Sugita

“I thought you were going to try to quit smoking, Kenichiro,” Kozakura muttered, the moment I stepped into the kitchen.

The sunrise spilled blazing orange and blood red across the horizon, intensifying the dull pain between my eyes, and my feet were cold from pacing the wet flagstones of the back patio. My whole body shuddered, and I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been outside. I might not have come in at all except now it was morning, and I had to stop driving myself crazy and make a move.

“That’s just not possible right now,” I muttered. Inside for a handful of seconds, and already I wanted to go back out and smoke in the crisp air, take comfort in the yellowed leaves of the peach tree, and forget all my problems.

I’d spent the whole night in research, familiarizing myself with every vampire story in the world, second-guessing my decision to leave Handa alone, yet I had nothing to show for it. Just the headache, and that dry, heavy feeling in my eyes.

“What are you going to do?” My wife called me back to reality again. “Wait until you retire and life is quiet?”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Of course not. Good morning, by the way.”

“Hey,” she muttered, turning her attention to the coffee pot. She wasn’t a morning person, a thousand times more likely to complain about something she didn’t like at sunrise than any other time of day, but the sight of her padding around in her robe and unwashed hair was a comfort, at least.

I needed that, because my heart was starting to feel like a rock that had gotten lodged in one of my lungs. My night of research had been discouraging, but I was trying to convince myself I had a small advantage. Though I hadn’t been briefed as a yokai hunter, I did have resources. There were people with more knowledge and experience I could turn to.

At least I wasn’t learning about the yokai world because I was about to join it.

My stomach curdled.

Hideki was smart, effortlessly putting together the fact that I’d prefer to work with him than investigate yokai, but, as usual, he was stupid in the sense that he couldn’t fathom my reasoning.

For more than five years, we’d been inseparable, and we complimented each other. I knew our relationship looked odd from the outside, but I didn’t care what anyone thought. Having his friendship was all that mattered.

“Kenichiro,” Kozakura said, a bit loudly, like she’d called my name two or three times, and I made myself look at her again. Beyond the irritability, her cinnamon eyes had begun to burn with a touch of concern. “Did you sleep in that suit?”

I glanced down at my rumpled clothing and rubbed a hand across my scruffy jaw. “I didn’t sleep at all.”

Her eyebrows turned up. “We’ve talked about this. It doesn’t matter how tough a case gets, you have to take care of yourself.”

“That’s easier said than done sometimes.”

She just shook her head.

What should I tell her? The case I had thought I was working on was gone now. Something dire—something personal—had taken its place, and I wasn’t allowed to say anything about it to her. Normally, I found some relief in knowing I wasn’t able to burden her with certain details about my work, but this scared me so badly, I wished I could tell her everything.

Kozakura might not understand the bond between Hideki and I any better than the next person, but the fact that she’d instantly accepted how much he meant to me—without jealousy or the expectation that she’d be included—was part of what had convinced me so early on that she was the one for me. Instead of sneering or questioning, she’d respected the fact that he was my brother in everything but blood.

I leaned my aching head against the cool glass of the patio door and suppressed a groan.

Handa didn’t see me as a brother. When I’d started dating my wife, I hadn’t understood why he’d gotten so defensive, jealous, and bitchy, but I understood now. We’d been one critical component short of being a couple, and maybe in his subconscious, he’d already viewed me as his.

I’m such an idiot.

Kozakura and I had been dating for several months before I’d discovered he was into men. After I’d found his porn site, I’d dwelled on what it meant for so long and so seriously, I couldn’t help blurting it out to my girlfriend one night, right in the middle of dinner, “I think Hideki’s gay.”

Coolly, she’d replied, “I actually think Handa-kun is bi, but I don’t know for sure,” and then, noticing my expression, she’d laughed at me. “Some detective. You couldn’t even figure out your best friend is in the closet?”

That made me feel dumb, of course, and I’d realized there had been a few signs.

Like how excited he’d been the day we went to the firehouse for an event, even though he’d wasted all his time talking to the young guys instead of trying to network with the officers; or how enamored he was with the lead singers of his favorite bands. He’d been so embarrassed the day I’d discovered he had that Satoshi guy from Girugamesh as the background image on his laptop, but I’d thought nothing of it, since Hideki got embarrassed any time anyone caught him doing something even remotely dorky.

