“Understood? Losing her was a serious blow and not just to you. All of us felt it. You never recovered, and that was a shame, but what’s done is done. I’m not interested in giving you the third degree over it. And look at you—you have a new job! A new lease on life! I’m impressed. Couldn’t be happier for you. Go get ’em, tiger—I’m rooting for you! So, Haizaki, I’d really appreciate it if you’d make a point of staying out of our business. Can you do that for me? Our territory’s no place for a civvy. I think you know exactly what I’m getting at here, don’t you?”
“…They’re middle schoolers,” said Haizaki. He was proud of himself for managing to say it at all, though the fact he felt proud over something so miniscule also irritated him. He knew that his perspective was hopelessly naive, but he also knew he was right. “They’re children. It’s our responsibility as adults to protect—”
“I’m telling you, Haizaki, that’s not your job anymore. Or am I wrong?” Kudou pressed. “Are you saying you want to be Otter again?”
Haizaki licked his lips, then bit them. What was Kudou’s angle? Was he offering to reinstate Haizaki, or was he just toying with him? And what did he want? If protecting the kids was his first priority, then it made sense to go back to Special Affairs. It was the right decision. But did he have the nerve? Or was he still convinced it was hopeless?
“I’m going to level with you, Haizaki. We’re not exactly an exception in this sense, and I’m not going to start talking your ear off about it, but our budget only has so much breathing room. And even if we could make it rain whenever we wanted, it’s still not every day that we find someone with the right qualifications to do the job.”
“A-are you saying you’re understaffed?”
“We were so understaffed we’d take anyone we could get back when you worked with us, and trust me, that hasn’t changed. So, you know, if you really got down on your hands and knees and begged for your job back, I can’t say I wouldn’t at least consider it. I wouldn’t even rule out taking you on as an independent contractor, if that’s what it came to.”
“I think…,” Haizaki began. It took all his effort to squeeze the words out. He knew what he was going to say, and he was already frustrated with himself for being so profoundly indecisive, but he didn’t have the resolve to change his answer. “I think I’d like some time to think about it.”
“Feel free,” said Kudou. It felt like he’d already predicted Haizaki’s response. Haizaki wasn’t bold enough to say, Yes, please, on the spot, and Kudou had seen straight through him. “Oh, that reminds me! I almost forgot to tell you something important. We can’t exactly sit back and watch that little string of incidents keep playing out, so we’ve started taking steps of our own.”
“Uh, what? What do you mean, you’ve taken—?”
“We’re adults, you know? We all want to protect the next generation. Absolutely agree with you there. Oh— And with that, I’m out of time! I’ve got a meeting I have to hustle off to. Nice talking with you.”
“Wha—? Wait! Ch-Chief!”
“On my waaay!”
And then Kudou hung up.
“…Why…that little…son of a…!” Haizaki growled, raising his phone up into the air. He wanted to dash it against the floor, shattering it into a million pieces. But instead, he slowly lowered it back down. “No. It’s not the phone’s fault… And breaking it would be expensive. No way this thing’s still under warranty. Wonder if they’d charge me for repairs even if it was. Probably would, huh…?”
Haizaki took a deep breath. He tried to calm down, but it was no use. His irritation wasn’t so easily subdued.
“Chief Kudou really does know just what to say to piss a guy off. And you can never shake him. I wonder if he’s ever lost his cool? He spent that whole conversation running circles around me. And what did he mean, they’ve started taking steps? Is this a case now? What are they—?”
Just then, someone knocked on the door to the janitor’s room. That wasn’t too unusual. Teachers and students stopped by from time to time when they needed him for something, and Haizaki was about to call out, Come in. But before he had the chance, the door practically flew open on its own.
“Wha…?” Bewildered, Haizaki dropped his phone. “Agh!”
He scrambled to pick it up again. Thankfully, the screen wasn’t cracked, and he didn’t see any other conspicuous damage. Relieved, he paused for a moment, before looking up to find a young woman standing in the doorway.
“…Huh?”
She couldn’t have been older than twenty. Probably in her early teens. Was she a student at the school? No, he’d never seen her before, and more importantly, she wasn’t in uniform. She was dressed casually in a T-shirt with “THA ZEN” written on it. Not “THE ZEN.” “THA ZEN.”
The girl looked like she’d rolled straight out of bed and left home without bothering to brush her hair. If you put even a pinch of effort in, you’d never wind up with a hairstyle like that—in fact, saying hairstyle felt wrong, since it included the word style. She was wearing a pair of headphones, and as she looked at Haizaki, her gaze was so indistinct and unfocused, it seemed like she was still half asleep. That or like she was looking down on him. She stepped into the janitor’s room, then pulled her headphones down to rest around her neck.
“M’n’ng.”
For a moment, Haizaki couldn’t decipher what she’d said. “Morning” was his best guess. If they were going to have a conversation, she’d need to speak a little more clearly.
“Uh… Good…morning,” he said. “Wait, umm… Who are you, exactly?”
The girl opened her mouth again and said…something. Or at least, she attempted to. What? thought Haizaki. “Ns…fer…nt”? What was that supposed to mean? Speak up, please!
Haizaki cupped his hand behind one of his ears and tried asking again. “Sorry, who are you…?”
The girl looked up at Haizaki—or so he thought, before quickly realizing she’d simply rolled her eyes. She heaved a deep sigh, and Haizaki could practically hear her thinking, What a pain in the ass. Or maybe it was Whatever or even Shut up. Middle schoolers tended to hit you with one of those phrases if you asked them too many questions. Haizaki always told himself that it was normal for kids their age to be a bit sassy and that it wasn’t anything personal, but the truth was that it always hurt his feelings a little.
“Transfer student,” the girl said a little louder. Her voice was low and a little husky. “Happened pretty last minute, so I don’t have a uniform yet.”
“…A transfer student? Oh. I see,” Haizaki said, cocking his head. He did not see. This was the janitor’s room. “So, umm, if you’re looking for the staff room—”
“You haven’t heard?” she asked, pointing at the cell phone in Haizaki’s hand. “Didn’t Chief Kudou say something?”
“Uh. No? He didn’t really say— Huh?! Chief Kudou? Wait…,” Haizaki babbled a moment before his eyes suddenly went wide. “Wh-wh-wh-why do you know the Special Affairs Management Division chief’s name…?!”
“You mean, why would a kid know that?” The transfer student walked toward Haizaki’s desk. She paused for a moment to swipe a finger across its surface—maybe checking if it was clean—then sat on it. “Why do you think, old man?”
“Old…?!” Haizaki choked out. When you worked around middle schoolers, having kids take a swipe at your age from time to time was an occupational hazard. In all fairness, Haizaki probably did seem pretty old from a middle schooler’s perspective. He knew he wasn’t a young man anymore but being told that he was old to his face still stung. “Are you saying…you work with Special Affairs? Or…?”