There were some things Daisuke Kambe was able to ponder up on the spot. He could think of it and understand it right away, knowing its contents and evaluating it with the assistance of his very own tech. Well, the tech wasn't his - it was his family's. His father's. Designed to help innovate and expand the way artificial intelligence could work and be perceived all around the world. The thing was, his kind of tech was reserved for him and him only. It was HEUSC, his AI butler. His helper. His diagnose in the field of disease. His everything, if he had nothing.
HEUSC was able to tell him anything he asked for. He could snap his fingers and everything he wanted would be in front of him.
Well, not wanted.
He didn't want anything.
He had the knowledge of the universe at his fingertips, able to render the concept of 'money' genuinely useless. A couple million dollars was nothing more than just a few sheets of paper. A gold coin was nothing more than mineral.
How could he want something when he didn't have the ambition to work for it?
How could he want - yearn - for the satisfaction of gaining something, when all he had to do was tap his earring and ask? How could he, the man without balance, not have the knowledge of the world?
He didn't know.
So why did he want to know so much about you?
Perhaps it was curiosity that dragged him to the same conclusion. He had never been able to be dumbfounded by something before; he had never not known about everything. Yet, here you were, a seemingly open box with hidden contents.
He didn't know you, and that's why he was so afraid.
HEUSC was his lifeline. His saviour in the times where even he could feel afraid of confused. It was the fundamentals of his daily routine and the reason he could get what he wanted.
The thing was, his machine could tell him about you - your information - but not about you.
The words repeating back to him echoed in his head each time he'd ask his robotic companion about who you were, and each time he'd get the same information. (Y/n) (L/n), an Officer at the place he just so happened to work at. The Inspector - his partner.
It was what he asked for, but not what he wanted.
He knew deep down that his machine could not tell him everything. His machine could not dive deep into the depths of your inner workings and your thoughts and relay it back to him just like any other time. His machine could not do the task of knowing you. It had the backdrops; it had the words, meaningless in the end, but it did not have you.
He supposed it was the simple sense of curiosity that kept him wanting.
What he wanted exactly was beyond even his own thoughts - all he knew he wanted was to understand you like he understood everything else. Any other person showed their contents bare and fresh; the looks in their faces able to determine even the slightest personality trait. Through the way they show their hair or their face or their style. They expressed themselves - you didn't.
You kept the fundamentals exposed; your name, your smile.. your job. What you didn't show was what you wanted. You had an approach that made him look in a mirror and wonder if he was really all that different.
In a way, he saw himself in you - even if it were the slightest bit.
Both of you had been through something neither wanted to think about; yet even after a considerable amount of time, it hung off you like a leech. It tugged at any sense of identity you might have. It pulled away your unique qualities, stripping you bare to nothing but a blank slate.
He felt the leeches. He felt them prying away at his senses, ripping off any ideals or wants or needs, for that matter. It made him a shell of who he could've been - who he wished he could be - and left a wound that got infected and all gross. It left a whole in the place he once thought a heart should've been. It was ugly. It was foul - it was grotesque how badly he had been ripped apart.
So, what better to do than to hide it?
If he, the broken soul, had the power to hide away his shattered pieces, what could stop him from doing so?
Nothing.
Nothing could stop him from pretending like he was still working.
Fooling his mind to believe that he was okay was a common practice by now; not a day went by where he wouldn't trick himself into thinking he wanted to get up in the morning. He used his pieces of paper and bits of mineral to put himself back together and create a new and improved version of himself, showing only what he wanted to. He exposed the minerals - he exposed the paper - and thus created an identity. His new identity was the millionaire; the man who had no problems, because he could simply afford to have it all float away. His new exterior was a carbon case of money, and it was his only way to hide his shattered interior.
Never before had he seen someone with a case like his. Not with money, but with something else - perhaps a glaze of fakeness and a dazzle of naivety. Never before had he seen someone so broken to have to put up walls like his. His walls were fortified - only he knew how to build them up and break them down.
But the knowledge that someone else knew how to build one up..
..made him fear if they could break his down.
-
The shine of the moon wasn't the only thing illuminating Daisuke's features that night.
