen in the main area, but there was no telling who was listening in.
“Now, now, now. No need to talk about that kind of stuff while we’re at the office. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the idea that I’m anything but a hard worker.”
Mai pried his hand off of her mouth. “You do realize that everyone follows you right? Like Naru probably doesn’t really pay much attention, but I’m pretty sure that everyone has seen what you do on the weekends.”
“Yeah, well, there’s no reason to spur anyone stalking more than they already do.” Yasuhara shook his head. “Besides, don’t act like I’m the only one who will be posting loads of pictures this weekend.”
Mai squeaked at the wink Yasuhara sent her way.
“What on earth do you mean by that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m just pretty sure that I remember you talking about how your class trip is this weekend.”
“And?”
“And, as your elder, I remember how raucous my own class trip was! It seems just like yesterday that I and the other young lads snuck off to go find—”
“You say that like you didn’t go on your class trip just last year! And, b-besides! I’d never do anything as scandalous as what you’re pretending that you did.”
“Pretending? I’ll have you know that my compatriots and I barely returned to the onsen that we were staying at unscathed. If we had returned a moment later, then surely I would not be standing here today.”
“Yeah, sure, sure.” Mai looked up at the wall clock and gasped. “Oh no! I promised Naru and Lin I’d make tea nearly half an hour ago!”
Before Yasuhara could say another word, Mai rushed to the office’s kitchenette. It was a wonder she didn’t knock something over in her rush, there were certainly enough knick knacks on the table that she bumped into on the way, but somehow everything miraculously stayed on the table. Yasuhara laughed to himself as he followed his friend at a much more relaxed pace.
“Do you want any, Yasu?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Boss.”
Mai stuck out her tongue. “You know I’m not your boss.”
“Perhaps, but you still out-rank me at work.”
A blush sent Mai scouring the cupboards for various tea bags.
“I thought we talked about not worrying about that. Besides we’re equal in the office, so don’t start with me.”
“I personally don’t think that you give yourself credit, but whatever you say Boss.”
Mai sent him a glare as the tea kettle started whistling. She went about the process of brewing the tea and, in the meantime a comfortable silence settled over them. Yasuhara watched, contentedly, as his friend went about brewing the tea in the way that each of them liked. Earl Grey for Naru, black with two sugars for Yasuhara, oolong for Lin, and green with a touch of honey for herself.
“I can take Big Boss’s to him,” he offered. “I have to talk to him about a few scheduling things anyways.”
“Okay.” Mai placed the two tea cups on a tray and passed it to him. “Be careful. He’s in a pretty bad mood today.”
“Any reason why?”
“I think he had a bad phone call? I don’t quite know. He hasn’t really left his office today.”
“Alright, I’ll make sure not to poke the bear too much. Thanks for the tea, Mai.”
“Any time,” she laughed as she made her way to the equipment room.
Yasuhara watched her walk away for a short time, lost in thought. He knew that Mai was a pretty private person, but he silently hoped that she would post quite a bit this weekend in order to keep himself occupied. Sure he could do homework or watch a show, but it always entertained him when they did.
“Is there a reason you’re just standing there with my tea?”
Yasuhara shook his head to clear it before plastering an overly wide smile on his face before addressing his superior who was standing in the doorway of his office.
“Hello, Big Boss! You have perfect timing. I was just about to bring you a cup of tea!”
Naru cocked an eyebrow. “You do realize that you don’t work today, correct?”
“Yes, but I needed to come in and talk to you about something really quick so I thought I’d save Boss the trip to your office.”
“I see.” Naru turned around and re-entered his office. Yasuhara followed suit soon after and carefully closed the door behind himself. He offered the tray and Naru took his cup and made his way to his desk. He gestured to the chair across from himself and Yasuhara was quick to sit as well.
“I’m not sure exactly how much I can work anymore.” Yasuhara took a sip of tea and found it as wonderful as always. It helped to calm some of the nerves he had been feeling while on his way over.
“Is there any particular reason?”
