Chapter Text
“Are we done here, Kuroo-san? I have work to do.”
Chuckling under his breath, Kuroo gave Tsukishima a nod and uncrossed his arms. “I’ll let you get back to it then,” he replied back. He made a move to turn around but not before placing his hand on top of Tsukishima’s head and carding his fingers through it. Although slightly rough from years of volleyball, he gently caressed those blond locks of hair, lingering ever so slightly on the curve of Tsukishima’s neck as he walked away towards his office. “Work hard,” Kuroo encouraged, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tsukishima didn’t reply, choosing to ignore him, but the rosy color in his cheeks said otherwise. Reaching up to cover his mouth with the back of his fist, the intern looked over his shoulder to watch his superior leave. Tsukishima liked to think he was rather intelligent for someone his age. He took college preparatory classes in high school, graduated with honors, and was always at the top of his class. He was a man of science and mathematics; always eager and ready to learn more, but all the knowledge in the world could have never prepared him for the man before him. His superior was something of a mystery that Tsukishima could never seem to crack.
With his tall yet muscular frame, Kuroo was undeniably handsome and imposing all at the same time. His black hair was messy in all the right places with bangs that swept over the right side of his face and although the bangs did well to cover them, anyone with eyes could see the intelligence behind those amber eyes. The pathologist seemed to always hold himself so confidently that it made Tsukishima wish even a fraction of it could be rubbed of him. “What do I have to do to be a guy like that?” He’d always find himself wondering.
Kuroo was brilliant – beautiful and perfect all at the same time – but unreachable.
Time and time again, Tsukishima had to remind himself that it wasn’t professional for him to be thinking of his superior that way. “I’m his intern,” his rational mind would say, all those fleeting thoughts leaving him as quickly as they came. It was easier to ignore his crush in the beginning but after working alongside Kuroo for so many months, Tsukishima couldn’t deny how his heart burned at every little word of praise the older man offered him.
A part of him liked to think that he was incredibly perceptive for someone who hated social gatherings. Sure, there were times when he couldn’t exactly read the mood but he knew it wasn’t his imagination (or wishful thinking) that Kuroo’s eyes seem to linger on him longer than anyone else’s before he left the room. It wasn’t his imagination that Kuroo looked at him differently following their nights together at the lab. Back then, Tsukishima couldn’t quite articulate what that something was but there was definitely and undeniably a something between them.
When those months of working together became years by each other’s side, genuine feelings of friendship replaced that somewhat childish crush of his. Their relationship changed then; Kuroo teased him mercilessly and encouraged him just as strongly, but there was a fondness in his eyes that left Tsukishima feeling loved.
It happened in increments, little moments here and there, but steadily and surely, both he and Kuroo started to dance. At night when the moon was high and the musky smell of freshly-cleaned bones surrounded them, Tsukishima learned how loudly silence spoke. He liked to think that Kuroo was somehow suffering too, that those little intimate touches he initiated actually meant something.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Kuroo often told him on the occasional nights that Tsukishima stayed after.
It sounded more like a confession than anything else.
The thought that Kuroo may be in love with him too made him happy but although they danced and danced, it was always a lonely night. They danced together often, their feelings for one another mutual and true, but that’s all it ever seemed to be. Just a dance that neither one of them would lead.
Returning his attention back to the screen before him, Tsukishima exhaled slowly, practically willing the blush in his cheeks to go away so Kuroo wouldn’t see it. “Maybe one day we’ll say something,” the blond thought. “But today is not that day.”
Waltzes were slow after all.
With a hardened, but calculating expression on his face, Sawamura crossed his arms smugly. There were heavy bags under his eyes, a sign of little to no sleep. He was tired and exhausted, that much was sure, but sleepless nights were part of the deal for a job like this. The interrogator was never one to complain because despite all that, Sawamura genuinely loved his job. He was first and foremost, a man of justice, and wanted nothing more than to bring people to said justice, but it was mornings like this that made him wonder if he should have gotten an office job like his parents wanted.