Those little hints aside, there hadn’t been much to go off of, so he must have really put himself through an ordeal, struggling to hide it from me for three years. I still didn’t know if he’d been scared that I’d disdain him, or if it was because he’d been in love with me.

It hadn’t been easy to address either. Kozakura had warned me not to make a big deal about it, or I could hurt him. I didn’t want to hurt my friend—obviously—but I’d also been nervous to disrupt our partnership even momentarily.

That was the part Handa didn’t understand.

Compared to other people, I’d always lacked a sense of oneness with community. I cared about my community. I even enjoyed playing team sports. Ever since an early age, I’d gotten satisfaction from reaching out to those in need.

For all that, though, I was always too outspoken, too domineering, and too temperamental to make real connections, let alone maintain healthy friendships.

I’d grown up with a lot of pets, and I’d been close with both my parents. In school, I’d stayed near the top of my class, so I’d had the admiration of most my peers, and even the guys who’d hated me had at least respected me. I’d focused, tirelessly, on my goals, and I hadn’t recognized loneliness for what it was.

Meeting Hideki had opened my eyes to a hole in my life I hadn’t realized I should try to fill. Before that , I’d had no idea how important a relationship—even a platonic one—could be.

Yokai weren’t going anywhere, ergo, neither was the hunter position. I could change my mind any day that suited me.

There was only one Hideki.

A gentle hand caught onto mine, pulling, insistently, and Koza’s soft voice urged, “Let’s sit down and have coffee, okay?”

She was so small, but I let her lead me away from the door. Getting on the same page as the chief’s team was my priority for the day, but first I had to get Hideki. The hour of six had stolen in now. Assuming he’d gotten any sleep, he wouldn’t be awake yet. Coffee with my wife wouldn’t make a big difference. I wanted that familiarity and comfort so badly right now, I wasn’t sure I could leave the house without experiencing it, if only for a moment.

Not only had I missed dinner with her last night, I’d shut myself up in my study immediately after getting home, and the only time I’d seen her had been when she’d crept in to kiss me goodnight. Regardless of how badly I’d wanted to climb the stairs and lie down beside her, be comforted by the feeling of her arms around me, I’d failed to tear myself from my research.

What a waste.

I never should have left Hideki by himself. I’d seen the look in his eyes and had known how much he wanted me to stay with him. At least a dozen times, I’d made up my mind to go back and at least park outside his place. Once, I’d even gotten in my car to do it.

As always, though, Hideki had his reasons for everything he said and did, and I was trying to work on my pushiness, so I’d made myself back off. That was a one-time thing, though. From this day forward, I would be there, right up until the end. Handa didn’t deserve to spend his last few moments as a human being feeling like nobody would notice if he never came back.

My wife pushed me into my chair, and I immediately let my forehead sink against my fist. I never should have left him. Researching had been worthless. There was no information. Of course not. This wasn’t a pandemic with the potential to destroy humanity. It was a fluke.

I had to find the answers myself.

In two weeks, I’m going to lose him.

Our friendship felt so natural and immemorial to me, I didn’t know who I would be without him. Some jaded, tired version of Sugita Kenichiro, too buried in work and overwhelmed by darkness to even recognize the lack of human interactions in his life.

Koza set a mug in front of me and took her seat. I felt her worried gaze on me as she had her first sip, and then she said, “It’s more than just a tough case, isn’t it? Something is really wrong.”

I lifted my heavy eyes to take in her glowing face and auburn hair. These days, it was impossible to imagine a version of my life where I’d never met her, but there was a time when I would have recognized her as a vivacious and beautiful woman without ever finding a real reason to speak to her. Five years ago, I couldn’t have convinced myself for anything that settling down would be a good decision.

I found enough strength, finally, to lift my head and down some coffee before saying, “I have no siblings and no friends. I’ve always believed that family and work were the only things that really mattered. I was raised to believe that.”

“I know. But…” Koza’s brow wrinkled. “I’m sure that’s not what you’re fretting over this morning.”