“As I mentioned a while ago, my grandmother’s health has been waning these past few years. She had been doing a little better lately, but then she fell this past week. She was living alone, but it sounds like my parents are going to insist that she move in with us. While my mom has been staying at home most of the time, she wants to work a part-time job to help save up for a larger house. Most of the jobs that she has found are in the afternoon and since my father works days most of the time it seems that there would be a window of time where there would be no one at home to assist my grandmother. That is unless I take a break from working here.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think that you would be unable to join us for cases as well?”
“Probably for the first few months, yes. After she’s healed some and is more settled I imagine that I could join on cases again. It would just depend on my parent’s schedules and if they feel comfortable leaving her alone with my younger sister.”
Naru took a sip of tea. “Will you be looking for another part-time job to cover your academic expenses?”
Yasuhara winced. He’d been avoiding the subject ever since he had realized how impossible the task would be now that he was without any income. He would probably be able to cover tuition for the next few months, but his meager savings account wouldn’t be able to last forever. And with his parents now having to take on his grandmother, there was no way that they would be able to afford to help him outside of what they were already doing.
“Probably, though I’m not sure I’ll find one that would have the right schedule.”
“I see.”
They sat in silence for a while before Naru set down his teacup, stood from his desk, and went to one of his bookcases. He ran a hand over the books, lost in thought. After a few moments he turned around purposefully and pulled out a large stack of heavily marked up papers from his briefcase and set them on the desk.
“How good is your written English?”
“Pretty good. It probably isn’t as good as someone like yours, but I did excel in it during secondary school, and I am currently minoring in it.”
Naru nodded as he parted the stack of papers to an unmarked page. “The final draft of my next article is due to the publisher in about three months. I’ve found it difficult to devote my time to editing it. If you are interested, you could edit what is left in the next two months.”
Yasuhara gaped at Naru.
“Of course, I would pay you for your trouble. All I would need is for you to document the time that you spend on it just as you would while researching for a case.” He picked up the page and offered it to Yasuhara. “Do you think that you would be able to edit this?”
Yasuhara took the page and carefully read it. It was somewhat confusing since it was in the middle of a passage, but he was able to read it rather well. It wasn’t much more difficult than Naru’s previous book, and there weren’t too many grammatical errors that he could see, but there were a few technical words that took him a moment to understand.
“I believe so. It make take me a bit of time, but I imagine that it wouldn’t be too difficult.”
Naru took the paper back and replaced it on the top of the stack. He then carefully put the rest of the stack back on top and then replaced it in his briefcase. “I imagine that there will be quite a bit of information that will be somewhat foreign to you, but most of my research is in this briefcase. I can make copies of all the relevant information should you need to refer back to it.”
“Thank you.”
Naru paused. “You’re welcome. Though I believe that I should thank you instead. I can now focus on upcoming cases instead of wasting my time trivializing over adverbs and epithets.
“I cannot send it with you right now, but I have your address and will be able to drop it off sometime in the next few days. Is there a particular time that you would be available?”
“I should be free around this time every day.”
“Great. I will stop by tomorrow.” With a short nod Naru stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Without any further comment Naru left the office, briefcase in hand. Yasuhara watched after him as he left the room. He wasn’t sure exactly what had spurred his boss’ sudden act of kindness, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it too much.
We are less than two weeks away from this year’s exchange!!!!!
GHOSTS:
If you are done with your work please submit it to @ghosthunthq by Thursday April 12th so we can get you scheduled sooner rather than later.
Guests:
Welcome! Please enjoy the great Ghost Hunt fanfiction and fanart that the weekend has in store.
Don’t want to wait for more fic and art? Check out out previous years’ submissions below the cut
Spring 2017 GHW
Art
Naru, By Books-tea-ghosts
Mai and John, By Teaaddictedghosthunter
2 slides inspired by RaisedonRadio’s story ‘Cactus’, By Vzyfny
Slide 1 | Slide 2
Justice, By taemakesmewoozi
Yasuhara & Takigawa’s Photoshoot, By joyfulpocketninja
Unedited and un-beta-ed, so I apologize in advance for any glaring mistake. Also, I lack sleep. Forgive me.