He and Sugawara had stayed up all night reviewing the archived footage and tapes in preparation for the beginning of a long series of interviews. Just as Iwaizumi had ordered, follow-up interviews needed to be conducted so that it matched what they originally had on record from several years ago. Shimizu and Yachi contacted the second victim, Yuhara Misao, and had her come in today for questioning.
Sawamura stood before the two-way mirror that connected both the interrogation room and its adjacent counterpart, the observation room. From his place in the observation room, he could see easily watch and study the exchanges made whilst in that room. While it was true that Sugawara was more perceptive than he was, he still did his part to regard people intently. They were after all, partners, and had known one another for years. The things he didn’t pick up on, Sugawara did, and the things Sugawara couldn’t, he did. They trusted each other with their lives; even now, Sawamura could hear the comforting sounds of his partner’s voice as it poured through the speakers.
“My name is Sugawara,” the interrogator introduced. “I’m with the TMPD. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions concerning your kidnapping from four years ago. Anything and everything you say will be documented so please try not to leave anything out. I realize that you may not remember everything that happened but try to be as thorough as you can.”
Yuhara shifted somewhat uncomfortably before nodding a little. Inhaling deeply, she briefly closed her eyes in an attempt to gather herself together. After a few seconds, she exhaled just as deeply before reopening her eyes, a crinkle in her brows. “I’ll try my best but you’re right, I don’t remember too much. I know it happened on a Thursday when I was out with my friends but my memories from that night are so hazy.”
“Were they any particular smells that stood out to you? Sounds or noises, maybe?” Sugawara asked.
Listening intently as the victim started trudging through her memories, Sawamura frowned once more. There were lapses in her explanations, even periods of blackouts, but she was trying her best and that was honestly all he wanted. He could see that she was trying to wrack her brain for answers to Sugawara’s questions but he was starting to get the feeling that she might have unconsciously repressed her memories from the kidnapping. There was a knock on the door just then and Sawamura straightened his form, looking towards it expectantly. “Come in,” he said.
“Hey Sawamura,” Iwaizumi greeted, closing the door to the interrogation room behind him with a soft click. At the welcomed nod, he walked forward and came to stand beside his friend, their shoulders practically touching. “Any luck with the victim?”
The shorter man took another look at Sugawara and Yuhara before shaking his head in reply. “Some of what she says lines up with what we have on record but from what I can tell, she’s forgotten a lot of it as well. I have a feeling she’s repressed some of those memories but I can’t exactly blame her for that.” Studying her intently, he watched as her hand came to grip at her left shoulder, her thumb brushing against her collarbone.
Iwaizumi’s eyes seemed to soften at that, his words sympathetic. “I can understand that.”
"How are Tsukishima and Kuroo coming along with the analysis?" Sawamura asked, changing the subject. “I’m sure they must have found something, right?” Over on the other side of the glass, Sugawara was showing Yuhara photos from the location where she was found, pointing at certain aspects of it in an attempt to jog her memory. "I passed by the lab on the way here and heard them bickering over some of the case files but I wasn’t sure what they were talking about. It all sounded like jargon to me anyway.”
"I'll have to swing by later," Iwaizumi replied. “The last time I spoke to Kuroo, he told me he and Tsukishima were still analyzing the particulates from the victims’ clothing. It seems the team before us were sloppy as hell and didn’t even bother following up with any of their leads once the trail ran cold. Kuroo said that in addition to the engine exhaust they found on their clothing, there was also a substantial amount of dirt that the previous squad didn’t try to source.”
Sawamura frowned in dismay. “There’s also the matter of us needing to find out how the victims were subdued. I don’t remember reading anything about it in the case files and it doesn’t seem like Yuhara remembers anything either.” Rather than allow himself to feel like it was a lost cause however, he opted for another approach. “We should interview the parents that were involved, maybe see if there’s a trail we can follow up on. There has to be records of the calls somewhere, right?”
“Hopefully,” Iwaizumi said, his voice slightly grim. “We’ve at least made some progress but all we’ve been doing up until this point has been cleaning up after their mess.”
Sawamura let out a chuckle and shook his head. “It’s not like we aren’t equipped to do so,” he joked. Turning his attention away from Sugawara and Yuhara briefly, the shorter man clapped a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and squeezed it comfortingly. “You recruited us to be in your team because you believed in us and thought we were the best of the best.”
