mission report for hurstville
Mission report for hurstville
Delivered by: g_esquared
Title: can’t take the kid from the fight
Groups/Pairings: Ohno/Sho; Arashi, mentions of Kanjani8, KAT-TUN, Yamapi, misc.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Corporate spy!AU. Ohno and Sho are partners, but Sho is tired of being the good cop.
Notes: To hurstville, I hope you don’t mind non-Spooks spy!AU, and I really hope you enjoy this! To my cheerleader, your hips are great at fibbing. To my lovely beta, you made all the difference with this fic.
“Ohno-kun,” Sho says, “I can’t find the Delete-All function. Hey, do you have a Delete-All function?”
The teenager scowls at Sho. “Give me my phone back,” he says.
“Give me a minute.”
Ohno rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Sho-kun.” He takes the phone from Sho’s hands, sliding it open neatly and removing the memory card. “Problem solved.”
“You should switch it off before doing that,” Sho says, reproachfully.
Ohno ignores him, tossing the phone back at the teenager. It bounces off his fumbling hands and falls to the floor. The teenager scowls again. “If my phone doesn’t work and I can’t tweet this, I’m calling the cops.”
“How would you do that?” Ohno says, sweetly. “Your phone wouldn’t work.”
The teenager splutters.
“We’d use a pay phone!” his friend interjects. “Duh!”
Ohno smirks. “Stay in school, kids. Sho-kun, let’s go.”
From a distance, they can see Kusanagi being ushered into an agency car, wearing a coat.
“He’s obviously still got no pants on,” Sho says.
“Matsujun’s not going to like this,” Ohno remarks.
“We’ve got pants on,” Sho says, slightly indignant. “Why don’t we ever get an agency car?”
“Can you do a backflip?” Ohno asks, pointedly. He flips his own phone open, hitting one on speed dial. “Matsujun? We’re done.”
Sho morosely watches the car with the tinted windows pull off.
“Thanks,” Ohno says, snapping his phone shut. “We can leave. He wants us in at nine tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Sho says, already starting off in the direction of the station.
“Wanna go for a drink?”
Sho frowns. “I don’t want to be hung over when we go see Matsujun.”
“Fine,” Ohno sighs. “You know, Ryo’s head of ops, and he’s hung over half the time.”
Sho shrugs. “See you tomorrow, Ohno-kun.”
The next morning, Ohno takes the lifts up to the fiftieth floor.
“You’re late,” Sho tells him, the moment he steps out.
Ohno shrugs. “I had business to attend to.”
“You overslept, didn't you?” Sho says, looking at him critically.
“Maybe,” Ohno says. “Bet you were early.”
Sho sighs. “Let’s go.”
The president’s office has floor-length windows that frost up whenever he presses a button. The president himself sits in a high-backed chair behind a vast mahogany table with lots of Post-Its.
“Sit,” Jun says.
This is the only the third time they’ve gotten to sit in the president’s office. Upon reflection, this possibly started the time he and Ohno scored that huge cover up for one of Jun’s junior groups, reducing a fake ID scoop to that of underage smoking.
Jun’s chairs, Sho notes, are ergonomic.
“Not bad,” Jun says. He pushes a morning tabloid over to them. “The press couldn’t get their hands on any clear photos.”
“Good job they couldn't,” Ohno says, “he really isn’t anything to shout about.”
“You looked?” Sho says, scandalized.
Ohno gives him a disbelieving look. “You didn’t?”
“And yet he picked Hanami to streak in Ueno Park.” Jun exhales heavily. “Anyway, that’s besides the point. It’ll blow over soon enough. I need you for something different now.”
“A new assignment?” Sho says, sitting up straighter. This is something, considering he’d already been sitting pretty straight in Jun’s ergonomic chair.
“Yeah,” Jun says, pinching the bridge of his nose and glancing vaguely across a cacophony of pink, yellow, and green Post-Its. “It’s about Yamapi.”
“I thought you liked some of them to have bad press,” Ohno says.
“True,” Jun says.
Sho shifts in his seat in obvious discomfort, and Jun throws him a look of obvious amusement. “Oh, Sho. You’re not in the business that plays by the rules, you know.”
“But Yamapi’s always in the tabloids,” Sho protests.
“He tried to find the Delete-All function yesterday,” Ohno volunteers.
“Sellout, ” Sho says, giving Ohno what he hopes is a venomous look. Ohno looks unperturbed.
“Okay, Sho, we get it,” Jun says. “You’re the good cop. But Yamapi’s not doing well enough on the charts. Find out where the press is getting their dirt on him, and restrict it, okay?”
“Roger that,” Ohno nods.
“The album release is in July,” Jun says. “Just report back before then.”
“Got it,” Ohno says. “See you around, Matsujun.” He tugs Sho up. “Don’t salute,” he tells him, as they leave.
“I wasn’t going to,” Sho says, indignant.
“Right,” Ohno says, clearly not taking his word for it.
“Let’s take the day off,” Ohno says, when the lift reaches the lobby. “We’ve worked hard.”
“We put in barely five hours yesterday,” Sho says, exasperated.
“Matsujun gave us till July,” Ohno says.
“Never put off today, what you can do -”
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, levelly. “Let’s go for lunch. And while we eat, we’ll formulate a game plan, okay? To save Yamapi’s image.”
“Are you just trying to distract me,” Sho grumbles, suspicious.
“It will have pie charts,” Ohno says.
“Fine.”
“It’s not even five,” Sho says, but accepts the can of Asahi that Ohno passes to him over their ramen.
“Who cares?” Ohno says, taking a swig. “Even Matsujun doesn’t. And he pays us.”
An hour later, Sho is giggling and halfheartedly shuffling notes around on people to interrogate for their next operation. Ohno is spinning his pen, which Sho stopped objecting to forty-five minutes ago, despite that ‘they’re really expensive and stop working if you drop them on their nib, Ohno-kun!’
“Tell you something,” he says, leaning in close to Ohno.
“What’s that?” Ohno says, agreeably.
“I’m sick of being the good cop,” Sho says, dramatically nodding. “Yes.”
“Oh,” Ohno says. He opens another can of beer thoughtfully.
“Not that I don't like being your partner,” Sho clarifies. “But Matsujun thinks I can’t break rules.”
“Does that bother you?” Ohno says, frowning.
“Just because I put statistical graphs in my reports and password-encrypt them doesn't mean I don't know how to be badass,” Sho goes on.
“No,” Ohno agrees. “It doesn’t.”
“I can’t help it if I majored in economics,” Sho grumbles, “and have a healthy appreciation for graphical depictions of phenomena.”
“Look,” Ohno says, “we’re partners. If you want to be badass, I’ll be the good cop for once.”
Sho pauses in his tirade. “You’d do that?” he says, visibly moved.
“Why not?” Ohno shrugs. “I like being your partner, too.”
Sho begins by wearing a lot more black.
Ohno doesn't really have the heart to say anything disparaging, especially when Sho’s leather jacket is so flattering.
“It’s too hot to wear a leather jacket,” Sho says, two hours into their stakeout. Well, actually, they’re just sitting in Mister Donut waiting for Yamapi to show up, but Sho maintains that there are certain spy terms that they ought to use when clocking in their hours.
“Mm,” Ohno says, munching on his fifth donut, vaguely disappointed about Sho forsaking the leather jacket, until it becomes apparent what the tight black shirt underneath does for his biceps.
“Remember to follow procedure when Yamapi comes,” Sho reminds him. “You’re the good cop now.”
“There’s no procedure,” Ohno says. “And saying that really defeats the purpose of this role reversal.”
“Sorry,” Sho says, crossing his arms and lapsing into a silence. After a few minutes, he says, “Well, at least buy him a coffee.”
Ohno rolls his eyes. “I know what to do, Sho-kun, I’ve watched you do it for long enough.”
Yamapi comes strolling in at a quarter to four, looking his idea of inconspicuous in rather large sunglasses.
“’Sup,” he says, sitting down by Sho.
Sho looks at Ohno, jerking his head towards the counter. Ohno nods placatingly.
“Do you like glazed?” Ohno asks, mildly.
“That’s cool,” Yamapi says.
“Remember -”
“The receipt,” Ohno says. “Yes, Sho-kun, I got it.”
“So,” Sho says, assuming what is clearly meant to be his tough guy tone. “What will it be? Gay? Shotgun marriage? Once a woman?”
“You’re so unoriginal,” Yamapi says, adding a frightening amount of sugar to his coffee.
“Don’t tell me what I am,” Sho says. “Tell me what you are.”
“Maybe,” Ohno suggests, “we could just catalogue the places you’ve been.”
“Seriously?” Yamapi says. “That’s kind of impossible. Also, you’d have to ask my manager.”
“We will be acquainting Subaru with our wishes,” Sho tells him.
“Work with us,” Ohno importunes. “Doesn’t do you any good if your album flops.”
Yamapi sighs. “Duh, I know that.”
“Also, your drama has been averaging under ten percent viewership,” Ohno volunteers.
“Time to talk,” Sho says. “Spill it, Yamashita.”
Yamapi narrows his eyes at Sho. “Something’s different about you.”
“No, there isn’t,” Sho says. “Now, are we going to have to sit here all day?”
“Okay, look. I took this chick to a hotel the other night, right?”
“Go on.”
“So it was all dim and stuff, right? But the thing is, she wasn’t a chick.”
“Bummer,” says Ohno, succinctly.
“Details,” Sho says.
“Um,” Yamapi looks at Sho quizzically. “Well, she was real stacked - that really threw me off, actually -”
“Not that,” Sho says, half-exasperated and half-horrified. “It’s really not that funny, Ohno-kun.”
“Sorry,” Ohno says, ducking his head and pretending to be absorbed in taking notes.
“We went to this place in Shinjuku,” Yamapi says. “I think it’s new. The receptionist was kinda creepy. Hey, there’s a lead for you. Maybe he’s the one blabbing to the tabloids.”
“That’s for us to decide,” Sho says, briskly, getting up. “Enjoy your donut. We’ll contact you if we need anything else.”
“That’s cool, man,” Yamapi says, waving.
They take a train to Shinjuku. Sho lets Ohno buy the tickets, for once, and they end up taking the long way around the Yamanote Line.
Ohno uses the time constructively to mail Subaru.
“He says that he dropped Yamapi off pretty close to Ni-chome the other day,” Ohno reports. “And that he should have known better. Also that he found this new salon that does a great blow dry.”
“Is that a euphemism for something else?” Sho sighs. “Never mind, I don't want to know. Do try to stay on topic, Ohno-kun.”
