Fic: "Taste" (Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro, Neuro/Yako, R18)
...well, this started a couple of days ago, much shorter and much more to the point. Then last night I had a dream that scared me so badly I had no choice but to fic it. Everything about this mystery, except for Neuro and Yako's presence (and it taking place in Japan), comes straight from my subconscious, with which it seems I really need to have a chat.
Also, I swear to god, I wanted to go to bed three hours ago, but my brain kept going "just write the next section and then stop. Okay, the next one. Okay the next one." Thank god I don't work tomorrow.
Title: Taste
Series: Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro
Pairing/Characters: Neuro/Yako
Rating: R18
Warnings: Violence. Murder. Sex. Tons of fun.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or story elements expressed within. I am making no money from this.
Summary: "You were never in any danger." "...I believe I was, given he had a knife."
---
Somewhere between Akane's hair treatment and the day's round of Let's See How Far We Can Twist Yako's Neck Today, there's a knock at the door. I get Slave Number Two to open the door ("I'm not your goddamn slave!") and welcome our guest, my hand still clamped around Slave Number One's head.
"How can Sensei help you today?" I ask, yanking her down onto the couch beside me. The guest is young; early twenties, I'd guess, looks like he's just out of college. The nervous type: all twitching and adjusting of glasses and um and you see. Not the first nervous type we've had, but this one has something underneath those twitches that I can just barely see.
"My name is Mizutani Shinya," he says, fingers scratching against the back of his neck, black hair falling to either side of his glasses. "I'm the secretary at the Kanazuki Girls' School."
"Kanazuki?" The slug tilts her head. "I've never heard of that school before."
"Well, we're pretty small," again with the neck scratching, "and the school is pretty far out in the country. I saw you on TV at the Aya Eishia concert and knew you would be able to help us."
"Us? Who else would we be helping?" I lean forward and put my chin in my hand, trying to get a better look at the meaning behind this nervousness.
"Well, the teacher, Kanazuki-sensei...has disappeared."
"Oh?" I can almost see it, now: that fleeting hint of the greater mystery peeking out from under his fingertips every time he scratches his neck, just waiting to burst forth. That, and the skin on his neck is going to start coming off if he doesn't stop. "Have you contacted your local police?"
"Ah..." There it is, there it is, there it is. I've almost got a good look at it-- "Kanazuki-sensei doesn't trust the police. Besides which, your skills with mysteries are unparalleled. I thought I should ask for your help first."
He jumps a bit; I think I may have overdone it with the grin, but I couldn't care less at this point. I jump up from the sofa and start planning, pulling the wood louse up by her head, as well.
"Fear not! Sensei is on the case!"
We take Slave Number Two's car; the only trains that go to Inae are the really slow kind. On the way there, the little tapeworm looks at me with curiosity.
"You seemed really eager to take this one."
I must be on a roll today; my smile evidently makes her jump out of her skin, as well.
"I can smell the mystery from here," I lean forward so my eyes are level with hers, "and it smells delicious."
Once she recovers from proximity shock, she nods and turns back to the window.
"You noticed it, too, then. That secretary is hiding something big."
I recline in my seat with a satisfied leer, making sure to knee Slave Number Two in the back. Mizutani's nervousness would have been an obvious sign of a secret even to the lowliest of creatures. Still, it seems my little mud rat is catching on even more quickly these days.
~~~
The Kanazuki Girls' School turns out to be a very large house, traditional and looking like it was owned by a wealthy noble family at one point. Mizutani greets us when we get there, in his usual nervous fashion. It's very quiet in Inae, very empty. It's not until we've entered the classrooms that I realize we're the only people in the house.
"Wait," I ask, "where are the rest of the students?"
Surprisingly, Mizutani doesn't freak out.
"It's fall break," he explains. "We have a different school schedule than the rest of the schools in the area, since we don't follow the same curriculum."
"I see." Neuro taps my shoulder, confirming what I thought. It's not the truth, just a well-practiced lie.
"Anyway," Mizutani opens one of the rice paper doors and motions for us to step into the room, "this is Kanazuki-sensei's office. I haven't touched anything since she left, so it's just like it was before."
"Left?" Neuro asks. "I thought you said she went missing?"
"Well, she left to meet Hoshino-sensei Monday morning, but she hasn't come back, and I can't reach her cell phone. I tried calling Hoshino-sensei earlier, but he said he hasn't seen her since she left his restaurant around lunchtime."
"Who is Hoshino-sensei?" I asked, glancing at a photo on the desk. "You didn't mention him." It looks recent, the photo paper still glossy in its frame. A woman in a kimono with rich brown hair stands beside Mizutani and another man whose hair looks purple. I'm guessing it's Hoshino-sensei. There are a lot of pictures in this room: most of them are of the woman, who I'm almost sure is Kanazuki-sensei, but there is a row of portraits on the wall of young girls in kimono and makeup. They all look to be around my age, some of them even younger. They must be the students.
"Ah, Hoshino-sensei runs a yakiniku place further into the city. His food is exquisite; you really must try it! Kanazuki-sensei goes there at least twice a week. The two of them have been friends since she started this school."
"Let's go, then." Neuro's voice is right behind my head, and I can feel how worked up he is. "Take us to this Hoshino-sensei."
"Alright! He's just down the street; we can definitely walk there without trouble. I should warn you, though, Hoshino-sensei is...eccentric."
~~~
Hoshino, for the record, isn't all that weird compared to some of the humans I've seen since I went topside. Granted, he dyed his hair purple at one point and let it grow past his chin, but as far as his personality goes, he's rather boring. He greets us from behind the grill and nods to Mizutani with a bright smile, not really talking so much as yelling over the buzzing of customers. Hoshino's yakiniku shop is evidently very popular in the area.
"Mizutani! What brings you here this time of day? Run out of luck now that the flowers are all on break? Who's your friend?"
"This is Yako Katsuragi, the Schoolgirl Detective, and her assistant," Mizutani says it in a giant rush, like he's had to convince himself to say it the whole walk to the restaurant. "I was wondering if you've heard from Kanazuki-sensei, yet?"
"Nah, I haven't seen Kanazuki since she ate lunch on Monday, I already told you!" Hoshino puts together a bowl of katsudon and hands it to a customer. "It sounds serious if you've got the detective here, though - but you can't fool me, Shinya, I know you just wanted to meet her in person!"