Sliding into a car seat, the blinking lights of the top compartment shone down on him as he fastened his seatbelt. Warm and yellow casted rigid lines on his jawline and his slightly dull expression, highlighting the tiniest bit of eyeshadow under the rims and edges of his eyelids. It was a small feature he'd managed to hide from those in daylight; but in this car with someone beside him, it was impossible to hide anything.
There, in the back carseat next to him, was you; his detective partner with a worried look on your face. The events that lead to you getting into his own private chauffeur was nothing but unnecessary; a quiet conversation with underlying intentions. He had asked you some questions concerning the Isezaki - now Gonduwara-Gumi - case, and you'd come to the conclusion that any evidence and ideas were back at the station. However, Daisuke had noted that he had some important information he wanted to share with you.
The thing is, it was at his house.
So, here you were, sitting in a car richer than you could ever afford next to a man who made more money than you could in an entire year.
Daisuke Kambe had invited you to his house, and you said yes.
"Is your seatbelt on?"
"Yeah."
"Alright." Daisuke gestured to his butler sitting in the front seat, "Go." The car rumbled as the two of you sat idly on either side of the backseats, moving forward a moment or so later. It excreted a sense of refinery and fanciness that almost seemed toxic. It reminded you of the restaurant; as you walked inside, seeing the sheer richness emanating from the lights to the people. You felt as if you breathed too hard or inhaled too much, you'd pass out.
With each passing second, your fear established itself as an uncontrolled variable that you needed to regain control of. You knew Daisuke by now; but each time you'd get the slightest bit closer, your chest would rise and fall like it was the last time you'd breathe - and heat would brush your face like you had never felt it before. Perhaps his tie to the night of the terrace was what made you so scared.
You weren't so sure if you were scared of him, but the fear was there.
Your heart churned like cranks to a guillotine; gears grinding while levels raised an angled, unholy blade to drop at the command of the judge, jury, and executioner:
Nagamine Satoru.
You could feel it beating. No rhythm was present in the way your heart pranced; it just thumped, and thumped, and thumped.
The almost inhuman maniac who'd been the cause of your best friend's death, and almost caused yours.
Thump-thump, thump-thump-
The reason you spent two months in agonising therapy and long, drawn out nights in the bar.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-
The reason you were so fucked up.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-
The reason..
Thump-thump, thump-thump..
..You met Daisuke.
Daisuke Kambe, the hero of your tragic tale: the one who'd saved you from the man who killed your best friend, despite being at the barrel of the gun himself.
You took a breath through your nose. Swiped your pants with your balmy hands. Took a breath in as Daisuke let one out, because for every action there was an equal reaction. You just weren't used to being the one reacting.
Your hands gripped the edges of your pants as Daisuke turned his head to you, "Music?" It was a parallel to the night you two had shared in the car where you'd been nice enough to play him music and buy him noodles. Had this meant that those small gestures meant something to him? Were you actually getting past his walls? Was this what he was thinking?
You nodded, and he flicked his hand gently to the driver in the front. Instinctively the driver's free hand leapt to the station box in the middle of the front side, switching a few buttons and turning a few dials. A small speaker in the car rumbled below your feet, and the chords and strings of a cello came in.
You let the music devour you as it flew through each of your ears, your head slightly swaying to the music. You had never heard something like this before; it was new, and it was sacred, and it was old at the same time. You knew it to be your music taste - classical orchestra - and the tiniest smile came to your face. Yet another parallel to the night in the car.
"Amore Mio Aiutami," Daisuke's head turned to you again, and you locked eyes, "An orchestral piece constructed by Piero Piccioni." His pronunciation of the subject had you stuck in a daze; it'd take some time to be able to say those names correct. Perhaps this was not a parallel. Perhaps.. this was his music taste, too?
"It's lovely." Your grips on your pants became calmer and your hands returned to their relaxed state. "Do you listen to this a lot?"
"Quite frequently. Listening to classical music is a common practice of mine and my family."
"I kinda picked it up on my own. Was it a parents thing for you or did you adopt the taste?"
