Closing Distances (A Saimatsu Fanfic)

Chapter 14

It was dark.

The sky had dimmed to a deep blue, swathes of clouds swarming and skimming the city's skyline. Blurry, flickering patches of light blinked out from the buildings' windows, illuminating the littered sidewalks and exposing small rodents, chittering and chomping as they skittered across the road.

Maki's eyes flitted to the rear view mirror, glistening with an unnatural urban glow. Kaede sat in the back seat next to Shuichi, her head lolling against his shoulder as she'd already dozed off to the humming of the engine. Shuichi shrank back, his face pink. Or maybe that was just the neon colors that shone from outside the eerily spotless glass.

The road was mostly empty; after all, the day was nearing midnight. Apart from the occasional late night driver, the ride remained unbothered.

Her hands gripped the leather steering wheel, tightening and—unusually—clammy. Her nose wrinkled as she pulled to a stop in front a club, radiating life and wrapped in an energetic atmosphere. Its doors emitted a long shadow of silhouettes on the curbs, the figures dancing and drinking as roars and shouts echoed off the walls. Neon flashed erratically, hues of purples and blues and pinks smearing the ground in vibrant color.

Shuichi peered forward, abruptly leaning forward as he squinted through the glass. "Is that . . . a club?"

His sudden jerky movement made the pianist's eyelids flutter open. She sat up, frowning. "Oh," she yawned, "we're already here?"

The detective shifted uncomfortably. "Maki," he began tentatively, "you didn't tell me we were going to a club . ."

Kaede shot up. "Huh? What do you mean, we're going to a club?" As her hair flew, her eyes caught sight of the building. She stared at her, shock grazing her soft features. "We aren't—we're not—Maki, this isn't what we agreed on, is it?"

Maki chewed her lip. "We'll catch him this way."

"But—we—we aren't legal age!" Shuichi spluttered, anxiously looking back and forth between her and the run-down establishment, eyes wide.

She riffled through the front compartment, pushing aside the many useless items used to conceal what was really there. "That's why," she said, pulling out three clean, pristine IDs, their pictures and false ages carved in with craftsmanship's forgery, "I brought these."

They stared at her as if she'd gone insane—which could be true—gray and purple eyes alike blinking in synchronized confusion. "But—" Shuichi began, until Maki cut him off.

"And there isn't any need to worry about getting caught. I've made sure that these are foolproof." As soon as they slipped out, she regretted saying them instantly. That was too much that they didn't need to know.

Kaede pushed herself up higher, the corner of her lips dipping lower. "Isn't that breaking the law?"

"Isn't he breaking the law?"

"That's not—"

"You can't win unless you play fire with fire," Maki snapped, frustrated. Her hands tensed. Her words were too harsh, it seemed, as Kaede cowered slightly, pulling Shuichi's arm toward her as determination slowly seeped away from her face. The detective fixed a concerned glance on the pianist before eyeing Maki warily. Guilt boiled inside—but she'd already become numb to the churning and the acidic spray for what seemed like years ago.

She released a long breath, briefly wondering why she was so worked up about something so trivial. Disconcertment had never been a problem before.

"Sorry," she said after a moment of silence. "Just . . . I may be asking too much, but please just trust me on this." She cringed at the sound of her own voice. Never once did she think she'd ever beg to anyone after what she'd done.