#roseandradio

Yasuhara grins, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. He saunters in and sits on the ottoman, setting down the pizza boxes on the coffee table. “Oh … Is that jealousy I hear, Masako dearest?” She thinks she’s being discreet about it, but it’s obvious she’s pining for that Takeshi boy. Since February, a little birdie, who’s not very good at keeping secrets (Mai), told him (and everyone else).

“Shut the f–”

“AHHH!”

“John, what the h–”

“AAAAHHHHH!”

“John’s right, children! No swearing in Mommy and Daddy’s house!” Yasuhara intervenes, before John’s yelling goes up a notch–he’s done it before and he can do it again. We can’t have Mommy go on a rampage on a special day like this. “But keep it down a bit, huh John? We have to keep this secret,” whispers Yasuhara, pointing to the pizza.

“Why though?” The lilting voice comes from behind him, and Yasuhara jumps in surprise. With his line of work in the ghost hunting business, you’d think he won’t get scared easy, right? Wrong.

“Dammit Mai, I told you not to sneak up on Daddy like that!” Here’s another child who’s going to get a scolding.

Mai scowls. “Why the hell–” Ayako leans forward to cover John’s mouth– “do you keep calling yourself that?!”

“It was a special condition Mommy agreed to when I made my first donation as JSPR’s patron,” he explained–for the eighteenth time (yes, he’s been keeping count). He doesn’t understand why they keep forgetting. “Besides, I know you all like it.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“NO WE DON’T!” Everyone exclaims in unison. Though Yasuhara notices how John stutters.

He rolls his eyes and brushes them off. He can read minds–he knows they like it. He turns back to the boxes and arranges them on the table, making sure to set the Capricciosa–Mommy’s fave–in the middle. “Be a dear and call Lin for me, Mai. We’ve got some preparing to do before Mommy wakes up,” he says, then as he realizes something he tilts his head slightly to one side. “He is asleep, right?

"He’s gonna kill you if he hears you call him that,” Mai warns, trying to sound menacing, though her shoulders shake at the effort to keep her laughter at bay. “And yeah. Fell asleep right away when I slipped him chamomile instead of the usual darjeeling.”

“Good job, my daughter. With that, you’re now my second favorite child.”

“I’ve always been you’re second favorite!” Mai reminds from across the room, already on her way to fetch Lin.

Ayako clucks her tongue, the sound bringing Yasuhara’s attention back to the remaining three seated here at the reception area. “I still don’t know what all this is for this time,” she says. “This is like, what, the third time you’re celebrating something this month? And I bet it’s gonna be as stupid as dedicating a party to Masako’s uncle’s frog’s first birthday two months ago.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re just upset you didn’t get to meet Froggo the frog that day, Ayako,” Yasuhara sympathizes. He’s never met Froggo either. “And we’re celebrating a much grander event this time.”

“What is it?” John asks patiently, albeit hints of curiosity seeps through his tone.

“Mommy got–”

“Naru got a haircut,” a deadpan voice interjects. It was Lin.

“Ahh! You stole my thunder!” Yasuhara pouts.

Lin only sighs in return, sitting down beside Masako. Yasuhara notices it’s the farthest seat away from him.

“A haircut. Are you kidding me?” Ayako asks, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“A trim, really,” Lin says, but it goes through one ear and out the other with Yasu.

“Well Bousan sounded excited about it so I thought it was a cause for celebration,” Yasuhara snickers.

“I sent you a text. How did you manage to pull out ‘excited’ from that?” Takigawa snorts, trying to sound detached. Yasuhara knows better–those shifting eyes say it all.

“Well enough chit-chat, kiddies,” Yasuhara says, raising both hands to clap once. “We’ve got lots and lots of preparation before we wake mommy up for his surprise celebration!”

Mai groans. “Am I gonna be the gopher again?” she asks no one in particular, already knowing the answer to her own question. The silence that follows confirms her supicions. “Okay. Fine. What am I supposed to do.”

“First,” Yasuhara brings up one finger slowly–for suspense. “Turn off the lights.”

Mai sighs heavily, as if the action would take a great deal out of her energy. She does it nonetheless. As darkness envelops them, a hush falls upon the room.

