Red Tea

by Meg Mezeske

  She sounded so accusatory that Jordan was taken aback and had to think for a moment. “I’m just sorry that I never got to know Yuki—not even meet him—I’m curious to know what he was like.” Ms. Tatsuya’s eyes darted from left to right, as though reading sentences lined on Jordan’s face, until finally her attention returned to the jug left on the counter.

  “There’s not much left. I can’t use this.”

  “I’d be happy to go to Ai-Yu for you,” Jordan said, eager to change the subject. The grocery store was only a few minutes’ walk away, and she had no more classes for the day anyway. “It’s not far.”

  Ms. Tatsuya agreed after a few minutes of weak, almost perfunctory protestations that Jordan not go out of her way. Jordan had insisted, hoping for an excuse to be away from her desk for the remainder of the afternoon.

  Once outside, however, she regretted it, greeted by a bitter wind and a few feeble smatterings of snow. She took one look at the muddy paths and decided to walk instead of taking her bike, not being an experienced cyclist. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Jordan-sensei!” A tall student loped from the school’s doors, one of his hands raised as though to be called upon in class. It was Ryusuke. In two more long strides, he was at her side. His sun-dark face was flushed by the cold and breath streamed from his lips like steam from a bowl of soup. “Hi.”

  “Ryusuke! Playing hooky?” Jordan said with a smile.

  “Nah, the school nurse sent me home. I’m not feeling so good.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Jordan took another look at the tall boy as they walked together, noticing the redness of his nose and cheeks and a puffiness around his eyes.

  “Oh, shit, almost forgot.” Ryusuke pulled a paper face mask out of his pocket—commonly worn by those who were ill or wished to avoid being so—and hooked its elastic loops over his ears.

  “Can’t one of your parents pick you up?”

  “My older brother works at the pharmacy by Ai-Yu. I’ll hang out there. Looks like you’re the one skipping school, sensei,” Ryusuke said teasingly. Even though Jordan couldn’t see his smile behind the mask, his eyes scrunched up with amusement. They stopped chatting after a few more steps, hunkering into their scarves, giving Jordan a moment to think.

  Inspector Sakurai had been gone for several days, but even without anyone to report her findings to, Jordan had continued to ask questions of Nanami, Akira, and anyone who knew the deceased. As far as she knew, Ryusuke wasn’t particularly familiar with either of them, but she decided it couldn’t hurt to ask.

  “Ryusuke, did you know Yuki and Emi well?”

  “No, not really. Emi and I were in the same class, but, well… She was popular and always hung out with the cool kids, you know?” Jordan was getting to know the students’ dynamics and cliques but was surprised to hear that Ryusuke didn’t consider himself popular. No one would argue that he wasn’t a bit awkward, but he was always friendly and smiling, well-liked, and one of the baseball team’s star players. Jordan looked back at him. The mask obscured much of his expression, but his brows were drawn down and he looked almost sad. “I didn’t have a clue that Yuki existed at all, until he got in trouble a few months ago. Maybe I should get to know the underclassmen better.”

  “Did the inspector speak with you?”

  “About the suicide club? No, I don’t know anything about that. I just don’t get it.” He shook his head and they waited in silence near the traffic light, which glowed like a Christmas ornament against the snowy sky. Jordan could see Ai-Yu’s bright red and white sign across the street—peppered with spots of ashy snow—and decided she couldn’t leave Ryusuke in an uncharacteristically melancholy mood before they parted.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you without Kenji. I thought you two were inseparable. You’re like Downtown—that comedy duo on TV!”

  Ryusuke laughed and had to catch his breath before he replied. “No! No, sensei! That’s so uncool.” Ryusuke’s cheeks raised and she could tell he was smiling under the mask. He slowly recovered himself. “Actually, sensei, I was hoping to ask you a question. You’re always so nice to us, hanging out after school, and I thought you might answer something.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, what if you like someone, and you think they like you back, but you’re not sure?” He lowered his head and then muttered something incomprehensible that sounded like he was admonishing himself.