4 days prior- 6:00 PM
“Why is it not looking like it should?” Mai cried, exasperated.
The mirror she was kneeling in front of was showing a rather disappointing reflection. The obi she had tried to tie by herself wasn’t sitting on her back and hips properly, thus doing a poor job at keeping the kimono in place.
Masako, kneeling beside her in her own perfectly fitted kimono, chuckled wholeheartedly.
“There there, I’ll help you,” she offered placatingly, the corner of her mouth still twitching under Mai’s indignant glare. “Get up,” she ordered.
Mai complied, grumbling.
“How can you wear this every day? Not only it is hard to put on by yourself, but it is kind of uncomfortable!”
“Tying the obi is an art, you know,” Masako remarked, not without pride, while rearranging the silken belt. “If not worn properly it may be bothersome indeed. Thankfully for you I had more than enough time to practice.”
The last part had been added with a hint of bitterness, and Mai could only wonder how much of a choice Masako’s clothing style was.
“Done,” Masako announced after a minute, letting her friend admire her work in the mirror.
“Thank you Masako,” Mai smiled gratefully. “You really saved me there. I had no idea we would need formal clothes.”
“You are welcome. You lend me your clothes during the Yoshimi case, we are now even,” the medium stated, eyeing her friends’ attire critically before giving an approving nod.
The team had been invited by Miss Akiyama in the ryokan’s restaurant for dinner, and considering the high standing of the place, Mai was pretty sure they were expected to come dressed up accordingly. Except her poor, part-timer and still in high-school self didn’t have anything suitable to wear. Thankfully she was almost Masako’s size, and the latter, having packed several of her kimonos, had been kind enough to lend her one of her spare.
Ayako, looking dashing in a deep burgundy dress, entered the room to tell them it was time to go.
“The boys are waiting for us outside, but we can make them wait if you need more time,” she offered.
“There is no need to, we are ready,” Masako replied, and headed toward the shoji door with her usual poise.
Mai flattened her hair, making sure for the last time there were no stray locks, and followed her roomates, praying she would make no faux-pas tonight.
The men were standing outside the building wearing their regular clothes. Of course, Mai thought with annoyed envy, their outfits were classical enough to suit the place. Hers on the other hand… She glanced subrepticely at Naru, clad in his usual dark outfit, and tried to ignore how disappointed she was of not seeing him in his yukata. Though it was probably a blessing he wasn’t wearing it, she wasn’t sure she could handle a whole evening with him dressed like that without having a nosebleed.
“Woah Mai, you look great!” Takigawa whistled when she appeared.
She blushed, half-embarrassed and half-pleased by the compliment, waiting with anticipation Naru’s reaction. She immediately berated herself for doing so. Since when had she become so vain?
Naru turned toward her and she held her breath nonetheless. His eyes widened slightly when he noticed her outfit, but the telltale of his surprise immediately turned into something darker, a confusing mixture of annoyance and guilt. She deflated. This was not what she had expected.
Ayako’s voice behind her was complaining. “And what about us, you ill-mannered monk?” she shouted, an irked eyebrow arched. “There are two other women here, shall I remind you? It is rude to play favorites.”
“Rude?” Takigawa repeated, outraged. “Because fishing for compliments isn’t? ”
“I would ask you to refrain to cause a commotion,” Naru’s cold voice commanded.
That effectively quieted the bickering pair, temporarily at least. Even Mai recoiled, still troubled by the strange reaction he had shown. Then she realized her boss had ordered her to rest earlier in the morning, and that she hadn’t given him a report of whatever dream she could have had. Maybe that was the reason of his displeasure.
She walked toward him in small, careful steps, unused to the way her kimono was entraving her legs.
“Ah, Naru,” she spoke, scratching the back of her head nervously, “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. I, uh, I tried to sleep like you suggested but I didn’t have any significant dream. Sorry.”
He frowned imperceptibly.
“I didn’t expect you to have one so soon. We haven’t monitored any activity either.”
“Oh.” That was surprising. He wasn’t mad at her then? “Well, it was worth a shot, I guess.”
Hesitation flickered on his features before he opened his mouth.
