He couldn’t believe the words were actually coming out of his mouth.We’re both insane.
“That the murderer wore a dark hoodie and watched Yamato die.”
“What else?” Teruo grabbed a cigarette and lit it.
Shinji ran his nails up and down his legs, staring ahead, avoiding eye contact. “Well, he said it was a prank. That they were young.”
Teruo waved a hand. “Already knew that. Heard you say it on the fire escape. That’s why you asked the teacher about it—smart by the way, but I’ll leave the praise for later. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
Shinji foot tapped a fast rhythm on the car’s floorboard. He seemed to be struggling terribly with confessing. Teruo had the impression it wasn’t guilt what Shinji felt, but rather surprise at the fact that Teruo had noticed all these things. If it hadn’t been for that goddamn white wind, Teruo had to admit he probably would’ve never cared.
“What are you? A spiritual medium?” He exhaled a big cloud of smoke out the open window.
“I can’t speak about that. I’m sorry.”
“Who’s Goro?” Teruo asked and that made Shinji turn to him. “Who’s this guy who sent you to a storage building in Higashikurume Saturday afternoon? And why the hell does he know about the crime scenes?”
Shinji gaped. “How do you know about it? You followed me? You shouldn’t have done that!” His voice rose with every word.
“I won’t excuse my behavior. It was shitty. But did you give me a choice?”
“That was my personal business,” Shinji said through gritted teeth.
“It stopped being personal the moment you went to the victims’ places of death and did those strange rituals. Are you part of some cult?”
“No! You… you were there when I…?” Shinji let out a shaky breath. “Fuck…”
Teruo clicked his tongue and extinguished the cigarette. “What the hell were those rituals? That white wind swirling like a tornado? It sucked the life out of me. My body froze. I thought I was gonna die.” Shinji’s face paled at that, his mouth falling open. Teruo continued, “And when I came to your apartment and kissed you, you were so cold—like a corpse.” He rubbed his hand over his shoulder. It seemed to throb whenever he got angry. “You still haven’t told me who this Goro is. If you shared confidential information—”
“He’s Superintendent Yoshida Goro. Goro is his given name and he asked me to use it so people wouldn’t know we talk in private.”
Of course. Teruo felt stupid for not figuring it out, but no one used the superintendent’s given name at work. Shinji’s history with the superintendent seemed to stretch beyond some family ties.
“You talk to dead people. Do strange rituals. You’re involved with the superintendent in something. You disappear in storage buildings. There’s so much shit you need to explain.”
Shinji glared. “They’re all personal matters.”
Teruo turned sideways in his seat, facing Shinji. “No, they aren’t. When you lie to my face about things directly related to our cases, then it’s not personal anymore and it concerns the both of us. I can’t work with you—and much less have sex with you—if you pull crap like this, then treat me like an idiot.”
“I can’t explain everything.” Instead of angry, now Shinji sounded desperate. “I’ve already told you too much. I could get in trouble. And I’m not treating you like an idiot. I have the utmost respect for you. It’s why I chose the TMPD in the first place.”
Teruo nodded, resigned. “I won’t force you to explain anymore and I won’t write you up either. It’s not like I can give a sane enough reason for it. But if you want us to keep working together, I have two conditions.”
“Okay…” Shinji said, choking on the word.
“One: you tell me if you find out something new. I don’t give a shit how you find out. You can conjure demons for all I care. You tell me. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“And two: our little fling is over. From now on we’ll just be coworkers and pretend like it never happened and we’ll take the secret to our graves and most likely beyond since, apparently, ghosts exist.”
“No, Teruo... don’t do that,” Shinji pleaded.
His pleading was like a knife, just twisting in Teruo’s heart. Lies and strange powers aside, Shinji was what Teruo craved: smart, with a playful personality and a positive, but not overwhelming energy that had made Teruo smile more these past few days than he did in the last three years. But all those things he’d seen and felt were too much.
“We can’t continue,” Teruo said. “I can’t look you in the eye and know that you’re hiding so many things and refuse to explain them. I have secrets things too, but not on this level. I don’t disappear in buildings and conjure tornados of white wind.”