Cue a fantastically embarrassed flurry of it's not like that and I just want to find Kanazuki-sensei from Mizutani. Hoshino continues to run his mouth.
"Ah, it's alright, Shinya! I don't blame you at all! Miss Detective has a wonderful figure on her, and brains on top of that! Wish you luck, ne?"
Before even I realize it, my elbow is on his wrist as he reaches to collect a customer's payment, and my eyes are open just a little wider than usual as I regard him from above. He's really short, in addition to having purple hair and no class. A truly worthless specimen.
"Sensei is here for no other reason than business," I use my very best looming skills to drive the point home. "Now, would you be so kind as to tell us when the last time you saw Miss Kanazuki was?"
"Like I said! Monday after lunch!" The meat on the grill is burning and I don't think he knows it. With my head halfway into the kitchen, I can smell the burning of the meat, when I couldn't before in the dining area. I glance to the side and see a large row of fans lined up on the top edge of the wall, all facing toward the kitchen. Another glance shows a window at the back of the cooking area above the stove that is open, a metal screen keeping insects and birds out. Interesting.
"Hm...then, you won't mind if we have a look in the area around your shop? Just to see if we can find any clues as to where she went. That's what Sensei wanted to do." I pull her beside me and give my brightest, falsest laugh.
"Go ahead," he shrugs, turning back to his stove. "There's probably nothing out there."
~~~
Neuro is out the door and around the back of the building before I can even blink, dragging me with him. Somehow he avoids getting us both hit by the mail truck that thunders by, but he cuts it close, even for him. I set about looking for anything left on the ground while he walks up the wall and peers into the kitchen, his hair blowing back from his face. The beads on the end of his hair gleam in the afternoon sun; I always wondered where he got them, what they were made of, what purpose they served. Maybe they were an indicator of rank? He gave Akane one, but it was a different color. If his were gold, did that mean anything special...
Sure enough, I trip over something as I get closer to the side of the shop that Neuro is walking towards: there is a fence surrounding the area behind the window, enclosing a small yard and a smaller house. I suppose that's where Hoshino lives. The thing I tripped over is a little greenhouse tent used for growing small gardens. From the looks of it, this tent covered a patch of cilantro.
Next to the cilantro, there is a ring. It's gold, plain, and almost looks like a wedding band, except for the name engraved on the inside: Kanazuki. If this isn't a clue I don't know what is. I try to look between the openings in the fence, right on the edge of the herb garden, but I can't see anything. Why would Hoshino grow his herbs outside of his yard, anyway?
I look up at where Neuro is now climbing onto the shop roof above the fence and surveying the yard. He gives me a look that says "get in there, cockroach", and I sigh. It's time for some fence climbing.
~~~
I step leisurely around to the front of the shop and decide to have a chat with Mizutani. The poor fool nearly has a heart attack when I show up behind him, but it seems he's getting used to it. Slave Number Two is about to dig into a bowl of donburi, which I snatch from his hands before he can take the first bite. It gets thrown out the window, hopefully to hit Slave Number One in the back of the head (ah, there's the ever so satisfying clang and her cry of surprise and pain).
"So," I begin, "what sort of curriculum does the Kanazuki school follow?"
"Ah," twitch twitch neck scratch, "it's sort of like a finishing school. We teach the traditional arts - tea ceremony, music, singing, dance, that sort of thing. But we mix it with high school curriculum, as well, so the end result is the same. It's a bit of a traditional program. All of our students are here on scholarship thanks to Kanazuki-sensei's family fortune; most of them come from very poor families who live outside of Inae."
"I see..." The mystery is still far away from me; I need to look closer. "You said Kanazuki-sensei's office is still in the condition in which you left it this morning?"
"...yes." Mizutani is looking at me rather desperately, like he wants to tell me I'm going in the wrong direction but doesn't want to explain why.
I know better, naturally.
"Just a moment, please." I drag Slave Number Two out by the collar before he can take a bite of his yakitori and drag him out to where Slave Number One should be waiting.
~~~
Whoever invented fences should be arrested.
By the time I get inside the yard, Neuro's gone back inside the shop. For a moment, I see Hoshino-sensei come up to the window. I panic, then run the only place I can see that's out of his line of vision: inside the house. Smart move, Yako.
It's a small, two-room home. The kitchen and bedroom are all one space, with a table separating them, and the bathroom is a simple affair to the right of it all. There isn't much furniture to speak of, just a desk, a TV, and a futon. Enough to live in after work, but nothing really fancy. Nothing to catch my eye.
Well, nothing except for the photo album on the desk that lies open and half-crinkled, as though the pages had been flipped through in a hurry. Maybe Hoshino-sensei has a family? Or maybe more pictures of Kanazuki-sensei? More from curiosity than anything else, I look at the picture on top.
It's one of the students whose picture was on the wall at the school. What on earth...
Right as I pick up the album to turn the page, a streak of blue comes in through the door, picks me up, and takes me outside the house and over the fence before I have time to shut it properly.
When he puts me down, we're back at the Kanazuki school.
~~~
There is a box on the doorstep when we arrive at the house, delivered with the day's mail. It's rather big, but rectangular and made of wood, negating the probability of X being involved. Not that this mystery ever smelled like him, anyway.
"Ah? Did the mail get here?" Slave Number One makes a motion to see what's in the box. I go ahead and let her, as I'm currently using Slave Number Two as an armrest.
"Huh?" Mizutani looks at it curiously. "We didn't order anything..."
At this point, my favorite mud rat has pushed the lid up on the box and is starting to pry it open, one side at a time. When she gets it all the way off, she immediately shrieks. It actually surprises me; one would think she's gotten used to this sort of thing by now, but evidently not.
Inside the box is a skeleton, completely stripped of flesh and organs, except for the scalp and hair, still held together by its ligaments and dressed in an elegant red kimono.
"I KNOW THAT KIMONO! THAT'S KANAZUKI-SENSEI'S KIMONO! KANAZUKI-SENSEI! MAI-SAMA! MAI-SAMAAA-AA-ah-ha-haaaa..."
Mizutani begins to sob. I lick my lips. The mystery is right on the tip of my tongue.
~~~
Mizutani somehow doesn't want to call the police, even at this point. I want to protest, but at this point it's gotten dark, and I'm not sure if I'd be comfortable attracting any unwanted attention this late at night. Mizutani offers to let us stay there for the night, in the rooms usually used by the students. I lay out my futon and curl up in the pajamas he's let me borrow, surprised that Neuro has had the sense to sleep on the section of the ceiling to my left, rather than immediately above me.