  Jordan thought a moment and felt a sudden flush rise to her face that had nothing to do with the cold. Was Ryusuke asking about her? She sometimes wondered if any of her students were stoking schoolboy crushes, remembering her own daydreams about her high school math instructor. She bit her lip to keep from smiling and adopted a tone of flat seriousness.

  “Ryusuke, you’re an excellent student and I consider you my friend, but—” she stopped as Ryusuke let loose a bark of laughter and stumbled to keep walking.

  “No, no! It’s okay, sensei. Forget I said anything.” He raised both gloved hands in front of him as though to stop an oncoming car. Jordan took a breath to ask what he meant and caught a waft of chicken yakitori on the swift breeze, realizing they were at their destination. Ryusuke jumped in before she could continue. “Well, thanks for walking with me. I’ll see you next week,” Ryusuke said.

  “Bye, Ryusuke. I hope you feel better.” She waved as he jogged toward the small pharmacy and bowed to her before stepping inside. Smiling to herself, Jordan brushed through the grocery store’s sliding doors in search of a bottle of vinegar.

  Twelve

  “Inspector,” Jordan said, surprised to see him at the entrance of Ogawa’s train station. She hadn’t noticed him at the school that day but doubted he had any other reason to be in town besides gathering information for the investigation. As always, he was dressed in a smart suit, briefcase in hand, this time with the addition of a scarf and warm-looking overcoat. His glasses fogged as he stepped inside the station. The inspector carefully removed the frames as he took a seat across from Jordan, and she was once again struck by his attractive, almost feline, features.

  “Hello, Ms. Howard,” he said and smiled, removing a cloth from his briefcase to wipe at his glasses. “I trust you’ve been well?”

  “I’ve been cold.” She grinned and moved a little closer to the barrel-sized kerosene heater planted between the rows of benches in the tiny station house.

  “Japan must be very different from Las Vegas,” the inspector said.

  “Did I mention I was from Las Vegas?” Jordan asked, knowing full well she had not, and felt somehow pleased that the inspector had been asking about her.

  “You will forgive me? I am an inspector after all.”

  “Were you at the high school today? Do you have some news about the investigation?” Jordan said and leaned forward, though there was no one to overhear their conversation besides the man behind the ticket counter.

  “Yes. Unfortunately, I had to tell the principal and the children’s families that the results of my investigation are so far inconclusive.” He looked and sounded displeased yet retained an ever-present air of professionalism.

  “So you don’t know whether there’s a suicide club or not?” Jordan said, trying not to sound accusatory despite her disappointment.

  “Correct.”

  “You didn’t turn up anything about Emi and Junichi in Sagae?” She was fishing. The inspector had never said that he was going to Sagae to investigate Junichi, after all. His answers were always carefully crafted, but perhaps he would reveal more if only she kept asking.

  “Inconclusive,” he said and grinned ever so slightly at her latest attempt to wrest away information.

  “Will you come back to Ogawa?”

  “My superiors have assigned me to another case. Unless new information arises, I don’t expect to,” he said and paused. “Not for work, at least. But Ogawa has other charms.”

  “I see,” Jordan said and ducked her he
ad to hide an involuntary smile. Certainly she was attracted to him, but she hadn’t held out hope that he felt the same. She felt her stomach flip with nervous excitement, though she wasn’t confident that she was reading him correctly, between her imperfect Japanese and his previous attempts to distance himself.

  Jordan also hadn’t entertained the thought of pursuing anyone during her time in Japan, but neither had the opportunity presented itself before. Inspector Sakurai was clearly intelligent and undeniably handsome. In a more casual setting, she imagined he could be rather personable. She smiled wider, mind made up. “Inspector, would you like to get coffee sometime?”

  “I would like that very much, Ms. Howard,” he said, looking pleased and slightly surprised.

  “Please call me Jordan,” she said. “And I certainly can’t keep calling you ‘Inspector.’”

