Like Vines We Intertwined, 1/4
Title: Like Vines We Intertwined
Rating: NC-17 (I cannot stress how NSFW this is)
Characters/Pairings: Kitagawa Keiko/Matsumoto Jun; Kitagawa Keiko/Sakurai Sho; Keiko/Jun/Sho
Summary: All Keiko's known, all Keiko's lived for the past several years is the life of a police officer. She knows absolutely nothing about being a housewife.
Notes/Warnings: Content warnings - lots of sex (I'm not joking), sex without condoms, messy relationships bordering on unhealthy at times, threesome. Angst alert for lies/betrayal. Infidelity (kind of but not exactly). Title comes from this song by The Hush Sound.
Hello from the author! This was written for Rissa, my perpetual cheerleader whose devotion to the concept of "Matsumoto Jun getting some" may be more intense than even my own. This was also written for MYSELF because I apparently love writing preposterous plots as a framing device for non-stop porn and angst. If the warnings above have scared you away, no worries. If they've only made you more curious, I hope you'll enjoy.
Igarashi Shinya-san's street is like so many others in the suburban regions of Japan. Where Tokyo is overcrowded with apartment buildings of all shapes and sizes, Higashimaru has some room to breathe. It's a community full of cookie-cutter homes, differing only in the color of their siding. Two stories with a gated carport, tall hedges to keep the snoops away, and the feeling of "new" that the grime-covered buildings of Tokyo lack. Higashimaru is a housing estate built for employees of the Higashimaru Corporation, headquartered here in the southeast of Saitama Prefecture.
The Higashimaru Corporation deals mostly in disaster recovery. Its engineers scout areas immediately after disaster strikes - earthquakes, flooding, landslides. Its agents collaborate with local officials to determine how to rebuild and what infrastructure needs replacing. For years, the government has contracted out numerous projects to Higashimaru. With so many friends in the Diet, it would be near impossible to accuse the corporation of any wrongdoing. For surely their mission is a pure and honest one: to rebuild after catastrophe. To restore hope, to put things right again. To erase the stain of nature's wrath on Japanese towns who lack the means to erase it themselves.
Igarashi Shinya, Higashimaru's chairman of the board, has taken bribes and cut corners for at least a decade - to overcharge small communities, to fill orders with sub-standard materials. To point the finger at everyone but the corporation. Few know the totality of the corruption. After all, Higashimaru's employees are provided with marvelous housing and a decent wage. Most take pride in knowing their efforts are helping those less fortunate to rebuild their lives. If one Higashimaru employee sees an error in the books, he merely takes it to his supervisor. Who takes it to his. Who takes it to his. Surely someone will take care of the mistake. And so the matters are dropped. Because who would willingly forfeit their career? Everyone makes mistakes from time to time.
Keiko's only just been brought in on Higashimaru. The case against Igarashi has been building for years, but they've never been able to corner him. The man's lawyered up like anyone in his position would be. What they need is a confession, verbal confirmation of his position as overseer of the corruption. His underlings have always been too loyal. Nobody will talk. "Higashimaru is a good firm," employees protest. "Typical government, looking for trouble where there is none. Looking for ways to waste our tax dollars."
Igarashi's office is unreachable. Thus far nobody's tried his house. If they manage to obtain evidence in the manner Keiko's new boss is suggesting, it will not be admissible in court. Igarashi's house lies between a family's and a single man's. It's part of his public image as the everyman, the friendly CEO and company chairman who lives among his employees. There's no getting to the other family's house. However, the house next to the single man's will be vacant in one week. New tenants can move right in.
With some finagling, Keiko will be in that house in a week's time. Her mission (and she has no choice but to accept it) is to befriend her neighbor. The single man, Sakurai Sho. Because from the second story bathroom window of Sakurai's house, there is a line of sight over Igarashi's walls and straight into his study. By planting listening devices and cameras in Sakurai's home, they may be able to catch Igarashi in the act. It's inadmissible but may be enough to open a more official inquiry.
She's been on the squad for five years, and this will be her first deep cover. All evidence points to Sakurai Sho as a loyal, hardworking middle manager at Higashimaru - he's above suspicion. It's his house they need, that upstairs bathroom they need. "Break in and plant them when he's at work," had been Keiko's first response. Her bosses think differently. Igarashi has too many spies in the neighborhood. He'd know immediately. No, it's all about sneaking things into Sakurai's house.
"Get close. Let him open the door." Her boss tilts his head and smiles. "Be a charming neighbor."
Keiko merely nods and accepts the file folders. The new life that's been created for her. Officer Kitagawa Keiko, the youngest member of the squad, will no longer exist. She'll become a stranger. Her complete opposite. This isn't something she knows much about. She knows about chasing down criminals, breaking up fights, protecting the innocent. In the academy and on the job, she's fought to make a difference. To keep Japan safe. It's meant a lonely studio apartment, irregular sleep habits, and piles of dishes in the sink she has no time for. It's meant a lonely existence altogether. Work is everything.
But all that is about to change. Here there will be no criminals to chase and no fights to break up. And in this case, she's under orders to violate the privacy and break the trust of an innocent, this Sakurai Sho who has done nothing wrong. His only mistake was being assigned the house next to the company chairman.
All Keiko's known, all Keiko's lived for the past several years is the life of a police officer. She knows absolutely nothing about being a housewife.
