It was part of their routine for Aoyama to launch into a greeting the moment Mononobe picked up.
“Hey there, y’all doin’ okay?”
Aoyama felt a twinge of regret. He needn’t have asked—now was definitely not a good time. He could hear men and women chatting happily in the background. Mononobe was probably out at some kind of social event.
“Sorry, I’ll call you back.”
“Nah, ya might as well go ahead.”
Mononobe’s attitude had softened compared with when they’d first met. When Mononobe spoke to Aoyama now, he sounded less like a gruff old man and more like a middle school boy. He was three years younger than Aoyama, who sometimes wondered if this was what it was like to have a little brother. It was a nice dynamic.
“It’s like this…”
Aoyama gave Mononobe an outline of what was going on. The young shaman listened in silence, only interjecting now and then to show he was paying attention. Aoyama had been so nervous about it a moment ago, but once he actually got talking, a sense of calm seemed to wash over him. He’d not only experienced a portion of Mononobe’s power for himself but had also heard stories of the things he’d done from Rumi. And he could tell a lot from the flashes of the shaman’s life he saw through their shared visions. While Aoyama and Rumi concerned themselves with ghosts and demons, Mononobe tangled with beings more on the level of gods and Buddhas. It would be a cinch to solve a little problem like this.
He might not be able to come in person, but he could probably still point them in the right direction like last time. Mononobe hadn’t said anything yet, but the more Aoyama talked, the more certain he felt it would all work out.
“I thought you could tell us what would be the best thing to do in this situation.”
No noise came from the phone’s speaker. For a moment, he thought maybe the call had dropped, and he took his ear away to check, but the screen showed that it was still in progress.
“Mononobe?”
“Yeah, I hear ya.”
Mononobe’s voice sounded incredibly cold. No, perhaps that wasn’t the right word. It was more…dry? Strained? The calm that Aoyama had been feeling evaporated. Had he said something rude just now without realizing it? Should he apologize? But he didn’t even know what had offended him. As he stood there fumbling for the right words, Mononobe finally spoke.
“Aoyama, I get the feeling yer only focusin’ on the good here.”
“Focusing on the good?”
“Look, I like you, man. That’s why I’m willin’ to hear you out for stuff like this.”
“And I’m very grateful for it.”
He hastened to inject some praise into the conversation. Was Mononobe saying Aoyama was letting their friendship make him complacent? When he took a moment to think about it, he realized that was probably true. Rumi had once told him that Mononobe’s usual consulting fee was once closer to a hundred thousand yen than ten thousand. After losing his limbs, he’d called an end to that stage of his career and typically didn’t accept money anymore, only taking cases out of the goodness of his own heart.
The clients that Aoyama had seen Mononobe interact with through their link were all elderly or children, the type of truly vulnerable person who couldn’t really afford exorbitant fees. Aoyama, on the other hand, was a young man in the prime of his life, and while he wasn’t exactly wealthy, he was clearly in a different category than those other clients. For him to expect Mononobe to lend his skills and experience just because they were friends definitely showed a lack of respect.
“Of course, I’m willing to pay as well. I’m sorry, I should have led with that. I guess I let the fact that we’re a little closer now make me careless…”
“Don’t you worry none about that.”
A loud, raucous laugh briefly drowned out Mononobe’s voice. It might have come from a man or a woman; it wasn’t very distinct, but it was loud. Mononobe had said he was fine to talk, but he was still a young man on a night out. He would probably much rather be having fun with his friends than suffer through an awkward phone call like this.
“Maybe I should call you back later.”
“Quit yer yappin’, I’m tryin’ to talk here!” Mononobe barked.
His voice was low, but it carried. Even coming through a smartphone speaker, he exerted a pressure that made Aoyama’s body tremble. The din of whatever was going on in the background abruptly cut off. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Aoyama had sounded so ungrateful, now he’d made things worse with his half-hearted excuses. No wonder Mononobe was mad at him.
“Sorry…”
His voice quivered pitifully.
“Huh? Oh, I wasn’t talkin’ to you, Aoyama.”
Mononobe sounded more like his normal self now. This was the quieter, gentler voice he usually used. There was a sound of rustling cloth. He had to be going outside and away from the group. The thought that Aoyama had forced him away from his friends only made him feel worse.
“Them folks’re rowdier’n a bunch of jackrabbits in the springtime.”
“Right…”
He agreed just for the sake of saying something—Mononobe’s regional expressions could be hard to decipher sometimes. At least the young shaman’s anger hadn’t been directed at him. Despite his kindly nature, Mononobe carried himself with the sort of authority that could strike fear into most people’s hearts.
“This is what I meant about ya only focusin’ on the good. You wanna see the good in everyone, but ya take it too far sometimes. Even everythin’ you seen through my eyes ain’t changed that. Or…maybe I should say everythin’ I shown you.”
“I, uh… I see.”
Once again, it took a bit of work to unravel what Mononobe was trying to say. Aoyama’s main takeaway was that the link between the two of them, the visions they shared, was something Mononobe actually had control over. It was a stark reminder of just how next-level his supernatural abilities were, but it also raised a question in Aoyama’s mind.