“Everything is a clue,” Ohno tells him. “Oh, look. A picture of his bento.”
Sho takes out his own phone and enters ‘seedy hotels near Ni-chome’ into the search bar. The search returns nine million results.
“Oh, Sho-kun, you won’t get anywhere with that,” Ohno says.
“Ask Subaru, then,” Sho says.
“He doesn’t know either.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“We,” Ohno says, perfectly calmly, “are going to fraternize.”
Precisely at that moment, they arrive at their stop.
“It’s a good thing you wore that leather jacket,” Ohno tells Sho, as they alight.
“Sho-kun. You need to look the part,” Ohno tells him, gently. “You’re raising suspicion.”
“They never said anything about this in Spying 101.”
“You went for that class?” Ohno says, surprised. “It was optional. I don’t even know why Matsujun holds it.”
“Ryo was there,” Sho says. “It sounded important.”
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, “you need to unlearn everything. Now. Forget Spying 101 and all your password-encrypted mission reports with appendixes. Forget them.”
For a moment, there seems to be no apparent effect, until Sho seizes Ohno firmly around the waist.
“I’m unlearning,” Sho says.
“Really quickly,” Ohno says, face flushing from something other than the warmth of the place.
The first two clubs turn up nothing, and they split up in the third bar, which quickly yields results in the form of one Akanishi Jin.
“Yamapi?” Jin says, breathing cigarette smoke into Sho’s face. “Yeah. Saw him the other day.”
“Watch it, Akanishi,” Sho says, taking Jin’s cigarette and stepping on it. “Where were you?”
“Around,” Jin gestures, vaguely.
“Did you see who he left with?”
Jin takes one look at Sho, and snorts. “Everyone did.”
“Who was it?”
“Kame,” Jin says. “Wait. You didn’t know? You’re talking big and shit but you don’t know?”
“Now I do,” Sho says, smugly. “Thanks.”
“Whatever,” Jin says.
“Kame,” says Sho, strolling into the manager’s office. Ohno is chatting pleasantly with the manager across the table.
“Oh,” Ohno says. “Do you happen to know him, Nakamaru-san?”
“Everyone does,” Nakamaru says. “Wasabi peanut?”
“Thanks,” Ohno says. “Sho-kun?”
“I’d rather not,” Sho says. “Why don’t you tell us about this Kame, hm?”
“Sure,” Nakamaru says. “Though he’s a regular, so you could talk to him just as well on your own.”
They find Kame outside, lurking by Jin.
“Someone was asking about you earlier,” Jin tells him, thoughtfully. “Didn’t look like a cop, though.”
“Maybe he was, you know,” Kame suggests.
“Sorry, Kazuya,” Jin says, “but he didn't look like he was into that, either.”
“Nothing personal, of course,” Sho says, clapping a hand onto Kamenashi’s bare shoulder. “We’d like a word.”
Sho calls Yamapi as soon as they emerge from the club. “You banged him?” he says, incredulously. “You found out he was a dude and you banged him anyway?”
“It happens,” Ohno puts in.
Sho rolls his eyes. “I know. But. These circumstances are different.”
“Hello?” Yamapi says. “I thought you were supposed to be corporate spies for the boss man, not the moral police.”
Sho makes an apoplectic noise into the phone. “Next, you’re going to say you filmed it, too.”
“Kinky,” says Ohno.
“Hey man,” Yamapi says, not sounding half as sheepish as he ought to. “I can’t help it if the dude’s pretty.”
“Oh, hell,” Sho breathes. “Where’s the tape, Yamashita. Now.”
“I, um,” Yamapi says, “I might have, in the depths of my hangover, forgotten to take it with me.”
“You better pray that Kame kept his boobs on during the act,” Sho tells Yamapi, before hanging up on him.
“Bad news?” Ohno asks.
“Spectacular,” Sho says, grimly.
The exterior of the hotel is shabby but brightly lit. Sho marches in purposefully, walking straight up to the front desk.
“Good evening,” says the man behind the counter. “Can I help you?”
“Yokoyama-san,” Sho reads off his nametag.
“Yes,” Yoko says, obligingly. He glances from Sho to Ohno. “A room, I presume?”
“Um,” Ohno says.
“Not just a room,” Sho says. “Your best room.”
“Certainly,” Yoko says.
“What the hell?” Ohno mouths.
“Unlearning,” Sho tells him. He takes the keycard from Yoko. “Remember the receipt, Oh-chan.”
Ohno swears. Yoko just grins.
“What,” Ohno says, once the door shuts behind them, “were you thinking.”
Sho brandishes a piece of paper at him. “The staff chart.”
“When did you get that?” Ohno asks, bewildered. “Yokoyama Yuu. Head receptionist.”
“While Yokoyama was making assumptions about my intentions,” Sho says, smug. “I daresay you were, too.”
“Shut up,” Ohno says, too quickly. “Yamapi was right. Yokoyama’s a skeevy one.”
“I’ll do him,” Sho says. “You cover housekeeping. Shouldn't take long.” He wrinkles his nose. “There’s only one guy.”
“Maruyama Ryuhei. Head Housekeeping and Janitorial Services,” Ohno reads, walking down the corridor. He waits in front of the lift, tapping his foot impatiently. A creak to his right catches his attention, and he spins around quick enough to see a mop bucket vanishing around a bend.
“Curious,” he says to himself. “Well.”
The lift arrives, and he gets in.
Yoko is still there in the morning, doing radio calisthenics behind the front desk.
“Good morning, Sakurai-san.”
Sho feels suspicion prickling in his spine. Or maybe they’re the dust mites from the highly dubious bedspread in the room.
“Morning,” Sho says. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, the same,” Yoko says, performing a series of ten jumping jacks with seemingly no effort at all. “Checking in, checking out, couples, hookers…”
“Celebrities?” Sho puts in, casually.
“If I’m lucky,” Yoko says, not missing a beat.
“I work for the tabloids,” Sho tells him. “You want to talk to me about these things.”
Yoko holds his front lunge. “You,” he says, “are a tabloid reporter?”
“A well-paying one,” Sho says.
“You’re lying,” Yoko says, coolly.
“Oh?” In a flash, Sho has Yoko is an arm lock against the counter. “How would you know?”
“Where’s your press ID?” Yoko says, unruffled. “Where’s your camera?”
“Would I parade them like an idiot?”
“I don’t know,” Yoko says, “would you?” He regards Sho calmly, their faces inches apart. “Careful,” he says, breaking into a grin. “You’ll catch more flies with honey, Sakurai-san.”
Sho releases him, hoping Yoko will crack his head against the counter. Unfortunately, he doesn't. He regains his balance almost immediately, dusting himself off delicately.
“Lucky I do the routine every morning, hm?” Yoko says, conversationally continuing with his squats. “I know you’re not a tabloid reporter because if you are, you’re out of bounds.” He pauses, turning up the volume on his radio. “And no one infringes on Ninomiya’s territory.”
“Who?” Sho says.
“Jesus,” Yoko says. “Is it your first day? It’s kinda cute, but don’t try pulling it off on someone else.”
Ohno is washing his hands in the first floor toilets when he hears that familiar creak again. His eyes snap up to see that mop bucket zooming out of sight once again - and yes, there it is. The faint, lingering scent of Magiclean.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Ohno muses, while drying his hands underneath the hand dryer.
“Ninomiya’s head of Storm Weekly,” Yoko explains, after Sho returns with a nice cup of Starbucks for him. “This is because he causes a stir, if not a storm, in some industry, at least once every week.”
“Right,” Sho says, feeling like he ought to be taking this down, but resisting the urge.
“He reports trash, obviously,” Yoko continues. “But it’s always well-researched. Clear photos. Politicians, idols, businessmen. He’s got insane reach.”
“Hotel receptionists,” Sho adds, resentfully.
Yoko shrugs, taking a sip of his Grande Caffe Latte. “It’s a boring job, man,” he says. “Gotta do something with my time.”
“At least tell me something,” Sho entreats him. “You know Yamashita?”
“Oh, yes,” Yoko says, seeming pleased at the mention. “He came canoodling in with Kame a few weeks ago.”
“You know Kame?”
Yoko pats Sho’s shoulder sympathetically. “You’re obviously not a Ni-chome sort of guy. Everyone does.”
“Right,” Sho says, again. “So, which room did he go to?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Who cleaned his room, then?”
“Sakurai-san,” Yoko laughs, “you want to be less leading with your questions.”
“What?”
“Well,” Yoko says, “you’re obviously looking for something he left in his room.”
Sho snaps his mouth shut, furious at himself.
“Condom? Cigarette?” Yoko guesses. “Sex tape?”
“You,” Sho says, in tones of dawning horror. “You took it.”
“It wasn’t me,” Yoko says, matter-of-factly. “And if you weren’t sort of endearing, I would have let you continue thinking it was.”
After coming out of the first floor toilets, Ohno ducks into a side door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ following the scent of Magiclean. He passes by the staff lockers and a storeroom, finally reaching the door marked ‘JANITOR’.
“Aha,” Ohno says, pushing the door open.
“Hello,” says Maru. He has a towel on his head, as a sort of headband.
“Hello,” Ohno returns. “Mind if I look around?”
“Not at all,” Maru gestures. “Go ahead.”
“I’ve got to go talk to other people,” Sho says, reluctantly removing himself from his seat next to Yoko behind the front desk.
“I still can’t believe MJ hired you as their corporate spy,” Yoko says, sniggering.
“It’s because I can’t do a backflip,” Sho says.
Yoko scratches his nose. “I guess you could look at it that way.”
Sho returns to the staff chart in the room. He crosses out the three exclamation marks he’d put next to Yoko’s name the night before, and flops onto the bed in despair.
“Looking for something in particular?” Maru asks, as Ohno quietly inspects the shelves of sponges and cleaning agents.
“Just looking,” Ohno says, catching sight of an old copy of Storm Weekly lodged behind a bucket. “You friends with Ninomiya?”
“We all are,” Maru shrugs. “We live in Ni-chome.”
“Don’t you just work here?”
“Oh, no,” Maru says. “It’s too boring to leave and ever come back. I just stay here. All the staff do. There aren’t many of us left, though.”
“This explains so much,” Ohno says. “Just as a point of curiosity - do you ever wash the sheets?”
“Sometimes,” Maru shrugs. “If the budget allows it. You’ll find that all those Magiclean bottles are empty. They’ve been here since 1996.”
“And Yamapi thought this place was new,” Ohno says, gritting his teeth. “I told Sho-kun not to lie on those sheets.”
“Oh, it is new,” Maru says brightly. “Yoko took over it as it was. He didn’t want to spend too much money, though.”