--
She remembers Matsumoto Jun from her early days in the academy. He'd been a beat cop in the neighborhood at the time, working his way up to a detective's badge. He's got the same swagger she remembers from the group dates some of the other girls from the academy had dragged her to. The same arrogant grin, those sexy little moles above and below those grinning lips, the same dark eyes that see more than he'd ever let on. "I don't date other cops," had been Keiko's motto at the time. Her only focus was completing her training, becoming a member of the squad. She didn't have time for guys like Matsumoto Jun then.
She has to make time for him now. Because on paper (in the file folder, in the fake certificates, in the fake family register entry) they're married. It's his third deep cover op, and he asks to meet for a coffee a week before they're set to move in to the Higashimaru estate. Getting off the beat and moving up the ladder hasn't softened him much. He's stylish. Not the signature trenchcoat or suit of a TV detective. Instead he's in a broken-in black leather jacket, tight jeans, and offers her a cigarette like it's the best offer she'll ever get in her life.
"Are you single, Matsumoto-san?" she asks after paying for their coffees (in a week's time, he'll be the sole breadwinner, and her pride won't allow her to lose to him if she can still help it).
He's got a model's face with big eyes, a strong bone structure. When he smiles, Keiko tries to keep up her professionalism like a shield. She remembers how the academy girls had fought each other to pour him drinks at the restaurants they'd visited. Getting picked by Matsumoto-san (Matsumoto-sama, some of them had even called him) was a true victory. He was particular. Keiko had spent most of her time those nights texting on her phone, desperate to avoid drunken small talk and an unsatisfying fuck at a love hotel with one of Matsumoto's less attractive companions on the men's side of the table.
And now, she thinks, now she'll be his demure little wife.
"I'm single," he says. "They don't force a married man into an op like this if they can help it. And you?"
He looks at her like he already knows the answer to the question. "I'm currently unattached." Currently detached, her mother would say. Are you going to be a cop all your life? What about my grandchildren? A little lipstick wouldn't hurt now and then, Kei-chan.
Matsumoto seems to like her answer. "Good," he says, leaning back in his seat and settling his hands behind his head, lacing his long fingers together against his jet black hair. "Don't need any jealous fools coming to break our cover."
If he thinks she'd be stupid enough to tell a boyfriend about her undercover work, he clearly hasn't listened to the office gossip. Kitagawa the virgin pure. Kitagawa the ice queen. She's neither of those things, not truly, but if rejecting all comers and acting aloof gets the boys' club to take her seriously, then she'll be that person for them.
They crack open the file folders. Sawada Shin. His wife, Sawada Reiko. Like Keiko, she's three years younger than him. Met while she was in college, became engaged within the first year and wed upon her graduation. He's a new transfer to Higashimaru's marketing department, she's a homemaker. Hoping to have a child soon. "Cute," Matsumoto says with a roll of his eyes. "Do we get to pick out names for our fake future baby?"
She allows a grin to cross her lips. "How about Doraemon? According to the file here, you're a fan."
"They don't skimp on details, do they?" Matsumoto sighs, flipping through more papers. It's a lot of homework, a lot to take in. A lot that they won't even be asked about their fake selves that they need to know anyhow.
They finish their coffee and it's time to really get to work. They spend the rest of the afternoon at headquarters crafting their lives. They change clothes, and Keiko finds herself in a wedding dress for the first time (hopefully not the last, she can hear her mother complaining). Unlike the bravado he projects elsewhere in the station, in the halls where he playfully smacks around a kohai or two, he holds her gently as they plaster on some smiles and pose for their "wedding photos." More evidence to decorate their new home together, more to complete the lie.
It's an unfamiliar feeling, having a man's arms around her waist. Smiling like she means it. She doesn't date cops. And the men she does date don't stick around long. A woman with a gun and a badge is too intimidating for most of them. She tugs a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles again when the photographer says "say cheese!"
Matsumoto will be entering the deception first, as he has employee orientation at Higashimaru in a few days and he'll be getting a crash course in life as a marketing lackey until then. When she next sees him they'll be driving up together in a small, conservative five-door hatchback, waiting for the movers. When she next sees him, she has to act like he's her husband.
She's about to leave when he pulls her out into the hallway. The door to the smoking booth down the hall has never stuck firm, and she can smell it lingering in the air. She tries to smell it so she doesn't smell him too closely instead. Having his arms around her, posing in a wedding dress...it's been a long day and her resolve is wearing thin already. They couldn't have picked someone ugly to team up with her?
He's four, maybe five inches taller than her, and she wishes she'd worn heels today to try and compete on a level playing field. Instead he looks down at her, lips quirking dangerously. "Kitagawa-san," he says politely. "I look forward to working with you. I believe you and I will be the ones to finally crack this case."
"I believe that, too," she agrees. Because Keiko doesn't allow for failure. She meets his eyes, knowing how easy it would be to let herself drown in them. She wonders how many women he's snared in the same manner. "Please take care of me."
"It's a husband's duty," he replies, patting her on the shoulder and walking away.
--
Her new clothes are not the best use for taxpayer money. For work, Keiko normally wears jeans, a comfortable blouse, a blazer to add an air of professionalism. Sawada Reiko is neat and quiet, and she wears pearls with her plain blouse and knee-length floral skirt. Even for moving, Sawada Reiko apparently wants to dress to impress the neighbors. Keiko remembers hauling boxes around during her last move in a pair of sweats and a paint-splattered t-shirt, no bra.
