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My worries run deep, but please, don't anyone tell me the answers. The past is interesting precisely because I can look back and figure things out for myself. The two of us, and this time, I actually managed to leave the hotel room through the door.
My face must have been slack-jawed, filled with a peculiar sense of liberation that ordinary people would likely never experience in their lifetime. But this woman... Even if she is suicidal, how can she walk next to me, someone who hasn't quite shed the "suspicious person" label?
I was truly amazed by the audacity that only her thoughtlessness could produce. Maybe it's better not to overthink things. I started to feel a bit reckless, thinking it's fine to only reflect on the process in moderation.
As we walked down the hallway, the woman, dragging her right foot, spoke to me.
"Is your daughter still alive?"
"Yeah, she's energetic enough to punch me so hard I end up in the hospital."
Look, right over there— My words froze. The fact that the other person also made eye contact and froze meant that, apparently, passing this off as a case of mistaken identity was impossible. The world came to a standstill. Then, as if on fast-forward, only my daughter accelerated. "Ugh! You damn old geezer!"
My daughter, Natsumi, whom I hadn't seen in half a year, was standing in front of the elevator, snuggled up to a young man.
The young man looked dumbfounded, and I imagine my own face was now contorted into a similarly pathetic expression, like a mirror image.
...Help me, Mom! Grant me courage, wisdom, and a scent that my daughter will like!
"Natsumi... y-you, you're with a guy, at a hotel, wh-what are you doing here...?"
I was stammering, unable to grasp the main point I wanted to make. To think I'd be so flustered as to display the very same unfocused way of speaking that I always scold my subordinates for at work.
Natsumi roared, her expression filled with the same rage as when she last decked me at the entryway. The air seemed to tremble in fear, recoiling, laying out a red carpet for Natsumi's words.
"Look who's talking, bringing a woman to a hotel! Things must be going well for you, you goddamn old geezer!"
It seemed her foul mouth hadn't been corrected at all in the past six months. For a few moments, I almost felt relieved.
"No, ah, that's not it, this is—" My tone ended up sounding like I was introducing a minister on an incognito inspection or a princess. My hand gestures, too, somehow turned into an attitude of praise, palm facing upwards.
The "princess" in question had an expression like a sardine about to be gutted on a chopping board, just staring blankly at how things were unfolding.
She seemed to be radiating an aura of extreme laziness, as if thinking, "This has nothing to do with me, but it's too much bother to even say that."
"Tch!" Natsumi clicked her tongue loudly, grabbed the wrist of the man next to her, then spun around and disappeared down the opposite corridor. It was the same way she used to run off when she was a child, rebelling and crying and holing up in her room whenever she got even slightly scolded.
The blond man who remained shrugged with a composed expression, like someone who had just left the theater after watching a refined play.
Inside the elevator, which opened almost at the same time Natsumi dashed off, a man in a detective-like hat and a little girl in red shoes were staring blankly, completely stunned by the couple who had just run past them. I felt like someone who'd gone for a walk because it was perfect laundry weather, only to encounter a typhoon and bandits on a business trip from the mountains, who then stripped me of all my clothes instead of my wallet. The elation that had been swaying in my heart like seaweed was completely uprooted, and confusion pollinated the surface of my mind.
The only one to make a move in this situation was the woman, who padded off towards the vending machines and muttered softly, "You seem to be in a bind."
It was a well-phrased sentiment that conveyed she was trying her best, in her own way, to show concern for my predicament.
I wish I could learn from that lack of responsibility.
Hanasaki Tarou (Detective) & Touki (Girl)
3:50 PM
I wanted to continue enjoying the presence of the young girl, I really did. But it wasn't to be.
"We're going to look for the cat, right?" Touki, having finished her cake, prodded me towards work without lingering on the aftertaste.
I didn't like the man in the next seat egging us on with a "That's right, that's right!" Well, the infidelity case can wait, but the cat... It might be lonely all by itself right now. Though whether cats have such delicate emotions, I neither confirm nor deny.
Mothers monopolizing beautiful young girls next to us, mothers gently holding the hands of girls playing with their phones... I felt a pang of envy, a reluctance to leave, and a simmering resentment, "Damn you all!" as I stood up.
That "connected" couple... this time, the boy was holding a glass, letting the older-looking high school girl sip the drink through a straw. The older woman had her eyes closed, quietly savoring it. It was unsightly for two old folks like them, but I had to give them credit for their shamelessness.
Grabbing the bill and my bag, I headed to the register with Touki. As we left our seats, I gave a nod to Tachibana Eiji, our client, saying, "Excuse us, we'll be heading out." He just raised a hand and gave a casual wave, "Yeah."