“That’s no way to run a hotel,” Ohno says.
“Perhaps, yes,” Maru says, “but you’re here, aren’t you?”
Ohno lets himself back into the room, holding two copies of the evening Yomiuri and a six-pack of beer. “Yamapi really knows how to pick hotels,” he says. “Lie on these, Sho-kun.”
Sho cracks an eye open. “The Yomiuri?” he says. “Is it a clue?”
“No,” Ohno says. “But they haven’t bought detergent since 1996.”
“Fuck,” Sho says, scrambling up. “We should be allowed to claim insurance for this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a corporate spy.” Ohno sits on his own newspaper, opening his beer. “The premiums would be astronomical.”
“Pass me a beer,” Sho says, gingerly spreading out the political news section. “Did you keep the receipt? You know what, I don’t care.”
“Speaking of receipts,” Ohno says. “We’ll visit the company accountant tomorrow.”
“Then we can get the hell out?” Sho says, taking a sip from his can.
“Yes,” Ohno says.
“Fantastic,” Sho says. “Yoko makes my attempts at badassery look laughable.”
They get up at the next morning, making their way down to the lobby.
“This way,” Ohno says, a hand on Sho’s wrist, as he ducks into the same door he’d gone through to find Maruyama. He takes a right turn this time. “Okura Tadayoshi. Head Finance and Accounting.”
“I don’t know why they bother with the ‘head’ thing,” Sho remarks. “They’re the only ones in their department.”
Ohno shrugs. “Probably the same reason why you call a meeting with Yamapi in Mister Donut a stakeout.”
Okura’s door is slightly nicer than Maru’s - the main difference being the fancier font he has for his nameplate.
“Today,” Ohno says, as he knocks, “you get to use your economics.”
“What?” Sho says, but Ohno is already going in.
Okura is not quite what Sho expected. His office is actually decent. He’s got a functioning computer, a working air-conditioner, and a calculator.
Sho also notes that the computer is being used to play Tetris.
“I’ve been expecting you,” Okura says, pausing his game. “You’re just in time for coffee.”
“We’ll do without,” Ohno says. “We just want to see your records for the last financial year.”
“So unfriendly,” Okura frowns. “Even Tetris is better.”
“I’ve got an arm lock and I’m not afraid to use it,” Sho says.
“Oh, fine,” Okura says. “I can’t play Tetris in an arm lock. The records are there. You have to forget that I showed you, though.”
“As I thought,” Ohno says. “A hotel like this could never survive. They’re being bankrolled by Storm Weekly.”
“What?”
“They’ve got an astonishing number of security cameras for a hotel that can’t afford to buy detergent,” Ohno says.
“Hey,” Okura says. “We can afford it. We just choose not to buy it.”
“Of course,” Ohno says. “Especially with what Ninomiya pays you.”
Okura shrugs. “Nino’s a reasonable guy,” he says.
“So the tape’s with him?” Sho says.
“It wasn't me,” Okura says.
“I’m starting to see a pattern,” Sho tells Ohno.
“Of course you are,” Okura laughs. “Go look for Ninomiya. Unless I can interest you in solitaire?”
“No thanks,” Ohno says, “we'll pass.”
“Thought so,” Okura sighs, unpausing Tetris.
“No,” Nino says flatly.
“Oh,” Ohno says, looking disappointed.
“Damn it, Nino!” Sho cries, slamming his fists onto Ninomiya’s desk. Ninomiya tactfully moves his memo pad with fancy engraved pen further away from Sho. “Give us the damn tape.”
“Your idol is indiscrete,” Nino sniffs. “It’s not my problem.”
“Yamapi doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Ohno says. “Ever.”
“Well,” Nino says, “why should I have to suffer for that?”
“You won’t be suffering,” Ohno coaxes. “We’ll reward you. Handsomely.”
Nino narrows his eyes at them. “Will you,” he says. “Unfortunately, this is my biggest chance to one-up Nakai from the Shuukan Josei. He’s been lording it over me since he got that scoop about some kid being a sexual powerhouse.” Nino’s lip curls. “Wasn’t even interesting.”
Sho is on the other side of the desk in an instant, holding Nino in the super deluxe headlock that Yoko had magnanimously taught him two days earlier. “Talk,” he growls.
Before he knows it, Nino’s wriggled out of his grasp. “Weak,” he sneers. “Yoko taught you that, didn’t he?”
Sho gapes.
“Well, I taught him. So.” Nino sits down. “I’m not giving you the tape. If there’s nothing else, please leave before I get Hina to remove you.”
Sho and Ohno shuffle out, discouraged, exchanging their visitor passes at the receptionist’s counter.
“What sort of spy gets a visitor pass,” Sho complains.
“Don’t take it personally,” the receptionist volunteers. His nametag reads ‘Yasuda Shota’. “Everyone who goes in has to get one.”
“Yeah, but we’re spies,” Sho grouses, “and it’s none of your business.”
Yasu shrugs.
“Hey,” Ohno leans over, “Yasuda-san, was it?”
“Yes,” Yasu says, sounding pleased at someone finally making use of his nametag.
“What’s your boss like?”
Yasu frowns. “You mean Hina? He’s very particular about access control. And not misusing caution tape.” Yasu sighs. “It was one time.”
“No, not him,” Ohno corrects. “The boss. Ninomiya.”
“Oh, you mean Nino,” Yasu says. “He’s great. Pay’s shit at first and then he decides you’re useful and you practically become part of the clan.”
“You’re a clan?” Sho says, suspiciously.
“Figurative,” Yasu tells him. “Nino really takes care of his own. He pissed off a real clan member once, though. He scored some limited edition release of Mario and he wouldn’t lend it to Kimura. Apparently Kimura’s kids like Mario. So no one was very happy.” Yasu twiddles with his own staff pass contemplatively. “Well, except Nino, because he had his game.”
“He likes games?”
“You’re kidding,” Yasu says. “You have to play Rainbow Road against him as part of your recruitment interview.”
“Well,” Ohno says, “we’ve never tried being recruited here.”
“True,” Yasu concedes. “Anyway, Kimura and his people are the only ones we really have to watch out for. Other than that, I issue visitor passes to people like you. We don’t have to bother much, because although Ninomiya looks tiny, he practically invented headlocks.”
“Do you have a fire exit?” Ohno asks.
“There,” Yasu says, pointing.
“Thanks,” Ohno tells Yasu. “I’ll drop by the next time I’m in the area.”
“What use was that?” Sho says, as they exit the building.
“Everything is a clue,” Ohno says. “Wanna go for a drink?”
“Why the hell not,” Sho says. “Let’s go.”
They go to a bar in Ohno’s neighbourhood. Ohno chats with the bartender and gets them shots.
Sho is swaying by his sixth shot. “I’ve been wearing the same jacket for four days,” he says.
“I know,” Ohno says. “Don’t worry. You’ll get to go home tonight.”
“Maybe I’m no good for being the bad cop,” Sho says moodily into his shot glass.
“Of course not,” Ohno says, soothingly. “You did a good job with Yoko. And personally, I’ve enjoyed talking like a normal person.”
“It’s no good,” Sho says, slumping onto Ohno. “Unlearning is difficult.”
“And yet you do it so well,” Ohno says, staring at Sho’s shirt riding up.
“We’re not going to save Yamapi’s sorry ass,” Sho mumbles, into Ohno’s shoulder. “We’re not. Ninomiya’s going to put it on the front page - The Indiscretions of Yamashita Tomohisa, I can see it already - and Matsujun will fire us.” Ohno gently nudges Sho’s hand away from the glasses. “D’you think 7-Eleven would hire us?”
“I think,” Ohno says, “I should get you home.”
“That's a really bad idea,” Sho says, as Ohno heaves him up and supports him out.
“Isn’t your place nearer?” Sho asks, leaning onto Ohno as they wait for a cab.
“Yes,” Ohno says. “And under different circumstances, I’d take you there. But,” Ohno sighs, his hand around Sho’s waist, “you’re so drunk you can’t see straight.”
“What’s that got to do with it,” Sho says, as Ohno piles him into a cab and gets in.
“Everything,” Ohno says.
“…is a clue,” Sho mumbles, dropping off to sleep with Ohno’s hand clutched in his.
Ohno shows up at Sho’s place at noon the next day.
Sho is bleary-eyed and messy-haired when he opens the door. “Ohno-kun,” he says, shuffling sheepishly aside.
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“The Storm Weekly offices,” Ohno says. “Five minutes. We’ve got no time to lose.”
Sho chooses a parka this time. Ohno waits for him downstairs, and starts walking as soon as Sho joins him.
“What are we going there for?” Sho asks.
“Maru called,” Ohno says. “Something will happen today.”
“Maru?” Sho frowns. “The janitor?”
“Yup,” Ohno replies. “We’re going on a stakeout, Sho-kun, and hell if we don’t stake something out this time.”
Coincidentally or not, there happens to be a Mister Donut situated conveniently opposite Nino’s offices. Sho chooses what he deems the spot with the best tactical advantage, while Ohno orders a variety of donuts.
“Might as well keep occupied,” Ohno says, and Sho agrees, reaching over to take one.
For a while, nothing happens. Then Ohno gets up to buy a chocolate shake.
Then for a while more, nothing happens either.
“Curious,” Ohno breathes, licking the sugar off his fingers as a yell comes from across the street.
“It’s Ninomiya!” Sho bellows, springing to his feet. He ignores the startled looks of the other patrons, barging out the door with Ohno hot on his heels.
Nino is being hauled onto the street by a man with wavy hair and classy taste in clothes.
“Did you set off the fire alarm?” Kimura is barking at one of his minions. “Hurry up or we can’t set the fire. I promised Joshima at police headquarters that I’d commit all acts of arson lawfully - for heaven’s sake, Ninomiya, stop squawking.”
“Don’t burn down my office,” Nino is saying, clutching what is probably his editorial hard disk in his hands. “You scoundrels, why don’t you go pick on Nakai instead?”
“Nakai offered us biscuits,” Kimura tells him. “You never did.”
“Gerroff,” Nino howls. Behind him, his staff are filing out onto the street, looking bored.
“They won’t actually light the match,” Yasu says, sidling up to Sho. He is promptly contradicted by the lighter that Shingo hurls onto the doorstep while yelling “All clear!”
“You are wrong,” Sho says, horrified by the way the flames are licking at the receptionist’s desk he’d stood in front of not twenty-four hours ago.
“Now’s our chance,” Ohno says, seizing Sho by the wrist and dragging him in precisely that direction.
“To what?” Sho shrieks. “Perish?”
