A Taste Of Poison (Tokyo MPD Mysteries #4)

CHAPTER 1

Shinji

Shinji leaned against the wall in a secluded area of Haneda Airport, wrapped in Teruo's arms. His palms skimmed absentmindedly over Teruo’s chest, the fabric of the dress shirt crisp beneath his fingertips.

The plane to Hiroshima was set to take off within the hour, and he should’ve headed toward security, but he found himself rooted in place.

The urge to ditch the impromptu visit to his estranged grandparents and head back home with Teruo tugged at him, but this wasn't just about his wants. It was about Teruo, whose protective wards had completely faded a month ago. Now Teruo lost little parts of his soul every time Shinji’s energy was depleted and hungrily fed on his life force to heal.

The only ones who could provide some insight into the situation were his grandparents—or so Shinji hoped.

Teruo pressed a tender kiss on his cheek, then regarded him with a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m just—” Shinji exhaled. “I’m okay,” he repeated, this time trying to sound more convincing.

Teruo opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He had wanted to come with—and Shinji wished he could have Teruo by his side—but it was Monday, and Teruo couldn’t justify his absence from work. Shinji had barely managed to get time off himself, citing a family emergency.

“Did you check in with Nakajima’s guy?” Teruo asked.

“I did. He’s gonna wait for me when I land.”

Nakajima Kazuya, the kitsune shifter who had placed the protective wards on Teruo’s soul, had hired an investigator to locate Shinji’s grandparents.

They owned a shop in the outskirts of Hiroshima, and Shinji intended to go there directly.

It would’ve been polite to give them a heads up he was visiting, but Shinji didn’t want to offer them the opportunity to prepare some grand speech or excuses for abandoning him.

He wanted to see their raw reactions to his presence.

“Would’ve been good if Keiko joined you,” Teruo said.

Shinji shook his head. “Tried to. They didn’t approve, otherwise I would’ve brought her, and I don’t want to make her fly all the way there.”

As per the Onmyōryō’s rules, ghosts weren’t allowed on planes.

It was dangerous to have people stuck with ghosts in a narrow space, up in the air, with no way to get help if things got ugly.

And because of the altitude, some supernaturals had a weaker focus, so for everybody’s safety, ghosts were accepted only in dire situations.

Shinji would’ve taken the train if time wasn’t of the essence.

“Don’t worry,” Shinji continued. “I’ll be back home today by dinner. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

Teruo circled his thumbs around the small of Shinji’s back, soothing Shinji’s tense body. “I think they’ll be happy to see you.”

“Perhaps.” Shinji shrugged. “I just don’t know how I feel. I guess I’m still rather bitter.”

A dark shadow crossed Teruo’s face, and his throat bobbed. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could come and offer support. It frustrates me that you have to face them on your own.”

“I’ll be okay.” Shinji smiled and cupped Teruo’s cheek, tracing his thumb over the rough stubble as Teruo leaned into his touch. He couldn’t even put into words how happy it made him that Teruo understood.

Shinji didn’t want to leave on a miserable note, even if he’d only be absent for a few hours.

He wrapped his arms around Teruo’s neck and nuzzled his nose against Teruo’s, then kissed his lips.

Teruo pressed his body closer and kissed him back, slow and sweet, savoring him, and Shinji thought he could sense fear in Teruo’s touch.

The sudden trip to Hiroshima and impossibility of joining Shinji was probably stressing him.

“Don’t party too hard without me,” Shinji joked, hoping it would lighten the mood.

Teruo grinned. “I already invited the entire neighborhood.”

That made Shinji laugh, knowing Teruo was actually the neighborhood’s number one party pooper, marching badge-first toward any noise makers at night.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Shinji said.

Teruo held onto him tight, pressing his lips on Shinji’s mouth, his cheek, then the pulse of his neck. “Text me when you land. And,” he added, “if something happens or if you just want to talk, call me, okay?”

“Okay.” Shinji checked the time on his phone. “Gotta go. I can’t miss the flight.”

With another last goodbye kiss, Shinji reluctantly broke away and picked up his backpack, then headed toward the gate.

His legs felt like lead as he boarded the plane and sat down by the window.

He had a thought of sprinting out and returning home, but chastised himself.

