the kind of primal intimidation a charging elephant might cause

Soujiro gets a call while he’s teaching Mrs. Matsueda how to cook Beef Stroganoff. “One moment,” he says, leaves the kitchen, then picks up the call. He’s a bit rattled; after all, it’s Nagumo calling. “Good… afternoon?”

“Hi. Lend me your watch.”

“...huh?”

“Your wristwatch. I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

There is something deeply surreal about someone he barely knows asking for that kind of favor. Soujiro’s wristwatch was his very first gift from the Fujinomiyas–although, frankly, it feels like more of a leash–so he knows that it’s probably expensive, but… why? How?

For obvious reasons, he doesn’t want to borrow it.

But then everything makes sense.

That extremely blunt language.

That nonsensical request.

Nagumo has been infected by the Fujinomiya curse. Thus, out of pity, Soujiro replies, “Sure.”

***

His least favorite thing about Fukuoka–or any big city, really–are those accursed smoking rooms. Toshi gets why they’re there, and he agrees because nicotine is an atrocity, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling like an animal at the zoo.

Even with this, Yamamoto–a friend and lawyer he might have to use in the near future–shows up half an hour late to their meeting. He’s still dressed in a suit. “Sorry, man,” is Yamamoto’s heartfelt apology.

Since he looks like he ran all the way here and probably had no time to change his clothes, Toshi lets it slide. It’s not the best look to show up so late to an event like this… but oh, well. “I forgive you, man.”

Yamamoto snorts. He waves his hand in front of his face, catching his breath. “I told them we’d be late. Not the best first impression, that’s for sure. Also, that fucking shirt man. Don’t you have anything better?”

A couple of years ago, during a particularly windy day, Toshi got slapped by a thousand-yen bill while wearing a black turtleneck. It has since become his lucky shirt. Due to the weather, he’s wearing a leather jacket, too, but they’re going to a mixer, not a funeral. “Says the guy who literally ran straight out of the office.”

“Fuck you.”

“Easy now.” If the tardiness and possible fashion mistakes aren’t enough of a deterrent, then Yamamoto’s attitude certainly will be. It is said that he wins cases not through competence, but the kind of primal intimidation a charging elephant might cause.

Nighttime has fallen upon Fukuoka, and so it trades the sun’s light for its own. Even when rushing to the event, Toshi allows himself to admire it. It might be the closest thing in the world to a garden made of concrete. He used to spend entire afternoons finding the best spots back when he still had time for photography. Perhaps he’ll go on a tour again during his next day off. Surely.

Toshi has never been to a mixer before, nor has Yamamoto, in case it wasn’t obvious. A veteran friend will be there, but the kind of loneliness he’s looking to cure is more… carnal… so he probably won’t be of much help.

As they approach the meeting spot, despite himself, Toshi feels his heart race. They’re half an hour late. They’ll show up looking like they were chased by charging elephants. Neither of them has any experience with these things. He got a watch like his friends suggested, but it’s barely even visible due to the jacket.

Quite honestly, this whole ordeal might be doomed, but he’ll try his best anyway. Who knows? He might find a woman who’s not noisy and not a digital stalker and not disgustingly vain and not a menace to everyone around her. It should be easy, no?

***

It’s Amelia’s first time at a mixer.

She overdressed; she knows it as soon as she meets the other girls, who might as well have jumped out of a fashion magazine. So does her friend… despite being the one to convince to show up wearing a red cocktail dress with matching lipstick.

Amelia barely showed up and she already wants to go home. She’s being ogled. One of the guys there is so unsubtle about it that he might as well pounce on her. The other girls aren’t much better. They’re probably calling her a stupid gaijin in their heads.

As if this weren’t bad enough, two of the five guys are missing, apparently due to work-related trouble. Amelia can barely look up without wanting to cry. The guy who keeps staring at her is obviously a pass, but the other two don’t… look bad? It’d be better if she could actually see them. One of them has pretty nice shoes.

As they’re herded into the izakaya, one good thing finally happens: Koha-chin’s latest album is playing in the background. It gives Amelia the strength to move on, to fight against insurmountable odds.

She sits at the corner.

Her friend doesn’t even try to include her. They’ll wait until the other two guys show up to properly introduce themselves, so for now, the other seven of them kill time through uncomfortable small talk. Amelia can still feel the stares. She hasn’t gone back to Otohama in a couple of weeks now, but next to the Nagumo-without-honorifics incident, this is probably the worst faux pas she’s had. In a month or so.

She wants to leave.

She doesn’t, though. Koha-chin is right there, telling her to be strong… well, kind of. After fighting with the agency for long enough, they allowed her to include a song about isopods. It actually ended up being the highest-charting one in the album, in no small part due to the viral nature of it for reasons that should be self-evident.

Besides, the other two men could be cute. Now that she’s able to glance at the other three from the corners of her eyes, they’re… fine… but. The one who still keeps ogling is pretty good-looking, but that means nothing with such a bad attitude. One of them has hair cropped short, square glasses, a discolored gray suit, and he keeps slouching. Amelia might talk to him. He seems safe and warm. The other one already clearly connected to one of the other girls, so he’s probably a no.

It’s just… will the cute salaryman pay attention to her? What if he just thinks that she’s some European harlot looking to entice the innocent? Then again, at twenty-three, she’s probably one of the younger ones in this party.

The best crustacean in the world, sings Koha-chin’s soulful alto voice. The best crustacean in my heart.

Amelia has almost no male friends. Most of her co-workers are female, and the few male nurses she has met are either dating someone, or old–usually both. There’s also Nagumo, but he’s scary. He seems like the kind of guy that’s married to his job anyway.

What she saw and heard that day, though…

The door opens, and the two last men walk in. One of them is another salaryman, huffing and puffing, apologizing for the tardiness. The other one stands out to such a bizarre degree that he has to be a tattoo artist or a bartender or something like that. Or a host?

Then the night life-looking guy and her exchange eye contact.

IsoPODS! IsoFRIENDS! Sings Koha-chin in the background.

None of the above, actually.

Armadillidiidae til the end!

A nurse. Nagumo.

Very subtly, he shakes his head, wide-eyed, then sits down at the opposite end to her. In other words: for the rest of the night, we don’t know each other.

Now Amelia feels worse. While even scarier outside of a uniform, it still would’ve been nice to have Nagumo sit close to her so she could have some kind of company.

“So sorry!” Says his companion. “I’m having a very uhh. Interesting case at work. Glad to see everyone is in high spirits!” He sits next to a Nagumo that looks more annoyed than anything else, most likely because of Amelia’s presence.

This whole situation feels like she’s paying karmic debt she wasn’t aware of, but weirdly, it’s also reassuring. If he had a fling with Koha-chin, then he wouldn’t be here, right? What had Amelia been thinking, even considering such a thing?

“Yamamoto, Nagumo, what’s up?” Asks the ogler. “Come on, tell us more about that interesting case. You can’t just leave it at that!”

“A homicide,” suggests Amelia’s alleged friend.

Yamamoto guffaws. “Nothing like that. I can’t say much about it yet, but basically, a caretaker and her patient got romantically involved, so the family is suing the caretaker and she’s trying not to lose her license or some shit. Sorry, I mean stuff.”

Amelia chokes on the drink until it spills out of her nostrils. Thankfully, nobody else seems to notice. Yeah, no, this sucks. She wants to go home and marathon romcom anime while crying.