5 The Man In A suit

The man wore a suit.

Many times in Ichiro's life he had seen suits. Some men almost wore them, but oftentimes he felt it was better described as the suit wearing the man. Tight-fit, baggy, small shoulders, long sleeves, tiny buttons; all suits spoke of who a man wished to be, and who he truly was. That was the difference between wearing a suit and being worn by it. And Agent Yamamoto wore a suit.

“Yamada Ichiro.” It wasn't a question, but Ichíro still nodded. The man's eyes were downcast, rifling through papers he kept tilted so Ichiro could not see. “First year, class 1-C…”

Still not questions, just more checking before he finally looked up. “Tell me what happened yesterday?”

A real question, possibly. “Uh... school?” Ichiro meekly replied.

The agent gave a light, warm chuckle. Ichiro couldn’t pick out why that looked odd until he realized the sparse wrinkles on the middle aged man’s face were all from furrowed foreheads and squinting stares; no laugh lines. “Yes, boy, but we’re trying to be more specific than that. How did the music exam go?”

Ichiro’s eyes widened slightly. “It went… fine.”

A raised eyebrow wrinkled the agent’s forehead. “‘Fine’? Is that right? Your grade here shows… a sixty. A bit of a contrast to your previous marks."

It was not entirely a question but Ichiro still felt the instinct to defend himself. “I just felt a little off. My voice cracked. That sort of thing, you knọw?” he rambled.

“Yes, that sort of thing…” Agent Yamamoto responded. “And then you were in the washroom… ‘singing?’”

Oh, this guy is good, Ichiro thought with annoyance, cursing the class rep again for reporting that. “Yes. I was just frustrated with my test and going over the song,” he lied, sticking to the same story as the morning meeting.

“I see…” the man muttered, no longer maintaining eye contact with Ichiro but looking down, scribbling something. He disinterestedly waved his hand to the door. “You can go.”

Ichiro quickly and cautiously stood, walking to the door, all while eyeing the agent who just ignored his existence. He didn't turn his back until he stepped out of the office door.

“How'd it go?” Hikari asked, turning in her seat and whispering to him as soon as he sat back down in the classroom.

He looked around. Most students were quietly reading their textbooks, including their teacher, while a couple of the usual suspects softly slumbered. ‘STUDY HALL’ was written on the board, explaining the change in atmosphere. “It went fine,” he whispered back.

“Did he ask about yesterday?”

“Yeah, but I think it was just a coincidence. He doesn't really know what we—“

“Sato Hikari,” the agent standing guard outside announced as he stiffly stepped inside.

Hikari flinched. “Uh, yes,” she quickly responded, standing to follow.

“Good luck,” Ichiro whispered just before she was out of earshot. She gave a little wave back before leaving the room.

The teacher appeared completely disengaged with the class. Bored, Ichiro opened his book, skimming through the passage they had been studying. He glanced behind him, seeing Kobayashi reading the textbook, far more immersed. Minutes passed in relative silence, the faint drone of the lights filling the background to murmurs of hushed conversations between adjacent desks.

“Shou Kyoko,” the guard agent called. The named student nodded, standing and following the agent.

Hikari had not returned.

Ichiro rose slightly in his seat, looking around. No one else seemed to notice the abnormality, or at least visually showed it, except Kobayashi, who too looked around in confusion. At first Ichiro thought Kobayashi was looking at him, but his fixation was just past him, on the empty desk Hikari was not sitting in. Then they locked eyes, clearly thinking the same thing.

“Sensei, I have to use the washroom,” Ichiro said, raising a hand.

“Me too, sensei,” Kobayashi spoke up.

The teacher lazily waved his hand, not looking up at them. Ichiro was first into the hall, Kobayashi right behind him. He kept away from the corner, sure that the guarding agent outside of the door Agent Yamamoto was interviewing in would not be as lenient as their teacher.

“It's not just me, right? It's weird that she's not back yet?” Ichiro asked, second guessing if he was just overthinking it.

“No, it's weird,” Kobayashi confirmed. He paced, looking contemplative. “If they were only doing individual interviews then… Huh…" He trailed off, staring out of the window in confusion. "Yamada, look!"

Ichiro quickly stepped over, looking outside.