There's a display of stone dolls on the table on the far wall, all standing in a row, carved into curved, graceful figures that are rounded and smooth at the top. The one on the left side is rather small and narrow, but with each one they grow longer, thicker. A makeup kit sits next to it, looking well-worn next to a jar of what looks like lotion. I wonder whose room it is that I'm borrowing, whose room Godai is borrowing across the hall. I wonder if those dolls are in that room, too, next to that same makeup kit, that same lotion jar.
"You can see it, can't you, my little mud rat?" I whip my head around to face Neuro. His eyes are closed, but he is smiling; he hasn't stopped smiling since we took this case. This one has him interested, that's for sure. I'm not so sure I'm as enthusiastic as he is, though. Still, it's been a while since I've seen him this genuinely excited about a case.
"I know you're closer than you think," he murmurs. "If you look a little deeper, you just might find the truth. I know it."
With that, he rolls to one side, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I see the photo album from Hoshino's house by my clothes, and I reach over and open it, flipping to the beginning.
The first picture is one of the students, made up and dressed in a kimono, looking beautiful. On the opposite-facing page, there is a picture of yakitori. What.
The next page is the same; another student, but this time it's a bowl of donburi, which makes even less sense. Maybe it was the food the students ate at his restaurant? The next two pages, and the two after that, and the two after that, continue in the same pattern: student, sukiyaki, student, katsudon, student, yakiniku, student, hamburger steak. What does it all mean?
It isn't until the last page that it dawns on me. The picture on the left, where the students would normally be, is of Kanazuki-sensei. The page on the right is empty.
The rice paper door behind me opens, and footsteps approach me from behind.
"It's not nice to take things that don't belong to you, Miss Detective."
~~~
I really hate being woken up. Whether or not I have actually fallen asleep is a moot point; it's the principle of the matter. To express my displeasure, I drop from the ceiling right onto our would-be intruder without any warning, squashing his head under my shoe.
"Good evening, Hoshino-sensei. I hope I'm not intruding by asking what your business here is? It's impolite to enter a lady's room while she sleeps, you know."
Hoshino doesn't say much, and what little he does is muffled by the floor. That's fine with me; it matters very little what he actually says at this point.
By now, we've attracted the attention of Slave Number Two and Mizutani, who are standing in the doorway looking confused and horrified, respectively. Mizutani especially seems to have hit a whole new level of nervous.
I give my partner a nod, stepping off of Hoshino's back. "Well, then?"
Her arm lifts itself into the air,
"The murderer..."
and falls forward, pointed resolutely at Hoshino.
"...is you!"
~~~
A very large part of my mind wonders if Neuro planned this. He probably did. It would explain why he deigned to sleep anywhere but right above me, where he could terrorize me half the night. I shake myself. Focus, Yako, you've got a murderer to catch!
"What-" speaking of whom, "what do you mean? I haven't killed anyone! I'm just here to take back what that girl stole from me!"
"Ah, but you have," Neuro steps around to face him. "And not just Kanazuki-sensei, it would seem." He takes the photo album from me and begins flipping through it. "I wondered where all of these students had gone."
"What!" Hoshino shouts, swiping at him in an attempt to get the book back. "What's your evidence?"
"Oh, there is quite a bit," Neuro snaps the book shut and throws it to Mizutani. "Not the least of which is the distinct smell of burning flesh that emanates from your kitchen. Human flesh has a very specific odor when burned, sweet and sickly. Your customers would never come back if they smelled that. That is why you have so many fans set up to vent the smoke and the smell out of your kitchen window. On top of that, your accounting book," here he flipped the photo album to the back, where a long list of names and numbers lined a sheet of ledger paper, "shows quite a few pricy transactions. I wonder," he began to go back to the photos, "if we were to take the school student list, would the names there match the ones listed here?"
Hoshino just gaped at him.
"In addition to that, Sensei found Kanazuki's ring by your herb garden, which is thriving atop the ashes of the bits you didn't use, I might add. A simple analysis of the meat in your kitchen and the soil beneath your garden would prove this easily." He must have gotten that analyzer knife out while I wasn't looking, always fifteen steps ahead.
"Then there is the matter of the package that arrived for us when we returned. While it wasn't addressed to us initially, a simple change of label allowed me to get a better look at it. You've been using the mail truck that comes every afternoon to dispose of the bones; the hardest part to destroy."
His hands are on my shoulders, lifting me up. "That's Sensei's theory."
I nod. "But, why Kanazuki? Wasn't she working with you? Why would you turn against her?"
~~~
The transformation that worthless human's face underwent was unreal. His teeth sharpened and his tongue began lolling about like some sort of monster. Typical for one of our mysteries, but with an edge to it. This was going to be exquisite.
"Ha!" He started to laugh. "Ha ha ha! You think Kanazuki was innocent? Do you know what this school really is? It's an academy for whores! She would send them to me once they'd gotten all pretty and nice, and then I'd get them clients and split the profits with her, even trade! We had a business going for ages!"
I knew this already; it would explain the dilator dolls and relaxant lotion on the nightstand, not to mention the extra layer of substance to the walls.
"But then one day, oh one day, I grew so tired of the same dishes! The same meat! No one in this town has any taste! Any appreciation for the finer things! But oh, once I had a taste of that, I wanted more! I could never get enough! But Mai didn't like that, she didn't like that at all! She has no taste! Just like the rest of them! No taste! It took her a damn while to figure out where her pretty little flowers were disappearing to, but once she did, oh! She didn't even care if she was arrested for running a brothel, can you believe that? Can you even believe that? But oh, she tasted good herself! The choicest meat, cut and prepared with just the right attention and flavor! There's nothing like it, I tell you! Nothing!"
He pulled a chef's knife from his pocket and raised it high above his head, lunging for Yako.
"And you're not going to get in the way of my meal!"
I grabbed him by the wrists before he could take another step, pushing him behind a dressing screen. This would be delicious, indeed.
"Itadakimasu."
~~~
Mizutani, as it turned out, knew about the whole operation but couldn't say anything because his family owed a debt to the Kanazukis. The students who were on break were sent home to their families, and I was just relieved that part of the story was true, after all. After they searched the kitchen, police determined that Hoshino had been using human meat in his cooking for almost three weeks. Godai did something I'd never seen him do and thanked Neuro for not letting him eat any of the stuff at the restaurant.