Matsumoto's leather jacket is gone. Sawada Shin sits in his place. They may as well have leapt out of a cheesy commercial. She knows from his file that he's conveniently nearsighted like Matsumoto is, and his contacts have vanished. He's wearing a pair of black frames, and his hair has none of the gel and intentional tousling he'd opted for on their coffee meeting. It's combed neatly, fringe falling across his forehead attractively. He's got a Meiji University t-shirt and less form fitting jeans on with a pair of worn sneakers (Keiko supposes the sneakers are his own). They've turned him, she thinks while stifling a giggle, into a bit of a nerd.
His hands on the steering wheel of the Toyota Passo are perfectly steady. Keiko finds herself clutching the straps of her purse, wondering if she'll break their cover as soon as she exits the vehicle looking nothing like her real self. Will the people in the neighborhood see through her immediately?
They're just turning onto the street when he seems to sense her nervousness. He moves one hand off the wheel, slides it to the left to find her sweaty right hand. "Reiko, honey," he says with a voice that may as well be honey itself. "We'll do fine."
He's already switched Matsumoto Jun off, buried him away somewhere. The edge that had characterized their last meeting has disappeared. He's hopeful, optimistic, looking forward to the brand new start that seemed promised in the pages of their official op files. Keiko's already behind.
She's had a haircut. It stops at her shoulders now, and a cheerful red headband holds her fringe back. Her makeup is different, her nails are a pearlescent pink, and her shoes are open-toe wedges. She looks like a different person. She's not Keiko. She has to be Reiko.
She squeezes his hand in return, smiling brightly. Vapidly, Keiko would have judged in her most cynical of days. "I love you."
She sees a flicker of something quickly in his dark brown eyes, and even his glasses can't hide it. He swallows and keeps his attention firmly on the road. His hand drifts from hers and instead finds the gear shift as he pulls up to their new carport, the metal gate already pulled aside waiting for their arrival.
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
A family with three children lives in the tan house to one side. Their new house, three bedrooms, two baths, is a light blue. To the other side lies a carbon copy of theirs, save for a brown tiled roof instead of gray like their own. Sakurai Sho's house. They exit the car, stretch as Keiko joins her "husband" at the front door. He's already jingling their house keys in his hand.
"Our house. Yours and mine," he says a bit theatrically, and she smiles as charmingly as she can muster. He twists the key in the lock and pulls the door open. "After you."
They're only waiting for the major furniture now: the bedroom set, living room, and dining room furniture. In boxes labeled "Dishes and China" are surveillance equipment. Jun picks it up first thing and starts hauling it upstairs. The honeymoon's over, and there's work to be done.
They spend the next few hours unpacking the boxes. Clothes, toiletries, kitchenware. It's a large house. She'd grown up with her parents and brother in Kobe in a house maybe half this size (and three or four times older). The rooms are large and airy, windows are abundant. The hall just inside past the genkan is an open plan with a chandelier hanging down from the ceiling and a curved stairway leading up to their three bedrooms. One for the couple, one for guests, and a third for the baby they hope will be on the way once they settle in. Jun will be sleeping in the guest bedroom. This has all been detailed in the files.
The movers arrive with the rest of the furniture, and Keiko almost feels like this is truly her house as she gives the moving men orders on how to arrange the sofa and tea table while Jun hooks up their television and the wireless router for Internet service.
It's nightfall when they finish, collapsing on the couch at opposite ends. She's long since abandoned the pearls on her new upstairs vanity table, the matching earrings with them. Even with the A/C running, Jun's worked up a sweat, and the Meiji t-shirt clings to him. The leather jacket had been hiding his broad, muscled shoulders, the pale skin of his arms, his toned biceps. He leans forward for the TV remote control, finally distracting her from letting the sight of him soak in.
Today is Saturday and on Monday, Jun will be reporting to work. Conveniently he's in Sakurai Sho's division. It's Jun's job to cozy up to their neighbor at the office, get the ball rolling. And it's Keiko's job to make friends in the neighborhood. Let Sawada and wife become familiar, normal, so that Igarashi and any spies he has along the street don't suspect a thing.
Jun changes the channel to a soccer game. "The adventure begins," he announces with a tone of amusement in his voice. "Won't you go draw my bath, honey?"
She turns to look at him, quirking an eyebrow. "You have two legs to carry you upstairs, right?"
He frowns. "Aww, but Reiko..."
He draws out the syllables in her new name, so close to her own that it'll be a difficult adjustment. Is this how it's going to be? She's cooperated quite a bit already, but is he really expecting her to do these sorts of things? What's next? His laundry? Yes, his laundry, the voice of her mother insists. Of course his laundry. Even a fake marriage sends Keiko spiraling into all the ways she's disappointed her family. All the things she doesn't know how to do perfectly after years alone.
She gets up in a huff, making an extra effort to stomp up the stairs as best she can. There's a bathroom attached to the master bedroom, Keiko's bedroom. He doesn't get to use that tub. Instead she moves to the end of the hall. She angrily shoves the plug into the drain and turns on the hot water, sitting on the edge of the tub.
He's only doing this to get a rise out of her, and she should know that. She shouldn't let it bother her. This is her job, like it or not now. She lets the water run over her fingers, adjusting the dial to heat it up a little more. To be considerate of her husband's feelings and comfort. A bath of her own sounds pretty nice. When the tub's ready, she heads back down the hall, leaning over the bannister to peer into their new living room. He looks up at her approach, smiling in triumph.
"Your bath awaits, Your Majesty."
He hops to his feet, tiredness be damned, and merrily bounds up the stairs, more a little kid than a grown man. It seems like the undercover life suits Matsumoto Jun just fine. He's all too happy to play the salaryman, though she imagines he'll soon miss running down criminals in the streets and waving his gun around.