  “It’s Toshihiko.”

  “I look forward to it, Toshihiko.”

  Thirteen

  Coffee one Friday evening had been followed by dinner the next week, and another, and Jordan once again found herself sitting across from Toshihiko, sharing a meal and conversation. They sat in the corner of a shabu-shabu restaurant, crowded near a window that sweated with condensation from the boiling broth at the center of their table. Outside the window, fat drops of freezing rain slid and spattered against the glass.

  “I guess I should head back to Ogawa soon—wouldn’t want to get caught up in this storm. It’ll be bad enough as it is,” she said and turned her attention from the window to Toshihiko. Picking up her chopsticks, she pinched a leaf of cabbage from the roiling, golden broth and brought it close to her lips to blow on it. “Or you could show me your apartment.” Toshihiko coughed, and she smiled widely.

  “Yes, well, the station’s not far. I’ll see you to your train if you like,” Toshihiko said after taking a sip of the dregs of his beer.

  “Sure,” Jordan said with a sigh, unsurprised by Toshihiko’s answer but still disappointed. It wasn’t the first advance he had deflected. Toshihiko was a tough enough nut to crack already, and approaching him from a romantic angle didn’t do much to pierce his shell.

  Jordan knew Toshihiko’s hesitation wasn’t from lack of attraction to her, or at least, she saw no evidence of that. He was always the one to propose their next date—which she always gladly accepted—and she would sometimes catch him admiring her. There was no coldness when he would press his hand or lips to hers—quite the opposite. Infrequent though they might be, each touch was brief and searing, like an electric spark.

  She also knew there must be some men who simply wanted to take things slowly, but none whom she had ever met. Though, she had only been in a handful of short-lived relationships before, so she didn’t have much to compare Toshihiko to.

  Also, unlike Jordan’s other romantic interests, Toshihiko made her feel…fuller. She couldn’t think of another word for it. When Toshihiko was with her, his presence filled in the small hollows of her life in Japan—little pits she seldom realized were there, until Toshihiko left and they were emptied. Neither feeling—the gain nor the loss—was over-powerful, but Jordan had to admit she enjoyed Toshihiko’s company, enjoyed the realization that he was one of the few she cared for among a sea of strangers.

  She didn’t love him, though. And she wondered whether her isolation from friends and family was honing her feelings for Toshihiko—whether the weight of her loneliness lifted up her fondness for him, like opposite ends of a scale.

  Jordan liked him, and admittedly, she liked to watch him squirm from time to time. At the moment, however, his rebuff irked more than amused her.

  She eyed the last piece of Kobe beef somersaulting through the broth. She knew Toshihiko would not take the final piece, as it was polite to refuse it, and decided to eat it herself without offering. As Jordan scooped the dripping meat into her rice bowl, she saw Toshihiko smirk and nod once to himself, though he didn’t say anything for some time. Finally, he met her eyes and spoke.

  “I’ve been wondering―why did you come here?”

  “A handsome friend of mine said it was the best shabu-shabu restaurant in Yamagata City, and that we should give it a try.” She grinned around a mouthful of rice.

  “To Japan, I mean,” Toshihiko said, either not picking up on her joke, or more likely, choosing to ignore it. “Do you want to be a teacher when you return?”

  “Not really.” Jordan shook her head and thought for a moment. “I thought it would be exciting—like an adventure. Strike off on my own in an entirely new place.”

  “Is it as foreign and exotic as you hoped for?” Toshihiko pushed up his glasses as he said this, obscuring his expression with his hand. Jordan wasn’t sure of his tone but felt edges of sarcasm poke at her.

  “Yes,” she said and took a long swallow of water, not wanting to comment more. Either she had read Toshihiko incorrectly, or he was easily defused, as he smiled and calmly set aside his chopsticks instead of prodding further. Jordan kept her eyes on her water glass as she set it down. “Actually, there’s another reason why I came here.”

  “Oh?” Toshihiko clasped his hands on the table.