Leaning down to cross his arms over the top of the chair in front of him, Iwaizumi echoed Sawamura’s laugh with one of his own. “We’re the ultimate team,” he agreed easily. Allowing himself to take the time to study the interactions before him, Iwaizumi fell into a companionable silence and listened in on Sugawara’s interview. Sawamura definitely wasn’t wrong when he said that it seemed as though Yuhara had repressed most of her memories.
She often reiterated the blank periods; moments where she wasn’t sure what was happening. She explained that although consciously, she knew something wasn’t right, she couldn’t exactly pinpoint her surroundings. “I remember feeling locked up? I couldn’t move my body and I just remember my shoulder hurting. Everything happened so fast; I couldn’t even react in time. It was like something I’ve never experienced before in my life.”
As Yuhara spoke, her hand came to grip at her shoulder again, and Iwaizumi could only deduce that she developed the habit unconsciously. “Poor girl,” he sympathized.
“It’s okay,” Sugawara said. “You’re doing great.” Making sure to soothe the victim was always one of Sugawara’s good points. There was just something about him that put others to ease. It didn’t matter what kind of victim or criminal they were dealing with, just one conversation with Sugawara made them open up to him. He had always been analytical and patient, his perceptiveness giving him the advantage. “You’re being so helpful right now, Yuhara-san.” He made sure to remind her again.
A somewhat fond smile made its way onto Sawamura’s face as he watched his partner. “Suga certainly has a way with people, doesn’t he?” Although he had been working as an interrogator for years, it was Sugawara who always knew how to connect with people. Sure, he could be just as intimidating as Sawamura himself, but it was Sugawara who worked well under pressure.
The two conversed for another ten minutes before Sugawara decided to call it for the day, not wanting to dampen Yuhara’s spirits or her day. “Thank you for coming in and talking with me, Yuhara-san,” Sugawara said, standing up to shake her hand. “I gave you my information earlier so don’t hesitate to call me if you need to, okay? Here, let me walk you up front.”
Iwaizumi straightened his form and stood to his full height as he watched Sugawara lead Yuhara out. “Who’s coming in tomorrow? The Nakano twins, right?” At his friend’s nod, Iwaizumi hummed, his eyes never leaving Yuhara. She was polite as she accepted his thanks, but her hand went to grip at her shoulder again. Whether it was a nervous tick or some form of PTSD she developed from her kidnapping, Iwaizumi had a twisting feeling in his gut that there was something more to it that warranted investigation. “Hey Sawamura,” the detective called, frowning in dismay. “She said she remembered feeling ‘locked up’, right? What do you think could have caused that?”
“Drugs, probably? I mean, it’s not like this is the first time we’ve had a case of criminals using drugs to incapacitate their victims.”
Focusing all of his attention on her, Iwaizumi’s eyes zeroed in on the back of her shoulder. Although slightly hidden by her shirt, he could see blemishes of discolored skin, almost like the remnants of a scar or birthmark that she tried to hide. Tilting his head slightly as he moved forward even more, the detective studied that bit of skin intensely before he reared back and his features darkened dangerously.
“What’s wrong?” Sawamura asked, stepping forward. When his friend didn’t reply, the interrogator lifted a hand to place it on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, squeezing it cautiously. “Iwaizumi?”
He was silent before, “That girl has two puncture wounds and burns on the back of her shoulder.”
Oikawa let out a content sigh as he leaned back against the porcelain incline of his tub and rested his head on the folded towels. It had been a long day of practice but the brunet was glad to finally be home. He usually never minded practice, he was the captain of course, and saw it as a way to train and increase the strength of his team, but dealing with his teammates’ antics would drain anyone of their energy.
Chibi-chan and Tobio were practicing their combos until something apparently happened between them and they started going at it, kicking and punching each other. Thankfully Aone, who had been close by, intervened and ultimately pushed them away from one another. Oikawa was on the other side of the court practicing his serves when he noticed the commotion but shrugged it off, trusting his middle blocker to deal with the two.
“Those two have too much energy,” Oikawa thought.