When he breezes past her, he manages to lean in and kiss her cheek before grabbing some towels they've just put into the hall closet. "Thanks!" he calls before closing the bathroom door behind him.
--
He doesn't seem willing to risk coming close again the following day. They continue unpacking, and when it's finally done, down to the last book in the bookcase, they go to the store and pick up groceries. It's the most simple, mundane thing in the world, and they go up and down the aisles, him pushing the cart and Keiko with a shopping list in hand.
He frowns at some of the things she throws in the cart, mostly of the unhealthy snack variety, but she gently reminds him in her new "Reiko voice" that some of these are his favorites. It doesn't seem as though Sawada Shin is as concerned about his figure as lady killer Matsumoto Jun. Such is the plight of the settled-down husband.
They load the groceries in the car and head back, and it's then that the neighbors find them. They haven't seen a peep from Sakurai Sho's house beside them, no car in the drive since they've moved in. But the couple on their other side comes calling. While Keiko puts away groceries, she receives a thorough welcome to the neighborhood from Suzuki Michiko-san, a decade older than Keiko who invites herself inside with a freshly baked sponge cake as payment. Michiko-san's bland-looking husband, Teruo, stays outside with Jun.
It doesn't take long to discover that Michiko-san is only the first wave. Tomorrow "once the men have gone," Michiko-san says like it's preferable, she'll take Keiko around the neighborhood. The neighbors have been desperate for someone to move in because an empty house on Igarashi-san's street seems impossible. Keiko takes in as much as she can, steering the conversation to Igarashi-san's home. Being a busy CEO, he's only at home a few nights a week. His wife is a jet setter and involved in half a dozen charities.
"They do such good work," Michiko-san says without a trace of irony in her voice. It appears that she and her family take pride in where they live, so close to the head of Higashimaru. It sounds almost like brainwashing to Keiko, but to Reiko it has to sound amazing.
It takes a few hours, but the Suzukis finally leave. It's dusk when Keiko sees a car pulling into the carport of the house next to them. "Sakurai," she announces to Jun, who's doing his best to memorize the Higashimaru employee handbook. He bolts out of his seat, joins her at the curtains where they peep out at their new neighbor. At the innocent man their job is forcing them to manipulate.
He gets out of the car, and suddenly Keiko wishes she didn't know as much about him as she already does. It's one thing to read the basic profile the squad cobbled together on him - Sakurai Sho, 31 years old, management track. It's another to see him in the flesh and know they'll have to lie to him. There's exhaustion and loneliness in every movement - opening the car door, shuffling to pull a duffel bag from his back seat, fumbling and dropping his house keys in front of the door with an inaudible but obvious sigh.
"Poor guy," Jun mumbles, as though he's reading Keiko's mind.
On paper, Sakurai Sho is a widower. A workaholic since his wife died in a car accident two years prior. No children. In person, it's all too visible in the sloppy way he's dressed. Nobody's taking care of him. Jeans too big for him, an old hooded sweatshirt, one of his shoes barely laced up. His hair needs a trim, his face seems a little puffy from lack of sleep. He'd be handsome, very handsome, if he cared about such things anymore. Keiko sees all this, absorbs it in a manner of seconds before he's through the door and shutting them out.
"I don't like this," she admits, deciding that Jun can tease her as he likes.
Instead she feels his fingers brush her shoulder for a brief instant before heading back to his manuals and the improvement of his lies. "I don't either."
Keiko moves upstairs, changing into pajamas. She finds that her bedroom window faces Sakurai's house and apparently his own master bedroom. The lights are on, and the blinds are slightly open, allowing her to peep inside. All she sees is Sakurai Sho sitting alone on an unmade bed, duffel bag at his feet, staring at nothing.
She turns away from the window.
--
Sleep doesn't come easily. She's used to her own bed, her own small apartment. The sirens in the street, the hustle and bustle of people hurrying for the subway station nearby before the trains stop for the night. Out here it's quiet. Just the idyllic sound of chirping crickets, the occasional bark of a dog. She's surprised by how much she wants the noise back.
She wakes and heads downstairs, finding herself making breakfast for two. Jun comes downstairs just as she's sliding a slightly overcooked fried egg onto a plate for him. Cooking has never been her strongest suit. He's halfway dressed for his new job, neatly attired in the gray slacks and black leather belt of his suit, white dress shirt showing off the broadness of his shoulders, the way his body tapers down to his rather narrow waist.
He sits at the table, face a bit surprised as she brings over a fresh pot of coffee and gets ready to pour. "How do you like it?" she asks him quietly. "It's something I need to know."
When he looks up at her, something's different. For the first time, he doesn't seem to be looking down on her, his kohai on the force. He's seeing her as his partner for this job. Maybe even an equal. "Black is fine," he says, reaching for some pepper to probably disguise her egg massacre. "And thanks."
As they eat, they go over the week's plan. Despicable as Igarashi Shinya is, taking him down in a flash is not their assignment. They're playing the long game, getting established in the neighborhood, looking to be trusted. During the work week, Jun will be cozying up to Sakurai, looking for a way to break through, establish something that will hopefully blossom into a friendship. Keiko herself will steer clear, instead bolstering the couple's reputation in the neighborhood. That means playing nice with the other wives, learning her place at the bottom of the neighborhood food chain. This Keiko knows she can accomplish - being one of the only women on the force has taught her how to make the most of a frustrating situation and social position.