At the register, I paid the bill to a waitress who looked rather mature (surprisingly, she seemed to be in her late twenties) and we exited the café into the passage leading to the hotel lobby. In front of us was a storage area for group tourists' trunks, and the wall was mirrored. Reflected in it, Touki's red lips, next to me, moved sensuously.
"That person... he might be Mario to your Luigi," she said, gesturing behind us with her thumb. I followed her gaze; she was indicating the boy from that idiotic couple earlier.
"...What do you mean by that?"
"Dunno. No idea."
Touki, seemingly unable to articulate her intuitions, as if just voicing a jolt of electricity that had run through her. Their auras were certainly similar. However, I didn't get the scent of a kindred spirit from him. In that case, the other possibility becomes more likely, huh?
"You should probably try to get along with him," Touki offered again, advice seemingly plucked from thin air. Can she really see into other people's pasts and futures? I once tried to unravel that ability and asked her about it in detail, but it was a waste of time. "I told you, I don't know! Even if I took out my brain and showed it to you, it's not like I could recall memories that way, right? There are lots of things that are hard to explain in words," she'd said.
I should add that after that, we had a heartwarming exchange: "Like, for example, the reason Luigi's lolicon tendencies developed?" "It's because I met you." "How many girls have you said that to before?" "As many girls as I've ever seen." "Officer~!" It's Touki who'd be in trouble too if the cops were called, you know. Since she's a runaway girl.
We passed the front desk and got into an elevator that happened to be stopped on our floor. A foreigner inside seemed to have noticed us and held the elevator for us. Kindness like this, small and unsticky, is much more appreciated. If good intentions are forced upon you, they can make you taste the bitter core of malice. There are always those clueless types lurking in corners, and they really get on my nerves.
Fate, I believe, is a current born from people's intentions. If people realized that even trivial actions, unknown to anyone directly, can influence the fate of others, they wouldn't be able to unconsciously impose themselves like that.
The foreigner got off midway, and the elevator continued upwards with just Touki and me. Touki had her hands clasped behind her back, stretching and looking up at the floor indicator. Walking with wide strides, constantly stretching... These unconscious attempts to make herself look bigger always made the corners of my eyes soften, and I found myself drawn to her. "Could you please stop smirking and looking over here, Mr. Lolicon?" She immediately noticed my gaze and recoiled with a deadpan stare, which was also good, like a wary little animal.
"I don't get how just looking at me can make you seem so happy with life."
"Well, that's 'cause I'm in love with you."
"You're way too open about it..." Touki put a hand to her forehead and sighed, exasperated.
"I wish I could live so optimistically too."
"Then why don't you try smirking while looking at me?"
"Ew, there's such a bottom-tier adult next to me—are you telling me to look down on you?"
As I requested, she gave me a smirk. And I was even scorned. My heart pounded. Ah, it's over.
We arrived at the seventeenth floor. The moment we did, some kind of story was unfolding outside.
.' And then... No, best not yet.
Just as the doors began to open, something zipped across my vision at high speed. A college-student type reeking of lolicon-smell seemed to have been abducted by a woman well past her prime for Lolita fashion. Her companion looked like the other half of the woman who'd been pestering him at the front desk, poor guy. If it were me, I'd suspect it was some kind of punishment.
Touki suddenly squeezed my hand tightly. Since she tilted her head at her own hand with a "?", it seemed to be an unconscious action on her part too. Normally, I'd want to drop to one knee right there and kiss the back of her hand.
It was something that wouldn't normally happen, and therefore, it was an omen. Mainly of danger, you know.
I slowly turned my head, and the moment that blue color entered my vision, my pupils contracted.
"...Ah." I closed my eyes for a moment. I felt the elevator doors closing behind me.
This is it, probably. A certainty born from experience made a cold sweat break out. I saw him earlier too, but Touki wasn't with me then.
"Luigi?"
I took a slow, deep breath. Inside my ears, the bell on my cell phone rang. It was an auditory hallucination, but a highly accurate one. Ever since I was young, whenever I sensed danger, I'd mysteriously hear the auditory hallucination of a ringing bell. Thanks to that, I was the only one to avoid a traffic accident that my entire family was involved in... just kidding, no such tragic episode ever happened.
Still, the reason my thread of life hasn't snapped yet is probably thanks to this sound accompanying my intuition. After all, it seems I'm the subject of Malice's "unrequited love," you see.
"Touki, go on back to the room first."
"Of course."
I held out our room's card key. Touki, though a question mark floated above her head at my action, took the card key with her slender, small, branch-like hand.