“To earn a debt of gratitude,” Ohno tells him, and Sho has no choice but to follow.
“Keep the parka on,” Ohno tells Sho, as they rush into the lobby. Sho pauses in unzipping his parka.
They take the emergency exit, setting off more alarms by going through the wrong way, in instead of out.
“What the hell are we doing, Ohno-kun,” Sho says, puffing as he tries to keep up with Ohno, who seems to know exactly where he’s going.
“Nino’s office,” Ohno says, logically. He pauses on the fifth floor. “Kimura wouldn’t have used any kerosene for more than the first floor. The hard part will be later.”
“That’s comforting,” Sho says, as Ohno busts the stairwell door open and heads straight for Nino’s office. “God, he’s messy, isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t have brought you,” Ohno says, “but you need to be here. But you’ll be okay, Sho-kun.”
Sho catches the unease that passes over Ohno’s expression, and feels an inexplicable urge to allay it, despite how ludicrous the entire situation is.
“That’s okay, Ohno-kun,” Sho says, suddenly aware of how Ohno hasn’t let go of his wrist. “I’d have followed you anyway. I’m the bad cop, remember?”
Ohno smiles. “You are,” he says.
Ohno grabs a rather large box from under Nino’s desk, and then they’re back out the emergency exit, racing through flames that are currently roasting Nino’s swanky furniture in the lobby.
Sho coughs for five whole minutes once they reach the street. Ohno doesn't take his eyes off him, patting him on the back, gesturing for Yasu to buy a drink from 7-Eleven.
Once Sho’s done coughing and has drunk half of the Pocari Sweat that Yasu gets him, he registers Nino standing in front of them.
“Well played,” Nino says, grudgingly. “You got my games.”
“We did,” Ohno corrects.
“Yes,” Nino sighs.
Sho thinks this might not be a good time to mention how the fire wouldn’t even have spread to Nino’s office. Instead, he takes a moment to marvel at Ohno’s planning genius. And offer him his Pocari Sweat.
Ohno accepts.
“I guess I owe you guys,” Nino says, in tones of great reluctance. “My limited editions are here.”
“Told you not to bring them to the office,” Hina says, from the side.
“Work’s stressful,” Nino says dismissively. “Oh, well. Put these two on the no-touch list.”
Hina sighs. “Easiest debt of gratitude you ever earned,” he tells Ohno.
“How about dinner,” Ohno suggests. This perks Nino up.
They go to a do-it-yourself teppanyaki place. Hina brings Nino a laptop, and Nino opens it, precariously close to the hotplate.
“The tape will be deleted,” Nino says. “To tell you the truth, though, your Yamashita’s face didn’t come up even once. He left the camera facing the wall.”
“No shit,” Sho says.
“The audio was incriminating enough, though,” Nino sighs. “I’ve had Aiba in Ni-chome for the past few weeks, waiting for a good shot for the front page.”
“Yamapi’s schedule has been busy,” Ohno says, eating his sprouts and beef. “And Subaru won’t let him go anywhere.”
“Explains a lot,” Nino says. “I could just imagine the look on Nakai’s face - well, never mind. Anyway, no sex tape. What else?”
“You can have a grainy photo of them in front of the hotel,” Ohno says, pointing. “Not the one with Yamapi’s hand on Kame’s ass, though.”
Nino drags the file into the trash, looking as though the action causes him actual pain. “This one, then?”
“Yeah,” Ohno says, nodding. “His sunglasses actually come into some use.”
“Okay,” Nino concedes. “Can we report his penchant for ‘deviant acts’?” Nino says, imploringly. “Vague enough to be interesting yet inconclusive.”
Ohno snorts. “I hardly count filming the wall as deviant.”
“You didn’t watch it,” Nino tells him. “You don’t want to.”
“Fine,” Ohno says. “Deviant acts. You have to use the A-san approach, then.”
“Satisfactory,” Nino says, and reaches over to shake Ohno’s hand.
“Wait,” Sho says. “Why are you even reporting anything?”
Nino gives him a sharp look. “Are you bluffing, or serious?”
Ohno pats Sho on the arm. “We’ll discuss this later, Sho-kun.” He eats another piece of beef, then gets off the chair. “Matsujun will be glad to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m sure,” Nino says, rolling his eyes.
“We’ll be in touch,” Ohno grins, as they leave.
“Our job is not to make the tabloids go bust,” Ohno tells Sho, as they walk to the station. Sho notes that his parka still smells a bit charred, but that could be from Nino’s office or the teppanyaki place.
“Why not?” Sho says, indignantly.
“No one believes idols are clean,” Ohno tells Sho. “Especially idols like Yamapi. Did you see his latest photoshoot?”
“No,” Sho says.
“Well,” Ohno says, “good. The point is, we keep things in the balance. We won’t let anything career-destroying go, but other things are fair game.”
“Did we get the same job description?” Sho huffs.
“There’s a golden rule in every trade,” Ohno tells him. “Theirs is never to forget debts of gratitude.”
“What’s ours, then?” Sho says, skeptically.
“Partners,” Ohno says.
“Just that?”
“Just that.”
Jun is examining a rack of sequined outfits when they knock on the door of his office.
“It’s settled,” Ohno says, as they traipse in. Jun wrinkles his nose distastefully at one particular green and purple combination. “And those look kinda shitty. But in a fabulous way.”
Jun looks mildly surprised. “That’s what we were going for. Guess they’re fine, then.”
He leaves the outfits aside and sits behind his desk.
“Sit,” he says. “You don’t need me to tell you that anymore.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted.
“Ninomiya owes us a debt of gratitude now,” Ohno reports. “Yamapi’s album release is safe.”
“That’s some comfort,” Sho says, “because Subaru just called me to say that Yamapi wants to go out with ‘boy Kame’. His words, not mine.”
“Well,” Ohno says, “I hear Kame just does it recreationally. It should be okay.”
Jun raises his eyebrows. “Should I take your word for it?”
“Most people in Ni-chome are on Kame’s side,” Sho contributes.
“Fair enough,” Jun says. “Anyway, Ryo’s been bugging me for a party for months. So you guys are getting one.”
“A party?” Sho echoes.
“Actually, Ryo calls it a ‘super secret spy function’,” Jun says. “I’m not sure how it’s super secret, considering he’s just asked permission to print two hundred invitation cards.”
“Ryo has funny ideas about the definition of ‘covert’,” Ohno says.
“Still, he’s effective,” Jun sighs. “You all have to come. It’s black tie. I have to put in an appearance, too.”
“Maybe you should invite Ninomiya,” Ohno suggests. “Seal the alliance.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jun says. “Although I suspect Ryo’s going to use it to petition for you guys to get guns so that you look more ‘spy-like’.” Jun exhales heavily. “It’s not in our best interests to send Ninomiya the wrong signals.”
“Don’t try to put him in a headlock,” advises Sho helpfully, as they leave.
“Guess I’ll see you,” Ohno says, “at the super secret spy function.”
“Guess so,” Sho says. “Hey, Ohno-kun?”
“Yeah?”
“My place is nearer,” Sho says, nervously.
“What’s that got to do with the super secret -” Ohno begins. “Oh. You remember?”
“If you want me to,” Sho says.
“It’s not objectionable,” Ohno says, the corners of his mouth quirking up.
Sho’s place is tiny but comfortable. They take turns to shower, then get into bed.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Ohno murmurs, sleepily. “Kimura could take us out and have enough kerosene left for Nino’s building.”
“Forget work,” Sho says, as Ohno’s breathing evens out. “We’re not at work.”
“Oh,” Ohno says. “Then is this okay?” His hand is in Sho’s.
“Perfect,” Sho breathes.
Ohno’s invitation gets delivered to Sho’s house.
It is embossed in flashy gold letters, and involves a lot of bad puns that Sho supposes serve as Ryo’s version of spy code. He tells Ohno to bring a suit over the night before.
“A suit,” Ohno repeats.
“With a tie,” Sho says.
“Ryo has too much time on his hands,” Ohno grumbles.
“Granted, we look more like spies than ever,” Ohno remarks, in front of the mirror.
“Or idols who can’t do backflips,” Sho says.
“You’re still bitter about that?” Ohno says.
“Not really,” Sho says. “I just say it. Why haven’t you got your tie on?”
“I can’t,” Ohno says. “Tie it, I mean.”
“What?”
“I usually get my next door neighbour to help me,” Ohno shrugs. “But you’ve got different next door neighbours.”
Sho stares for a moment, then laughs. “Ohno-kun,” he says. “Come here, then. I’ll help you.”
“Okay,” Ohno says.
Sho’s fingers keep slipping so he has to keep moving closer, and then he accidentally knocks Ohno on the chin.
“Sorry,” Sho says, embarrassed.
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, “you do know how to?”
“Yes,” Sho replies, quickly.
He manages on the third try, this time without bopping Ohno’s chin. By then, Ohno’s noticed that Sho’s wearing the cologne he wears whenever he thinks something important is going to happen.
Maybe Sho means the super secret spy function. But it’s Ryo’s, so Ohno’s willing to take his chances.
He turns slightly, but it’s enough to be closer to Sho than he’s ever been, that hasn't been for work. “Hey, Sho-kun.”
Sho freezes, then his hands on Ohno’s shoulders slide tentatively down.
“You’re a lot better than my next door neighbour,” Ohno tells Sho, and laughs when Sho’s hold on his waist tightens.
Sho doesn't drink very much of the booze Ryo orders for the party, and notices that Ohno doesn’t, either.
“My place is nearer,” Sho says. The party is not even winding down.
“I know,” Ohno grins. “I live there.”
They evade Ryo’s security measures and Nino’s paparazzo, walking down quiet streets in the direction of Sho’s apartment. Somewhere along the way, Ohno’s fingers find Sho’s again.
Sho unlocks his own front door and steps in, then he’s turning and colliding awkwardly with Ohno and they’re stumbling over each other’s shoes and crinkling the most expensive suits they own.
They kiss for the longest time like this, pressed up against the wall of Sho’s entryway. Ohno makes Sho feel out of breath, but also like it’s the best feeling in the world. In the darkness, Ohno knows exactly where to find him.
Then Ohno pulls back, his hands on Sho’s chest.
“Help me with this, Sho-kun?” he says, and it’s not really a question, the way his eyes already know. But Sho plays along.
“Help you with what?” Sho says, a hand on Ohno’s hip.
“Well, you tied my tie,” Ohno says, “so you get to untie it.”
Sho grins, pressing the length of his body firmly against Ohno’s. “I’ll do better than that.” He leans in for another kiss, his fingers deft at Ohno’s collar.