Jun thanks her for the meal, sounding sincere. Or maybe he's a really good liar, she thinks as she clears the table and he heads back upstairs to finish dressing. She's rinsing the plates when he comes up to her, his tie hanging loose around his neck. When she turns, he's looking at her expectantly.
"Something wrong?" The water in the sink continues to flow.
"Maybe you could tie this for me?"
"Do you not know how?"
He raises an eyebrow. The Jun from the coffee shop, the Jun from those group dates returns in an instant. "Of course I know how." He leans a bit into her space, switching off the faucet and holding up one of the ends of his tie and wiggling it a bit. "I just thought maybe you should do it."
You thought wrong, she wants to tell him. She's not his servant. She's his colleague. If nobody is there to see them, how much of the charade must they keep up? Isn't it enough that she made him breakfast?
Instead she dries her hands on a towel and turns to face him. He's watching, gauging her reaction. She grasps hold of both ends of the tie a bit roughly, and the motion propels him closer. But he's quick on his feet and not off balance for long. Her aggression has won her some points, she can see it in his eyes. Even though the air in the room seems heavier, more charged with their small battle, she focuses on getting it tied, manipulating the fabric with her small fingers until it's utterly perfect.
"There. Satisfactory?"
"Quite satisfactory," he says a bit mockingly, strolling off to get his jacket and briefcase. "Well, I'll be heading out."
"Have a nice day," she replies, turning the sink back on. From the kitchen window she sees Sakurai's empty kitchen, spying him coming out the door just in time with Jun. Jun who waves, smiles, says hello. Sakurai who only nods. They're dressed similarly, Jun and Sakurai, but Keiko knows that Sho had to attend to his tie on his own.
--
By the end of their first week in the neighborhood, Keiko has already been invited to attend the next meeting of the community council (with her husband, of course). She thinks that the attractiveness of her "husband" has a lot to do with how well the others are treating her. Sawada Shin with that big smile, that handsome intellectual look to him. It's as though Jun knew exactly what he was doing in opting for glasses over contacts. A young, good looking couple on the street makes Higashimaru seem all the more perfect.
Keiko's got a notebook full of "helpful reminders" already from Michiko-san and the chatterbox hens who litter the street and follow Michiko-san's lead. They're nice, Keiko thinks, except when they're vicious. Keiko as the newcomer can still be molded into their image. They haven't found fault with her yet, although she's quite certain they're already gossiping behind her back about some deficiency or another - her hair? Or maybe her clothes? That she hasn't had a baby yet with her gorgeous husband? She's 26 after all, shouldn't they be getting on that? They're so insulated, so out of touch that Keiko finds half-moon shaped indentations in her palms from her fingernails daily, keeping in her irritation while she smiles and tells them she hopes for a little Sawada someday soon.
Their advice is drilled into her brain. What she'd give for her service weapon and the range and a target, bang bang bang. Garbage day is on x day and this is how we set it out. And this is the recycling schedule so please be diligent about your plastics! Tending our gardens and plants on a regular rotation keeps the community attractive (and we will definitely let you know if you're not keeping up, they imply). Every June we hold a little block party here, and if he can, Igarashi-san attends. Please bring your best dishes!
Jun must have it easier, Keiko is convinced. After turning up with money to buy lunch in the cafeteria his first day, somehow word had gotten around, and now Keiko rises even earlier to put together a bento for him to take. Sometimes he helps, slicing veggies into irritatingly cute shapes so people can praise his wife for being so darling. He returns late every night, sometimes after 10:00 PM even though he's just started. Working late, come his texts. Drinking with my new colleagues. Must be hard work indeed.
As to Sakurai Sho, Keiko's usually making dinner for herself (and some to set aside for Jun to wolf down when he returns) when he gets home. The neighborhood ladies talk about him in the most pitying of tones. Not so secretly, they wish for him to move away and take his sad aura with him. His car pulls up, he gets out and loosens his tie, disappears into the large, empty house. Apparently Sakurai used to be a member of an informal company soccer club - Jun's already talked himself onto the team, and the only interactions he's had with Sakurai have been about said team, maybe getting him to come back.
His wife died, she grumbles, and you're pushing him to play soccer. His wife died, he shoots back, and that was two years ago.
Headquarters gets an emailed update from them, a joint report that lists their accomplishments and progress. Jun receives nothing but praise for his quick work at becoming a team player. Keiko receives little commentary. "Maybe I should have asked for a few recipe suggestions for the block party," she complains.
Every night is the same. Jun comes home late, and she already has his bath water drawn and his clothes laid out for the next day. She reads a magazine about keeping a clean home, cooking healthy meals, and using energy wisely. She looks out her window and watches Sakurai Sho turn out the light in his bedroom.
--
"He's coming for dinner," Jun reports one evening in their second week, his legs propped up on the table and his work computer in his lap. "Sakurai Sho. Tomorrow."
Keiko nearly flings the remote control at him. But that would be needless waste, Michiko-san clucks in her head. "And you're telling me this now?"
Jun types up whatever report he's working on. Apparently his job mostly consists of writing reports, attending meetings, and talking about "developing a rapport with both the public and our stakeholders in a consistent, forward-thinking manner." Whatever that means. "I've been having lunch with him. I asked him today. I told him it was silly for us to be neighbors and not get to know one another."
"You didn't leave him much choice, did you?"
"Oh no," Jun brags, "there was a whole group of us eating, so he couldn't possibly decline without looking rude to his kohai. If anything, he should be inviting us over, but given his situation..."
