Getting Ready for the Fireworks

Renji hummed through the crowd, the bright colors, people in yukata and smiling faces and sound of laughter washed over him. He held the red oni mask on one hand and knelt to a passing child.

“Kid, want a mask?” he offered to the boy with a wide grin. The boy took it and ran back to his parents. They bowed and he waved cheerfully.

He ambled past the police booth and to the phone booth. The glass panes were not enough to keep the festivity to leak into the receiver when he dialed the number.

“Mikawa?” Gruffy voice of Egawa crackled over the phone.

“Egawa.” Renji mirrored the tone. “You’re missing out. Come out of that dinky office and have some fresh air.”

“Where the hell are you? And why are you reporting six hours early?”

“Thought you would miss me, and calling you late at night might make your lady suspect you of indecency.” He chuckled and looked over the river view. “I’m at the fireworks festival.”

“That much I can tell. Report.”

“You’ll enjoy this one.” He tapped his cigarette pack against the glass. He couldn’t stop humming.

He lit the lighter, eager to hear Egawa crack.

“Don’t make me sound like a broken record; No killing, strict surveillance and full pardon.”

“I know you’re already cracked. Don’t remind me.”

Egawa clicked his tongue. Renji’s grin widened.

“You put me in a high school as a janitor and expect no bloodstains? I know how to use a mop." He tapped the cigarette pack to put one on his lips. “I told you at the prison - You don’t think anymore.”

“Do not escalate the things beyond what they are.”

“Sorry, couldn’t really hear you. You’d have to speak up louder. The festival is in full swing.” Renji chuckled. “Shouldn’t you be running your ramen stall here? You’d make a decent amount.”

“Do not involve the civilians in your operation.”

He looked over his shoulder to see a group of kids running past the phone booth with candied apples in their hands, followed by parents in their yukatas.

“Hey, you know how things go sometimes. Shit happens.”

The white noise of the phone hissed.

“What have you done?”

“Relax. The girl’s still alive… I hope.” He exhaled and the smoke curled around Renji, amused.

“What the hell did you do?” Egawa’s voice cracked and Renji heard a hard thud on the other end.

“Nothing crazy, I’ve set up a little test to assess whether Yukiharu Hanako is Yukikaze or not.” He chuckled lightly and lit his cigarette.

“You see, she’s too crafty. At a glance, she acts like a normal, fine girl. But I’m sure you dogs noticed she’s got the chops of being a great binder.” He exhaled then leaned against the public phone booth’s glass.

“Whatever the reason, she’s not showing off her binding skills in school. So I can’t evaluate her.” Another drag. “Then a thought arises. If her friends are in danger, she’d show her true colors.”

Silence on the end. Lovely.

“I’ve kidnapped a girl and handed her over to the Wanyudo-gumi, if you want the summary.”

“Mikawa!”

Renji pulled the receiver away from his ear. Bystanders turned at the shout; he waved at them cheerfully and brought the phone back.

“Hey, listen. The operation didn’t forbid kidnapping. No killing, strictly observation — I’m observing.”

He held the receiver away again, expecting another yell.

Nothing.

Renji clicked his tongue.

“I know you are watching and my surveillance is being watched. I also know you use special cigarette to mask being observed. Must be expensive but, you’re government dog so I guess you get to smoke the good stuff.”

Still silence. Good. That meant he’d hit something.

He wasn’t entirely sure about the cigarette theory, but it explained why his shikigami lost scent trails near Egawa. They weren’t good with smoke.

“So report what your observation would be,” Egawa said finally, voice too calm. Renji could hear him smoldering.

“If Yukikaze shows up to save the girl, it’s very likely Yukiharu is Yukikaze. If Ykikaze doesn’t appear then it’s pretty definite she’s not it.”

“Explain your logic.”

“Natsume Sayuri has no ties to Yukihana-ikka besides being Yukiharu’s friend. Wanyudo-gumi threatening her has zero merit to send out their secret weapon — unless they admit Sayuri has value.”

“I’m going to strangle you Mikawa.”

“You told me this would be a full pardon. I haven’t broken any of the rules. Is your moral compass finally working again?”

Renji heard an flick of a match, long draw and a slow exhale. He grinned, savoring the little melody Egawa made for him over the phone.

If Minato kid had any sense, he would be running to Yukiharu right now, babbling about the kidnapping. They’d tear through the entire festival grounds, hunting for Wanyudo-gumi lurking at the fringes of the park. Either that, or they’d never see the Natsume chick again.

Actually, that’s really a sad ending.

For Renji.

He would learn nothing other than the Yukiharu wasn’t Yukikaze.

That’d be boring.

He wanted a spectacle.

He needed to see without being seen.

Renji pulled out a clean white piece of paper, clicked the pen and began inscribing the first strokes before folding it slowly into the shape of a flower.

“Mikawa, stand your position, I am heading over.” Egawa growled.

“Your highness is going to come over to see this for himself? I should be honored.”

There was rustling of paper, clothes, hurried footsteps. More than one person. The operation team was bigger than Renji expected.

“Mikawa Renji… if a single civilian dies tonight, I swear I will kill you.”

Renji’s lips curled cheek to cheek like a crescent moon.

He knew his bark had no teeth. At least Egawa doesn't have what it takes to kill him.

“If you want my exact location, I’m by the Azuma bridge.” He chuckled, “Though good luck in finding anyone in this sea of people.”

He clicked the phone shut.

The bridge’s traffic lanes were blocked off for the pedestrians, the entire span was packed with spectators drifting toward the river for impending fireworks.

Renji stepped out of the phone booth and sauntered to the railing. He scattered the origami flowers over the edge and watched them glide across the water surface before disappearing into the dark.

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the metal rail, and slowly closed his eyes to feel the warm breeze roll over the river.

A wash of white static bled through a pair of headphones before a click, a tone dial, and a rapid cascade of numbers too fast for any human operator to input.

“Egawa reporting…”

A reel‑to‑reel recorder spun to life. An operator in a dark olive uniform — the patch of white stars and stripes bright under the fluorescent lights — hurried to the console, adjusting the gain as the intercepted transmission stabilized.

He began transcribing as Egawa’s voice came through, flat and urgent.

“Requesting more operatives to the Sumida riverside fireworks. There’s potential escalation and civilian casualties. No, it is still within parameter… the line should be safe, sir — ofuda are in place to prevent spying. I also request withdrawal of Mikawa from the operation. His actions may escalate beyond our expected parameters.”

The tape rolled on.