“Pretty badass,” Ohno grins.
Delivered by: g_esquared
Title: can’t take the kid from the fight
Groups/Pairings: Ohno/Sho; Arashi, mentions of Kanjani8, KAT-TUN, Yamapi, misc.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Corporate spy!AU. Ohno and Sho are partners, but Sho is tired of being the good cop.
Notes: To hurstville, I hope you don’t mind non-Spooks spy!AU, and I really hope you enjoy this! To my cheerleader, your hips are great at fibbing. To my lovely beta, you made all the difference with this fic.
“Ohno-kun,” Sho says, “I can’t find the Delete-All function. Hey, do you have a Delete-All function?”
The teenager scowls at Sho. “Give me my phone back,” he says.
“Give me a minute.”
Ohno rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Sho-kun.” He takes the phone from Sho’s hands, sliding it open neatly and removing the memory card. “Problem solved.”
“You should switch it off before doing that,” Sho says, reproachfully.
Ohno ignores him, tossing the phone back at the teenager. It bounces off his fumbling hands and falls to the floor. The teenager scowls again. “If my phone doesn’t work and I can’t tweet this, I’m calling the cops.”
“How would you do that?” Ohno says, sweetly. “Your phone wouldn’t work.”
The teenager splutters.
“We’d use a pay phone!” his friend interjects. “Duh!”
Ohno smirks. “Stay in school, kids. Sho-kun, let’s go.”
From a distance, they can see Kusanagi being ushered into an agency car, wearing a coat.
“He’s obviously still got no pants on,” Sho says.
“Matsujun’s not going to like this,” Ohno remarks.
“We’ve got pants on,” Sho says, slightly indignant. “Why don’t we ever get an agency car?”
“Can you do a backflip?” Ohno asks, pointedly. He flips his own phone open, hitting one on speed dial. “Matsujun? We’re done.”
Sho morosely watches the car with the tinted windows pull off.
“Thanks,” Ohno says, snapping his phone shut. “We can leave. He wants us in at nine tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Sho says, already starting off in the direction of the station.
“Wanna go for a drink?”
Sho frowns. “I don’t want to be hung over when we go see Matsujun.”
“Fine,” Ohno sighs. “You know, Ryo’s head of ops, and he’s hung over half the time.”
Sho shrugs. “See you tomorrow, Ohno-kun.”
The next morning, Ohno takes the lifts up to the fiftieth floor.
“You’re late,” Sho tells him, the moment he steps out.
Ohno shrugs. “I had business to attend to.”
“You overslept, didn't you?” Sho says, looking at him critically.
“Maybe,” Ohno says. “Bet you were early.”
Sho sighs. “Let’s go.”
The president’s office has floor-length windows that frost up whenever he presses a button. The president himself sits in a high-backed chair behind a vast mahogany table with lots of Post-Its.
“Sit,” Jun says.
This is the only the third time they’ve gotten to sit in the president’s office. Upon reflection, this possibly started the time he and Ohno scored that huge cover up for one of Jun’s junior groups, reducing a fake ID scoop to that of underage smoking.
Jun’s chairs, Sho notes, are ergonomic.
“Not bad,” Jun says. He pushes a morning tabloid over to them. “The press couldn’t get their hands on any clear photos.”
“Good job they couldn't,” Ohno says, “he really isn’t anything to shout about.”
“You looked?” Sho says, scandalized.
Ohno gives him a disbelieving look. “You didn’t?”
“And yet he picked Hanami to streak in Ueno Park.” Jun exhales heavily. “Anyway, that’s besides the point. It’ll blow over soon enough. I need you for something different now.”
“A new assignment?” Sho says, sitting up straighter. This is something, considering he’d already been sitting pretty straight in Jun’s ergonomic chair.
“Yeah,” Jun says, pinching the bridge of his nose and glancing vaguely across a cacophony of pink, yellow, and green Post-Its. “It’s about Yamapi.”
“I thought you liked some of them to have bad press,” Ohno says.
“True,” Jun says.
Sho shifts in his seat in obvious discomfort, and Jun throws him a look of obvious amusement. “Oh, Sho. You’re not in the business that plays by the rules, you know.”
“But Yamapi’s always in the tabloids,” Sho protests.
“He tried to find the Delete-All function yesterday,” Ohno volunteers.
“Sellout, ” Sho says, giving Ohno what he hopes is a venomous look. Ohno looks unperturbed.
“Okay, Sho, we get it,” Jun says. “You’re the good cop. But Yamapi’s not doing well enough on the charts. Find out where the press is getting their dirt on him, and restrict it, okay?”
“Roger that,” Ohno nods.
“The album release is in July,” Jun says. “Just report back before then.”
“Got it,” Ohno says. “See you around, Matsujun.” He tugs Sho up. “Don’t salute,” he tells him, as they leave.
“I wasn’t going to,” Sho says, indignant.
“Right,” Ohno says, clearly not taking his word for it.
“Let’s take the day off,” Ohno says, when the lift reaches the lobby. “We’ve worked hard.”
“We put in barely five hours yesterday,” Sho says, exasperated.
“Matsujun gave us till July,” Ohno says.
“Never put off today, what you can do -”
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, levelly. “Let’s go for lunch. And while we eat, we’ll formulate a game plan, okay? To save Yamapi’s image.”
“Are you just trying to distract me,” Sho grumbles, suspicious.
“It will have pie charts,” Ohno says.
“Fine.”
“It’s not even five,” Sho says, but accepts the can of Asahi that Ohno passes to him over their ramen.
“Who cares?” Ohno says, taking a swig. “Even Matsujun doesn’t. And he pays us.”
An hour later, Sho is giggling and halfheartedly shuffling notes around on people to interrogate for their next operation. Ohno is spinning his pen, which Sho stopped objecting to forty-five minutes ago, despite that ‘they’re really expensive and stop working if you drop them on their nib, Ohno-kun!’
“Tell you something,” he says, leaning in close to Ohno.
“What’s that?” Ohno says, agreeably.
“I’m sick of being the good cop,” Sho says, dramatically nodding. “Yes.”
“Oh,” Ohno says. He opens another can of beer thoughtfully.
“Not that I don't like being your partner,” Sho clarifies. “But Matsujun thinks I can’t break rules.”
“Does that bother you?” Ohno says, frowning.
“Just because I put statistical graphs in my reports and password-encrypt them doesn't mean I don't know how to be badass,” Sho goes on.
“No,” Ohno agrees. “It doesn’t.”
“I can’t help it if I majored in economics,” Sho grumbles, “and have a healthy appreciation for graphical depictions of phenomena.”
“Look,” Ohno says, “we’re partners. If you want to be badass, I’ll be the good cop for once.”
Sho pauses in his tirade. “You’d do that?” he says, visibly moved.
“Why not?” Ohno shrugs. “I like being your partner, too.”
Sho begins by wearing a lot more black.
Ohno doesn't really have the heart to say anything disparaging, especially when Sho’s leather jacket is so flattering.
“It’s too hot to wear a leather jacket,” Sho says, two hours into their stakeout. Well, actually, they’re just sitting in Mister Donut waiting for Yamapi to show up, but Sho maintains that there are certain spy terms that they ought to use when clocking in their hours.
“Mm,” Ohno says, munching on his fifth donut, vaguely disappointed about Sho forsaking the leather jacket, until it becomes apparent what the tight black shirt underneath does for his biceps.
“Remember to follow procedure when Yamapi comes,” Sho reminds him. “You’re the good cop now.”
“There’s no procedure,” Ohno says. “And saying that really defeats the purpose of this role reversal.”
“Sorry,” Sho says, crossing his arms and lapsing into a silence. After a few minutes, he says, “Well, at least buy him a coffee.”
Ohno rolls his eyes. “I know what to do, Sho-kun, I’ve watched you do it for long enough.”
Yamapi comes strolling in at a quarter to four, looking his idea of inconspicuous in rather large sunglasses.
“’Sup,” he says, sitting down by Sho.
Sho looks at Ohno, jerking his head towards the counter. Ohno nods placatingly.
“Do you like glazed?” Ohno asks, mildly.
“That’s cool,” Yamapi says.
“Remember -”
“The receipt,” Ohno says. “Yes, Sho-kun, I got it.”
“So,” Sho says, assuming what is clearly meant to be his tough guy tone. “What will it be? Gay? Shotgun marriage? Once a woman?”
“You’re so unoriginal,” Yamapi says, adding a frightening amount of sugar to his coffee.
“Don’t tell me what I am,” Sho says. “Tell me what you are.”
“Maybe,” Ohno suggests, “we could just catalogue the places you’ve been.”
“Seriously?” Yamapi says. “That’s kind of impossible. Also, you’d have to ask my manager.”
“We will be acquainting Subaru with our wishes,” Sho tells him.
“Work with us,” Ohno importunes. “Doesn’t do you any good if your album flops.”
Yamapi sighs. “Duh, I know that.”
“Also, your drama has been averaging under ten percent viewership,” Ohno volunteers.
“Time to talk,” Sho says. “Spill it, Yamashita.”
Yamapi narrows his eyes at Sho. “Something’s different about you.”
“No, there isn’t,” Sho says. “Now, are we going to have to sit here all day?”
“Okay, look. I took this chick to a hotel the other night, right?”
“Go on.”
“So it was all dim and stuff, right? But the thing is, she wasn’t a chick.”
“Bummer,” says Ohno, succinctly.
“Details,” Sho says.
“Um,” Yamapi looks at Sho quizzically. “Well, she was real stacked - that really threw me off, actually -”
“Not that,” Sho says, half-exasperated and half-horrified. “It’s really not that funny, Ohno-kun.”
“Sorry,” Ohno says, ducking his head and pretending to be absorbed in taking notes.
“We went to this place in Shinjuku,” Yamapi says. “I think it’s new. The receptionist was kinda creepy. Hey, there’s a lead for you. Maybe he’s the one blabbing to the tabloids.”
“That’s for us to decide,” Sho says, briskly, getting up. “Enjoy your donut. We’ll contact you if we need anything else.”
“That’s cool, man,” Yamapi says, waving.
They take a train to Shinjuku. Sho lets Ohno buy the tickets, for once, and they end up taking the long way around the Yamanote Line.
Ohno uses the time constructively to mail Subaru.
“He says that he dropped Yamapi off pretty close to Ni-chome the other day,” Ohno reports. “And that he should have known better. Also that he found this new salon that does a great blow dry.”
“Is that a euphemism for something else?” Sho sighs. “Never mind, I don't want to know. Do try to stay on topic, Ohno-kun.”
“Everything is a clue,” Ohno tells him. “Oh, look. A picture of his bento.”
