48: Chapter 48: Tsundere Always Lose!

Fujino stood on the second floor of his building, surveying the newly furnished detective agency. He nodded in satisfaction.

The agency occupied the right side of the second floor, a space of over one hundred square meters divided into three rooms and a main area.

The largest room, about fifty square meters, served as his office. A sleek desk sat by the window, paired with an ergonomic chair. Near the entrance, a comfortable sofa faced a coffee table.

Another room, secured with a reinforced door, housed his case files and various mementos from completed jobs: an autographed poster from Yoko Okino, the broken dagger of a certain rope-bound killer, a dented helmet from a museum director... keepsakes of sorts.

The main reception area mirrored the office's minimalist style, furnished to the standard of a respectable corporate meeting room.

"Have to say, that million yen was well spent," Fujino mused, pleased with the finally professional look of the space.

Ring ring!

His phone rang again.

Fujino checked the caller ID: [Shibasaki Mieko]. He paused for a beat, then answered.

"Detective Fujino,"

Mieko's voice sounded urgent on the other end,

"have you found out who Tatsuya likes yet?"

Fujino's eyes narrowed slightly. He could hear a faint, muffled roar in the background. Is she at a concert right now?

After a moment's thought, he replied,

"The investigation is nearly complete. I should have an answer for you by tomorrow."

"Really?"

Mieko sounded surprised. She hadn't expected him to be so efficient. Only took a few days... Guess he earned that high fee.

"Tomorrow might be difficult for me... How about the day after? After the concert ends, I'll come by your office."

With that, Mieko hung up.

"So, their concert ends the day after tomorrow, and then they have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the after-party?"

Fujino put his phone away, murmuring,

"Looks like I need to speed things up..."

That afternoon, outside Kimura Tatsuya's music studio.

Fujino, disguised in work overalls, a blue cap pulled low, and a face mask, slipped into the studio under the guise of a plumber fixing the pipes.

Tatsuya's studio was spacious, filled with various musical instruments. Posters of himself adorned the walls, and neatly stacked sheet music covered a desk in the corner.

Fujino scanned the room, then activated his enhanced perception.

Soon, tucked away in a hidden spot, he found a photograph.

The photo was taken at an underground concert years ago. A younger Kimura Tatsuya stood on stage, looking intensely at a girl with freckles – not conventionally beautiful, but not unattractive either. Both their eyes shone with youthful ambition and dreams for the future.

"Tsundere always lose, huh?"

Fujino sighed, shaking his head with a knowing look. He pocketed the photograph and slipped out of the studio as quietly as he'd entered.

"Tatsuya, you have the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠concert tomorrow. Remember to wake up early and eat breakfast."

"Stop nagging me!"

"Why are you acting like my mom?!"

"I'm just looking out for you."

Outside Kimura Tatsuya's studio door.

Terahara Mari watched Tatsuya disappear inside, a flicker of resentment in her eyes.

Sighing, she returned to her car, intending to drive home.

As she sat down, she felt something hard ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beneath her. Something... out of place?

She shifted, reaching under herself, and pulled out a photograph.

It was the one Fujino had just planted – the old photo of her and Tatsuya from their early band days.

Looking at their younger selves, a wave of sadness washed over her.

"He wasn't like this back then... Why did things change?"

"He must have dropped it when he got out of the car earlier," she thought.

She sighed again, picking up the photo, intending to return it tomorrow. As she turned it over, she noticed lyrics handwritten on the back: [To the You Without Makeup].

"'To the You Without Makeup'?"

Terahara Mari read the title aloud, puzzled. As her eyes scanned the lyrics below, they widened progressively.

A single tear escaped, splashing onto the photograph.

She clutched the photo tightly, her gaze fixed on the studio door.

"Tatsuya... could it be...?"

Knock knock knock!

"Tatsuya, open up!"

Terahara Mari pounded on Kimura Tatsuya's studio door, calling his name urgently.

"Ugly, why are you back? Go home!"

Kimura Tatsuya opened the door, looking annoyed, then his eyes fell on the photograph in Mari's hand. He froze, then quickly snatched it back.

"This photo... How did you get this?!"

"You dropped it in the car just now."

"Strange... I didn't bring this photo with me today..."

Tatsuya scratched his head, confused.

Before he could ponder further, Terahara Mari interrupted, her voice trembling slightly.

"So... the lyrics on the back... did you write those?"

"You saw them?"

Tatsuya looked flustered, averting his gaze. A faint blush crept onto his usually guarded face.

"I was going to wait until after I went solo... write the full song... surprise you then..."

"Yes! I wrote those lyrics... for you, Ugly!"

Terahara Mari stared, stunned.

"Then... why do you always call me ugly?"

"Because you went and got plastic surgery without asking me!" Tatsuya burst out, finally letting his true feelings show.

He took a deep breath.

"I never said you were ugly! The way you looked before... you were beautiful just the way you were!"

Terahara Mari's world tilted. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Of course. Ever since the surgery, Tatsuya had been cold, distant, even deliberately cruel sometimes... It was all because of the plastic surgery?

"Tatsuya... do you mean...?"

"You know, so don't say it out loud! It's embarrassing!" Tatsuya's face flushed an even deeper red, looking like a teenage boy experiencing his first crush.

Understanding dawned in Mari's eyes. She threw her arms around him, tears streaming down her face – tears of regret, relief, and overwhelming emotion...

Tonight, a different kind of 'battle' was inevitable, one that might still result in casualties of a sort, but hopefully not fatal ones.

From a distance, Fujino sat in his Ford Taurus, watching the lights in the studio eventually go out. A strange, almost fond expression crossed his face.

"See? Tsundere types are totally outdated..." he murmured after a moment, resting his chin on his hand.

He gazed at the darkened window, a subtle, knowing smile playing on his lips. Like an unseen hand subtly guiding events from the shadows...

Honestly, he thought, this feeling isn't half bad.