Despite their antics, the freakish duo were great assets to the team and Oikawa was glad to have them. “I’ll have to make use of their godlike-quick in next week’s game against Australia.”
Sinking even lower into the depths of his bathtub, the brunet closed his eyes tiredly, the warm water practically lulling him to sleep. “This is nice,” he practically sighed out. Oikawa was just about to submerged himself fully underwater when the front door to his apartment swung open and in came Hanamaki and Matsukawa, his childhood friends.
“Oikawa!” Hanamaki shouted. “We come baring gifts!” To further support his claim, Hanamaki showed off the various fan mail and presents from Oikawa’s supporters. “Get out of the bath so we can go get some ramen!”
“And there goes my moment of peace,” Oikawa mentally groaned, regretfully opening his eyes. Instinctively reaching for the towel beside him, he stood up and wrapped it around his waist, seemingly used to his friends barging in without permission. “Quit yelling already! I’m coming!” He quickly dried off and threw on a comfortable set of joggers and a loose-fitting shirt before going out to greet his friends.
Matsukawa grinned easily at the sight of Oikawa’s hair. “What, no ‘welcome home’?”
“You guys don’t even live here,” the brunet argued back. “You just come in unannounced and make me treat you guys to ramen.” As somewhat annoyed as he was, Hanamaki and Matsukawa were still his best friends and Oikawa wouldn’t trade them for all the money in the world so it’s not like he could ever truly be mad at them. Oikawa crossed his arms and raised a brow as he watched Hanamaki sift through his stuff. “Enjoying yourself there, Makki?”
“Always,” Hanamaki said. “This is very therapeutic for me.” Digging through Oikawa’s presents had been one of his favorite pastimes ever since his friend went pro. Being Oikawa’s best friend definitely had its perks; one of them being that Oikawa had a dedicated fan who always sent him baked goods from their family’s bakery. Spying the cutely wrapped package of creampuffs, Hanamaki let out a loud “Hell yeah!” and pointed at his boyfriend. “Issei! Get me some scissors!”
Shaking his head at them, Oikawa chuckled a little before moving towards the pile of gifts his friends brought in. They must have intercepted his manger somehow and delivered them all themselves just to mess around with him. “Idiots,” the setter thought amusingly. He was just about to join them when a knock sounded behind him and it made all three of them look up. Oikawa was the one to answer it and when he opened the front door, a flowery scent entered his nose.
“Oikawa-san?” It was a member of the apartment staff and he was carrying a bouquet of roses. “This just came in a bit ago.”
Graciously accepting the flowers, Oikawa thanked him with a smile and bowed his head a little. “Thank you, Uchiyama-kun! Here’s something for your troubles.” Tipping him, the brunet sent him off with another radiant smile and waved before shutting the door behind him. “I wonder who these could be from.”
“Is there a name?” Hanamaki asked, his words coming out slightly muffled due to the creampuffs he was currently still chewing.
Looking over at Oikawa, Matsukawa hummed, eyes searching for a card. “It doesn’t look like it. Maybe Oikawa has a secret admirer.”
Oikawa on the other hand didn’t reply, but his fingers did tense if ever so slightly. Just like yesterday, someone had mysteriously sent him a bouquet of red and white roses. There was no note or a name or anything to suggest it came from someone he knew but as he looked at it closely, Oikawa felt that familiar sense of apprehension creep up over him again. There wasn’t just a single, white rose this time.
No, this time, there were two white roses.
Sprawled out over the entire length of the couch with an arm cradled underneath his head, Iwaizumi hummed absentmindedly to music softly playing from his phone. He had always been a fan of soft rock but there was something about jazz that he could appreciate. The sounds of pianos and violins danced about in his ears, playing a song of nostalgia and acceptance.
It was a quiet night, but a solitary one. He and Kuroo usually came home together, being both roommates and co-workers, but Iwaizumi oddly found himself alone tonight. He wasn’t worried or anything like that. It wasn’t strange for any of them to come home later than usual because after all, with a job like this, anything could happen. Iwaizumi couldn’t count the amount of times Kuroo had spent sleepless nights in the lab or he, himself didn’t come home for several days because of a possible lead.