Keiko fumes at Jun's casual switch-up of their relationship with Sakurai Sho. Now he'll be in the house, tasting her cooking? She makes an irritated little squeal and leaves Jun in the living room, hurrying to the kitchen cabinets, frowning. "What do I cook for the person we're trying to manipulate?"
He laughs and it carries in from the living room. "He eats cafeteria slop every day. Or ramen. I think he'll eat just about anything."
She hovers in the doorway, staring at him as he continues typing while the news broadcast blares on. "You're moving too fast."
He doesn't even turn. "You look bored. I'm doing this for you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He saves his file, shuts the laptop and gets to his feet. His slippers scuff lazily across the wood floor. "You're trapped here all day," he explains, something like sympathy plain on his face. "Maybe you can get to him in ways I haven't. Two weeks in and he's not joining the soccer team, and even though we live next door and work in the same building, he keeps turning me down for the carpool."
It seems as though Jun's been able to work his charm on everyone at Higashimaru but the one person he's supposed to. She can see a bit of irritation in his eyes. "And what can I possibly do to befriend him?"
Jun hesitates, looks pained. Genuine thoughtfulness is taking place. "Maybe I'm cheating on you."
Rage flares up for the briefest of moments before Keiko realizes what he means. "You're cheating on me?"
"Not really," he says, looking embarrassed. The tips of his ears turn a little pink. "But what if I was? Maybe you don't know. Maybe Sakurai sees me, catches me doing something I shouldn't?"
Keiko shakes her head. "I've spent all this time talking about how happy we are with the neighborhood ladies. You're a saint."
"And I'll still be a saint for them. But just think about it. Sakurai, he's lonely, sees a pretty woman being wronged..." Keiko decides not to comment on Jun's assessment of her attractiveness. "Maybe he'll open up to you. Want to help you. Comfort you."
She stares up at him, ignoring what 'comfort' might really imply. "You don't think this is a bit drastic?"
Jun shrugs. "I don't know, let's just have him over. I think he'll like you."
"Oh really? And what's so likable about me?"
His movement is so sudden she forgets her training. His fingers are under her chin, tilting it upward so she has no choice but to look at him. "Everything."
She regains her composure and wrenches away from him. "You're going to push me towards him. And you think headquarters will like it?"
He smirks. "Unless you can convince him to join the soccer club..."
The conversation ends there. She goes up and draws his bath despite how much he's enraged her. "Everything," his words echo. What's so likable about her? "Everything."
As she sits on the edge of the tub, angry, she wonders just what's got her so worked up. They're not really married - him "cheating" on her, real or fictional, shouldn't matter. Maybe it's Sakurai, the sight of his loneliness every day. Can she really say she cares about him, worries about him when she doesn't even know him? When she knows she has to betray him?
She can understand Jun's frustration. His first week had been so promising, but he's stalled. If they don't get Sakurai, they can't move forward. And his little cheating scenario, self-serving as it is, holds merit. Objectively, a man like Sakurai still in mourning might easily fall for any woman who gives him the slightest bit of attention. Especially a lonely housewife whose husband is disrespecting her. And Jun, with his squad reputation as a ladies' man, is probably itching for an excuse to go bed some young beauty. He's got a lady at home who cooks and irons and cleans, but maybe it's not enough for him. A long work day and a cold, empty bed every night.
Not that the thought of sleeping with Jun hasn't crossed her mind. Much as she's tried to fight it, it's difficult when she's making his food with as much care as she can manage. Smelling the scent of him on his work shirts and tees before she tosses them in the wash. His cheerful "I'm home"s every night, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Being alone in bed every night with the crickets chirping and wondering what he looks like when he sleeps, if he shuts down the playboy act and becomes the prince she's told the neighborhood wives he is. She's forced to speak glowingly of him all the time. Maybe she's started to believe her own bullshit.
She brings her fingers nervously to her chin, to where he'd touched her. She'd be a liar if she said it did nothing to her. After all, if he's a little lonely, who's to say she isn't, too?
When she shuts off the faucet, he's in the doorway. She doesn't even want to know how long he's been standing there, watching her stare into space. "We've got that grill," he says as his only apology for springing his plans on her. "If you pick up some things at the store, we can just grill some meat and veggies in the living room. Put a game on, keep it low key."
Wordlessly she gets up and walks over to him. He's been working in the living room in his dress shirt still. He's rolled up the sleeves, wrinkled the damn thing so it'll take her a lifetime tomorrow getting it perfect again. Her fingers find their way to his buttons, and he seems to be holding his breath as she slowly undoes the button at the top. She trails down to the second button, even slower this time. It seems she's wanted to do this for so long, and only now that she's actually doing it does she acknowledge the impulse.
When she reaches the bottom, she steps back. "I'll put this in the laundry room. Have a nice bath."
He slides out of the shirt, not saying a thing even as she gets her first glimpse of his pale skin, the flatness of his stomach, the dark promise of hair below his navel that disappears into his trousers. His muscled arms, the sharp angles of his collarbone. She takes the shirt from him and hurries down to the laundry room, wondering just what the hell's come over her.
Part Two
Rating: NC-17 (I cannot stress how NSFW this is)
Characters/Pairings: Kitagawa Keiko/Matsumoto Jun; Kitagawa Keiko/Sakurai Sho; Keiko/Jun/Sho
Summary: All Keiko's known, all Keiko's lived for the past several years is the life of a police officer. She knows absolutely nothing about being a housewife.