He wasn’t a child anymore, and whatever his grandparents would say, he had no reason to care; he just needed information about Teruo’s condition and then would be on his way back.

The flight attendant announcing the takeoff broke Shinji out of his thoughts, and he looked out the window as the plane went up.

Beyond was a stunning view of the bay, the shimmering blue water reflecting the clear sky and bright early morning sun, with ships leaving white trails behind them as they glided across the water.

The plane climbed higher, and soon there were only clouds surrounding it.

Resting his head against the window, Shinji wrestled to come up with what to tell his grandparents.

He had half-hoped Kazuya’s investigator wouldn’t find them, but after Kazuya’s confirmation two days ago, Shinji scrambled to book a flight.

He feared that if he postponed it too much, he’d lose the courage to face them.

When the plane touched down at the Hiroshima airport an hour and a half later, Shinji still didn't know what he was going to say. He’d never been much of a planner, so he decided to get straight to the point when he met them.

They were practically strangers, anyway. No point in beating around the bush.

As he exited, Shinji looked around for the man with whom he was supposed to meet.

A man wearing a simple dark suit held a sign with Shinji’s name, and he walked toward the guy.

There was no spiritual energy present, so he was a non-supernatural.

His attire was plain enough that Shinji couldn’t tell if the man was a gangster, but he probably was.

Since Teruo’s healing powers were a secret, it was easier to get a non-supernatural gangster’s help.

“Mr. Miyazaki?” the man asked.

Shinji nodded and bowed his head in greeting.

“I’m here to drive you to your grandparents and then back here when you’re done,” the man said.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

They exited the airport, and Shinji climbed into the back seat of the car. He looked at the dashboard’s GPS, which had the destination, then searched it on his phone. It was a mountainous area, with a few hot spring inns, shrines, and temples, and the Minochi River flowing nearby.

A shiver went down his spine as reality hit him.

He was back in Hiroshima and about to meet his grandparents.

His hands shook, and he clasped them tight, his mind reeling with memories from the letters he’d found after his father’s death.

They called his father a bastard who stole their daughter, but Shinji couldn’t remember if they mentioned him in those letters.

He still had them stashed in a drawer, but didn’t have the courage to read them again.

All Shinji could think about was that they abandoned him.

Having to ask for their help now left a bitter taste in his mouth, but this was all for Teruo’s sake.

The hour-long drive passed in a blur, and the man announced they were getting closer. “You look pale,” he said as he glanced at Shinji through the rearview mirror. “Did I drive too fast?”

Shinji shook his head, feeling his throat dry. “It was the plane. I have a fear of heights,” he lied just so he wouldn’t admit he actually feared seeing his grandparents. He grabbed the water bottle from his backpack and took a few gulps.

The man found an empty parking spot and stopped. “See that small shop there? It’s theirs. That’s your grandfather.” He pointed to an older man visible inside.

Shinji thanked him, then stepped out, covering his forehead with his palm to protect his eyes from the bright September sun. It was hot and humid, his thin t-shirt sticking to his back.

Surrounded by mountains on either side, the area was lined with a blend of traditional wooden houses and modern ones made of gray concrete, tightly packed along the main road.

The fancy-looking building far to his right was a hot spring inn, according to the large plaque outside, but there weren’t too many people around.

Shinji inhaled the strong and clean smell of grass and trees that was often covered in the city by the car fumes and food stalls.

What he’d most forgotten about was the silence.

There was no buzz of big city rush. It stirred memories of his childhood.

The horrendous lonely days lying in his bed with only the gentle hum of cicadas to keep him company, tears dripping down his face after his father told him what a waste of space he was for the millionth time.

That silence was unbearable, always letting dark thoughts crawl back into his mind, so he’d moved to the city, drowning those thoughts with noise.

Shinji took another sip of water, then walked toward the shop. It was a one-story building with a gable roof, wooden walls, two vending machines outside with beverages and snacks, and a bench next to them. The sliding doors were wide open, and Shinji went straight in before he lost his nerve.

A young man welcomed him loudly when he entered, but Shinji’s attention was on his grandfather in the far left corner. If he hadn’t been pointed out earlier, Shinji wouldn’t have known it was him. His hair had thinned and turned white, and a slight hunch curved his back.