“Mai–” he started.
“Shibuya-san, Taniyama-san,” the manager of the ryokan greeted, before realizing the two of them had been talking. “Oh,” she gasped, putting a hand on her mouth. “I am really sorry I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“No no, it is okay,” Mai smiled politely to the middle-aged lady. “We were about to head to the restaurant. Thank you for your invitation,” she bowed.
“My pleasure. Your table has been prepared, please let me lead the way.”
Naru nodded and the team followed their host. Thankfully their pacing was slow enough for Mai to walk without tripping.
In the restaurant they were led to a separate area, where a table filled with food was waiting for them. Mai took place on the sitting cushion gingerly, afraid to stain Masako’s kimono.
“The drink will be served soon,” the manager bowed. “We have taken your special diet in consideration,” she addressed Lin and Naru. “Enjoy your meal, with the thanks of the Akiyama family.”
Monk stared at the food with hungry eyes while Ayako glanced at it appraisingly.
“Did I already told you I love this case?” she smirked.
“You did,” Masako confirmed. “I am starting to greatly appreciate it myself,” she admitted.
“As long as whatever is haunting the place doesn’t choose this moment to bother us,” Yasuhara joked. “You haven’t sensed anything yet, am I right?” he asked Masako, seated next to him.
Masako hid her mouth with her sleeve reflexively. “No I haven’t, the spirit may be hiding still,” she defended.
“Of course,” he placated with a sincere smile, “I am just glad you haven’t been importuned. Cases are often hard on you.”
Masako blushed slightly, and Mai made a mental note to tease her for that later.
“I haven’t sensed anything either,” she mused. “But ghosts are shy, the activity will more likely increase in the next days.”
“The later, the better,” Ayako shrugged.
“The shinkan is almost entirely covered, if anything moves an inch or if a breeze passes through the room Lin will know it,” Takigawa exclaimed.
Lin nodded graciously in confirmation, and the manager choose this moment to reappear with tea, beer and a bottle of sake.
“May I ask if you are satisfied with your accommodation?” she addressed Naru while pouring the drinks. “We encourage our guests to enjoy the hot springs in the most traditional way, so to stay true to the atmosphere we did not add any electronic device. The room we prepared for your equipment was the only one with enough power outlets.”
Naru assured her that they were perfectly content and that everything had been done for the best.
“I am relieved to hear it,” the lady smiled. “I scheduled the interview you requested with my mother for tomorrow.”
Mai’s eyes widened. Naru had requested an interview? Wait, without telling her? She had been promoted to investigator, yet Naru didn’t trust her to interview their client. She frowned, feeling betrayed, somehow.
“I would ask you to be extremely tactful, she had been bedridden since my father’s passing away,” Akiyama-san added, sorrow maring her features. “They had spent a lifetime together, parting with him has been quite the shock.”
“Naturally,” Naru offered his best business smile. “Rest assured we will take her grief into consideration.”
The whole table looked at him dubiously. Mai perked up. This meant she should be the one in charge, it was a well-known fact that their boss was terrible at handling people’s emotions.
“Thank you,” the lady bowed.
As soon as she left, Mai leaned toward Naru, who was seated across the table.
“Naru, when are we interviewing Akiyama-san?” she asked eagerly.
He raised an eyebrow.
“We?”
Mai was struck speechless for a second, disappointment washing over her. She felt dejected that Naru didn’t rely upon her. Maybe he was really mad at her after all.
“Well, I am your assistant, so I figured you would need my help. For, uh, taking notes,” she suggested meekly, hating that it sounded like a question.
“Lin will take care of it. Tomorrow I expect you to tour the facilities with miss Hara and miss Matsuzaki.”
Mai nodded wordlessly, her throat tight and her eyes stinging. She wanted to ask for explanations, to complain, to have a shouting fight with Naru if needed. But everyone was having fun, eating and laughing, and she couldn’t bring herself to ruin the mood.
So she stayed quiet and looked forlornly at a food that had lost all of its appeal.
If only she had spoken up, she would think later. But then, she didn’t know how much she would regret it.
