Since the ghost from earlier didn’t seem to plan another appearance, Shinji sat back at his desk, doodling absentmindedly on an empty piece of paper.
He thought of his life in Hiroshima; of the unjust death of his superior officer who hadn’t died as herself; of the one who killed her—whom Shinji knew; of how the man got away with it because the Onmyoryo deemed it justified; of the constant nightmares filling him with guilt.
Shinji had hoped the burden would lessen as time passed and even more so here in Tokyo, far away from those horrible events. But it remained buried at the back of his head and left Shinji wondering what it would be like to share all these things with someone like Teruo. Someone who didn’t know ghosts existed, that possession existed, that supernaturals existed.
How big of a lunatic would Teruo consider him? Would Teruo even believe him? Maybe the viewpoint of a person who didn’t understand how the supernatural world worked would bring a fresh perspective, perhaps even rid Shinji of his guilt or offer him a chance to unburden himself. The way his late superior officer’s murder was handled brought anything but closure. The Onmyoryo forbade Shinji to speak about it with non-supernaturals and the incident was classified.
Perhaps Teruo would understand since he had a peculiar penchant for feeling supernatural phenomena. The “white wind” he’d mentioned on Tuesday night could only be a Shinigami’sreiryoku. Had it been a coincidence? A one-time thing? No non-supernatural had ever seen Shinji’s energy. Well, none that he knew of.
Why am I even debating this? I can’t tell him about it. I barely even know him.
If he spoke with Teruo and the Onmyoryo were to find out that he shared details without Teruo signing stacks of NDA’s, the consequences would be severe. He’d be benched and unable to practice soul-harvesting for at least six months, if not a year. And he liked his job as a Shinigami too much for that to happen.
Shoving all those thoughts aside, he checked the time and made a mental note to call the superintendent later. Right now they had to meet up with Ozawa’s friends.
“Shall we?” Teruo said, standing up.
Shinji nodded, picked up his notepad and followed Teruo to the elevator, then down to the parking lot. He eased into the driver seat and headed toward the address their contact had provided.
Teruo rolled down the window then leaned back, letting his arm hang outside with the lit cigarette between his fingers. Now that they were alone in the car, Shinji’s mind returned to their heated kiss in the office’s restroom. Damn, he’d wanted to drop Teruo’s pants and feel his erection throbbing in his hand. It would’ve been quite the sight to see Teruo coming in his fist. Well, it had already been pretty interesting to hear his uptight superior officer moan like that.
At a stoplight, Shinji peeked down at Teruo’s spread legs, his gaze moving up and then meeting Teruo’s who was giving him an incredulous look.
“Were you checking out my groin?” Teruo asked.
Shinji grinned. “Nope.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“Absolutely not, sir. I’m well-behaved,” Shinji teased.
“Uh huh, sure you are.”
“So,” Shinji said as he made a left, “you said your house?”
Teruo nodded and pulled out another cigarette. Based on their increasing number he was either stressed about the interview or about the hopefully-soon-to-happen mind-blowing sex. Or both.
“I’m not going to pay a hotel when I have a perfectly fine house with a comfortable bed to fuck on,” Teruo continued.
“I didn’t mean to impose, that’s why I said a hotel.”
After a beat, Teruo looked at him. “Tonight?”
Heat thrummed down Shinji’s abdomen and he smiled. “Tonight.” He could barely wait. He needed a fun distraction from all the dark thoughts plaguing his mind.
The car arrived at a modest complex of apartment blocks, with only a few parking spots, a narrow street and even narrower sidewalk. Six ghosts lingered in the immediate area. Three stood still, staring into nothing, while the others walked about aimlessly, their white translucent frames clear under the heavy clouds roaming the sky.
As they stepped out of the car and walked toward the entrance, one spirit, a man, seemed to notice Shinji’sreiryoku—which was always visible to them even though they rarely understood what it was—and flew straight into Shinji’s face. He’d gotten used to ghosts doing this over the years and simply ignored the curious ghost.
“Are you dead?” the man asked. “You don’t look dead. But you got this white thing. What is it?”
Shinji pretended not to hear and pointed Teruo toward the apartment block where Ozawa’s friend lived just to look busy.
“You can’t see me, huh? For fuck’s sake…” The man grumbled something else, then sighed loudly, throwing waves of ghostly mist everywhere. The small particles of spiritual energy engulfed them in a cold grasp.
Teruo shivered, wrapping his coat tighter around him. “Should’ve brought my suit jacket too.”
“We’re nearly there,” Shinji said, walking a bit faster.