When we get back to the office, Godai goes home before I do, leaving me on the sofa beside Neuro, who looks thoroughly satisfied.
"Not bad, mud rat," he says, patting my knee. "That mystery was much better than the paltry fare you usually drum up."
I manage not to be insulted and go straight to blushing. Coming from the most self-righteous being on this plane of existence, that's downright complimentary.
"Oh!" I straighten up quickly. "Thank you. For saving me last night."
"You were never in any danger," he says simply.
"...I believe I was, given he had a knife. If you hadn't been there on the ceiling, I don't know what I would have done."
"If I hadn't been on the ceiling, I would have been on the roof, watching whoever came in or out of the house, and I would have followed him in and stopped him before he got to you. You were never in any danger."
It's then that I notice his hand hasn't moved from my knee. I want very badly to put my hand on top of it, and before I can think about it properly I've already done it, the fabric of his glove warm against my skin.
"Still," I say, "thank you."
My lips touch his cheek softly, just for a moment. Or rather, they're supposed to. He turns before I can reach him and looks at me, questions simmering in those electric green eyes. I stop, letting my own questions rise to the surface of my thoughts, before blowing them all away like smoke and pressing my lips to his.
~~~
I am fully convinced I have spent too much time in the human world. Any demons I chased while I was under the surface probably have ten thousand times the charm and wit of this little gerbil, and yet her lips against mine feel soft and warm and a little wet and awfully good. I can't stand it when she pulls away, so I have to pull her back and kiss her again, and she seems to be very enthusiastic about this idea by the way she puts her hand on one side of my face and holds me closer.
This isn't the first time we've kissed. That was a while ago, after the case with the statues, when she had put my hand back on right. It isn't the second time, either: that was a little later, and she had blushed afterwards and remarked that Akane had probably seen us. I reminded her that Akane has no eyes, and I'm sure there were at least two more after that, but I can't remember those right now and the point is, she has never kissed me quite like this, hot and full and pressing. She shifts a bit, leaning further into me and bringing her other hand up to my shoulder to hold herself steady. I have to pull back and breathe for a moment - I really am getting more human-like - and she leans in while my mouth is still open and everything changes at once.
This. This is new. This is even hotter and a whole lot wetter and her tongue is touching mine, and that shouldn't feel good at all but somehow it does, and hers tastes like the sauce she had with her gyoza at lunch. Somehow, I cannot get enough of that taste. I wrap my arms around her and pull her onto my lap, her legs resting on either side of my left, her weight warm and strangely comfortable against me.
I can feel her fingers toying with the beads in my hair. It makes me grin. The little magpie has found a new toy, it seems. I press a kiss to her neck, tugging at the fabric on her shoulder to give myself room. She gasps, hand going still, and then sighs sharply, leaning into my mouth. She likes this.
A few more kisses up her neck, and then I feel her hips move against my leg. There's a core of heat there that wasn't near so warm before, like a ball of fire beneath her skirt. I want very badly to set a spark to it. I kiss her lips again, my hands squeezing at her sides and chest, through her clothing, testing, almost asking. An open mouth against my neck and a hand slipped under my shirt is what I get in response. She wants this.
I shed my gloves behind her back and slip the pad of my thumb underneath her waistband. She stops moving for a moment and leans back to look at me. There is hesitation in her eyes, uncertainty. I hope she can see what's in mine, because I'll never say what it is. Evidently, she does, because her face softens and she moves her hands down to undo my trousers. I slide my own hand further down, slowly, over soft skin and softer curls until I feel a small, slick little thing that makes her hips jerk backward. Her hands move to my shoulders again to hold her up, breathing fast and shaky in my ear. She needs this.
I circle that little nub with my fingertips, pressing down and then easing up and then bearing down again. This is fascinating; such a small part of her can make her unwind completely, and so quickly. I give her neck a kiss again, adding just a little bite to this one. I love the noise she makes when I do that, high and wanting. I have to hold her waist with my other arm to get the angle right, but this way I can keep her mouth right next to my ear and listen to her gasp and nngh and yes, until all of a sudden her hands squeeze my shoulders so tightly I think one of her nails might have torn a thread or two of my suit. Her voice gets louder, and then locks up, silent like the rest of her. And she stays like that, tense and still as stone, for a lot longer than I thought she would. My fingers never stop moving; that seems to make it last longer, and I tell myself it's curiosity that makes me draw it out as long as I can, until she gasps and collapses on top of me.
Half a minute later, she sits back up and pulls my trousers open. Her left hand comes back up to my hair and she pulls me into another kiss, more relaxed than previous ones but no less pleasurable. Her right has other things planned, taking me into her palm and stroking slowly, then quickly, then slowly. I wonder if she's just nervous and can't decide which speed to go at or if she's thought about doing this before, but I only wonder for about a second or two before her thumb sweeps over the tip and I decide she has definitely thought about this before and then I can't think much at all. Her fingers feel damnably good, twisting around me and gaining speed. I feel her hair between my fingers and wonder when that happened, only somewhat noticing that the other hand is digging into the sofa cushion. I kiss her again. And again. And again. And she grips me tighter and kisses me back, and then I think I say her name. I might say it twice, but I can't be sure. And then I'm gone, absolutely senseless to anything but her for a long and glorious moment, before I fall back onto the sofa.
It takes me a minute to wake my brain up, but when I do, I notice she's still red-faced and looking at me, a request in her eyes. I try to hide my amazement and most likely fail; she isn't done yet.
She's about to move the hand that isn't sticky under her skirt before I beat her to it and let my fingers take their previous place on that little spot once more, finding everything much wetter but otherwise unchanged. I want to slide my other hand inside her, but that will just have to wait, because she's sitting all wrong and I'm much too tired, though I'll die before I tell her that. So I keep doing what I did the first time, circling and circling and watching her come undone again, holding onto my shoulder with her dry hand and letting her eyes squeeze shut. It doesn't take as long this time. Her forehead meets mine for a moment so I can feel the sounds coming from her lips.
"Neuro, Neuro," a whisper, and then a whimper, and then a shudder and a shudder and a shudder and what is this girl made of? I can't even think of doing that again any time soon.
When she collapses this time, she manages to kiss me once more before exhaustion takes her and she falls asleep. I stand up and lay her down on the sofa before looking for something to clean our hands off. Tissues will have to do for now; she can wash her hands when she wakes up.