“Now what?”

“Wake Mommy up.”

Everyone gasps–including Lin.

“You know what happened when it was Bousan’s turn last week! Anything but that Daddy!” Mai pleads.

“Alas, the task falls unto you, child. John took the fall for you last time, remember?”

From the other side of the room, John very audibly chokes.

“B-bousan,” Mai utters weakly. “It was your idea to give him chamomile. Please. You do the honors.”

“Goodbye, everyone,” Takigawa says, the sound of him standing audible from across the table. “See you all next Monday. Tell me all the details of Mai’s murde–GAH!” An ungraceful yelp accompanied by the loud thud of Takigawa’s fall–music to Yasuhara’s ears. Mai must’ve tripped him on his way to the front door.

Masako’s soft giggle was the start of it all. Then Lin follows, and now everyone’s doubled over laughing, trying and failing to catch their breath.

“I’VE SAID IT TIME AND AGAIN–” the CEO’s door slams open. “THIS IS NOT A CAFÈ!”

“Oops,” Ayako whispers. “Now you’ve done it,” she blames, as if she isn’t the one who cackled the loudest just a second ago.

“Psst, Mai,” Yasuhara hissed. “Let there be light!”

Yasuhara hears footsteps approaching them slowly as Mai scampers towards the light switch. One small accident later–it was inevitable that she’d trip on something on the way–the lights come on, temporarily blinding everyone in the room.

“Surprise~!” Yasuhara croons, arms open to welcome the celebrant, signature shit-eating grin already in place.

Mommy Naru, with crumpled clothes and bags under his eyes, glares hard and cold at all the occupants of the room. But it isn’t as intimidating as the usual. Although it masks his new haircut–which is the very thing they’re celebrating right now by the way–everyone thought his bedhead made him adorable.

“This is not a damn cafè,” Naru repeated, the nearly unnoticable pout on his lips making him look more petulant than intimidating. “There’s one downstairs?? Why do you people insist on loitering here?”

“The ambiance downstairs just doesn’t sit well with me.” John shrugs.

“Yeah, and the curtains are abysmal. They make me want to throw up,” says Ayako.

“There’s one spirit that keeps bothering me there,” Masako adds.

Before Naru could interrupt, Mai chirps in. “The barista keeps hitting on me, so I can’t really hang out downstairs.”

That seems to have shut him up.

Naru closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs deeply, just he always does when he scolds them for being noisy. “Just keep it down. I’m trying to work–because this is an office and that’s what people do here,” he says, though it lacks the usual bite to his usual condescending tone.

“Yup. Office is for work,” Takigawa says with his eyes locked on Naru’s bedhead, hiding a smirk behind a hand. John turns around to camouflage his mirth.

“Come now, Mo-Boss,” Yasuhara snickers, catching himself before he makes the mistake. It wouldn’t do well to sour Mommy’s mood further. “Today’s celebration is dedicated to you! We can’t have the guest of honor leave right away!”

Naru ignored him.

“We have Pizza Capriccioso~”

Naru halts in the midst of turning his doorknob. He then slowly closes the door and heads straight back here at the reception area. He sits at his usual seat at the head of the table, crossing his leg and delicately placing his hands on his knee. He does this all while maintaining a stolid expression, plus his bedhead.

“… Where is it?”

Using his lips, Yasuhara points to the pizza box in the middle. Mai takes the initiative to open it, and the pizza’s mouthwatering scent instantly permeates the air around them. About three stomachs grumble right then and there.

But, as everyone reaches for a slice simultaneously, Naru suddenly stands up and walks away. Just ups and leaves. He doesn’t even retreat back to his cave. No, he goes straight out the front door.

“Um. What the hell?”

“Ah,” Mai says, pointing to the pizza. “Yasu, was this Capriccioso customized?”

“Yeah, I told Takeshi to remove the olives. Why?”

-:-:-:-:-

“Mommy noooooo! Please come back! I made a horrible mistake!!”

“It’s dangerous to assume,” Oliver said. But it really wasn’t, was it? It was her intuition speaking, and it coincided with his own inclinations. “But I think he is most likely on the first floor. If we want to catch him, he would probably be in the classroom or the faculty lounge.”