  “My brother Aiden…died. In March. He overdosed, and no one knows whether it was an accident or not. Everything back home reminds me of him. I thought if only I left, if only—” She heard her voice quaver and felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of her eyes. Toshihiko could see the change in her demeanor and his expression softened. In different circumstances, Jordan would have milked Toshihiko’s unexpected show of tenderness, but not when it came to Aiden.

  She couldn’t fall to pieces every single time she thought of her brother—it was too frequent an occurrence—and Toshihiko’s warm look bolstered Jordan’s resolve to pull herself together. She took a deep breath, slumped back against the booth’s stiff cushion, and sighed. “I thought if I left home, maybe I could get away from it all. But now, after Yuki and Emi…”

  “I’m very sorry, Jordan. You have my deepest sympathy.” Toshihiko placed his hand atop hers and gave it a brief squeeze. He didn’t let the touch linger, yet Jordan was grateful for the gesture, small as it was. He wore a sincere look but was also entirely calm, leading Jordan to wonder just how many grieving families he had consoled in his line of work.

  “Why did you come here?” Jordan said after a pause, hoping to redirect the conversation. “From Tokyo to Yamagata City.”

  “Ah. So you know about all that?” Toshihiko settled back in his seat. He looked intrigued, and maybe even a shade embarrassed.

  “Who doesn’t Google their dates these days?” She shrugged. “Seriously, though, that Yakuza arrest was quite the accomplishment. And so early in your career. I’m surprised you left the Tokyo police.”

  Toshihiko said nothing, his energies diverted to his thoughts. Though his neutral expression didn’t change, Jordan could tell he was weighing what to say next, if anything at all. After a moment more of silence, Jordan tried again.

  “I mean, didn’t you have more opportunities in Tokyo?”

  “I left because a Yakuza shatei attacked me in retaliation. Four stab wounds. I spent weeks in the hospital recovering,” Toshihiko said with controlled calm. He continued over Jordan’s choked noise of surprise, his steady gaze holding hers. “Even then, I wished to stay in Tokyo, to see more members of the Inagawa-kai brought to justice. But once they learned that I had survived, they made threats against my family.”

  “Toshihiko…”

  “I convinced my parents and sister to move to Akita. When another—unsuccessful—attempt was made on my life, I transferred to Yamagata City.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” She ached to reach for his hand then, to return the same small reassurance he had given her, but his chilly expression was as much a deterrent as the distance. “You must—”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Toshihiko said firmly, though not unkindly. Jordan took his meaning clearly: he didn’t want to speak more about it. A beat of s
ilence followed before he permitted a wan smile. “At least now I can concentrate on solving cases. I wouldn’t have been able to perform my duties well in Tokyo, not with the distraction of the Inagawa-kai.”

  “Distraction? That’s an understatement.” Jordan was too overwhelmed by Toshihiko’s story to check her incredulity.

  “I suppose it’s better this way. People in Yamagata need help, too, after all.” Toshihiko’s smile broadened a touch, but Jordan could see little warmth behind it, or his words, despite his effort to build up a serene exterior. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “I don’t regret coming here.”

  Even saying as much seemed to make the case for him feeling the opposite. Still, Jordan grinned back.

  “Because you met such charming people?”

  “Of course.” A short laugh escaped him despite himself.

  They finished their dinner, and he paid the check without much more conversation beyond casual comments on how delicious the meal was. Once outside, most of their attention was focused on staying dry, angling their umbrellas just so in order to deflect the plump raindrops without allowing the wind to catch underneath. Through the clear wings of her umbrella, Jordan could see the lit sign of Yamagata City’s train station, and they were through its main doors within minutes.

  “I can find my train from here, thank you,” Jordan said and stamped her shoes and umbrella against the already sodden floor mat. She looked up and smiled brightly. “And thank you for the lovely dinner.”

  “Of course,” Toshihiko said pleasantly as he removed his glasses to wipe at their fogged lenses. “Have a safe trip home.”