Notes/Warnings: Content warnings - lots of sex (I'm not joking), sex without condoms, messy relationships bordering on unhealthy at times, threesome. Angst alert for lies/betrayal. Infidelity (kind of but not exactly). Title comes from this song by The Hush Sound.
Hello from the author! This was written for Rissa, my perpetual cheerleader whose devotion to the concept of "Matsumoto Jun getting some" may be more intense than even my own. This was also written for MYSELF because I apparently love writing preposterous plots as a framing device for non-stop porn and angst. If the warnings above have scared you away, no worries. If they've only made you more curious, I hope you'll enjoy.
Igarashi Shinya-san's street is like so many others in the suburban regions of Japan. Where Tokyo is overcrowded with apartment buildings of all shapes and sizes, Higashimaru has some room to breathe. It's a community full of cookie-cutter homes, differing only in the color of their siding. Two stories with a gated carport, tall hedges to keep the snoops away, and the feeling of "new" that the grime-covered buildings of Tokyo lack. Higashimaru is a housing estate built for employees of the Higashimaru Corporation, headquartered here in the southeast of Saitama Prefecture.
The Higashimaru Corporation deals mostly in disaster recovery. Its engineers scout areas immediately after disaster strikes - earthquakes, flooding, landslides. Its agents collaborate with local officials to determine how to rebuild and what infrastructure needs replacing. For years, the government has contracted out numerous projects to Higashimaru. With so many friends in the Diet, it would be near impossible to accuse the corporation of any wrongdoing. For surely their mission is a pure and honest one: to rebuild after catastrophe. To restore hope, to put things right again. To erase the stain of nature's wrath on Japanese towns who lack the means to erase it themselves.
Igarashi Shinya, Higashimaru's chairman of the board, has taken bribes and cut corners for at least a decade - to overcharge small communities, to fill orders with sub-standard materials. To point the finger at everyone but the corporation. Few know the totality of the corruption. After all, Higashimaru's employees are provided with marvelous housing and a decent wage. Most take pride in knowing their efforts are helping those less fortunate to rebuild their lives. If one Higashimaru employee sees an error in the books, he merely takes it to his supervisor. Who takes it to his. Who takes it to his. Surely someone will take care of the mistake. And so the matters are dropped. Because who would willingly forfeit their career? Everyone makes mistakes from time to time.
Keiko's only just been brought in on Higashimaru. The case against Igarashi has been building for years, but they've never been able to corner him. The man's lawyered up like anyone in his position would be. What they need is a confession, verbal confirmation of his position as overseer of the corruption. His underlings have always been too loyal. Nobody will talk. "Higashimaru is a good firm," employees protest. "Typical government, looking for trouble where there is none. Looking for ways to waste our tax dollars."
Igarashi's office is unreachable. Thus far nobody's tried his house. If they manage to obtain evidence in the manner Keiko's new boss is suggesting, it will not be admissible in court. Igarashi's house lies between a family's and a single man's. It's part of his public image as the everyman, the friendly CEO and company chairman who lives among his employees. There's no getting to the other family's house. However, the house next to the single man's will be vacant in one week. New tenants can move right in.
With some finagling, Keiko will be in that house in a week's time. Her mission (and she has no choice but to accept it) is to befriend her neighbor. The single man, Sakurai Sho. Because from the second story bathroom window of Sakurai's house, there is a line of sight over Igarashi's walls and straight into his study. By planting listening devices and cameras in Sakurai's home, they may be able to catch Igarashi in the act. It's inadmissible but may be enough to open a more official inquiry.
She's been on the squad for five years, and this will be her first deep cover. All evidence points to Sakurai Sho as a loyal, hardworking middle manager at Higashimaru - he's above suspicion. It's his house they need, that upstairs bathroom they need. "Break in and plant them when he's at work," had been Keiko's first response. Her bosses think differently. Igarashi has too many spies in the neighborhood. He'd know immediately. No, it's all about sneaking things into Sakurai's house.
"Get close. Let him open the door." Her boss tilts his head and smiles. "Be a charming neighbor."
Keiko merely nods and accepts the file folders. The new life that's been created for her. Officer Kitagawa Keiko, the youngest member of the squad, will no longer exist. She'll become a stranger. Her complete opposite. This isn't something she knows much about. She knows about chasing down criminals, breaking up fights, protecting the innocent. In the academy and on the job, she's fought to make a difference. To keep Japan safe. It's meant a lonely studio apartment, irregular sleep habits, and piles of dishes in the sink she has no time for. It's meant a lonely existence altogether. Work is everything.
But all that is about to change. Here there will be no criminals to chase and no fights to break up. And in this case, she's under orders to violate the privacy and break the trust of an innocent, this Sakurai Sho who has done nothing wrong. His only mistake was being assigned the house next to the company chairman.
All Keiko's known, all Keiko's lived for the past several years is the life of a police officer. She knows absolutely nothing about being a housewife.
--
She remembers Matsumoto Jun from her early days in the academy. He'd been a beat cop in the neighborhood at the time, working his way up to a detective's badge. He's got the same swagger she remembers from the group dates some of the other girls from the academy had dragged her to. The same arrogant grin, those sexy little moles above and below those grinning lips, the same dark eyes that see more than he'd ever let on. "I don't date other cops," had been Keiko's motto at the time. Her only focus was completing her training, becoming a member of the squad. She didn't have time for guys like Matsumoto Jun then.