“Not exactly. I’m just thinking what a risk it is, meeting people, choosing to overlook their faults and love them anyway. Even when we know we’ll eventually lose everything, we make the decision to connect.”

At that, her eyes widened and she sat up, rigidly, in her chair. “Did something happen to Handa-kun? Is he…?”

“He’s fine,” I murmured. “For now. I’m just thinking… I’ve always wanted to help people for as long as I can remember, but I understood that people die. I never let myself get attached to anyone. I thought about how much it hurt to lose a grandparent or even a pet, and I decided it would be stupid to get married and have kids.”

Her expression softened and her posture relaxed, but she kept her mouth set in a tight line, anticipating bad news.

“I got careless when I met Hideki because I didn’t know. I just didn’t know, Koza.” I met her gaze and made myself hold it even though I felt like the inside of my chest was burning away. “I didn’t know that I could give such a monumental shit about some random guy I met in the police academy.”

My wife nodded, laying her hand over mine. “You have such a warm heart, Kenichiro. It makes sense that you care about people. So, it wasn’t carelessness—you let yourself feel that way because you started to love him. That’s natural, and it isn’t something we necessarily set out to do.”

“No.” My face blazed with embarrassment, and I swallowed hard. “It’s just an accident. But I wonder if it’s a mistake, too. I can’t imagine how bad it would hurt to lose him.”

As soon as the words were out, I realized they weren’t true.

That night on the Rainbow Bridge, I’d gotten a brief but very real sense of how much I would hate to lose Hideki, and now he faced a fate worse than death, a life robbed of humanity, spent hiding in shadows and feeding off others like a parasite, too warped to even care if I loved him.

My eyes began to sting, and I shut them automatically. Even in my imagination, the grief was too terrible.

Kozakura sighed, and I felt her thumb brush along the backs of my knuckles. “Anata,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine how bad things must be for you to even think that.”

I glanced up at her again, and she smiled back, sadly.

“The people who love us help make us who we are, and you are such a strong, compassionate man. How could that possibly be a mistake?”

Her eyes radiated such love, I lost myself in them. With her water silk hair tangled by a night spent tossing and turning, face bare of make-up, she didn’t look as graceful and composed as usual, but she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and she always had the answers. Her strength was nothing to sneer at.

Being so young, in many ways, Kozakura still didn’t know what she wanted out of life; she liked to play and travel, taking jobs that held her attention for the moment, dumping them once she got bored, refusing, in some ways, to grow up.

Sometimes, that instability gave me anxiety, but I’d promised her I wouldn’t try to make her settle down. I’d promised to support her so she could have the freedom to explore possibilities and make a decision in her own time.

If something went wrong and I had to choose between my job and helping Handa, Kozakura’s force of will might be the only thing I had to fall back on. Even though she didn’t have a degree, when she found out I’d given up my source of income to help my friend, she’d do whatever it took to pay the bills, even if that meant working two or three jobs. She was my partner for good times and bad. My rock.

I couldn’t stand the thought of my beautiful, happy-go-lucky princess overworked and low on spirits. I had to fix this problem, immediately, so all three of us could stay on track. Anything short of that was unacceptable.

“Koza.” I lifted her hand to my lips. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re a fighter,” she said, solemnly. “You’ll find your way. And I’ll always be right here waiting for you.”

A slight smile dared to scrape my lips, and I got up, bending low to kiss her forehead. “Good. Handa will be with me tonight.”

I wasn’t going to give him an option this time.

Her expression lightened as she smiled back at me. “Looking forward to it.”

For a moment, we just beamed at each other, and I wished he could see how much she cared about him.

Back when we were dating, she’d been so hospitable and kind to him, not much time had passed before he’d gone from shooting her wary, stray dog scowls to teasing and joking with her like they’d been friends forever. Kozakura hadn’t batted an eye when I’d told her Hideki was in love with me; instead, she’d tried to coach me on how to navigate not only the circumstances, but my feelings too, and she continued to treat him like a brother-in-law out of her respect for my affection toward him.

I’d been happy that the two people I cared about most got along. In fact, I would have loved for those days to last forever.