Tokyo: Officer Rabbit and Her Evil Partner

Chapter 4

Sakurai Chizuru was in a foul mood today.

Not only had she received an anonymous letter a few days earlier, but this afternoon a pretty-boy cadet had embarrassed her in front of everyone. Now, returning to the dorm, she realized she'd forgotten her room key—when it rains, it pours.

Maybe I should buy a key ring, she thought. Ever since becoming an instructor, the number of keys on her belt kept growing; losing one was becoming routine.

She pulled the master key from her pocket, slid it into the lock, and turned. Click. The door swung open.

"Huh? It wasn't locked?"

Chizuru frowned.

She nudged the door wider and flicked the wall switch. Fluorescent lights stuttered, then flooded the bullpen with harsh white glare. Beige partitions carved the space into cubicles; at the far end, frosted-glass doors bore small white nameplates.

She stepped into the narrow aisle, paused, and glanced sideways at a folder on one desk—this month's assessment papers, still sealed.

Probably the last person out forgot to lock up.

Inside her private office she scanned the gloom and spotted her dorm key immediately, right there on the blotter.

"Honestly, how could I miss something so obvious..." She massaged her temples, bent down, and scooped it up. "Stress really is getting to me."

At that same moment, three cadets were wedged beneath her desk in a ridiculous human knot.

The cubbyhole was too shallow for three ordinary crouches. To maximize space, Fushimi Shika and Kawai clasped each other like tangled vines, while the smallest—Minamoto Tamako—was squashed between them.

Footsteps approached, stopped inches away. Shika's heart pounded; he could feel Tamako trembling against his chest, which only made him more nervous.

Ding-ling-ling—

A shrill ringtone cut the silence. Shika heard the rasp of a flip phone opening, followed by the familiar "Moshi-moshi." He blinked; he hadn't realized instructors earned enough for mobiles. In this day and age, most families relied on payphones or landlines. A flip phone was mid-range luxury.

He inhaled slowly, steadying himself. She had her key; any second now she'd leave.

Just stay quiet...

"Damn," Kawai hissed. "It's coming."

Shika's mind raced. What's coming? And why now of all times?

He mouthed, Shut up.

The darkness under the desk swallowed the gesture; Kawai assumed he'd asked for clarification and whispered, "The thing I can't hold back!"

Shika rolled his eyes. Typical Japanese over-politeness—just say you need the toilet!

Tamako, sandwiched between Kawai's knees, panicked. "Big, medium, or small?" she breathed.

"Small," Kawai answered.

"What counts as medium?" Shika asked before realizing he'd been dragged into the madness. He lowered his voice. "No more talking! Hold it, whatever it takes!"

"Medium is a damp fart," Kawai explained, then added, "Got it. I'll do my best."

Shika was starting to suspect sabotage.

Up top, Chizuru remained oblivious. The caller's familiar voice soothed her irritation.

"What's up? Calling me at this hour." She leaned against the desk, tone dropping into velvet dominance. "Can't wait any longer?"

A strained male voice spilled from the earpiece. "I—I can't take it. At work all I can think about is... those things. Please, just for a minute..."

"My, is that how you beg?"

Chizuru's mood lifted. Pinching the phone between shoulder and ear, she kicked off her boots, sank into her chair, and propped her long legs on the desk, examining her toes.

"I'm still at the office..." he protested.

She switched on the desk lamp, unscrewed a bottle of nail polish, and began painting her toenails with lazy strokes. "Then why did you call? You think I can't read your little mind? Go to the restroom."

"But—"

"Need me to repeat myself?"

"...Okay."

Shika tilted his head; from this angle the view was perilous.

Thanks to the lamp's glare, Chizuru didn't notice the six eyes staring up from the floor.

"Why doesn't she just pee in the toilet?" Kawai muttered. "Now I really gotta go!"

Shika regretted everything. Of the four people in this room, only he was sane. If he'd known how the night would end, he'd have stayed in bed.

The "torture" dragged on for twenty minutes; the air grew thick with perfume and something less mentionable.

At last Chizuru hung up, cheeks flushed with satisfaction. She stretched, slipped her feet back into her pumps, tottered once, and clicked the door locked behind her.

The trio exhaled in unison.

Shika crawled out first, joints popping as he stood. Sweet relief.

"I can't hold it—" Kawai bolted for the corridor, certain she'd leaked a few drops.

Tamako squatted on the carpet, hugging her knees, still shell-shocked.

Shika glanced at her, rolling his shoulders. "Well, mystery solved. We can all go home and sleep."

"Eh?" Tamako looked up.

"Weren't we supposed to 'find out what the anonymous letter said'?" Shika yawned. "You saw it. Case closed."

"But the revenge threat? The murder plot? Instructor Sakurai might be a killer! We haven't figured anything out—how can you just give up?" Tamako grabbed his pant leg.

"Not my circus, not my monkeys." He shook his leg.

"Where's your police sense of justice? Taxpayers foot your tuition!" She wrapped both arms around his calf.

"Last life I got stabbed sticking my nose in. This life I vowed to be a selfish bastard and live quietly. Besides, I haven't even graduated—they already bled me dry for tuition and board. Get expelled and all that money and effort go down the drain."

He was about to pry her off when she looked up, eyes shining. "It's only money, right?"

"Oh? And how much change is jingling in your purse..."

"50,000 yen!"

Tamako spread five fingers like a begging kitten. "I'll pay you 50,000 yen to be my partner!"