The Case Of Takafumi Yokozawa Vol 3

Chapter 7

“Yokozawa-san—everyone’s going out to eat together after this. Would you like to join us?” Henmi called, glancing up from his cell phone as Yokozawa prepared to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“The same shop as always. I’ve got a coupon—but it expires at the end of this month, so. Oh—and if you go in a group of four or more, you get an even bigger discount, so we’re gathering a group together.”

“All right then—I’ll stay for a bite. But just so you know—I’m not treating you.” With the vacation retreat, he’d spent quite a bit more money than he’d planned on this month, and while he would’ve liked to have played the indulgent sempai, he had to hold off until payday.

“Yes yes, I know. Everyone’s wallets are feeling a bit lonely around this time of the month.”

“Is everyone ready to head out?”

“Three have responded so far—ooh, wait, might have caught another…” Henmi’s cell phone flashed brightly, likely indicating a response from another person he’d invited out to eat.

“…Hm?” From Yokozawa’s bag as well, his cellphone buzzed in manner mode to indicate an incoming message. He scrambled to pull it out, checking the display—only to find it was Kirishima calling. If he recalled correctly, the man had said he’d be out of the office on meetings with an author today, so it was odd of him to go out of his way to call Yokozawa at a time like this. “Yes, Yokozawa speaking,” he answered, tone suspicious, and the voice that came back to him sounded a bit frantic.

“Hey—can you speak right now?”

“I was about to head out to grab a bite for dinner—what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, but could you come meet me?”

“And I asked you what’s wrong?” Kirishima’s attitude seemed a bit different from usual, sending a chill through his chest. Maybe he was wrapped up in more trouble like before—his mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of worst-case-scenarios.

“I’ll tell you when you get here. I’ll text you where to meet, so just get your ass over here ASAP.”

And leaving Yokozawa no room to protest, he cut the line, the only sound still echoing from the cell phone receiver the robotic drone of a phone line being cut.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…don’t really know.” Yokozawa had merely been called out with absolutely no further details given. And yet—he couldn’t imagine that Kirishima would call like that for no reason whatsoever.

“Who was it from?”

Not bothering to respond to Henmi’s question, Yokozawa stood, bag and coat in hand. “Sorry—I’ll have to join you for dinner some other time.”

“Wha—Yokozawa-san?!”

There was no point in sitting around here wracking his mind over the matter, so tamping down any feelings tending toward worry and anxiety, he dashed off to the address included in the text message he’d just received.