If anyone were to watch what happens next and try to mention it later, I would break every bone in their body. Nonetheless, before I retire to the ceiling above her, I press a kiss to her forehead. Whether I whisper something, as well, let alone what I might be saying, is a mystery to which only I know the answer.
Also, I swear to god, I wanted to go to bed three hours ago, but my brain kept going "just write the next section and then stop. Okay, the next one. Okay the next one." Thank god I don't work tomorrow.
Title: Taste
Series: Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro
Pairing/Characters: Neuro/Yako
Rating: R18
Warnings: Violence. Murder. Sex. Tons of fun.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or story elements expressed within. I am making no money from this.
Summary: "You were never in any danger." "...I believe I was, given he had a knife."
---
Somewhere between Akane's hair treatment and the day's round of Let's See How Far We Can Twist Yako's Neck Today, there's a knock at the door. I get Slave Number Two to open the door ("I'm not your goddamn slave!") and welcome our guest, my hand still clamped around Slave Number One's head.
"How can Sensei help you today?" I ask, yanking her down onto the couch beside me. The guest is young; early twenties, I'd guess, looks like he's just out of college. The nervous type: all twitching and adjusting of glasses and um and you see. Not the first nervous type we've had, but this one has something underneath those twitches that I can just barely see.
"My name is Mizutani Shinya," he says, fingers scratching against the back of his neck, black hair falling to either side of his glasses. "I'm the secretary at the Kanazuki Girls' School."
"Kanazuki?" The slug tilts her head. "I've never heard of that school before."
"Well, we're pretty small," again with the neck scratching, "and the school is pretty far out in the country. I saw you on TV at the Aya Eishia concert and knew you would be able to help us."
"Us? Who else would we be helping?" I lean forward and put my chin in my hand, trying to get a better look at the meaning behind this nervousness.
"Well, the teacher, Kanazuki-sensei...has disappeared."
"Oh?" I can almost see it, now: that fleeting hint of the greater mystery peeking out from under his fingertips every time he scratches his neck, just waiting to burst forth. That, and the skin on his neck is going to start coming off if he doesn't stop. "Have you contacted your local police?"
"Ah..." There it is, there it is, there it is. I've almost got a good look at it-- "Kanazuki-sensei doesn't trust the police. Besides which, your skills with mysteries are unparalleled. I thought I should ask for your help first."
He jumps a bit; I think I may have overdone it with the grin, but I couldn't care less at this point. I jump up from the sofa and start planning, pulling the wood louse up by her head, as well.
"Fear not! Sensei is on the case!"
We take Slave Number Two's car; the only trains that go to Inae are the really slow kind. On the way there, the little tapeworm looks at me with curiosity.
"You seemed really eager to take this one."
I must be on a roll today; my smile evidently makes her jump out of her skin, as well.
"I can smell the mystery from here," I lean forward so my eyes are level with hers, "and it smells delicious."
Once she recovers from proximity shock, she nods and turns back to the window.
"You noticed it, too, then. That secretary is hiding something big."
I recline in my seat with a satisfied leer, making sure to knee Slave Number Two in the back. Mizutani's nervousness would have been an obvious sign of a secret even to the lowliest of creatures. Still, it seems my little mud rat is catching on even more quickly these days.
~~~
The Kanazuki Girls' School turns out to be a very large house, traditional and looking like it was owned by a wealthy noble family at one point. Mizutani greets us when we get there, in his usual nervous fashion. It's very quiet in Inae, very empty. It's not until we've entered the classrooms that I realize we're the only people in the house.
"Wait," I ask, "where are the rest of the students?"
Surprisingly, Mizutani doesn't freak out.
"It's fall break," he explains. "We have a different school schedule than the rest of the schools in the area, since we don't follow the same curriculum."
"I see." Neuro taps my shoulder, confirming what I thought. It's not the truth, just a well-practiced lie.
"Anyway," Mizutani opens one of the rice paper doors and motions for us to step into the room, "this is Kanazuki-sensei's office. I haven't touched anything since she left, so it's just like it was before."
"Left?" Neuro asks. "I thought you said she went missing?"
"Well, she left to meet Hoshino-sensei Monday morning, but she hasn't come back, and I can't reach her cell phone. I tried calling Hoshino-sensei earlier, but he said he hasn't seen her since she left his restaurant around lunchtime."
"Who is Hoshino-sensei?" I asked, glancing at a photo on the desk. "You didn't mention him." It looks recent, the photo paper still glossy in its frame. A woman in a kimono with rich brown hair stands beside Mizutani and another man whose hair looks purple. I'm guessing it's Hoshino-sensei. There are a lot of pictures in this room: most of them are of the woman, who I'm almost sure is Kanazuki-sensei, but there is a row of portraits on the wall of young girls in kimono and makeup. They all look to be around my age, some of them even younger. They must be the students.
"Ah, Hoshino-sensei runs a yakiniku place further into the city. His food is exquisite; you really must try it! Kanazuki-sensei goes there at least twice a week. The two of them have been friends since she started this school."
"Let's go, then." Neuro's voice is right behind my head, and I can feel how worked up he is. "Take us to this Hoshino-sensei."
"Alright! He's just down the street; we can definitely walk there without trouble. I should warn you, though, Hoshino-sensei is...eccentric."
~~~
Hoshino, for the record, isn't all that weird compared to some of the humans I've seen since I went topside. Granted, he dyed his hair purple at one point and let it grow past his chin, but as far as his personality goes, he's rather boring. He greets us from behind the grill and nods to Mizutani with a bright smile, not really talking so much as yelling over the buzzing of customers. Hoshino's yakiniku shop is evidently very popular in the area.
"Mizutani! What brings you here this time of day? Run out of luck now that the flowers are all on break? Who's your friend?"
"This is Yako Katsuragi, the Schoolgirl Detective, and her assistant," Mizutani says it in a giant rush, like he's had to convince himself to say it the whole walk to the restaurant. "I was wondering if you've heard from Kanazuki-sensei, yet?"
"Nah, I haven't seen Kanazuki since she ate lunch on Monday, I already told you!" Hoshino puts together a bowl of katsudon and hands it to a customer. "It sounds serious if you've got the detective here, though - but you can't fool me, Shinya, I know you just wanted to meet her in person!"
Cue a fantastically embarrassed flurry of it's not like that and I just want to find Kanazuki-sensei from Mizutani. Hoshino continues to run his mouth.
"Ah, it's alright, Shinya! I don't blame you at all! Miss Detective has a wonderful figure on her, and brains on top of that! Wish you luck, ne?"
