I want you to talk to me, Luca

It’s been a while since I last felt like this.

Sitting on the shore, waves tickling my feet, watching twilight sinking into the ocean. The weather is mild, but capricious. One moment it’s warm, the next the wind picks up and I huddle closer to the burning bundle of planks Hinata and I call our campfire.

We discovered a lot in that hut, an old storage for the Red Mountains, though most of it was eroded by rust and mould and time. Still, we salvaged some cardboard to use as tinder, a flare gun to ignite it and pieces of a canoe to fuel it for a while. And out of a couple oars and a wire spool, we fashioned a drying rack. Now I can say training with BOPE wasn’t for nothing.

The sand crinkles behind me, soft and surreptitious. Hinata returning from her search for refreshments. She settles beside me and, to my surprise, hands me a glass bottle, cap twisted off.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Dunno. Found it in a box under what I initially thought was a skeleton. You’ll never guess what it –”

“Crusted rigging.”

“... I hate you.”

“Was that it?”

“No. Yes. You suck at playing games.”

“And you suck at losing them. Remember last time?”

“Do you? Or would you like a reminder,” Hinata counters, eyes gleaming with mischief. I squeeze my legs tight, the jeans I found inside the cabin rubbing uncomfortably against my thighs.

“I’d rather drink to forget,” I toast the air, then down a cautious sip.

“So?”

“Water,” I declare dryly, smacking my lips for effect. Hinata squints, then steals the bottle to take a swig herself, only to pout right after. Not sure if it’s just me being right, or what I’m right about. Fun either way.

“Nyeh,” she lobs the bottle over her shoulder. It lands on the hut’s roof and shatters on impact, along with my hopes of wetting my parched throat. Though, somehow, I’m not mad in the slightest.

“Why did you do that? It was perfectly drinkable.”

“I wanted something fizzy!”

“And you expected to find it in a seaside shack?”

“Yeah, well, shut up. Why are you like this?”

“Logical?”

“Nice,” she cuts through the air between us. She empties her lungs with a groan, fills them back with a yawn, then leans on me. I don’t make for a good pillow, but she nuzzles against my arm until she’s comfortable enough to continue.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asks, staring towards where the starless sky meets the starless sea.

The answer bubbles to the surface, but I gulp it down in an instant. Warning bells echo inside my head. It’s been two weeks – too fast. I barely know her – a stranger. She’s almost got me killed – dangerous. But despite all the rules of engagement being broken, I still get this feeling that I can’t explain. And it’s driving me insane.

“Do I need a reason?” I meekly counter.

“Yeah, you do. And a good one,” she presses. “Because I’m not a good person. I steal and beat people up and destroy things, and you’ll only end up getting hurt if you just blindly tolerate it all.”

I open my mouth, but close it without retort. She’s not wrong, but it doesn’t feel right either. Tracing back all her actions, I can find justifications, then arguments against those, but in the end it’s not something objective – it all boils down to who she is.

And so far she’s a mafia girl – a thief, enforcer and arsonist. But to all her crimes, there was a kindness, a gesture towards sympathy, away from selfishness. And that’s why I want more than just two weeks, then the surface I’ve barely grazed. Because she’s neither all good, nor all bad, and I want to know where she lies in the middle.

“I don’t mind,” I say simply, my words picked up by the breeze and carried far along the beach.

Hinata blinks, confused. “You don’t?”

I shrug. Her stare pelts me for a long second, but when I meet it with a calm smile, she flinches and looks away. Ears all red, she slips down my arm and buries her forehead in my lap.

“I knew it,” she mutters. “You’re insane.”

“Takes one to know one.”

She scoffs, then falls silent. The roar of the fire dwindles to a timid sizzle, the wood now only tinder. The breeze caresses the leaves and branches of the small grove just a stone toss behind us. It’s soothing, so soothing that soon, Hinata’s breath grows slow and regular. And thinking she’s asleep, I gently undo her bun and comb my hand through her hair.

“Do you have any siblings?” she asks, all of a sudden, no drowsiness in her voice.

“Just one. A twin.”

“Great. There’s two of you.”

“Fortunately, no. My sister’s nothing like me.”

“How is she?”

“Loud. And clever. And spoiled. A real daddy’s girl.”

“Must be nice,” Hinata hums. “My father wanted nothing to do with me.”

“The same man who wanted to murder me because I saw your face?”

“No, that’s – that’s Oyama,” she sighs. “A surrogate. The kind you get when the real thing leaves your mother. Before you’re even born.”

I’m stunned. Speechless, if stammering doesn’t count. And though a part of me rejoices at us being kindred in our family troubles, that part is overpowered by compassion and concern. And she doesn’t like that.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Don’t be.”

“But I feel bad. Ruining the mood like that.”

“We can always change the topic.”

“Please do,” she says, leaning into my touch, closing her eyes. And seeing her like this has me thinking –

“How come you’re not wearing your glasses?”

“Ruins the aesthetic. Besides, I’m prettier without them.”

“So confident about being wrong.”

“Pfft. I chose thick, ugly rims on purpose. ”

“Too bad, then. They only make you cuter.”

She lifts a finger in protest, then crosses her arms in disdain. “Shut up,” she huffs. “You just got a thing for nerds, that's all.”

“Guilty as charged, you dork.”