He stopped, his soft look falling away from his expression.
"My mother used to listen to it with me."
He looked away.
You must've hit a nerve.. somehow.
"I also play piano frequently." He took a pause, seemingly regretting his words. "Though, I doubt that adds to our conversation."
You couldn't tell if he had avoided the touchy subject of his mother or not, but either way you were surprised by this new information.
"Really?" A smile formed onto your face, "I know we're going to your place for work, but can you play something for me when we're there?"
Daisuke's jawline was defined as he stared away from the window. He took a moment to respond, like he was thinking.
"If you really insist."
Things got quiet again, and the music enveloped you in its strings yet again. Like the one in the car, each time a note would hit your eardrums it'd bring a story to your mind: the high, elongated note was a love story - the low background was the trauma behind it. It seemed fitting for the moment, even if every note had a different story.
Sonder.
The realisation that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. A study concocted in John Koenig's 'THE DICTIONARY OF OBSCURE SORROWS.', a novel exploring human minds and thoughts alike. It was something you'd read back in your free time, back before you had things to worry and things to cry about when you had nothing else to do. In a way, each note was like a person and their life story - they'd pass through your ears like cars in traffic, never to be seen again. Even so, each one had gone through just as much if not more trauma than you had; and you'd never know, because all they were were notes in a song passing by.
A minute passed, and you no longer focused on the little things.
Something popped up in your mind - a rather noteworthy thought.
"Oh, wait-"
You turned to your side again to face Kambe, pulling out your camera. You were lucky you brought a small bag to carry wherever you went. You may have been outside of the station, but you weren't off the job. Your camera was a vital part of your daily life at this point.
"I need to ask you something about one of Isezaki's girls." Flicking to the photos, you landed on one in particular: the lady with black hair you'd seen reoccurringly and Gondowara-Gumi standing in an alleyway.
"This one's there a lot, right?"
"Yes." Daisuke replied, monotone.
"And Isezaki has a habit of picking up centerfold models." you flicked through the other photos, showing examples
"Also right."
"So, when we look back at her.."
You put your fingertip against the photo, circling in on the black-haired woman.
"How come she isn't one of them?"
Things got quiet, and you looked up at his face. His eyes were trained on the photo you had your finger on.
"How did you find out she wasn't a model?" Daisuke's tone had become the slightest bit more amused. Did he already know this information?
You were waiting for an opportunity to kind of show off the extensive work you'd done.
"I did research on the model companies employing Isezaki's victims and found all of the girls except this one. Unless I didn't get the right company and you could have a look with your earrings or whatever-"
"No, you're right. She isn't one of them."
You made a small 'o' shape with your mouth, letting the camera fall slowly to the middle carseat.
"So, my guess is she's acting as a liaison."
Awaiting a reply, you sat with a small smile; but received nothing but silence. You looked up and caught Daisuke's gaze again, feeling heat brush across your face. The way he could look at you in such a way without even showing the slightest bit of want yet so much need made you wonder if he really thought of you all that highly.
"What do you think?"
Trying to brush off the silence, you continued, keeping Daisuke's gaze.
"Well, I'm surprised.. you're ri-"
The car stopped suddenly, and your head jerked to the left. Blinding lights made you blink -
- and then your eyes widened.
Never before had you been met with a home this massive. Large pillars and marble floors accompanied by a perfectly cut lawn of yards and yards held you breathless in its gaze. Yellow lights casted warm glows across the expensive doors and their windows, just alluding to the masses of the third, fourth fith.. tens or twenties of floors and rooms.
It was more expensive than you.
Daisuke's car door opened and he stepped out gracefully, coming over to your side of the private vehicle. You expected to hear your door open at the hands of him, but his figure became distant as he walked up the marble steps of his massive porch. In a way, the mansion reminded you of a restaurant; or maybe a country club.
You stepped out of the car with a "Thank you" to the driver, waving to him and trying to catch up to Daisuke. The sheer size of his mansion intimidated you, but you knew this was what needed to happen.The two of you walked up to his massive doors and they opened almost in sync, startling you in the process. Daisuke seemed unfazed and continued his walk, stepping onto a velvet carpet extending to a row of marble stairs.
