Remnants in smouldered ashes

Chapter 7

In his visit to Masaoka's grave, the winter had melted into spring, marking his third visit to his father. Although he wouldn't admit to how he hoped that Tsunemori would join him once more in his visit, he remained thankful for the effort she makes in driving him there. Three years have officially passed since the day of they lost valuable colleagues, the shadows of the deceased remained heavily on their minds in moments of reflection.

Ginoza learned, or at least, found himself accustomed to his position as Hound 1 a lot easier than he had initially thought over time, as he had come to terms with losing his position as an inspector. He recalled one conversation between Aoyonagi about how he was once sore about the subject of the roles of inspectors and enforcers. He could only snide at his old self during his days as an inspector, even at the mere thought of his cruel treatment towards his father and friend would bring him more grief whenever he stood before the grave.

"If I only I had joined you for a drink for once," he said reflectively before the gravestone. "Whenever I'm here, it looks as though I could only tell you my regrets of what I could have done."

Having to remain in the MWSB for more than ten years would have been a wonderful opportunity to retire. Settle down to focus on family building or pursue on other things that didn't demand pointing a dominator to one's head. His father would have hoped to see it that way, had he lived.

The enforcer couldn't help but mirthlessly laugh. Even an 'uneventful' future like that was something that seemed like a faraway dream.

By the time he finished, he took the usual path down to where she parked her car. Although he had come to take note on the fact that the pack of spinel cigarettes no longer resided in her jacket; seeing that familiar trail of smoke adjacent to the car was enough evidence to conclude she had turned this practice into a habit.

"I'm sure by now you're probably tired of hearing others tell you about second-hand smoking," he said casually. "How are you handling things?"

"Ginoza-san," she quickly extinguished the embers with the tobacco pouch. "You're starting to sound like Saiga-san."

"Hmph," he smirked, "If that were the case, I wouldn't be asking you."

She gave him a curt smile.

"I think I'm handling everything just fine. I can't thank you enough for giving me that opportunity to learn from everything that Masaoka's written."

"Its fine," he entered into the vehicle, "I'm just glad that it has been of use to you instead of leaving it in that shed to rot."

Appearing to have remembered something she had to do, she rummaged through her bag and pulled out the item in question.

"Before I forget, you should have this back."

She passed the leather-bound diary to him. Masaoka's diary had remained in her possession since their last visit to his grave. He'd have to admit that he too wanted to look further into his father's diary to see what Masaoka had done in his earlier years. But Ginoza felt that it was probably the only physical thing he could give her as a gift, a token for his respect and admiration for his superior.

He wore a melancholic smile on his face.

"You should keep it."

"But this is your father's diary."

"I'm giving it to you, Inspector. I'm sure that it would serve a better use to you than someone in my position."

She frowned.

"Ginoza-san, please don't call me that when we're off-duty."

She gestured at his hand to take it.

Ginoza took it off her hands, only to gently take her by the hand and turned it palm-side up to place the leather diary on top of it. Before she was able to voice her protest, he took her other hand and placed it on the surface of leather, his bionic hand over hers to secure it.