“But…how are we going to exorcise him?” she asked.

“It’s going to be either you or me.”

Mai burst out, “You can’t do it!”

Oliver paused at the vehemence in her voice. “Then do you want to try?”

“Do you think I could do it?”

“Not exorcise, no,” Oliver said dryly, causing her to hang her head. “But I think you can convince him.”

“Huh?”

“Convince Kirishima-san. I don’t have the ability to communication with spirits. But there’s a possibility you can.”

“Do…do you think I could do it?” she said, seeming to be unaware she had already asked that question.

“Yes, if you use the same spirit you have when you yell at me.”

Mai clasped her hands together, mulling it over as she attempted to work some warmth into her fingers. But it didn’t take her long to respond.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Oliver nodded. “Then let’s go to the first floor. I’ll put you in an altered state of mind, like what mediums are in when they bring in a spirit.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “Okay.”

 “Let’s go,” he said. Oliver took her hand. He could feel the tension in her fingers, as if she was afraid to hold on too tightly. He may have just come out of the hospital, but he would not tolerate being treated as if he was fragile.

He said, “Don’t let go,” as he dragged her up from the floor.

“Oh, wait!” she said. She offered him something in her opposite hand. He could barely see it in the dim light. Without releasing her other hand, he took from her the pointed weapon that Takigawa carried around.

She continued, “This is Monk’s tokkosho. He said it was for you when he threw it.”

“Is that so?” he said softly.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “It just seems I’ve underestimated Takigawa-san.” He held the tokkosho firmly in his hand. It was a challenge. It said that Takigawa believed Oliver was fully capable of wielding it if he chose to. It said that Takigawa didn’t believe in the mask of Kazuya Shibuya anymore.

“Let’s go,” he said again.

They went down the short flight of stairs, hand in hand. The building was absolutely silent. Oliver couldn’t even hear the rain anymore. Perhaps it had stopped. The only sounds were the ones they created. Their footfalls echoed in the ears almost painfully. Oliver could hear Mai’s breathing, deep inhale in, slow exhale.

Oliver ducked through the small doorway first. He reached up to balance himself against the shoe cabinet that Lin had placed across the doorway as a spirit barrier. The cabinet started to weave and creak. It toppled towards him, and landed against the wall and created a triangle-shaped space. It left the small doorway partially blocked.

 “Naru! Are you all right?” Mai’s voice was muffled, and she sought his hand which he had released by accident. Her fingers brushed his, and without looking back, he took her hand firmly.

“I’m fine,” he said, pulling her forward. She followed easily.

They continued at a good pace down the next flight of stairs.

“Wait, wait a moment,” Mai said quietly.

 “What is it?” he said automatically, until the strangeness of her voice kicked in. Her voice was quiet because it was far away. It almost sounded like she was still by the small doorway.

His stride broke. He turned as he looked down. The hand that grasped his was skeletal, leather-like skin stretched tight against oddly-shaped bones, nails long and ragged.

Oliver recoiled and yanked his hand away. He could feel the scrapes across his skin from where the nails bit down to attempt to prevent his release. His foot slipped, and he fell down the last few stairs. He twisted and landed on a wrist and hip. It felt like small splinters had embedded themselves into his hand from the wood floor, but he stood up without taking the time to assess his injuries.

“Mai!” he called as he looked up the stairs. A small girl stood from the height he had fallen from. An overly large grin was on her face. Her hands, he had to notice, were completely normal. He didn’t know if it was brighter on the first floor, or if she produced her own light.

“Who are you calling for, onii-san?” the girl said. Her voice reminded him of clinking glass.

“Where is she?” Oliver said.

“Who?” She skipped down the stairs and took his hand before he could pull away. She twirled on his fingers. “Who is she?”

Yes, who was she? Who was he looking for again?

“Come back to class onii-san,” she said. “Sensei doesn’t want us to stay away too long.”

She tugged at his hand, and he followed mechanically. She opened the door to one of the classrooms, letting Oliver go as she rushed in.

