Hot Under the Collar
Moriko Hanzo is being driven, by Officer Kanako Kojima, through the bustling streets of downtown Tokyo.
The inside of the squad car smells strongly of pine air freshener, serving as a paper-thin veil against a fierce underlying stink of cat odor. A maneki-neko bobblehead, stuck to the center console, does a slight wobbling dance with every bump and turn in the road. A lanky, stuffed toy cat, sporting an old-fashioned policeman's cap, is draped across the dashboard—eyes closed, like it's having a small doze on the job. There are small photographs of—Hanzo assumes—Kanako's own pet cats, dangling from her set of keys, set within colorful fish-shaped plastic frames. The back window is adorned with an unreasonable amount of Hello Kitty stickers...accumulating along the sides and corners of the windshield like a steadily growing cancerous mass of cute.
It's all...quite a lot to take in, now that Moriko is in slightly higher spirits.
She flicks the aforementioned maneki-neko bobblehead with a cracking grin. "I'm, uh, guessing you like ca-ah-AH—"She trails off mid-sentence, an eruption imminent: The inside of her nose starts to itch. Her eyes water. There's a tingling in her throat, which grows and grows, feeling like it's steadily rising until it reaches the back of her tongue and—
ACHOO! She sneezes, catching it in her sleeve.
"Oh!" Kana's hand jolts toward the glovebox, as if by instinct, opening it to produce a box of tissues. "Are you allergic?" she asks, handing Hanzo the box with a nervous smile. "Sorry, the cats get a little rowdy when I take them to the vet—the hair gets EVERY-where."
…
MORIKO HANZO POV:
Geez...I'm really deep in the shit on this one.
The freaking police have my weapons now…which is like, the worst thing that could have possibly come out of all this!
Because I know, damn well, sooner or later...
The gingerbread trail left behind by all the lovely-dovely acts I've committed over the years, using said weapons…
Would invariably lead back to me!
Takeda's ass is most assuredly covered. However, mine is not: he'll gladly cut me loose and allow me to take the fall to save his own hide...because that is what he does.
I know how he operates—probably better than anyone.
So, I'll have to run damage control. I'll have to "go deep behind enemy lines," to maybe have a small sliver of a chance to salvage the situation.
Because if I'm going down, he's sure as HELL gonna go down with me!
"Want more heat?" Officer Kana asks out of the blue.
"Huh?" I notice her drifting her hyperactively twirling fingers toward the temperature dial.
"It's FREEZING tonight! Should be seeing snow any day now."
I wave my hand. "Oh no, please—it's alright..."
She turns the dial anyway, the AC vents now blowing more loudly with thick streams of warm air...simultaneously pumping my freaking lungs with ever more of that crappy pine scent.
"Great," I mumble, just on the verge of another sneeze.
"Want some music?" Kana asks but immediately flips on the radio, regardless of the flat "no" in response that was comfortably nestled between my lips: dialing it to a station that exclusively plays classic American love songs...then immediately turning the volume down, so low that it's reduced to a barely audible background hum. "I'm more of a jazz person, myself. Got it from my dad...who has his own band, and a whole record collection. I'm pretty good with the saxophone, and even tried to start my own band once."
"Okay," is all I can think to say, rolling my eyes. Nobody asked!
She keeps slightly turning to me, keeping most of her focus on the road. Asking me more useless questions. "Do you know how to play any instruments?"
"Hmm—no...but I wish I had a tuba right now."
"Why's that?"
"So I could fucking hit you with it."
She frowns. "That's not very nice. Also, I would have to book you on assault charges."
"You're a terrible cop, and cats are dumb."
She sighs, shaking her head with a faint glimmer of a smile. "Now you're just being childish."
"Just get to the point." I told her. "You want answers, and I've got them."
We stop at a light in front of a busy intersection, and I watch a flock of tourists spilling out of a shopping mall. They're wearing cheap souvenir—out-of-season—kimonos and split-toed sandals—visibly shivering from the cold. I hear pachinko machines, from the parlor that's on the other side of the street. Ahead of us, there's a wall of flashy animated billboard ads: showing off everything from new smartphones, to soft drinks, to cheesy daytime TV dramas.
"It's...strange." Officer Kanako says, staring forward while pouting her lip and furrowing her brows, her index finger crossing over her lips; looking like she's deep in thought.
"But when I ran your name through the system..."
She turns to me, lowering the finger from her lips, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Your records were completely blank."
Shrugging, I tiptoe with my reply, "I…try to keep off the grid. More freedom that way."
"Your name was in the system, but there was nothing about your parents, no dental records or hospital visits, your education or driver's license history…"
"I've never had a driver's license." I crossed my arms, sinking into my seat. "I use the Metro."
She laughs. "The OFFICIAL government database…doesn't even have your birthdate!"
I kept my voice low, sounding disinterested. while in reality I was tense as shit. "Maybe you should uhh...upgrade your servers."
Kana gives a frustrated growl, leaning her head toward me. "I thought you said you had answers! So quit jerking me around." I watch as she closes her eyes, turns away and takes a deep breath, regaining her composure. Then returns to facing me, now with her hardened gaze peering over the top of her glasses. "You're hiding something from me, Moriko Hanzo. In legal terms, that's called obstruction."
I sit up straight with a smirk on my face, asserting my dominance. "Oh, yeah? I wasn't aware that something was being investigated." I cast her a sneaky, devilish glare out of the corner of my eyes. "I thought we were just having a friendly chat~"
"Hanzo-san..." Officer Kanako plops back in her chair, looking defeated.
"What do you want me to say?!"I ask her genuinely.
"You don't have to keep protecting him, Hanzo-san. You're in police custody now."
I roll my eyes. "Sure, lady. Whatever you say. I'm sure I'll be totally safe from Takeda in the hands of the Tokyo Metropolitan Parking Ticket Dispensers."
She looks at me sternly; no kidding around. "I know that he's probably abused you. And it's probably gone on so long that you've grown used to it, maybe even started to think it's normal." She shakes her head. "But...it isn't—no one should have to live like a bird in a gilded cage, especially when you're still so young. These are supposed to be the best years of your life and you're wasting them on that…that"—she groans, biting her lip as she turns red the face, holding back what she was about to say.
But too bad, because I'm curious...and this is honestly pretty cute.
"What's that? It's okay to curse, Officer!" I joyfully taunted her. "It's just us, and you're off the clock anyway. So go ahead and—"
She exploded: "That EGOTISTICAL, self-satisfied, sneaky SON OF A BITCH!"
"WHEW!" I cheered, excitedly grabbing her by the shoulder as she's all grinning and panting, as if talking straight was, for her, the equivalent of running a damn marathon.
She's...sort of a nutcase, if all the freaking cat shit wasn't already a good enough indicator. Though, I guess it makes sense that you would have to be at least a little bit crazy to not be a completely self-centered asshole, these days...when, more and more, it seems like everyone is only in it for themselves.
"Gosh, I haven't eaten since breakfast," she whines, eyeing the vibrant banner of a fried chicken place as we drive past it, at a crawling pace. "I think I'll order a peet-za!"
I'm fidgeting nervously, averting my eyes as I feel a rumbling in my stomach.
Pizza...
At just the mere mention, I'm drooling. It's been so long since I had something really good...
Takeda...that bastard...
He never once offered to buy me pizza!