Sho takes out his own phone and enters ‘seedy hotels near Ni-chome’ into the search bar. The search returns nine million results.
“Oh, Sho-kun, you won’t get anywhere with that,” Ohno says.
“Ask Subaru, then,” Sho says.
“He doesn’t know either.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“We,” Ohno says, perfectly calmly, “are going to fraternize.”
Precisely at that moment, they arrive at their stop.
“It’s a good thing you wore that leather jacket,” Ohno tells Sho, as they alight.
“Sho-kun. You need to look the part,” Ohno tells him, gently. “You’re raising suspicion.”
“They never said anything about this in Spying 101.”
“You went for that class?” Ohno says, surprised. “It was optional. I don’t even know why Matsujun holds it.”
“Ryo was there,” Sho says. “It sounded important.”
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, “you need to unlearn everything. Now. Forget Spying 101 and all your password-encrypted mission reports with appendixes. Forget them.”
For a moment, there seems to be no apparent effect, until Sho seizes Ohno firmly around the waist.
“I’m unlearning,” Sho says.
“Really quickly,” Ohno says, face flushing from something other than the warmth of the place.
The first two clubs turn up nothing, and they split up in the third bar, which quickly yields results in the form of one Akanishi Jin.
“Yamapi?” Jin says, breathing cigarette smoke into Sho’s face. “Yeah. Saw him the other day.”
“Watch it, Akanishi,” Sho says, taking Jin’s cigarette and stepping on it. “Where were you?”
“Around,” Jin gestures, vaguely.
“Did you see who he left with?”
Jin takes one look at Sho, and snorts. “Everyone did.”
“Who was it?”
“Kame,” Jin says. “Wait. You didn’t know? You’re talking big and shit but you don’t know?”
“Now I do,” Sho says, smugly. “Thanks.”
“Whatever,” Jin says.
“Kame,” says Sho, strolling into the manager’s office. Ohno is chatting pleasantly with the manager across the table.
“Oh,” Ohno says. “Do you happen to know him, Nakamaru-san?”
“Everyone does,” Nakamaru says. “Wasabi peanut?”
“Thanks,” Ohno says. “Sho-kun?”
“I’d rather not,” Sho says. “Why don’t you tell us about this Kame, hm?”
“Sure,” Nakamaru says. “Though he’s a regular, so you could talk to him just as well on your own.”
They find Kame outside, lurking by Jin.
“Someone was asking about you earlier,” Jin tells him, thoughtfully. “Didn’t look like a cop, though.”
“Maybe he was, you know,” Kame suggests.
“Sorry, Kazuya,” Jin says, “but he didn't look like he was into that, either.”
“Nothing personal, of course,” Sho says, clapping a hand onto Kamenashi’s bare shoulder. “We’d like a word.”
Sho calls Yamapi as soon as they emerge from the club. “You banged him?” he says, incredulously. “You found out he was a dude and you banged him anyway?”
“It happens,” Ohno puts in.
Sho rolls his eyes. “I know. But. These circumstances are different.”
“Hello?” Yamapi says. “I thought you were supposed to be corporate spies for the boss man, not the moral police.”
Sho makes an apoplectic noise into the phone. “Next, you’re going to say you filmed it, too.”
“Kinky,” says Ohno.
“Hey man,” Yamapi says, not sounding half as sheepish as he ought to. “I can’t help it if the dude’s pretty.”
“Oh, hell,” Sho breathes. “Where’s the tape, Yamashita. Now.”
“I, um,” Yamapi says, “I might have, in the depths of my hangover, forgotten to take it with me.”
“You better pray that Kame kept his boobs on during the act,” Sho tells Yamapi, before hanging up on him.
“Bad news?” Ohno asks.
“Spectacular,” Sho says, grimly.
The exterior of the hotel is shabby but brightly lit. Sho marches in purposefully, walking straight up to the front desk.
“Good evening,” says the man behind the counter. “Can I help you?”
“Yokoyama-san,” Sho reads off his nametag.
“Yes,” Yoko says, obligingly. He glances from Sho to Ohno. “A room, I presume?”
“Um,” Ohno says.
“Not just a room,” Sho says. “Your best room.”
“Certainly,” Yoko says.
“What the hell?” Ohno mouths.
“Unlearning,” Sho tells him. He takes the keycard from Yoko. “Remember the receipt, Oh-chan.”
Ohno swears. Yoko just grins.
“What,” Ohno says, once the door shuts behind them, “were you thinking.”
Sho brandishes a piece of paper at him. “The staff chart.”
“When did you get that?” Ohno asks, bewildered. “Yokoyama Yuu. Head receptionist.”
“While Yokoyama was making assumptions about my intentions,” Sho says, smug. “I daresay you were, too.”
“Shut up,” Ohno says, too quickly. “Yamapi was right. Yokoyama’s a skeevy one.”
“I’ll do him,” Sho says. “You cover housekeeping. Shouldn't take long.” He wrinkles his nose. “There’s only one guy.”
“Maruyama Ryuhei. Head Housekeeping and Janitorial Services,” Ohno reads, walking down the corridor. He waits in front of the lift, tapping his foot impatiently. A creak to his right catches his attention, and he spins around quick enough to see a mop bucket vanishing around a bend.
“Curious,” he says to himself. “Well.”
The lift arrives, and he gets in.
Yoko is still there in the morning, doing radio calisthenics behind the front desk.
“Good morning, Sakurai-san.”
Sho feels suspicion prickling in his spine. Or maybe they’re the dust mites from the highly dubious bedspread in the room.
“Morning,” Sho says. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, the same,” Yoko says, performing a series of ten jumping jacks with seemingly no effort at all. “Checking in, checking out, couples, hookers…”
“Celebrities?” Sho puts in, casually.
“If I’m lucky,” Yoko says, not missing a beat.
“I work for the tabloids,” Sho tells him. “You want to talk to me about these things.”
Yoko holds his front lunge. “You,” he says, “are a tabloid reporter?”
“A well-paying one,” Sho says.
“You’re lying,” Yoko says, coolly.
“Oh?” In a flash, Sho has Yoko is an arm lock against the counter. “How would you know?”
“Where’s your press ID?” Yoko says, unruffled. “Where’s your camera?”
“Would I parade them like an idiot?”
“I don’t know,” Yoko says, “would you?” He regards Sho calmly, their faces inches apart. “Careful,” he says, breaking into a grin. “You’ll catch more flies with honey, Sakurai-san.”
Sho releases him, hoping Yoko will crack his head against the counter. Unfortunately, he doesn't. He regains his balance almost immediately, dusting himself off delicately.
“Lucky I do the routine every morning, hm?” Yoko says, conversationally continuing with his squats. “I know you’re not a tabloid reporter because if you are, you’re out of bounds.” He pauses, turning up the volume on his radio. “And no one infringes on Ninomiya’s territory.”
“Who?” Sho says.
“Jesus,” Yoko says. “Is it your first day? It’s kinda cute, but don’t try pulling it off on someone else.”
Ohno is washing his hands in the first floor toilets when he hears that familiar creak again. His eyes snap up to see that mop bucket zooming out of sight once again - and yes, there it is. The faint, lingering scent of Magiclean.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Ohno muses, while drying his hands underneath the hand dryer.
“Ninomiya’s head of Storm Weekly,” Yoko explains, after Sho returns with a nice cup of Starbucks for him. “This is because he causes a stir, if not a storm, in some industry, at least once every week.”
“Right,” Sho says, feeling like he ought to be taking this down, but resisting the urge.
“He reports trash, obviously,” Yoko continues. “But it’s always well-researched. Clear photos. Politicians, idols, businessmen. He’s got insane reach.”
“Hotel receptionists,” Sho adds, resentfully.
Yoko shrugs, taking a sip of his Grande Caffe Latte. “It’s a boring job, man,” he says. “Gotta do something with my time.”
“At least tell me something,” Sho entreats him. “You know Yamashita?”
“Oh, yes,” Yoko says, seeming pleased at the mention. “He came canoodling in with Kame a few weeks ago.”
“You know Kame?”
Yoko pats Sho’s shoulder sympathetically. “You’re obviously not a Ni-chome sort of guy. Everyone does.”
“Right,” Sho says, again. “So, which room did he go to?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Who cleaned his room, then?”
“Sakurai-san,” Yoko laughs, “you want to be less leading with your questions.”
“What?”
“Well,” Yoko says, “you’re obviously looking for something he left in his room.”
Sho snaps his mouth shut, furious at himself.
“Condom? Cigarette?” Yoko guesses. “Sex tape?”
“You,” Sho says, in tones of dawning horror. “You took it.”
“It wasn’t me,” Yoko says, matter-of-factly. “And if you weren’t sort of endearing, I would have let you continue thinking it was.”
After coming out of the first floor toilets, Ohno ducks into a side door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ following the scent of Magiclean. He passes by the staff lockers and a storeroom, finally reaching the door marked ‘JANITOR’.
“Aha,” Ohno says, pushing the door open.
“Hello,” says Maru. He has a towel on his head, as a sort of headband.
“Hello,” Ohno returns. “Mind if I look around?”
“Not at all,” Maru gestures. “Go ahead.”
“I’ve got to go talk to other people,” Sho says, reluctantly removing himself from his seat next to Yoko behind the front desk.
“I still can’t believe MJ hired you as their corporate spy,” Yoko says, sniggering.
“It’s because I can’t do a backflip,” Sho says.
Yoko scratches his nose. “I guess you could look at it that way.”
Sho returns to the staff chart in the room. He crosses out the three exclamation marks he’d put next to Yoko’s name the night before, and flops onto the bed in despair.
“Looking for something in particular?” Maru asks, as Ohno quietly inspects the shelves of sponges and cleaning agents.
“Just looking,” Ohno says, catching sight of an old copy of Storm Weekly lodged behind a bucket. “You friends with Ninomiya?”
“We all are,” Maru shrugs. “We live in Ni-chome.”
“Don’t you just work here?”
“Oh, no,” Maru says. “It’s too boring to leave and ever come back. I just stay here. All the staff do. There aren’t many of us left, though.”
“This explains so much,” Ohno says. “Just as a point of curiosity - do you ever wash the sheets?”
“Sometimes,” Maru shrugs. “If the budget allows it. You’ll find that all those Magiclean bottles are empty. They’ve been here since 1996.”
“And Yamapi thought this place was new,” Ohno says, gritting his teeth. “I told Sho-kun not to lie on those sheets.”
“Oh, it is new,” Maru says brightly. “Yoko took over it as it was. He didn’t want to spend too much money, though.”
