Just My Type [Daichi Sawamura x OC]

Chapter 4: I am an Invisible (Wo)man

"Alright, assignments for today," Tired from working an all nighter the previous evening, Police Chief Nishida stared down at his clipboard for a few moments longer while his eyes tried to focus on the printed names, "Shoji and Honda, keep going on the case you have now, I expect an update by the end of the day." Nishida's voice was scratchy, matching the five o'clock shadow on his face, "Sato and Ito, take the new case." He threw a file at his two closest detectives, "Double homicide, no current suspects." Finally, Nishida turned to his intern, "Sawamura," Daichi sat up a bit straighter, trying not to look too excited, "Get me an espresso from that shop down the road. And maybe one of those cheesy pastry things too."

"Oh, that's sounds good. Make that two." Ito chimed in, his good natured smile hidden behind an impressively full beard.

"I'll take a black coffee, and a couple of those fruity turnover things."

"Can you ask about an Americano? I've been craving one lately."

Drink orders in place, the rest of the detectives filed out of the room with their assignments, already discussing with their partners the best course of action. Daichi, meanwhile, remained seated, glaring at his tightly clenched fists and trying to keep from spontaneously combusting. Despite the fact the University had required it, this work study program wasn't giving him the "on the job" training it had promised. And he knew why. The first day Daichi had shown up to the station in the most professional looking clothes he owned: a simple black button down and black wash jeans. But it didn't matter; one look at the industrial bar on one ear and the line of piercings that adorned the other, and Daichi had been blacklisted as 'trouble.' It didn't matter how excellent his grades were, or that his professor had recommended him to the Police Chief personally, every single cop in the precinct took one look at Daichi and labeled him unfit to make it as a real detective. Subsequently, rather than learn the important skills needed for his future, Daichi spent his time taking coffee orders and delivering mail.

Determined to prove them wrong, Daichi spent the first week trying everything possible to change their minds and show he was more than capable. He stayed late to help with report write-ups, offered to assist in the more menial tasks of investigations, anything that would get him away from the paper-pushing overly glorified secretary they treated him as. But his efforts made little difference; the Chief thought he was a lost cause, and no one wanted to go against the Chief.

Eventually, equally defeated and outraged, Daichi gave in and played the part he knew they wanted. Two days a week, he would remove all his piercings, comb back his hair, and shrug on the itchy and overpriced suit he'd bought specifically for the job. It was almost the exact same one he'd seen Sato wearing, which is how he knew it would work. But every time he stood in front of the bathroom mirror to inspect that he hadn't missed an earring or the new eyebrow piercing he'd gotten in retaliation, Daichi would let out a heavy sigh and glare at his reflection. He looked like such a nerd; all that he needed was a pair of fake glasses and he'd be the perfect Japanese equivalent of Clark Kent. It felt wrong. Like wearing a boring and uncomfortable mask. But it seemed to do the trick. The first day as "Detective Intern Sawamura" and Chief Nishida had assigned him to help Ito and Sato with their latest case. Daichi had even been the one to uncover vital evidence to help solve it, earning recognition from the Chief himself.

Playing the game now, Daichi decided to take it a step further. The following week he left his beloved motorcycle behind and took the metro to the station like the rest of the detectives, and he was assigned to two more cases. The detectives started actually chatting with him more, inviting him to lunch outings and offering advice for difficult classes they remembered taking. He was finally starting to fit in, and all it took was a complete change in who he was. And as much as Daichi had hoped for this type of experience from his very first internship in his dream job, it left a foul taste in his mouth. The smiles and lighthearted banter of the detectives may have appeared genuine, but Daichi knew the truth that lingered just below the surface of those grins. The judgement and contempt never really went away, but just lay dormant until the little act Daichi put on fell apart and they could go back to showing their true colors. It was all Daichi could do not to scream every time one of them gave him that obviously fake smile.