“I found him sensei!” she said, then turned around suddenly. Oliver almost collided with her.

She asked, “What’s your name, onii-san?”

“Oliver.”

She frowned, trying the foreign name on her tongue.

Kirishima appeared behind her. He pulled the little girl to him, as if he was concerned for her safety.

“No,” Kirishima said, panic rising in his voice. “How did you get in here again? Be gone!”

Oliver stood there as a wave of surprise, which seemed to be tinged by disgust, washed over him from the unwelcome greeting.

Kirishima curled his lip and whispered, “You’re already dead.”

The little girl seemed to shrink back, just as Oliver had done to her earlier.

“He’s dead?” she asked.

“Well, no,” Kirishima said. “I meant he’s just too old. Go along, join your classmates.”

She looked up at Oliver, an infinite sadness clouding her face for a moment.

She walked away.

Kirishima turned on Oliver again. He was young, probably Takigawa’s or at the most Lin’s age. Anger distorted his features.

“Dead!” he hissed. “Go away. Leave us be!”

Oliver found it within himself to smile slightly. “You must have me mistaken with someone else, sensei. I’m not dead yet.”

Kirishima reached out to shove him, and Oliver stepped back –

– and found himself on the threshold of the schoolroom, the door already shut in his face.

After a moment of hesitation, Oliver opened the door. The air was stagnant. The room was empty of life, the desks in little rows, forever waiting to be used again. He stepped in. His footsteps echoed, a cold and empty sound. It reminded him of being on the stairs with Mai earlier. This time, he was walking alone.

He wondered if the others had seen similar scenes. It was likely, with the so-called ‘kids’ leaving a Welcome Ayako-chan display on the wall for her. He could see his group again, in his mind’s eye, the people he was currently failing by allowing himself to be caught up in illusions.

Oliver left the classroom, shutting the door again. He would have to do the exorcism himself. He didn’t know where Mai was, and what state she was in. How could he be such a fool and let go of her hand? He had fallen for the spirits’ tricks, the same ones he had warned her not to be caught up in.

His body ached from his fall down the stairs. Oliver knew he would need to gather some energy before he could do anything, so he sat down in the hallway, opposite of the classroom so he had a good view if anyone or anything decided to come out. He leaned against the wall and stretched out his legs, crossing his arms. He could feel the fabric of his shirt was still damp. It was such an odd thing to notice that he shook his head and closed his eyes, if it was in laughter or desperation, he wasn’t sure.

It would be a shame to die here, when his true goal was so close to being completed. It just couldn’t be helped, could it? If he succeeded in besting Kirishima, his companions – if they were still alive – would not be able to get him to a city quick enough, not in this already weakened physical state.

Then trust her.

Oliver jerked, opening his eyes.

Trust her for once. Mai said she could do it, didn’t she? Didn’t you believe her?

Did he?

Oliver pictured her face, the seriousness that had risen to her eyes when she said she would do it; remembered the strength in her hand when she had grasped his.

Yes. She could do this. Maybe just as well as Eugene. She deserved the chance.

There was no way to tell the time passing from his position, but he was certain night had fallen some time ago. He felt the desire to go find a broken window and draw in some fresh air. He ignored the temptation. It was easier to stay where he was for the time being.

He jumped when the door to the classroom flew open. He waited warily, ready to leap up if necessary. Nothing emerged, and then he felt it. The fog at the edges of his mind cleared. He had not realized what a stupor he had been operating in until the haze was suddenly gone.

The place was cleansed.

He heaved a breath.

“Can you stand?”

Oliver looked up at Lin’s voice.

“Yes.” Oliver said.

“Did you do it?”

Oliver shook his head, then took the hand that was offered him and stood up. He could hear voices, the real, live voices of his group. He shook off any of Lin’s additional offers of help and walked to the front door.

The outside was bathed in the cool silver of moonlight. Mai stood in the field. The glow of a spirit cleansing seemed to cling to her. She smiled at him.

He turned away.

Someone said, “It looks like it wasn’t Shibuya-san either, since you’re still standing.” Oliver wasn’t sure if it had been Takigawa or Yasuhara who had spoken, so he just shrugged in agreement. He couldn’t tell if the group was just messing with Mai, or if they really were so dense to not know she had done the cleansing.