Of course he would know they open. This is his house.
A butler greeted his aid with a cloth around his arm, bowing subsequently as he entered. You came up just after and the butler looked over to you, smiling and nodding his head to you. A bow to the owner; a nod to the guest.
"This way."
Daisuke's head turned to you and he gestured to the right. In the direction you two were going to head, there was an open hallway of pillars and long corridors. He walked in an eloquent fashion and you sped behind him, looking up and around at every little inch or thing. It was easy to miss even the slightest details in this massive place.
He opened a door with a gloved hand, revealing a warmly-lit room with more red carpets and expensive chandeliers. In the centre of said room lay a beautiful silver grand piano.
"I will play one piece for you as you have asked. Then, we must get to work."
You couldn't fight the smile growing on your face.
"Thank you. I can't wait to hear you play."
Before he took a seat, he reached his hand out to grab three sheets of paper. You walked over and he extended his arm, handing the three to you. "Pick one."
Carefully, you took the sheets and read over the names:
'CHOPIN: NOCTURNE NO. 20 IN C SHARP MINOR, OP. POSTH. , ' 'ROSES IN A BOX BY ELENA CATS-CHERNIN.' , or 'AB OVO BY JOEP BEVING.'
You switched the sheets between your dominant hand, reading over the names again and again. Time was of the essence; so you chose fast and handed your preferred musical number to Daisuke. He placed the sheet in a holder and his blue eyes read over the name you'd chosen. By the look on his face, your choice seemed to be favourable in his opinion.
When the first note played, you were brought back to the mindset of sonder.
A familiar yet so foreign story played within your head as Daisuke hands manoeuvred his hands and fingers across the piano keys. Though, unlike the song in the car, this story was clear. Through every tiny movement and all the small twitches in his eyebrows and his expression, indicating even the slightest shift in emotion, you could conduct the perfect story.
One note played, and you payed attention to his eyes. Daisuke's lower eyelids rose and fell quickly; but you knew it as a repression of feeling. An attempt to blink away the upcoming tears - but as the moment approaches, your lids fall as you realise if you close them you'll be exposed.
Repression.
Through his notes, he conveyed what he struggled to in the real world. You'd picked the sheet for him, choosing to hear the one you wished for him to display. And he played it in his own way; unlike things you've heard yet so familiar at the same time. A deep story - perhaps it could even be a play or a musical if you wanted to go that far. Almost sounding like a work of fiction but just the right amount of real to make it scary.
A boy who stood alone in the face of darkness.
The story told months and years of a scared, little boy without someone to guide him.
And, when Daisuke's hands came off the keys and back to his lap, you couldn't bring yourself to make words. In the moment where the story came together you realised that even though you'd lost someone, he had gotten it much, much worse. The story of a boy alone in even the most crucial years was so much more than the loss of a best friend.
And yet, you still found yourself torn between grieving and moving on.
"Wow, uh.."
You had no plan for what you would say. So you stood in silence as his hands rubbed his pants in a cautious manner signifying the distance he felt from the piano.
"I've never heard anything like that before. Thank you for playing it for me."
With a secure answer, Daisuke's eyes made their ways to your own; beginning with the keys of the piano, moving to your feet and then up to your own doors to the soul. Though the eye contact only lasted for a moment, you felt the innocence in his gaze.
"I do not play often."
"How come?"
A twitch jumbled his features and his expression became concentrated. It seemed like any mention of his past or something he didn't speak about normally caught him off guard. Usually you'd back off by now, but you wanted to know more just this once.
"I lost interest during a select time in my training for this job."
You nodded. You were unsatisfied, however. Was it greedy to be this curious?
"You're talented." A smile came to your cheeks; though you couldn't tell if it was because of his glare or because of the situation, "I hope you find the time to play for more people."
A small action came from his face and you managed to see it full force.
Daisuke's head began to dip -something he usually did when you complimented him. Though this time, something was different. When he nodded in such a nonchalant way, his upper eyelids rose - and his eyebrows softened. His expression became less focused - less intense - and for the slightest moment, you could see a crack in his stoic facade. A human flaw that not even he could control; a break in a lie when things were too hard for him to hide.
