Tomorrow's Crimes ll Moriarty the Patriot

Side Story - Victorian Boyfriends for Breakfast

Anime was never a major part of my daily routine, even during my teenage years. As a young investigative journalist, I found myself far too absorbed in chasing down corruption scandals and exposing corporate wrongdoing to indulge in such frivolous pastimes. My attention was always focused on staying ahead of the news cycle, tracking down leads, and filing stories on impossible deadlines. The closest I got to animation was the occasional Studio Ghibli film during college.

But my fourteen-year-old niece on the other hand...

"Auntie! AUNTIE!" Mei's shriek nearly made me spill my coffee one Saturday morning. She burst into the kitchen, tablet in hand, practically vibrating with excitement. "You absolutely have to see this scene! Moran-san is being so incredibly dreamy!"

I squinted at the screen she thrust in my face, showing what appeared to be an absurdly well-dressed anime character with perfectly coiffed hair and smoldering eyes. "Oh my, is this your husband-to-be of the week? What happened to that butler character you were swooning over last month?"

"Sebastian is so last season, Auntie," Mei declared with all the authority of a fourteen-year-old anime connoisseur. "And besides, Moran-san is different! Look at how he handles that gun! And his loyalty to William! And that smirk!" She clutched the tablet to her chest, swooning dramatically.

"Shouldn't you be studying for your chemistry exam instead of cataloging anime boys' smirks?" I tried to maintain a stern expression, but the corner of my mouth twitched traitorously.

"Oh please," Mei rolled her eyes dramatically, flopping into a chair. "I finished all my homework last night. I'm maintaining straight As, thank you very much. Now stop deflecting – did you watch that anime I recommended?"

"That detective show?" I took a careful sip of coffee. "I have a stack of articles to edit, you know. Some of us have real work to do."

"Auntie!" She clutched her chest in mock horror. "First of all, Moriarty the Patriot isn't just 'that detective show.' The disrespect! The audacity! The shock! The horror!" Each exclamation was accompanied by increasingly theatrical gestures.

"My sincerest apologies to your Victorian boyfriends," I said solemnly, trying not to laugh at her performance.

"They're not just boyfriends," she protested, then paused. "Well, okay, Albert is totally husband material, but that's not the point! It's a masterpiece of storytelling! The character development, the plot twists, the themes of justice and morality..."

"The pretty boys in fancy Victorian outfits?" I couldn't resist.

Her cheeks flushed pink. "Well, yes, the characters are totally gorgeous. But have you seen— oh wait, no, you haven't, because SOMEONE refuses to watch it despite my NUMEROUS recommendations!" She fixed me with an accusatory stare.

"I told you, I have work—"

"Work, work, work!" She threw her hands up dramatically. "You sound just like Holmes! Though you wouldn't know that because you haven't watched it yet!"

I tried to hide my amusement behind my coffee cup. "I'm sure the comparison is very apt."

"It IS! You're both workaholics who need to learn to appreciate the finer things in life. Like watching amazing anime with your favorite niece who just wants to share her interests with you..." She batted her eyelashes at me exaggeratedly.

"Subtle manipulation there, kiddo."

"Is it working?"

"Not even a little bit."