set the world on fire (Mawaru Penguindrum)

Chapter 5

Masako massaged her temples, more focused on the steaming mug of coffee in front of her than the candy-coated drawl of her private investigator. Being fabulously wealthy had its perks, such as being able to hire an esteemed investigator such as Fujimura-san without batting an eye, but god, did they have to make it seem so dull?

"Natsume?"

She snapped back to attention, sending the mug teetering nervously at the edge of her desk. "Sorry," she apologized briskly. "Just tired."

"Aren't well all?" Fujimura, being one of the few people with the audacity to sass the great Masako Natsume, heaved a sigh, examining her chipped French manicure. "As I was saying, the target appears to be fraternizing with a blue-haired twat. Shoma Takakura, if my-"

Masako's sat up straighter in her seat. "D-Did you say Takakura?"

Kanba.

The woman didn't even bat an eyelash. "Yes, I most certainly did."

"So-"

"You want to ask what this means?" Fujimura leaned back in her plush chair, resting her talons against her cheek. "Well, it could be two things: a) the Shoma boy's been recruited by the great Oginome herself to retrieve the diary or b) you and him are exactly the same." Reaching into her brown leather briefcase, she pulled out a manila envelope, tossing its contents onto her desk.

Flabbergasted, Masako fumbled to pick it up, rummaging through its contents. A laminated photo fell onto her lap. Upon closer inspection, it was a picture of a petite, auburn-haired girl smiling genially at the camera.

She glanced back to the papers.

THE MEDICAL RECORDS OF HIMARI TAKAKURA.

After several moments of silence, Fujimura groaned. "God, Natsume, do I have to spell it out for you? Himari sweetheart here's got the same thing as your precious baby brother," she cooed the word, making a kissy face, "and you, darling, have more in common with this Shoma guy than you'd probably like."

"In common…surely you don't-"

Masako trailed off, the picture girl crushed between her clenched fists, her smile now lopsided.

She wondered if Sanetoshi was laughing at her right now.

Exasperated, she slapped the desk, sending the mug skittering across its wooden surface. "I think we're done here. Send me all the info you have on Shoma Takakura and continue to look in on the girl. Dismissed." She flicked her wrist towards the door.

Fujimura rolled her eyes, but uncrossed her legs, standing up and slinging her briefcase over her shoulder. "Whatever. See you some other time, Natsume-sama." Blowing a mocking kiss, she strutted out of the room.

"Please," she told the many servants scattered about her office, dusting chairs or not-so-covertly eavesdropping, before commanding, "leave. I need to be alone."

Exchanging a series of worried looks, they bowed to her, murmuring "yes, Natsume-sama" in unison before exiting the room in solemn single file.

Once they had all disappeared, Masako, feeling extraordinarily childish, spun around several times in her swivel chair, watching as her viewpoint shifted from her wide expanse of window to the paper-strewn desk, and back again.

The world had never felt so small.

Cheating her. Always cheating.

But no matter how much she tried, she couldn't be furious at Sanetoshi.