“That’s no way to run a hotel,” Ohno says.
“Perhaps, yes,” Maru says, “but you’re here, aren’t you?”
Ohno lets himself back into the room, holding two copies of the evening Yomiuri and a six-pack of beer. “Yamapi really knows how to pick hotels,” he says. “Lie on these, Sho-kun.”
Sho cracks an eye open. “The Yomiuri?” he says. “Is it a clue?”
“No,” Ohno says. “But they haven’t bought detergent since 1996.”
“Fuck,” Sho says, scrambling up. “We should be allowed to claim insurance for this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a corporate spy.” Ohno sits on his own newspaper, opening his beer. “The premiums would be astronomical.”
“Pass me a beer,” Sho says, gingerly spreading out the political news section. “Did you keep the receipt? You know what, I don’t care.”
“Speaking of receipts,” Ohno says. “We’ll visit the company accountant tomorrow.”
“Then we can get the hell out?” Sho says, taking a sip from his can.
“Yes,” Ohno says.
“Fantastic,” Sho says. “Yoko makes my attempts at badassery look laughable.”
They get up at the next morning, making their way down to the lobby.
“This way,” Ohno says, a hand on Sho’s wrist, as he ducks into the same door he’d gone through to find Maruyama. He takes a right turn this time. “Okura Tadayoshi. Head Finance and Accounting.”
“I don’t know why they bother with the ‘head’ thing,” Sho remarks. “They’re the only ones in their department.”
Ohno shrugs. “Probably the same reason why you call a meeting with Yamapi in Mister Donut a stakeout.”
Okura’s door is slightly nicer than Maru’s - the main difference being the fancier font he has for his nameplate.
“Today,” Ohno says, as he knocks, “you get to use your economics.”
“What?” Sho says, but Ohno is already going in.
Okura is not quite what Sho expected. His office is actually decent. He’s got a functioning computer, a working air-conditioner, and a calculator.
Sho also notes that the computer is being used to play Tetris.
“I’ve been expecting you,” Okura says, pausing his game. “You’re just in time for coffee.”
“We’ll do without,” Ohno says. “We just want to see your records for the last financial year.”
“So unfriendly,” Okura frowns. “Even Tetris is better.”
“I’ve got an arm lock and I’m not afraid to use it,” Sho says.
“Oh, fine,” Okura says. “I can’t play Tetris in an arm lock. The records are there. You have to forget that I showed you, though.”
“As I thought,” Ohno says. “A hotel like this could never survive. They’re being bankrolled by Storm Weekly.”
“What?”
“They’ve got an astonishing number of security cameras for a hotel that can’t afford to buy detergent,” Ohno says.
“Hey,” Okura says. “We can afford it. We just choose not to buy it.”
“Of course,” Ohno says. “Especially with what Ninomiya pays you.”
Okura shrugs. “Nino’s a reasonable guy,” he says.
“So the tape’s with him?” Sho says.
“It wasn't me,” Okura says.
“I’m starting to see a pattern,” Sho tells Ohno.
“Of course you are,” Okura laughs. “Go look for Ninomiya. Unless I can interest you in solitaire?”
“No thanks,” Ohno says, “we'll pass.”
“Thought so,” Okura sighs, unpausing Tetris.
“No,” Nino says flatly.
“Oh,” Ohno says, looking disappointed.
“Damn it, Nino!” Sho cries, slamming his fists onto Ninomiya’s desk. Ninomiya tactfully moves his memo pad with fancy engraved pen further away from Sho. “Give us the damn tape.”
“Your idol is indiscrete,” Nino sniffs. “It’s not my problem.”
“Yamapi doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Ohno says. “Ever.”
“Well,” Nino says, “why should I have to suffer for that?”
“You won’t be suffering,” Ohno coaxes. “We’ll reward you. Handsomely.”
Nino narrows his eyes at them. “Will you,” he says. “Unfortunately, this is my biggest chance to one-up Nakai from the Shuukan Josei. He’s been lording it over me since he got that scoop about some kid being a sexual powerhouse.” Nino’s lip curls. “Wasn’t even interesting.”
Sho is on the other side of the desk in an instant, holding Nino in the super deluxe headlock that Yoko had magnanimously taught him two days earlier. “Talk,” he growls.
Before he knows it, Nino’s wriggled out of his grasp. “Weak,” he sneers. “Yoko taught you that, didn’t he?”
Sho gapes.
“Well, I taught him. So.” Nino sits down. “I’m not giving you the tape. If there’s nothing else, please leave before I get Hina to remove you.”
Sho and Ohno shuffle out, discouraged, exchanging their visitor passes at the receptionist’s counter.
“What sort of spy gets a visitor pass,” Sho complains.
“Don’t take it personally,” the receptionist volunteers. His nametag reads ‘Yasuda Shota’. “Everyone who goes in has to get one.”
“Yeah, but we’re spies,” Sho grouses, “and it’s none of your business.”
Yasu shrugs.
“Hey,” Ohno leans over, “Yasuda-san, was it?”
“Yes,” Yasu says, sounding pleased at someone finally making use of his nametag.
“What’s your boss like?”
Yasu frowns. “You mean Hina? He’s very particular about access control. And not misusing caution tape.” Yasu sighs. “It was one time.”
“No, not him,” Ohno corrects. “The boss. Ninomiya.”
“Oh, you mean Nino,” Yasu says. “He’s great. Pay’s shit at first and then he decides you’re useful and you practically become part of the clan.”
“You’re a clan?” Sho says, suspiciously.
“Figurative,” Yasu tells him. “Nino really takes care of his own. He pissed off a real clan member once, though. He scored some limited edition release of Mario and he wouldn’t lend it to Kimura. Apparently Kimura’s kids like Mario. So no one was very happy.” Yasu twiddles with his own staff pass contemplatively. “Well, except Nino, because he had his game.”
“He likes games?”
“You’re kidding,” Yasu says. “You have to play Rainbow Road against him as part of your recruitment interview.”
“Well,” Ohno says, “we’ve never tried being recruited here.”
“True,” Yasu concedes. “Anyway, Kimura and his people are the only ones we really have to watch out for. Other than that, I issue visitor passes to people like you. We don’t have to bother much, because although Ninomiya looks tiny, he practically invented headlocks.”
“Do you have a fire exit?” Ohno asks.
“There,” Yasu says, pointing.
“Thanks,” Ohno tells Yasu. “I’ll drop by the next time I’m in the area.”
“What use was that?” Sho says, as they exit the building.
“Everything is a clue,” Ohno says. “Wanna go for a drink?”
“Why the hell not,” Sho says. “Let’s go.”
They go to a bar in Ohno’s neighbourhood. Ohno chats with the bartender and gets them shots.
Sho is swaying by his sixth shot. “I’ve been wearing the same jacket for four days,” he says.
“I know,” Ohno says. “Don’t worry. You’ll get to go home tonight.”
“Maybe I’m no good for being the bad cop,” Sho says moodily into his shot glass.
“Of course not,” Ohno says, soothingly. “You did a good job with Yoko. And personally, I’ve enjoyed talking like a normal person.”
“It’s no good,” Sho says, slumping onto Ohno. “Unlearning is difficult.”
“And yet you do it so well,” Ohno says, staring at Sho’s shirt riding up.
“We’re not going to save Yamapi’s sorry ass,” Sho mumbles, into Ohno’s shoulder. “We’re not. Ninomiya’s going to put it on the front page - The Indiscretions of Yamashita Tomohisa, I can see it already - and Matsujun will fire us.” Ohno gently nudges Sho’s hand away from the glasses. “D’you think 7-Eleven would hire us?”
“I think,” Ohno says, “I should get you home.”
“That's a really bad idea,” Sho says, as Ohno heaves him up and supports him out.
“Isn’t your place nearer?” Sho asks, leaning onto Ohno as they wait for a cab.
“Yes,” Ohno says. “And under different circumstances, I’d take you there. But,” Ohno sighs, his hand around Sho’s waist, “you’re so drunk you can’t see straight.”
“What’s that got to do with it,” Sho says, as Ohno piles him into a cab and gets in.
“Everything,” Ohno says.
“…is a clue,” Sho mumbles, dropping off to sleep with Ohno’s hand clutched in his.
Ohno shows up at Sho’s place at noon the next day.
Sho is bleary-eyed and messy-haired when he opens the door. “Ohno-kun,” he says, shuffling sheepishly aside.
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“The Storm Weekly offices,” Ohno says. “Five minutes. We’ve got no time to lose.”
Sho chooses a parka this time. Ohno waits for him downstairs, and starts walking as soon as Sho joins him.
“What are we going there for?” Sho asks.
“Maru called,” Ohno says. “Something will happen today.”
“Maru?” Sho frowns. “The janitor?”
“Yup,” Ohno replies. “We’re going on a stakeout, Sho-kun, and hell if we don’t stake something out this time.”
Coincidentally or not, there happens to be a Mister Donut situated conveniently opposite Nino’s offices. Sho chooses what he deems the spot with the best tactical advantage, while Ohno orders a variety of donuts.
“Might as well keep occupied,” Ohno says, and Sho agrees, reaching over to take one.
For a while, nothing happens. Then Ohno gets up to buy a chocolate shake.
Then for a while more, nothing happens either.
“Curious,” Ohno breathes, licking the sugar off his fingers as a yell comes from across the street.
“It’s Ninomiya!” Sho bellows, springing to his feet. He ignores the startled looks of the other patrons, barging out the door with Ohno hot on his heels.
Nino is being hauled onto the street by a man with wavy hair and classy taste in clothes.
“Did you set off the fire alarm?” Kimura is barking at one of his minions. “Hurry up or we can’t set the fire. I promised Joshima at police headquarters that I’d commit all acts of arson lawfully - for heaven’s sake, Ninomiya, stop squawking.”
“Don’t burn down my office,” Nino is saying, clutching what is probably his editorial hard disk in his hands. “You scoundrels, why don’t you go pick on Nakai instead?”
“Nakai offered us biscuits,” Kimura tells him. “You never did.”
“Gerroff,” Nino howls. Behind him, his staff are filing out onto the street, looking bored.
“They won’t actually light the match,” Yasu says, sidling up to Sho. He is promptly contradicted by the lighter that Shingo hurls onto the doorstep while yelling “All clear!”
“You are wrong,” Sho says, horrified by the way the flames are licking at the receptionist’s desk he’d stood in front of not twenty-four hours ago.
“Now’s our chance,” Ohno says, seizing Sho by the wrist and dragging him in precisely that direction.
“To what?” Sho shrieks. “Perish?”
“To earn a debt of gratitude,” Ohno tells him, and Sho has no choice but to follow.