Before even I realize it, my elbow is on his wrist as he reaches to collect a customer's payment, and my eyes are open just a little wider than usual as I regard him from above. He's really short, in addition to having purple hair and no class. A truly worthless specimen.
"Sensei is here for no other reason than business," I use my very best looming skills to drive the point home. "Now, would you be so kind as to tell us when the last time you saw Miss Kanazuki was?"
"Like I said! Monday after lunch!" The meat on the grill is burning and I don't think he knows it. With my head halfway into the kitchen, I can smell the burning of the meat, when I couldn't before in the dining area. I glance to the side and see a large row of fans lined up on the top edge of the wall, all facing toward the kitchen. Another glance shows a window at the back of the cooking area above the stove that is open, a metal screen keeping insects and birds out. Interesting.
"Hm...then, you won't mind if we have a look in the area around your shop? Just to see if we can find any clues as to where she went. That's what Sensei wanted to do." I pull her beside me and give my brightest, falsest laugh.
"Go ahead," he shrugs, turning back to his stove. "There's probably nothing out there."
~~~
Neuro is out the door and around the back of the building before I can even blink, dragging me with him. Somehow he avoids getting us both hit by the mail truck that thunders by, but he cuts it close, even for him. I set about looking for anything left on the ground while he walks up the wall and peers into the kitchen, his hair blowing back from his face. The beads on the end of his hair gleam in the afternoon sun; I always wondered where he got them, what they were made of, what purpose they served. Maybe they were an indicator of rank? He gave Akane one, but it was a different color. If his were gold, did that mean anything special...
Sure enough, I trip over something as I get closer to the side of the shop that Neuro is walking towards: there is a fence surrounding the area behind the window, enclosing a small yard and a smaller house. I suppose that's where Hoshino lives. The thing I tripped over is a little greenhouse tent used for growing small gardens. From the looks of it, this tent covered a patch of cilantro.
Next to the cilantro, there is a ring. It's gold, plain, and almost looks like a wedding band, except for the name engraved on the inside: Kanazuki. If this isn't a clue I don't know what is. I try to look between the openings in the fence, right on the edge of the herb garden, but I can't see anything. Why would Hoshino grow his herbs outside of his yard, anyway?
I look up at where Neuro is now climbing onto the shop roof above the fence and surveying the yard. He gives me a look that says "get in there, cockroach", and I sigh. It's time for some fence climbing.
~~~
I step leisurely around to the front of the shop and decide to have a chat with Mizutani. The poor fool nearly has a heart attack when I show up behind him, but it seems he's getting used to it. Slave Number Two is about to dig into a bowl of donburi, which I snatch from his hands before he can take the first bite. It gets thrown out the window, hopefully to hit Slave Number One in the back of the head (ah, there's the ever so satisfying clang and her cry of surprise and pain).
"So," I begin, "what sort of curriculum does the Kanazuki school follow?"
"Ah," twitch twitch neck scratch, "it's sort of like a finishing school. We teach the traditional arts - tea ceremony, music, singing, dance, that sort of thing. But we mix it with high school curriculum, as well, so the end result is the same. It's a bit of a traditional program. All of our students are here on scholarship thanks to Kanazuki-sensei's family fortune; most of them come from very poor families who live outside of Inae."
"I see..." The mystery is still far away from me; I need to look closer. "You said Kanazuki-sensei's office is still in the condition in which you left it this morning?"
"...yes." Mizutani is looking at me rather desperately, like he wants to tell me I'm going in the wrong direction but doesn't want to explain why.
I know better, naturally.
"Just a moment, please." I drag Slave Number Two out by the collar before he can take a bite of his yakitori and drag him out to where Slave Number One should be waiting.
~~~
Whoever invented fences should be arrested.
By the time I get inside the yard, Neuro's gone back inside the shop. For a moment, I see Hoshino-sensei come up to the window. I panic, then run the only place I can see that's out of his line of vision: inside the house. Smart move, Yako.
It's a small, two-room home. The kitchen and bedroom are all one space, with a table separating them, and the bathroom is a simple affair to the right of it all. There isn't much furniture to speak of, just a desk, a TV, and a futon. Enough to live in after work, but nothing really fancy. Nothing to catch my eye.
Well, nothing except for the photo album on the desk that lies open and half-crinkled, as though the pages had been flipped through in a hurry. Maybe Hoshino-sensei has a family? Or maybe more pictures of Kanazuki-sensei? More from curiosity than anything else, I look at the picture on top.
It's one of the students whose picture was on the wall at the school. What on earth...
Right as I pick up the album to turn the page, a streak of blue comes in through the door, picks me up, and takes me outside the house and over the fence before I have time to shut it properly.
When he puts me down, we're back at the Kanazuki school.
~~~
There is a box on the doorstep when we arrive at the house, delivered with the day's mail. It's rather big, but rectangular and made of wood, negating the probability of X being involved. Not that this mystery ever smelled like him, anyway.
"Ah? Did the mail get here?" Slave Number One makes a motion to see what's in the box. I go ahead and let her, as I'm currently using Slave Number Two as an armrest.
"Huh?" Mizutani looks at it curiously. "We didn't order anything..."
At this point, my favorite mud rat has pushed the lid up on the box and is starting to pry it open, one side at a time. When she gets it all the way off, she immediately shrieks. It actually surprises me; one would think she's gotten used to this sort of thing by now, but evidently not.
Inside the box is a skeleton, completely stripped of flesh and organs, except for the scalp and hair, still held together by its ligaments and dressed in an elegant red kimono.
"I KNOW THAT KIMONO! THAT'S KANAZUKI-SENSEI'S KIMONO! KANAZUKI-SENSEI! MAI-SAMA! MAI-SAMAAA-AA-ah-ha-haaaa..."
Mizutani begins to sob. I lick my lips. The mystery is right on the tip of my tongue.
~~~
Mizutani somehow doesn't want to call the police, even at this point. I want to protest, but at this point it's gotten dark, and I'm not sure if I'd be comfortable attracting any unwanted attention this late at night. Mizutani offers to let us stay there for the night, in the rooms usually used by the students. I lay out my futon and curl up in the pajamas he's let me borrow, surprised that Neuro has had the sense to sleep on the section of the ceiling to my left, rather than immediately above me.