And then he realised what he'd done and his eyebrows forced downwards, creating a frustrated yet passive expression. The same one you'd seen before - a signature 'Daisuke' look.
He stood upwards in a quick motion and turned his body away from you, trying to establish proper distance. You knew that it was only a moment, but he was ashamed. Whether it had been a smile or the slightest switch from nothing at all, exposing himself to you was nothing short of suicide in his eyes.
He couldn't afford to break.
"We have work to do. I don't want to waste any more time."
Not in front of you.
Your smile faltered as you watched him walk away with unprecedented speed; through confusion you attempted to match his steps and find your way through his halls and corridors. He said nothing at all but conveyed his feelings through the clenching of his fists and the swaying of his arms.
You had no idea what it meant, but you knew it wasn't good.
-
The warm, yellow-lit chandeliers weren't the only colour illuminating the two of you that night.
You'd found yourself in an elevator - Daisuke's elevator - that you found surprisingly hard to believe actually existed within such a big mansion. Though, when you finally thought about it, you realised it didn't need much pondering to make sense. Because this was Daisuke Kambe, and he had everything you didn't. So, a private elevator somehow didn't seem so peculiar anymore.
The doors were glass, see-through and giving you the lovely view of an almost rapidly descending scene of concrete, asphalt and stone. You'd assumed the elevator's outsides to be almost completely untouched - but it seemed even things like these had to be perfect in the Kambe residence. Nicely carved wooden rims edged around the corners and linings of each elevator door and a long, marble platform stuck out on top indicating how low the two of you were going by a triangle moving left or right. It was like you were encased in a box of riches.
"Thank you."
You flinched as his deep voice came through one ear and through the other. Without context, your face scrunched up in a confused manner and you looked over him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off; his gaze still centred at the doors and nowhere near your face.
"For saying I was talented."
Heat brushed across your face and he looked down, fiddling with the button on his pure white sleeve. You'd never gotten a verbal 'thank you' before from him. After his agitated look in the other room, you were sure he'd gotten pissed off - but this.. it was like a big step into the next path of your self-redemption. He'd finally said thank you instead of nodding, and it was in the most odd circumstances.
Little steps, Daisuke.
The doors opened and you shielded your eyes with the sleeves of your clothes. A bright blue light singed through the cracks and openings and made their way to your retinas, shoving light in your eyes and making things too bright to adjust to in a matter of milliseconds. You blinked once, hearing footsteps, and then you blinked again, now seeing the mass of the room downstairs.
Something somehow managing to scare you more than the mass of Daisuke's main entrance froze you in place. Over 20 widescreen monitors spread across the largest projecting wall you'd ever seen made up the blue lights illuminating the well-carved stone cave and machines on the bottom helped you realise that this was more than just the Kambe residence.
It was a plotting space; a hidehout, and a workplace.
You let out a long overdue breath. "Kambe, what.." You were at a loss for words, continuing to admire the sheer obscurity of the cave. He continued past you and you followed in suit noticing a circle-like pattern on the smooth-stone flooring. Daisuke's arms swayed at a more relaxed pace now, his trajectory aimed to a balcony part of the flooring where an extra lower area was divided by a high wall and metal bars. Carefully he peered over the edge, leering for you to do the same. Through confused glares and a cautious step, you let your hands grip the metal bars as you looked over.
A high-tech machine - an armoured vehicle - sat in the open space, detailed and covered in a dark faded green. It caught you by surprise at first; but what made you look twice was the feminine figure tweaking with the screws underneath.
Sleek, black and silky hair put into a messy yet somehow pricey bun. Wishful blue eyes and a pale skin tone. A white tanktop. Velvet gloves. Pink trousers with a pink jacket wrapped around the back. Clear goggles and expensive, diamond-shaped gold earrings.
You recognised her now, and you recognised her all those nights ago.
This woman with the black hair was the liaison you'd spoken about in Daisuke's very own car.