“Keep the parka on,” Ohno tells Sho, as they rush into the lobby. Sho pauses in unzipping his parka.
They take the emergency exit, setting off more alarms by going through the wrong way, in instead of out.
“What the hell are we doing, Ohno-kun,” Sho says, puffing as he tries to keep up with Ohno, who seems to know exactly where he’s going.
“Nino’s office,” Ohno says, logically. He pauses on the fifth floor. “Kimura wouldn’t have used any kerosene for more than the first floor. The hard part will be later.”
“That’s comforting,” Sho says, as Ohno busts the stairwell door open and heads straight for Nino’s office. “God, he’s messy, isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t have brought you,” Ohno says, “but you need to be here. But you’ll be okay, Sho-kun.”
Sho catches the unease that passes over Ohno’s expression, and feels an inexplicable urge to allay it, despite how ludicrous the entire situation is.
“That’s okay, Ohno-kun,” Sho says, suddenly aware of how Ohno hasn’t let go of his wrist. “I’d have followed you anyway. I’m the bad cop, remember?”
Ohno smiles. “You are,” he says.
Ohno grabs a rather large box from under Nino’s desk, and then they’re back out the emergency exit, racing through flames that are currently roasting Nino’s swanky furniture in the lobby.
Sho coughs for five whole minutes once they reach the street. Ohno doesn't take his eyes off him, patting him on the back, gesturing for Yasu to buy a drink from 7-Eleven.
Once Sho’s done coughing and has drunk half of the Pocari Sweat that Yasu gets him, he registers Nino standing in front of them.
“Well played,” Nino says, grudgingly. “You got my games.”
“We did,” Ohno corrects.
“Yes,” Nino sighs.
Sho thinks this might not be a good time to mention how the fire wouldn’t even have spread to Nino’s office. Instead, he takes a moment to marvel at Ohno’s planning genius. And offer him his Pocari Sweat.
Ohno accepts.
“I guess I owe you guys,” Nino says, in tones of great reluctance. “My limited editions are here.”
“Told you not to bring them to the office,” Hina says, from the side.
“Work’s stressful,” Nino says dismissively. “Oh, well. Put these two on the no-touch list.”
Hina sighs. “Easiest debt of gratitude you ever earned,” he tells Ohno.
“How about dinner,” Ohno suggests. This perks Nino up.
They go to a do-it-yourself teppanyaki place. Hina brings Nino a laptop, and Nino opens it, precariously close to the hotplate.
“The tape will be deleted,” Nino says. “To tell you the truth, though, your Yamashita’s face didn’t come up even once. He left the camera facing the wall.”
“No shit,” Sho says.
“The audio was incriminating enough, though,” Nino sighs. “I’ve had Aiba in Ni-chome for the past few weeks, waiting for a good shot for the front page.”
“Yamapi’s schedule has been busy,” Ohno says, eating his sprouts and beef. “And Subaru won’t let him go anywhere.”
“Explains a lot,” Nino says. “I could just imagine the look on Nakai’s face - well, never mind. Anyway, no sex tape. What else?”
“You can have a grainy photo of them in front of the hotel,” Ohno says, pointing. “Not the one with Yamapi’s hand on Kame’s ass, though.”
Nino drags the file into the trash, looking as though the action causes him actual pain. “This one, then?”
“Yeah,” Ohno says, nodding. “His sunglasses actually come into some use.”
“Okay,” Nino concedes. “Can we report his penchant for ‘deviant acts’?” Nino says, imploringly. “Vague enough to be interesting yet inconclusive.”
Ohno snorts. “I hardly count filming the wall as deviant.”
“You didn’t watch it,” Nino tells him. “You don’t want to.”
“Fine,” Ohno says. “Deviant acts. You have to use the A-san approach, then.”
“Satisfactory,” Nino says, and reaches over to shake Ohno’s hand.
“Wait,” Sho says. “Why are you even reporting anything?”
Nino gives him a sharp look. “Are you bluffing, or serious?”
Ohno pats Sho on the arm. “We’ll discuss this later, Sho-kun.” He eats another piece of beef, then gets off the chair. “Matsujun will be glad to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m sure,” Nino says, rolling his eyes.
“We’ll be in touch,” Ohno grins, as they leave.
“Our job is not to make the tabloids go bust,” Ohno tells Sho, as they walk to the station. Sho notes that his parka still smells a bit charred, but that could be from Nino’s office or the teppanyaki place.
“Why not?” Sho says, indignantly.
“No one believes idols are clean,” Ohno tells Sho. “Especially idols like Yamapi. Did you see his latest photoshoot?”
“No,” Sho says.
“Well,” Ohno says, “good. The point is, we keep things in the balance. We won’t let anything career-destroying go, but other things are fair game.”
“Did we get the same job description?” Sho huffs.
“There’s a golden rule in every trade,” Ohno tells him. “Theirs is never to forget debts of gratitude.”
“What’s ours, then?” Sho says, skeptically.
“Partners,” Ohno says.
“Just that?”
“Just that.”
Jun is examining a rack of sequined outfits when they knock on the door of his office.
“It’s settled,” Ohno says, as they traipse in. Jun wrinkles his nose distastefully at one particular green and purple combination. “And those look kinda shitty. But in a fabulous way.”
Jun looks mildly surprised. “That’s what we were going for. Guess they’re fine, then.”
He leaves the outfits aside and sits behind his desk.
“Sit,” he says. “You don’t need me to tell you that anymore.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted.
“Ninomiya owes us a debt of gratitude now,” Ohno reports. “Yamapi’s album release is safe.”
“That’s some comfort,” Sho says, “because Subaru just called me to say that Yamapi wants to go out with ‘boy Kame’. His words, not mine.”
“Well,” Ohno says, “I hear Kame just does it recreationally. It should be okay.”
Jun raises his eyebrows. “Should I take your word for it?”
“Most people in Ni-chome are on Kame’s side,” Sho contributes.
“Fair enough,” Jun says. “Anyway, Ryo’s been bugging me for a party for months. So you guys are getting one.”
“A party?” Sho echoes.
“Actually, Ryo calls it a ‘super secret spy function’,” Jun says. “I’m not sure how it’s super secret, considering he’s just asked permission to print two hundred invitation cards.”
“Ryo has funny ideas about the definition of ‘covert’,” Ohno says.
“Still, he’s effective,” Jun sighs. “You all have to come. It’s black tie. I have to put in an appearance, too.”
“Maybe you should invite Ninomiya,” Ohno suggests. “Seal the alliance.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jun says. “Although I suspect Ryo’s going to use it to petition for you guys to get guns so that you look more ‘spy-like’.” Jun exhales heavily. “It’s not in our best interests to send Ninomiya the wrong signals.”
“Don’t try to put him in a headlock,” advises Sho helpfully, as they leave.
“Guess I’ll see you,” Ohno says, “at the super secret spy function.”
“Guess so,” Sho says. “Hey, Ohno-kun?”
“Yeah?”
“My place is nearer,” Sho says, nervously.
“What’s that got to do with the super secret -” Ohno begins. “Oh. You remember?”
“If you want me to,” Sho says.
“It’s not objectionable,” Ohno says, the corners of his mouth quirking up.
Sho’s place is tiny but comfortable. They take turns to shower, then get into bed.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Ohno murmurs, sleepily. “Kimura could take us out and have enough kerosene left for Nino’s building.”
“Forget work,” Sho says, as Ohno’s breathing evens out. “We’re not at work.”
“Oh,” Ohno says. “Then is this okay?” His hand is in Sho’s.
“Perfect,” Sho breathes.
Ohno’s invitation gets delivered to Sho’s house.
It is embossed in flashy gold letters, and involves a lot of bad puns that Sho supposes serve as Ryo’s version of spy code. He tells Ohno to bring a suit over the night before.
“A suit,” Ohno repeats.
“With a tie,” Sho says.
“Ryo has too much time on his hands,” Ohno grumbles.
“Granted, we look more like spies than ever,” Ohno remarks, in front of the mirror.
“Or idols who can’t do backflips,” Sho says.
“You’re still bitter about that?” Ohno says.
“Not really,” Sho says. “I just say it. Why haven’t you got your tie on?”
“I can’t,” Ohno says. “Tie it, I mean.”
“What?”
“I usually get my next door neighbour to help me,” Ohno shrugs. “But you’ve got different next door neighbours.”
Sho stares for a moment, then laughs. “Ohno-kun,” he says. “Come here, then. I’ll help you.”
“Okay,” Ohno says.
Sho’s fingers keep slipping so he has to keep moving closer, and then he accidentally knocks Ohno on the chin.
“Sorry,” Sho says, embarrassed.
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, “you do know how to?”
“Yes,” Sho replies, quickly.
He manages on the third try, this time without bopping Ohno’s chin. By then, Ohno’s noticed that Sho’s wearing the cologne he wears whenever he thinks something important is going to happen.
Maybe Sho means the super secret spy function. But it’s Ryo’s, so Ohno’s willing to take his chances.
He turns slightly, but it’s enough to be closer to Sho than he’s ever been, that hasn't been for work. “Hey, Sho-kun.”
Sho freezes, then his hands on Ohno’s shoulders slide tentatively down.
“You’re a lot better than my next door neighbour,” Ohno tells Sho, and laughs when Sho’s hold on his waist tightens.
Sho doesn't drink very much of the booze Ryo orders for the party, and notices that Ohno doesn’t, either.
“My place is nearer,” Sho says. The party is not even winding down.
“I know,” Ohno grins. “I live there.”
They evade Ryo’s security measures and Nino’s paparazzo, walking down quiet streets in the direction of Sho’s apartment. Somewhere along the way, Ohno’s fingers find Sho’s again.
Sho unlocks his own front door and steps in, then he’s turning and colliding awkwardly with Ohno and they’re stumbling over each other’s shoes and crinkling the most expensive suits they own.
They kiss for the longest time like this, pressed up against the wall of Sho’s entryway. Ohno makes Sho feel out of breath, but also like it’s the best feeling in the world. In the darkness, Ohno knows exactly where to find him.
Then Ohno pulls back, his hands on Sho’s chest.
“Help me with this, Sho-kun?” he says, and it’s not really a question, the way his eyes already know. But Sho plays along.
“Help you with what?” Sho says, a hand on Ohno’s hip.
“Well, you tied my tie,” Ohno says, “so you get to untie it.”
Sho grins, pressing the length of his body firmly against Ohno’s. “I’ll do better than that.” He leans in for another kiss, his fingers deft at Ohno’s collar.
“Pretty badass,” Ohno grins.