That hand, which she had clenched while hanging her head when we first met, as if it couldn't hold anything, was now able to grasp a key like this.
Bittersweet, isn't it? The gentlemanly part of me pecks at a song of joy, while my desires slump their shoulders at its departure. Well, as for how we met, I'll tell that story someday, if opportunity allows.
"What's wrong? Are you going to get to work right away?"
"Is it fun to lie so casually?"
"It's not fun. I believe that living honestly leads to happiness."
"Yeah, I agree with that too." Touki nodded with a nice smile. Ah, damn it, I felt an urge to lick her eyeballs. That's twenty percent a joke, though.
"Well, I wouldn't mind if you came part of the way. You might just fall for me all over again, you know."
"Isn't that premise already broken?"
It seemed the "being in love" part had failed Touki's inspection. She doesn't have much of a shy side, but she's still a maiden who'd make flowers blush, so as a lady's refinement, she can't openly express her affection for a man. If anything, the problem might be that my head is a bit too open.
"Besides, I don't even know what you're talking about."
"My handsome-man time has begun."
If things go on like this, the curtain will fall on the story with the audience perceiving me as just some lolicon big brother. Not that it's wrong, so I won't deny it myself. And it's not like there is an audience anyway. I don't even watch myself.
"What on earth are you on about?" Touki said, but still took a large step forward with her right foot.
"What are we having for dinner?" she asked, turning back while holding a pose like an Achilles stretch. "Think about it in the room."
"Mm, got it." Touki walked down the corridor, her feet sliding lightly on the carpet.
Incidentally, the man in his fifties who had disappeared towards the vending machines came running past us, as if chasing the couple from before, down the corridor... Huh, he stopped and turned to Touki. "Wheh?" His tongue and movements were frozen. Touki also noticed his gaze, turned back, and said, "Oh my," looking amused. Were they old acquaintances? Touki seemed to be mouthing, "Don't worry. I didn't tell," but... In the end, the man ran off, and Touki just kept laughing.
.....Well then, guess I'll have to somehow make myself "convinced."
As I watched Touki go, I kept an eye on the blue lurking in the corner of my vision. Isn't he going to follow? Ah, that's a shame. He should at least follow with his eyes. Truly a shame.
After Touki disappeared around the corner of the hallway, I swallowed.
A burnt taste danced on my tongue.
I pressed my hat down with my palm, pulling it lower. My vision became obscured.
And so, my fear lessened too. It was like a good luck charm.
Without taking a single step, maintaining my distance, I spoke to the man in the blue suit.
"Excuse me, I was wondering earlier, but aren't you Mr. Kanematsu Shigemichi?"
The man, who had stopped, fiddled with the knot of his tie and returned an elegant smile.
"Not at a-all, you've got the wrong person, sorry." A classy way of joking. I'll take notes.
"Then perhaps, Mr. Tachibana Eiji?"
"Wrong again, I'm afraid. Do you have an appointment to meet someone?"
"Ah... What, you're surprisingly obscure, huh? Oh well, I'll change the question then. Who are you?" I made sure to modulate my voice so the end of my words wouldn't tremble.
"I'm a bellboy at this hotel." He replied instantly, his eyes narrowing as if troubled, though his smile remained. Beneath that veneer of gentleness, his eyes were surely probing me. Like staring at a foreign object before removing it with tweezers.
"You don't quite look the part for a bellboy."
"Even fast-food workers wear casual clothes in their private lives, don't they?"
"Fair enough. But I get the impression you're not actually a bellboy."
The man's head tilted slightly to the left. His blond hair rippled smoothly. It was the kind of head tilt that made you imagine he was thinking, "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're saying," and because he couldn't think of a polite way to say it, he was currently searching for a different response.
Before the man could open his mouth, I continued.
"Do you take pride in your profession?"
"Yes, of course. It's my reason for living."
"Actually, me too. We seem to get along, don't we?"
"Mm-hmm. It feels like we could become good enough friends to extend our index fingers and have them line up perfectly."
Ahaha, we hit it off. When the man laughed, his white teeth showed; no fangs.
What a shame. It's very difficult to dislike someone you get along with.
"However, that makes things rather strange, doesn't it?"
"What might that be?"
"You can stop with the polite language, you know. We're not exactly a bellboy and a guest."
"I haven't quit yet."
"Oh, is thaaat so? Well, to continue, I don't think I'd forget, not being some idiot student who doesn't respect their own school, but Kanematsu Shigemichi is the owner of this hotel."
His lips still curved in a gentle smile, the man's eyelids opened softly. He let go of his tie and spread the fingers of both hands elegantly. The whiteness of those fingers crept into my vision. I averted my gaze slightly.