There's a display of stone dolls on the table on the far wall, all standing in a row, carved into curved, graceful figures that are rounded and smooth at the top. The one on the left side is rather small and narrow, but with each one they grow longer, thicker. A makeup kit sits next to it, looking well-worn next to a jar of what looks like lotion. I wonder whose room it is that I'm borrowing, whose room Godai is borrowing across the hall. I wonder if those dolls are in that room, too, next to that same makeup kit, that same lotion jar.
"You can see it, can't you, my little mud rat?" I whip my head around to face Neuro. His eyes are closed, but he is smiling; he hasn't stopped smiling since we took this case. This one has him interested, that's for sure. I'm not so sure I'm as enthusiastic as he is, though. Still, it's been a while since I've seen him this genuinely excited about a case.
"I know you're closer than you think," he murmurs. "If you look a little deeper, you just might find the truth. I know it."
With that, he rolls to one side, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I see the photo album from Hoshino's house by my clothes, and I reach over and open it, flipping to the beginning.
The first picture is one of the students, made up and dressed in a kimono, looking beautiful. On the opposite-facing page, there is a picture of yakitori. What.
The next page is the same; another student, but this time it's a bowl of donburi, which makes even less sense. Maybe it was the food the students ate at his restaurant? The next two pages, and the two after that, and the two after that, continue in the same pattern: student, sukiyaki, student, katsudon, student, yakiniku, student, hamburger steak. What does it all mean?
It isn't until the last page that it dawns on me. The picture on the left, where the students would normally be, is of Kanazuki-sensei. The page on the right is empty.
The rice paper door behind me opens, and footsteps approach me from behind.
"It's not nice to take things that don't belong to you, Miss Detective."
~~~
I really hate being woken up. Whether or not I have actually fallen asleep is a moot point; it's the principle of the matter. To express my displeasure, I drop from the ceiling right onto our would-be intruder without any warning, squashing his head under my shoe.
"Good evening, Hoshino-sensei. I hope I'm not intruding by asking what your business here is? It's impolite to enter a lady's room while she sleeps, you know."
Hoshino doesn't say much, and what little he does is muffled by the floor. That's fine with me; it matters very little what he actually says at this point.
By now, we've attracted the attention of Slave Number Two and Mizutani, who are standing in the doorway looking confused and horrified, respectively. Mizutani especially seems to have hit a whole new level of nervous.
I give my partner a nod, stepping off of Hoshino's back. "Well, then?"
Her arm lifts itself into the air,
"The murderer..."
and falls forward, pointed resolutely at Hoshino.
"...is you!"
~~~
A very large part of my mind wonders if Neuro planned this. He probably did. It would explain why he deigned to sleep anywhere but right above me, where he could terrorize me half the night. I shake myself. Focus, Yako, you've got a murderer to catch!
"What-" speaking of whom, "what do you mean? I haven't killed anyone! I'm just here to take back what that girl stole from me!"
"Ah, but you have," Neuro steps around to face him. "And not just Kanazuki-sensei, it would seem." He takes the photo album from me and begins flipping through it. "I wondered where all of these students had gone."
"What!" Hoshino shouts, swiping at him in an attempt to get the book back. "What's your evidence?"
"Oh, there is quite a bit," Neuro snaps the book shut and throws it to Mizutani. "Not the least of which is the distinct smell of burning flesh that emanates from your kitchen. Human flesh has a very specific odor when burned, sweet and sickly. Your customers would never come back if they smelled that. That is why you have so many fans set up to vent the smoke and the smell out of your kitchen window. On top of that, your accounting book," here he flipped the photo album to the back, where a long list of names and numbers lined a sheet of ledger paper, "shows quite a few pricy transactions. I wonder," he began to go back to the photos, "if we were to take the school student list, would the names there match the ones listed here?"
Hoshino just gaped at him.
"In addition to that, Sensei found Kanazuki's ring by your herb garden, which is thriving atop the ashes of the bits you didn't use, I might add. A simple analysis of the meat in your kitchen and the soil beneath your garden would prove this easily." He must have gotten that analyzer knife out while I wasn't looking, always fifteen steps ahead.
"Then there is the matter of the package that arrived for us when we returned. While it wasn't addressed to us initially, a simple change of label allowed me to get a better look at it. You've been using the mail truck that comes every afternoon to dispose of the bones; the hardest part to destroy."
His hands are on my shoulders, lifting me up. "That's Sensei's theory."
I nod. "But, why Kanazuki? Wasn't she working with you? Why would you turn against her?"
~~~
The transformation that worthless human's face underwent was unreal. His teeth sharpened and his tongue began lolling about like some sort of monster. Typical for one of our mysteries, but with an edge to it. This was going to be exquisite.
"Ha!" He started to laugh. "Ha ha ha! You think Kanazuki was innocent? Do you know what this school really is? It's an academy for whores! She would send them to me once they'd gotten all pretty and nice, and then I'd get them clients and split the profits with her, even trade! We had a business going for ages!"
I knew this already; it would explain the dilator dolls and relaxant lotion on the nightstand, not to mention the extra layer of substance to the walls.
"But then one day, oh one day, I grew so tired of the same dishes! The same meat! No one in this town has any taste! Any appreciation for the finer things! But oh, once I had a taste of that, I wanted more! I could never get enough! But Mai didn't like that, she didn't like that at all! She has no taste! Just like the rest of them! No taste! It took her a damn while to figure out where her pretty little flowers were disappearing to, but once she did, oh! She didn't even care if she was arrested for running a brothel, can you believe that? Can you even believe that? But oh, she tasted good herself! The choicest meat, cut and prepared with just the right attention and flavor! There's nothing like it, I tell you! Nothing!"
He pulled a chef's knife from his pocket and raised it high above his head, lunging for Yako.
"And you're not going to get in the way of my meal!"
I grabbed him by the wrists before he could take another step, pushing him behind a dressing screen. This would be delicious, indeed.
"Itadakimasu."
~~~
Mizutani, as it turned out, knew about the whole operation but couldn't say anything because his family owed a debt to the Kanazukis. The students who were on break were sent home to their families, and I was just relieved that part of the story was true, after all. After they searched the kitchen, police determined that Hoshino had been using human meat in his cooking for almost three weeks. Godai did something I'd never seen him do and thanked Neuro for not letting him eat any of the stuff at the restaurant.
When we get back to the office, Godai goes home before I do, leaving me on the sofa beside Neuro, who looks thoroughly satisfied.
"Not bad, mud rat," he says, patting my knee. "That mystery was much better than the paltry fare you usually drum up."