Hinata snickers, then laughs when I do the same. Only I sigh relieved at the end, but she sighs heavy and troubled. She shakes my hand off, then turns away to gaze at the rolling tide.

“Can I confess something?” she says, voice brittle, but not shaking.

“Go ahead.”

“Promise to not get mad?”

“I promise I’ll listen first, and draw conclusions second.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You don’t.”

“I know, that’s why I hate you,” she stands up straight, arches her back with a loud pop. Then, stress relieved, she clutches her knees in her arms, finding a place to sink her shame in.

“You know the people we ran away from?” she starts, lilting like a lullaby. “They weren’t your average stalkers. We’ve been trying to recruit new people into the Red Mountains to help with our next gig, and they were the best ones we could find. Today was their final test.

“They were meant to follow me around Makuhari. Subtly. Then, come evening, I’d lead them to Oyama and he would pick his favourites. And, well – I knew about all of this when I asked you out.

“I thought that bringing you along would make their job easier. You said it yourself, you stand out, more so in a crowd of short and stubby Asians. But I never expected that you’d spot them. I really hoped you wouldn’t.

“Because,” her voice cracks, then tightens with sadness, “after all I’ve put you through – I just wanted to give you a good time. Some sweet, worryless fun. And needless to say that didn’t work out at all. So yeah, there you have it. Erm… thoughts?”

“Wow,” comes out of my mouth before I can begin to process anything. I’ve no idea what’s going on across my face, but judging by Hinata’s grimace, it’s not something pleasant. And for good reason.

I’m conflicted. On the one hand, there was a utilitarian aspect to this; I was a tool in her plan, and worse yet, one she misused. But on the other, with how the whole day panned out, I struggle to believe that this was her sole intention. So, I guess you could say –

“I’m not mad.”

“What? Why not?” she retaliates right away, and now I feel like I need to start carrying a notepad around just to log in her reactions. Maybe I’ll compile a handbook to help me understand things.

“Let me finish. I’m not mad, but… I wish you told me about it. We really need to work on our communication skills.”

“Like you’re one to talk! Mister ‘I don’t hate you, but I won’t even reply to your goddamn texts.’”

“You were actively avoiding me!”

“Because it looked like you hated me!”

I pause, raising my arms in frustration, then letting them fall by my side. Then, almost against my will, a chuckle escapes my throat.

“We’re so bad at this.”

“Yeah,” she grumbles, “we are. But you know what that means?”

“Amaze me.”

“We’ve got a lot we can improve on.”

She turns around, tucks her legs under her, clutches her elbow. It’s a proposition that shouldn’t make any of us embarrassed, but seeing her so flustered, I can’t help feeling the same. Because the only way to get better is to –

“I want you to talk to me, Luca,” Hinata says. “Doesn’t have to be every day and doesn’t have to be in person. But if we’re gonna work together, we can’t really afford these misunderstandings.”

“And here I thought I was the logical one.”

“C’mon, don’t joke. I’m serious.”

“I know. But, if you couldn’t tell already, I’m not very used to being open. Or clear. Or forthcoming.”

“You don’t say. Lucky I’m as patient as you, then.”

“Lucky indeed.”

“So… is that a yes on making an effort?”

“Do I really need to spell it out?”

She bites her lips and nods, “Gotta start somewhere.”

I roll my eyes and sigh, “Yes. I’ll try my best.”

Then we both share a smile, illuminated by a sudden flash of light. We flinch and turn around, and it takes a moment to adjust to the brightness. And when we stop being blind, we find Kisaki standing behind us, a disapproving scowl etched onto his face.

“Shit. Look, I know what you’re gonna say, but can I just –” Hinata begins.

“No, you can’t,” Kisaki interrupts her. “One of our recruits is in holding. The police came after the fire department and arrested him because of a tattoo he got as a premature celebration. Turns out, he came clean about everything. Why he was there and who he was with.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Kisaki pinches the bridge of his nose, as if to keep the anger from leaking. “Aniki went to meet with the deputy commissioner. Said he’d clear things up, but obviously he wasn’t very thrilled about it. Should I even ask what you were thinking?”

He sounds fed up, like this is not the first, nor he expects it to be the last time something like this comes up. But despite that, Hinata looks like she’s never seen him this disappointed before.

“I’ll – I’ll debrief you when we get back,” she says, sneaking a peek at me. I don’t dare peek back at her. Not under Kisaki’s glare.

“Good. I’ll drop off Luca, then meet you in the usual place. Don’t be late, understand?”

“Understood,” Hinata nods. Without any further comments, she collects her dress from the drying rack, slides on her sandals, then slowly starts down the narrow alley that leads back to the main road. But as she walks off, she stops to turn and give me a wave goodbye, before fading away into the thick darkness of the moonless night.

I wave back, but then Kisaki clears his throat, signalling it’s time to get going. Quickly, I stamp out the fire, slide on my shirt and shoes, then follow him down the beach to where he parked his car. A sleek convertible, matte black paint job and chrome rims to top it all off.

“No sedatives this time, right?” I ask, half-jokingly.

“Not if you keep your mouth shut,” he replies. “Get in.”

I comply, then Kisaki turns on the engine, pulls up the roof, then drives off. With how empty the streets are and how carefully he turns every corner, I can’t help dozing off, my head against the backrest. But just as sleep is about to take me, thoughts begin clawing at me, odd and creeping doubts.

Because I can’t help wondering – what if Hinata might actually be in trouble?