"Sir, please refrain from jesting. The owner's name is Shiina Kouji."
"It was clearly written in the hotel guide, you know." Don't you go bluffing so brazenly.
The man scratched his forehead with a finger, sighing "Good grief," and signaled the end of his futile resistance.
"So there are actually guests who read those things seriously. That's what surprises me."
His demeanor and tone shifting, the man let out a wry smile. "You got me." He twirled his blond hair around his index finger.
"I only read the first two pages myself, though." And even that was hazy. To be honest, I wasn't actually confident if the hotel owner's name was correct.
The man pointed to the tip of his own nose with a perfectly manicured finger and nail, his lips curving into a crescent moon. "Well then, should I be the one to attack next?"
"No, no, we're not using a turn-based system here. Besides, if you started attacking, it feels like it would be completely one-sided from then on."
"Haha, don't overestimate me, now."
He responded cheerfully, as if lightly laughing off the pleasantries. I touched my hat, as if to hide my sweaty palm.
The man turned completely, facing me head-on. Until a moment ago, his gaze had hinted at indecision, as if wondering whether to pursue something, but that urge seemed to have vanished. I don't appreciate being taken an interest in by anyone other than women of a suitable age.
"Let me correct my lie. To be precise, I'm a guest who can't return to his room due to certain circumstances." He admitted his lie calmly, without apology. ...However.
I couldn't just be satisfied with exposing a single lie and leave.
"Why a bellboy?"
"Because just a little while ago, there was someone who called me that."
"That must be it." Why is this guy narrating it like some heartwarming story? He's even got a smug look on his face.
"What is it?"
"Are there really people these days who don't have cell phones? Isn't this an age where even people with zero friends or hikikomori at least try carrying one? Though there are exceptions, like connecting with someone specific via a brain-phone."
That one made me cry. I cried at the epilogue too. In fact, I cried right from the beginning when they said they had no friends. It's not like I was superimposing my own student days onto it. That's a lie.
"I imagine there are people who don't own one based on their principles." He replied, largely unfazed by my disjointed topic.
However, the fact that his gaze started paying attention to the cell phone in his hand was troublesome. It'd be easier if I were dealing with someone more vague. Since he dyes his hair, I found myself wishing with a touch of prejudice that he'd act a bit more flippant.
"But it's certainly become a cornerstone of modern life, hasn't it?"
"That's true. Communication isn't omnipotent, but it is useful. As a medium for that, I think the telephone is excellent."
"Exactly. And I'm very sorry to keep troubling you, but that cell phone... it's not yours, is it?" I tried to broach the main topic indirectly. Thinking a flanking maneuver might be more effective than a frontal assault.
The man didn't flinch, maintaining his cool demeanor as he held up the aforementioned phone on his palm.
As he did so, a white cat strap swayed from side to side. Or rather, isn't that way too many cat keychains? That novelist, honestly...
"This, you mean?"
"Yes, that. I believe that cell phone belongs to an acquaintance of mine."
"No, no, this is surely mine. Look, the phone and my clothes are matching colors, aren't they?"
What kind of reasoning is that? If that's the case, I'll wear pale blue clothes and declare, "The Earth is mine."
"Could you tell me the grounds for your suspicion?" He asked for my opinion, as if enjoying a debate.
I watched an older cleaning lady pass by pushing a cart with cleaning supplies, feigning distraction, then said:
"Have you seen a cat in this hotel?"
"Ah, yes, I have. In fact, that cat snatched my cell phone, and I'd been looking for it until a kind young man found it and brought it to me. So, what about this cat?"
"Excuse me for interrupting while you're telling such a huge lie, but may I call my acquaintance's phone right here?" I whipped out my cell phone with a schlick. I'm lying too, but this is work, so I'll keep quiet about it.
This time, a real bell jingled.
"While we're at it, shall I ask you the cat's color? I don't mind giving you three choices, if you like."
The man's face, overall, was (smiling), but his eyes alone converged into (coldness). Ah, there was always a guy like this at school. The kind who'd avoid stepping on cicada shells but would unhesitatingly crush a cicada that had fallen from a tree at the end of its life. Those are the eyes of someone who insists on killing rather than just breaking, the way they look at living things.
And if such a dangerous person is here, on the seventeenth floor of this hotel... do I need to put my body on the line to protect Touki? I'd rather not, if possible.
"Well, if it's an acquaintance's phone, it's natural you'd recognize it. Was I careless?"
"No, this is actually the first time I've seen it in person."
