Chapter 2.2

“You can take the couch. Do you need an extra set of clothes? Are you hungry?”

Fujiko’s stomach growled.

“Maybe a little.”

“I’ll whip up something then. Why don’t you take a bath while I’m at it? I’ll run the water, and I can wash your clothes.”

When Fujiko submerged her face in warm bathwater, she opened both her eyes. She could see everything clearly. Soapy suds foaming around her hair above. Her polished skin. The clean white enamel of the bathtub without a trace of rust or debris.

It wasn’t what she had expected, for Reiko’s room to be so clean. When they first entered, Fujiko had noted the spotless counters, the vinyl flooring that smelled like mild detergent. Only a plot of clothes by the couch in the living room seemed out of place in an otherwise immaculate apartment.

Maybe it was her bedroom that was a mess.

Past the mild mechanical whirs of the washing machine, Fujiko could hear the click of the television turning on.

“The Prime Minister met this evening with the Egregore Seven,” the broadcaster announced, “who arrived in Sapporo earlier this afternoon under the supervision of the local Samukawa Group and a division within the Public Safety Commission…”

The sound of sizzling reached Fujiko’s ears, followed half a minute later by the fragrance of sesame oil and roasted shoyu.

Scattered footsteps moved between the kitchen and the bedroom. A rustle shook the wicker baskets outside.

“I’ve left some clothes for you,” Reiko called. “They might be a little big, though.”

“Thanks,” Fujiko lifted her face out of the water.

At the dinner table, Fujiko wore a yellow long sleeved sweater and gray cotton pants.A bowl of garlic fried rice sat before her, along with an assortment of pickled radishes and store bought furikake.

“No beer?” she asked.

“Beer?” Reiko repeated. “You drink?”

“No, I thought you might be one of those civil servants who end their day by cracking open a cold can.”

“Don’t believe everything you see on TV, Kazama,” Reiko spooned a mouthful of rice. “So? Why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Fujiko said. “Like I said, I locked myself–”

“You could have opened your apartment door with one eye half open,” Reiko chewed. “Why are you here?”

“If you knew, why’d you let me in at all?”

“I think we both have something to gain from talking to each other.”

Fujiko folded her arms.

“Fine. I’ll get straight to the point,” she said. “Natsuko Ichinose. Does that name mean anything to you?”

Reiko set down her spoon and leaned back. She had anticipated that name the moment she laid eyes on Fujiko, but the sound of it still filled the air like freshener cleansing the room of old musk. It had been some time since that name had uttered inside her home.

“Personnel code, zero-zero-one,” Reiko recited. “By the way, Fujimoto is four, Kobayashi is five, and you’re number six.”

“Natsuko was in Section Eight?”

“She recruited me,” Reiko said. “So yes, that name does mean something to me.”

“Then you knew what she was.”

“Of course,” Reiko answered. “Section Eight could only exist because of her. Before the Department of Magical Crimes, we were witch hunters, and the best witch hunter was Natsuko Ichinose.”

“And by witch, you actually mean Egregore.”

“We never hunted an Egregore,” Reiko shrugged, “and just so you know, we didn’t come up with the idea. Before Lisa Everest ascended, the Americans trained their own hit squads, as did the Russians shortly after the ascension of Fang Fang. We were a precaution. And today, well, it’s a different department and a different world.”

“How did you know Natsuko?”

“My, my,” Reiko smiled. “How many questions do you think you can ask without answering any in return?”

“Fine. Ask away,” Fujiko muttered. “I have nothing to hide.”

Reiko slid out of her chair. She flipped the news broadcast off and walked to the edge of the living room. She peeked outside the curtains.

A grid of amber lights stretched eastward towards Central Sapporo. A bright cluster formed near Odori Park. Towards the south, Reiko spotted faint glimmers of bridge lights flickering on the surface of the Toyohira River.

From afar, each light stood alone, like the lights of an apartment complex where despite every illuminated window sitting adjacent to the other, each wandering tenant inside remained unseen, unknown, oblivious to the lives of everyone else.

“Was Natsuko happy?” Reiko asked when she returned to the dining table. “Was she happy, for whatever time that you knew her?”

Fujiko hadn’t expected the question.

“Um,” she stuttered. “We never talked about that sort of thing.”

“Right of course,” Reiko chuckled. “She must have been too busy teaching you magic and how to use your eyes.”

“What do you know about my–”

“Did you know?” Reiko cut her off. She leaned on her right hand and looked back at the curtains. “Natsuko has a family. Her husband still lives in Tokyo with his daughter. Not her daughter. He brought his child over from his last marriage. Natsuko was... very understanding, and she was never interested in having a child of her own. The arrangement suited her. He was a civil engineer. No magic potential. He never quite understood her.”

“I’m not here to talk about–”

“You asked me how I knew Natsuko,” Reiko interrupted again. “I think that’s a bit too much of a personal question to be asking your direct superior.”

“I’m here to find out about myself,” Fujiko growled. “I want to know why I can see the world through closed eyes. I want to know how she found me, how she knew that I could command imaginarium the way that I can, and why she taught me everything she knew about hunting witches.”

“We don’t hunt witches anymore,” Reiko replied.

“She told me I might have to, one day.”

“Then I hope that day never comes,” Reiko smiled. She gestured to the uneaten bowl of rice on Fujiko’s side of the table. “We’re done talking about this. Are you going to eat or not?”

“I’m not that hungry after all,” Fujiko grumbled.

“Then I suggest you get ready for bed,” Reiko motioned to the couch. “We have a long day tomorrow. Let me prepare some blankets for you.”

Reiko combined both bowls of unfinished fried rice onto a separate plate. She shrink wrapped them and stored the leftovers in the refrigerator. She washed the dishes, wiped down the dinner table, then disappeared into her bedroom to fetch a thick woolen blanket.

“If you need more, let me know,” Reiko said. “Try to stay warm.”

“I’m not a child,” Fujiko murmured, “and you’re not my mom, captain.”

Just then, Fujiko spotted emotion flash across Reiko’s eyes. Reiko blinked it away immediately, but Fujiko captured its remnants in the captain’s clenched jaw and oblique gaze. She hadn’t seen it on Reiko’s countenance before, and it took a little more than a moment for her to register what the emotion was.

It was pain.

“I was just being courteous,” Reiko whispered. “I owe Natsuko a lot. That’s all.”

Captain Nakamura was silent for the rest of the night. She took a shower, changed into clean white pajamas, and retreated to her bedroom after shutting off the communal lights. She turned to look at Fujiko one last time, who tried her best not to reveal that she was feeling ever so slightly guilty.

“Were you–” Reiko shook her head. “Nevermind. That’s enough questions. Good night, Kazama.”