Then he saw Takigawa caress Mai’s head, and the other quiet congratulations she received from the group as they all headed towards the cars. Even Lin gave her a small smile.

It would have been easy to just walk past her. But he remembered how often Eugene had liked verbal confirmation of the end of a hard case.

So he said, “Good job,” as he passed her.

Hirota couldn’t quite discern this peculiar feeling in his chest. Davis had entrusted a task to him, which left Hirota feeling both honored and yet mortified to be told what to do by a younger individual.

He supposed most of the SPR crew felt that way.

Mr. Oshii was a sinewy man with a broad forehead and skeptical eyes. As Hirota approached the client, he made a show of readjusting his tie and straightening his jacket. He could be cool, he could be suave… he would make this a professional meeting and wouldn’t let himself be bossed around by a non-believer. Although Hirota was only about three-quarters of a believer, he still wouldn’t be pushed around.

Unfortunately, Mr. Oshii spoke before he could. “I have a grandson the same age as you.”

“I, uh, thank you. I mean, is that so?”

How was he supposed to respond to that kind of statement, anyway?

Hirota cleared his throat. “Sir, do not be alarmed or worried. We’re only doing a check of the area to see if you have ghosts on the premises or something natural that could be causing the same issue.”

“Apparitions,” said Mr. Oshii.

“Excuse me?”

“They don’t like to be called ‘ghosts’, they prefer the term ‘apparitions’. It’s a respect thing, you know, like how it is less offensive to call dwarves a midget.”

“I…. okay.”

 Apparently this man was a full-time believer.

“Besides, as I told your little brown haired missy friend over there, it’s not apparitions.” Mr. Oshii leaned very close, forcing Hirota to bend forward to hear him. “It’s the aliens.”

Hirota stood up so straight so fast it was a wonder that his spine didn’t snap.

“I see,” he said, face blank and mouth in a thin line. Hirota had only recently started to accept that ghosts… apparitions… could be real. Mr. Oshii beliefs were basically incomprehensible.

Davis was doing this to him on purpose, wasn’t he? Probably because he didn’t want to deal with someone of this certain caliber, so he would make Hirota do it. It was very mature of him. Very. Mature.

“Daughter tries to tell me that the lights in the field are only tricks of my eyes,” Mr. Oshii said, “And the lights in the sky are stars. To outright say that I don’t know what my own eyes are seeing is ignorance. I know they were not stars because they were moving.”

“Perhaps they were… planes?”

Mr. Oshii let out a sigh that was a mixture of disappointment and exasperation. “You young folks think you can tell older people that they don’t understand and don’t know what’s going on.  I have more knowledge in my head than you have in your little toe, what do you think about that?” He folded his arms, sizing Hirota up. “You modern kids with your electronic thingies… I might not understand them, but at least I come from the land. At least I can milk a cow. You on the other hand don’t look like you’ve ever stepped on dirt before, much less a farm.”

“I – of course I have.” Hirota gave his suit jacket a dignified tug.

Of course you have.” The old farmer folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You. You’re probably one of those people who believe the egg yolk is actually the baby chick.”

“I – no, I mean – isn’t it?”

The old man growled underneath his breath. “Why are you here anyway? Are you not a cop? What kind of cop follows around apparition researchers? Are you going to arrest the apparition… or something…”

“Of course not, sir.” Hirota pinched the bridge of his nose, and released a breath. “Okay, okay, I need to report your… sightings to the… boss… Please excuse me. Thank you for your time.”

Davis had told him to talk to Mr. Oshii for other reasons, hadn’t he? But Hirota could not remember the reasons. Davis was probably going to tell him to go and finish the job but Hirota didn’t think he could handle it. Ghosts – apparitions – aliens, baby chickens… This was why city life was much more comfortable.

“What did you find out?” Davis asked him, after seeing Hirota sitting on a lone straw bale.

“That the aliens are coming,” Hirota mumbled. “And ghosts don’t like to be called ghosts.”

“I see,” Davis said raising his eyebrows. “And you didn’t find out when the house was built.”