My creed is to live honestly, so having to reveal the trick after a bluff is the hard part. The man, though amazed by my confession, replied with an embarrassed laugh, perhaps because he'd lost to my bluff.
"I sensed a different, stronger basis from your attitude, but was that just my imagination?"
"Not really... just a hunch. And if I had to say, I saw fresh scratch marks mixed in with old ones on that phone, so I just thought if anyone could make them, it'd be someone living with a cat in the hotel."
"What's this, a guest who isn't observing the no-pets-allowed rule?" he said, suddenly adopting a professorial tone.
"That is correct, sir!" And I returned in a military tone.
"Outrageous."
"Indeed." We nodded at each other, mm-hmm.
"And that's strike two for you." He raised both hands slightly, to a position where he could pull them back in front of him at any time.
"Yay, I woooon, I won again!" I feigned super-casual excitement. My colleague Elliot often uses the phrase "super casual," so I'd been influenced and started using it sometimes too.
"So, this phone, is it important to you?" he asked, after tightly clenching the phone he held in his hand. The cat strap's ears were crushed by his pinky, and I imagined how the screaming cat must feel. It didn't seem to be enough to make me feel grief-stricken, though.
For a while now, I'd felt like a muffled scream-like sound had been echoing in the hallway.
"Providing a satisfactory answer to that question is, under the current circumstances, rather difficult."
"Didn't your teacher tell you that even a half-baked answer is better than submitting a blank one?"
"Alright, I'll tell you, but it's precisely... subtle. It's not my phone, and as for being an acquaintance, we're only close enough that I took over eating his fukujinzuke pickles for him today."
"That's another subtle relationship. One wrong step, and I see it's the kind of relationship you'd have to describe by bringing it to the level of 'friends from the same star' or something."
The man let out an amused chuckle and applied more pressure to the cell phone. His fingertips seemed to convey that he didn't have the slightest intention of returning it willingly.
"Did you steal the phone?"
"No, I'm holding onto a lost item. This is true."
"Ah, well... that doesn't sound like a lie."
That novelist, he told a huge lie. He'll pay for that later. I don't tolerate lies, you know.
Careful not to touch the man's outstretched hand, I also extended my own hand forward, opening it as if to receive something.
"I'll return the phone to him. So just put the phone down and go somewhere, quickly."
"I can't hand it over so carelessly. There's a chance you're a hotel thief." He raised both hands like a bratty kid snatching a girl's doll, going "Nope, nope!"
"That's a harsh joke." For someone like you, who seems to belong to the category of "humanity-wrecker," to call someone else a criminal...
"Are you an ally of justice or something?"
"More so than an ordinary citizen."
"A wonderful answer. Next time someone asks me, I think I'll answer that way too." Despite his words, the man's right hand didn't look very amused. The tips of the nails clenching the phone were turning white.
"Honestly, if you'd immediately said it wasn't important, I might have returned it easily."
"Do you have some fixation on 'important'?"
"No, well, I usually like other people's 'important things,' but I was influenced by some stupid ghost story I heard on the radio during the day. I liked it, so I'm trying it out by asking." He chuckled, a reminiscent laugh, and dangled the swaying strap. That's why you're scary, man.
"Is the most important thing to you that girl from earlier?" He turned dramatically towards the far end of the corridor, his narrowed eyes trying to see through the wall.
"..........." Threatening him with "If you lay a hand on that child..." feels so cliché.
But other than that, I probably have no other motive to confront this man.
After all, I'm a lolicon.
"Are you a lolicon too?"
"Unfortunately, I don't have such proclivities. What's with that wry smile?"
"Is that so..." Following my disappointment from lunch, I was let down again. Is the world full of nothing but guys who like older women?
Japanese people only miniaturize electronics, yet they try to spread out the wrapping cloth for important things as wide as possible.
"So, what will you do? If it's not something important, it's replaceable. Wouldn't it be the wiser, more meaningful choice to give up here?"
"Well, yeah, that's true, but..."
"Then what?"
Honestly, I'm not so bored with my daily life that I'd stick my neck into things outside of work.
"But as an ally of justice, I can't overlook this, you see."
The man burst out laughing. I wonder if he was curious about my blend ratio of ordinary citizen and ally of justice.
"Can you protect someone by getting this phone back?"
"The definition of an ally of justice isn't about protecting people." I shrugged at his ignorance, "Hey, hey," and then:
"It's about protecting my own justice."
And my justice is about "living honestly" to "achieve conviction."
As a result of that, I might end up helping people sometimes.
But it's not for others, it's for myself—that's the basic principle of a selfish bastard who's an "ally of justice," you see.