Iwaizumi looked over to the right and frowned upon seeing the time. It was nearing one in the morning and yet Kuroo still hadn’t come home. It was strange that Kuroo hadn’t called or texted him anything. An update would have been nice at least. Rolling over to reach for his phone, he unlocked it, and began thumbing through his texts. After a few seconds, he frowned. “Nope, still nothing,” he concluded. “Maybe he fell asleep at the lab?”
That could very well be a possibility.
Trusting that he’d either see Kuroo at work tomorrow or he’d wake up to a text, Iwaizumi shrugged and placed his phone back on the table. Picking up his abandoned case files from earlier, Iwaizumi opened it, and stared long and hard at the picture of Sozen. It was a picture of him at the park and he was standing at the very top of a slide. With a proud grin on his face, his right hand was slightly blurry due to his enthusiastic waving. Dressed in khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt with an airplane on it, he was fucking adorable. Sozen even had on a red hat and wore it backwards, a little bit of his hair peeking out from above the strap. “You would have been twelve this year, huh? Practically almost a teenager.” It was probably morbid of him to do so, but talking to Sozen honestly helped his grief.
Iwaizumi’s phone vibrated just then, immediately drawing his attention towards it. He reached for it quickly, hoping that it might have been Kuroo with some sort of update, but the very moment he felt the plastic against his skin, a shrill screech pierced through the air as his phone started to short-circuit. Flinching almost immediately, Iwaizumi’s hands flew to cover his ears, the noise practically clawing at his insides. “Shut it off! Shut it off!” He recoiled against the disturbing sound, but knew he had to do something to stop it. The detective braced himself and reached underneath the coffee table, grabbing for the hidden Glock pistol.
As fast as lightning, he quickly turned off the safety, cocked it, and lined up the shot, firing it with precise aim and precision. Shattering the screen and effectively cancelling out the noise from his phone, Iwaizumi panted slightly, his brows turned down in displeasure as the smell of dusty smoke entered his nostrils. He lowered his firing arm and was just about to go and investigate when the phone lit up once more.
“23 1 20 1 19 8 9 20 1 3 8 9 23 1 19 8 9 20 20 5 9 16 1 19 21,” it started to chime, almost sounding like some computer-generated voice. “23 1 20 1 19 8 9 20 1 3 8 9 23 1 19 8 9 20 20 5 9 16 1 19 21.” The phone then started to repeat that strange sequence of numbers, looping over and over again. “23 1 20 1 19 8 9 20 1 3 8 9 23 1 19 8 9 20 20 5 9 16 1 19 21.”
Scrambling for a pen and paper, Iwaizumi hurriedly began writing down the numbers he was hearing with his left hand, parroting them back in his mind. “23, 1, 20, 1, 19, 8, 9, 20, 1, 3, 8, 9…” He didn’t even bother to write them down neatly because of the looming thoughts in his head that the phone could short-circuit again and shut down for good. His right hand was still holding onto the pistol tightly, loaded and ready if need be, but after maybe a minute or so, the phone went quiet.
Amongst the whizzing and crackling of his phone, Iwaizumi found himself alone once more. Knowing it was probably due to a dead battery, he exhaled slowly, focusing his attention elsewhere. Darting his eyes from left to right, he scanned his surroundings before ultimately zeroing in on the window to his left. Although the blinds were down and the curtains were pulled together tight enough to effectively hide him from the public eye, the detective knew someone had to have been watching him. He wasn’t an idiot; he had been chasing criminals long enough to know when someone was watching him but it wasn’t being monitored that pissed Iwaizumi off. No, if anything, it was the fact that someone was playing with him that made him see red.
“I’m going to find you,” Iwaizumi vowed, fully facing the window where he knew the fucker could see him. Raising his right arm and pointing the gun’s muzzle directly to the window, his finger hovered over the trigger as a challenging smirk laced his lips. “You want to play games, is that it? Why don’t you come out already instead of hiding in the shadows like a goddamn coward? Do you really think we won’t find you?”
Knowing that they must have stumbled onto something huge for the asshole to make his presence known, Iwaizumi was confident that they were getting closer and closer to unraveling the mystery.