Two men in suits were escorting Hikari across the field. She was walking with them, but it was doubtful that a high school girl could easily break away from such a pair of broad shoulders. And following right behind them was Agent Yamamoto.

Ichiro didn't waste time with words, running for the stairs. Kobayashi raced after him, also taking the stairs two at a time. Neither changed their shoes as they hit the pavement, just in time to see Hikari being pushed into a large black van.

“Your bike!” Ichiro shouted, veering as he saw his friend already running for it. It only took a few seconds to reach and pull free, and Ichiro jumped on the back as Kobayashi began picking up speed.

The van followed the speed limit as the pair got closer, slowly but steadily closing the distance between them. The windows were dark, black, either heavily shaded or just impossible to see through. Then it began to accelerate, widening the gap.

“Go faster!” Ichiro yelled, panicking.

“I'm... trying!" Kobayashi huffed, panting as he pumped his legs. “Can you... reach her!?”

Ichiro looked at the back of Kobayashi's head in confusion, but still reached out his arm. He didn’t clear the handlebars, much less the growing lengths that separated them. “Of course I can't reach her!” he snapped, frustrated.

“On… your phone… idiot!” Kobayashi grunted at him.

Ichico wanted to slap himself for not thinking of that. He almost called but thought better of it. [You ok?!??] he quickly messaged her. He waited. Unread. Unread. Still unread. “She's not— Woah!” He clung tighter to Kobayash's shoulders as the other boy chanted.

“I-pa-ma-su…
Da-jo-ko-lan…
A-ku-fro-no…”

It was not what one would call melodic, but he kept a beat in line with his pedaling, spacing the chant evenly between laboured breaths. The effect was gradual but quick, a lightness that affected whatever the singer was touching. As Ichiro's breath became more forced and he felt alienated by gravity, he understood why it was not usually used on people.

The distance between them slowly closed, Kobayashi picking up speed as the weight decreased. Ichiro wanted to cheer as they seemed to suddenly surge ahead, only to realize it was the vehicle slowing down, about to turn off of the street. It pulled into a parking lot and Kobayashi quickly halted, stopped by a bar that dropped, blocking them from entering on the bike. As Kobayashi slowed, Ichiro hopped off of the back, running around the gated entrance for the van as it pulled up to the concrete building. Predictably enough, “NBSP” was in big steel letters above the door; the National Bureau of Song Preservation.

The van stopped and three agents came out, two flanking Hikari while the third, Agent Yamamoto, locked eyes with the charging Ichiro.

"Hikari!" Ichiro yelled.

“Ichichi!?” She tried to push toward him but the burly agents held her back.

“Get him away from here,” Agent Yamamoto calmly ordered, signaling the exiting driver to Ichiro.

Ichiro looked around. Three more men in suits were coming out of the building toward them. Behind him, Kobayashi was doubled over, hands on his knees, winded from the chase. The two agents that held Hikari pulled back their grip, following the driver in approaching Ichiro. Hikari turned, her hands fiddling with something Ichiro couldn't see.

“What are you two doing?” Agent Yamamoto yelled at the pair. “I was talking to Subaru.” One of the agents nodded, looking at the driver. The other looked confused, staring at the van before also looking at the driver and nodding.

“Hey, she's got a phone!” one of the other men exiting the bureau shouted.

“Another one!?” Agent Yamamoto said in disbelief, trying to keep control of the small chaos of the situation. “Take it!” The two agents ran back to her, the more competent one snatching the phone from her hand just as Ichiro's own cell phone vibrated softly in his pocket.

“Hey!” she objected but didn't give too much resistance to the confiscation. The other agent pushed her forward, the motion only a small show of force, but it still made Ichiro's blood boil. He took a half step forward but the sudden barring arm from the driver, presumably Agent Subaru, blocked him. The silent, steely-eyed glare looming over Ichiro dared him to try pushing through, but he barely had the wherewithal to stay, forced to watch Hikari get herded into the bureau.

“Let's get you two back to school,” Agent Subaru's gravely voice growled.

Ichiro grit his teeth, his hands in fists, frustrated they had raced there for nothing. Then his phone vibrated again. He cautiously pulled it out, sneaking a glance while Agent Subaru was looking over Kobayashi. There was a single LINE message from Kobayashi’s phone.

[They have Shizu]