Your head jerked to Daisuke, seeking some sort of clarification for this desperately confusing situation. "Hold on, what is she doing here?" You knew he knew who she was as well. "Is she your liaison?" More importantly, had he known who she was in the car and still not told you?
His eyes looked over at you and his upper eyelids lowered, creating a silent expression showing he did not need to speak.
"You must be Miss (L/n)!"
A soft and friendly voice of a woman made you turn around with your heel. There she stood; the woman with black hair. And she was extending a hand to you as a sign of a greeting. A handshake.
"My name is Suzue Kambe. Daisuke talks a lot about you!" Daisuke's eyes widened and he raised his hand in a quick motion, his mouth hanging slightly agape.
Too much information, too much!-
Kambe? Daisuke's relative? Wife? Was your pining for nothing? Why would he 'talk a lot about you' if she was his wife?
You stepped back, not knowing how to process it. Your mouth opened slightly and you tried to shake her hand, but all you could do was stare.
The woman with black hair, the liaison.
a Kambe.
-
"So, what's going on with that case?"
Daisuke's laid-back tone echoed through your ears as you stood with your hands gripping eachother, picking at the nails - trying to find any way to ease yourself. Your eyes shifted from the blue blinky dials on the many monitor screens to the objects behind you, giving you a startle. Sitting in the corner was a 'patrol-dog' suit - a common thing among big parties and something you've seen often in the area. A happy, cartoonish dog in a police outfit.
"Isezaki is getting supplied by the major organised crime group Gondowara-Gumi."
"Yes, Detective (L/n) informed me of this."
Your head perked up at the mention of your name and your attention was brought back to Suzue and Daisuke. She sat in a comfy-looking black swivel chair with a smile on her face as she looked up to him.
Was she really who you thought she was?
"Ah, I see. Why don't you use this occasion to crush them all at once?"
Crush..?
You wanted to speak up, but the nervousness got to you. You began to fiddle with your fingers again, watching Suzue as she turned to face the monitors.
"Suzue has been doing undercover work against Isezaki under my orders."
His eyes made contact with yours, and through a piercing gaze you once again felt small. You wanted to say something; to seem a little disappointed, like you were sad he didn't tell you. But the way he stared so hellbent kept you standing like prey in the midst of an avalanche.
Suzue clicked her keyboards and mouse, bringing up an information profile on someone you'd seen before: The suspect 'Gondawara-Gumi' identified by Daisuke.
"Gondawara-Gumi's operations are essentially controlled by the deputy godfather, Umezu." A few paragraphs indicated knowledge you already knew: he would meet before with clients to distribute the drugs, and then meet after to discuss payment. "Once you apprehend him, everything would collapse sooner or later."
Daisuke let his hands fall behind his back, interlocking his figures and standing in a repressed stance, "What's the plan?"
Suzue turned back to look at the two of you, now locking eyes with you. Your gaze diverted almost immediately and you found yourself staring at the floor.
"There will be a drug party soon, and Umezu will be attending as well." You sneaked a few looks at her and saw her expression become a little more pitiful. "Looks like all the centerfold models and actresses Isezaki rounded up will be attending."
"Akiko Hoshida, whose case was recent, also will be..."
Holy shit- Akiko Hoshida?
Your mind was brought back to weeks prior; the day you'd formally met Daisuke, and the one where you'd been slightly embarrassed by Kamei beforehand. You remembered he was yelling about a model.. Akiko.
Kamei, you bastard; yelling about your favourite model was worth it after all!
Feeling a little more motivated, you clenched your fists and spoke up. "What are you planning to do?"
"If I have a billion or two, I can arrest Umezu and destroy Gondawara-Gumi."
Daisuke's expression continued to stay stoic as he stared deeply at you. It was something piercing, yet comforting; you couldn't explain it well enough to be accurate.
"Alright." You nodded, clarity now found.
And then something hit you.
"Is there any way I can help? I have an idea, if you'd listen.." Desperation etched within a determined tone, you tried to seem helpful through a smile. Daisuke turned his body to face you fully, and Suzue let her smile burn into yours.
He breathed in, and breathed out.
"Go on."