I manage not to be insulted and go straight to blushing. Coming from the most self-righteous being on this plane of existence, that's downright complimentary.
"Oh!" I straighten up quickly. "Thank you. For saving me last night."
"You were never in any danger," he says simply.
"...I believe I was, given he had a knife. If you hadn't been there on the ceiling, I don't know what I would have done."
"If I hadn't been on the ceiling, I would have been on the roof, watching whoever came in or out of the house, and I would have followed him in and stopped him before he got to you. You were never in any danger."
It's then that I notice his hand hasn't moved from my knee. I want very badly to put my hand on top of it, and before I can think about it properly I've already done it, the fabric of his glove warm against my skin.
"Still," I say, "thank you."
My lips touch his cheek softly, just for a moment. Or rather, they're supposed to. He turns before I can reach him and looks at me, questions simmering in those electric green eyes. I stop, letting my own questions rise to the surface of my thoughts, before blowing them all away like smoke and pressing my lips to his.
~~~
I am fully convinced I have spent too much time in the human world. Any demons I chased while I was under the surface probably have ten thousand times the charm and wit of this little gerbil, and yet her lips against mine feel soft and warm and a little wet and awfully good. I can't stand it when she pulls away, so I have to pull her back and kiss her again, and she seems to be very enthusiastic about this idea by the way she puts her hand on one side of my face and holds me closer.
This isn't the first time we've kissed. That was a while ago, after the case with the statues, when she had put my hand back on right. It isn't the second time, either: that was a little later, and she had blushed afterwards and remarked that Akane had probably seen us. I reminded her that Akane has no eyes, and I'm sure there were at least two more after that, but I can't remember those right now and the point is, she has never kissed me quite like this, hot and full and pressing. She shifts a bit, leaning further into me and bringing her other hand up to my shoulder to hold herself steady. I have to pull back and breathe for a moment - I really am getting more human-like - and she leans in while my mouth is still open and everything changes at once.
This. This is new. This is even hotter and a whole lot wetter and her tongue is touching mine, and that shouldn't feel good at all but somehow it does, and hers tastes like the sauce she had with her gyoza at lunch. Somehow, I cannot get enough of that taste. I wrap my arms around her and pull her onto my lap, her legs resting on either side of my left, her weight warm and strangely comfortable against me.
I can feel her fingers toying with the beads in my hair. It makes me grin. The little magpie has found a new toy, it seems. I press a kiss to her neck, tugging at the fabric on her shoulder to give myself room. She gasps, hand going still, and then sighs sharply, leaning into my mouth. She likes this.
A few more kisses up her neck, and then I feel her hips move against my leg. There's a core of heat there that wasn't near so warm before, like a ball of fire beneath her skirt. I want very badly to set a spark to it. I kiss her lips again, my hands squeezing at her sides and chest, through her clothing, testing, almost asking. An open mouth against my neck and a hand slipped under my shirt is what I get in response. She wants this.
I shed my gloves behind her back and slip the pad of my thumb underneath her waistband. She stops moving for a moment and leans back to look at me. There is hesitation in her eyes, uncertainty. I hope she can see what's in mine, because I'll never say what it is. Evidently, she does, because her face softens and she moves her hands down to undo my trousers. I slide my own hand further down, slowly, over soft skin and softer curls until I feel a small, slick little thing that makes her hips jerk backward. Her hands move to my shoulders again to hold her up, breathing fast and shaky in my ear. She needs this.
I circle that little nub with my fingertips, pressing down and then easing up and then bearing down again. This is fascinating; such a small part of her can make her unwind completely, and so quickly. I give her neck a kiss again, adding just a little bite to this one. I love the noise she makes when I do that, high and wanting. I have to hold her waist with my other arm to get the angle right, but this way I can keep her mouth right next to my ear and listen to her gasp and nngh and yes, until all of a sudden her hands squeeze my shoulders so tightly I think one of her nails might have torn a thread or two of my suit. Her voice gets louder, and then locks up, silent like the rest of her. And she stays like that, tense and still as stone, for a lot longer than I thought she would. My fingers never stop moving; that seems to make it last longer, and I tell myself it's curiosity that makes me draw it out as long as I can, until she gasps and collapses on top of me.
Half a minute later, she sits back up and pulls my trousers open. Her left hand comes back up to my hair and she pulls me into another kiss, more relaxed than previous ones but no less pleasurable. Her right has other things planned, taking me into her palm and stroking slowly, then quickly, then slowly. I wonder if she's just nervous and can't decide which speed to go at or if she's thought about doing this before, but I only wonder for about a second or two before her thumb sweeps over the tip and I decide she has definitely thought about this before and then I can't think much at all. Her fingers feel damnably good, twisting around me and gaining speed. I feel her hair between my fingers and wonder when that happened, only somewhat noticing that the other hand is digging into the sofa cushion. I kiss her again. And again. And again. And she grips me tighter and kisses me back, and then I think I say her name. I might say it twice, but I can't be sure. And then I'm gone, absolutely senseless to anything but her for a long and glorious moment, before I fall back onto the sofa.
It takes me a minute to wake my brain up, but when I do, I notice she's still red-faced and looking at me, a request in her eyes. I try to hide my amazement and most likely fail; she isn't done yet.
She's about to move the hand that isn't sticky under her skirt before I beat her to it and let my fingers take their previous place on that little spot once more, finding everything much wetter but otherwise unchanged. I want to slide my other hand inside her, but that will just have to wait, because she's sitting all wrong and I'm much too tired, though I'll die before I tell her that. So I keep doing what I did the first time, circling and circling and watching her come undone again, holding onto my shoulder with her dry hand and letting her eyes squeeze shut. It doesn't take as long this time. Her forehead meets mine for a moment so I can feel the sounds coming from her lips.
"Neuro, Neuro," a whisper, and then a whimper, and then a shudder and a shudder and a shudder and what is this girl made of? I can't even think of doing that again any time soon.
When she collapses this time, she manages to kiss me once more before exhaustion takes her and she falls asleep. I stand up and lay her down on the sofa before looking for something to clean our hands off. Tissues will have to do for now; she can wash her hands when she wakes up.
If anyone were to watch what happens next and try to mention it later, I would break every bone in their body. Nonetheless, before I retire to the ceiling above her, I press a kiss to her forehead. Whether I whisper something, as well, let alone what I might be saying, is a mystery to which only I know the answer.