She has to make time for him now. Because on paper (in the file folder, in the fake certificates, in the fake family register entry) they're married. It's his third deep cover op, and he asks to meet for a coffee a week before they're set to move in to the Higashimaru estate. Getting off the beat and moving up the ladder hasn't softened him much. He's stylish. Not the signature trenchcoat or suit of a TV detective. Instead he's in a broken-in black leather jacket, tight jeans, and offers her a cigarette like it's the best offer she'll ever get in her life.
"Are you single, Matsumoto-san?" she asks after paying for their coffees (in a week's time, he'll be the sole breadwinner, and her pride won't allow her to lose to him if she can still help it).
He's got a model's face with big eyes, a strong bone structure. When he smiles, Keiko tries to keep up her professionalism like a shield. She remembers how the academy girls had fought each other to pour him drinks at the restaurants they'd visited. Getting picked by Matsumoto-san (Matsumoto-sama, some of them had even called him) was a true victory. He was particular. Keiko had spent most of her time those nights texting on her phone, desperate to avoid drunken small talk and an unsatisfying fuck at a love hotel with one of Matsumoto's less attractive companions on the men's side of the table.
And now, she thinks, now she'll be his demure little wife.
"I'm single," he says. "They don't force a married man into an op like this if they can help it. And you?"
He looks at her like he already knows the answer to the question. "I'm currently unattached." Currently detached, her mother would say. Are you going to be a cop all your life? What about my grandchildren? A little lipstick wouldn't hurt now and then, Kei-chan.
Matsumoto seems to like her answer. "Good," he says, leaning back in his seat and settling his hands behind his head, lacing his long fingers together against his jet black hair. "Don't need any jealous fools coming to break our cover."
If he thinks she'd be stupid enough to tell a boyfriend about her undercover work, he clearly hasn't listened to the office gossip. Kitagawa the virgin pure. Kitagawa the ice queen. She's neither of those things, not truly, but if rejecting all comers and acting aloof gets the boys' club to take her seriously, then she'll be that person for them.
They crack open the file folders. Sawada Shin. His wife, Sawada Reiko. Like Keiko, she's three years younger than him. Met while she was in college, became engaged within the first year and wed upon her graduation. He's a new transfer to Higashimaru's marketing department, she's a homemaker. Hoping to have a child soon. "Cute," Matsumoto says with a roll of his eyes. "Do we get to pick out names for our fake future baby?"
She allows a grin to cross her lips. "How about Doraemon? According to the file here, you're a fan."
"They don't skimp on details, do they?" Matsumoto sighs, flipping through more papers. It's a lot of homework, a lot to take in. A lot that they won't even be asked about their fake selves that they need to know anyhow.
They finish their coffee and it's time to really get to work. They spend the rest of the afternoon at headquarters crafting their lives. They change clothes, and Keiko finds herself in a wedding dress for the first time (hopefully not the last, she can hear her mother complaining). Unlike the bravado he projects elsewhere in the station, in the halls where he playfully smacks around a kohai or two, he holds her gently as they plaster on some smiles and pose for their "wedding photos." More evidence to decorate their new home together, more to complete the lie.
It's an unfamiliar feeling, having a man's arms around her waist. Smiling like she means it. She doesn't date cops. And the men she does date don't stick around long. A woman with a gun and a badge is too intimidating for most of them. She tugs a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles again when the photographer says "say cheese!"
Matsumoto will be entering the deception first, as he has employee orientation at Higashimaru in a few days and he'll be getting a crash course in life as a marketing lackey until then. When she next sees him they'll be driving up together in a small, conservative five-door hatchback, waiting for the movers. When she next sees him, she has to act like he's her husband.
She's about to leave when he pulls her out into the hallway. The door to the smoking booth down the hall has never stuck firm, and she can smell it lingering in the air. She tries to smell it so she doesn't smell him too closely instead. Having his arms around her, posing in a wedding dress...it's been a long day and her resolve is wearing thin already. They couldn't have picked someone ugly to team up with her?
He's four, maybe five inches taller than her, and she wishes she'd worn heels today to try and compete on a level playing field. Instead he looks down at her, lips quirking dangerously. "Kitagawa-san," he says politely. "I look forward to working with you. I believe you and I will be the ones to finally crack this case."
"I believe that, too," she agrees. Because Keiko doesn't allow for failure. She meets his eyes, knowing how easy it would be to let herself drown in them. She wonders how many women he's snared in the same manner. "Please take care of me."
"It's a husband's duty," he replies, patting her on the shoulder and walking away.
--
Her new clothes are not the best use for taxpayer money. For work, Keiko normally wears jeans, a comfortable blouse, a blazer to add an air of professionalism. Sawada Reiko is neat and quiet, and she wears pearls with her plain blouse and knee-length floral skirt. Even for moving, Sawada Reiko apparently wants to dress to impress the neighbors. Keiko remembers hauling boxes around during her last move in a pair of sweats and a paint-splattered t-shirt, no bra.
Matsumoto's leather jacket is gone. Sawada Shin sits in his place. They may as well have leapt out of a cheesy commercial. She knows from his file that he's conveniently nearsighted like Matsumoto is, and his contacts have vanished. He's wearing a pair of black frames, and his hair has none of the gel and intentional tousling he'd opted for on their coffee meeting. It's combed neatly, fringe falling across his forehead attractively. He's got a Meiji University t-shirt and less form fitting jeans on with a pair of worn sneakers (Keiko supposes the sneakers are his own). They've turned him, she thinks while stifling a giggle, into a bit of a nerd.
His hands on the steering wheel of the Toyota Passo are perfectly steady. Keiko finds herself clutching the straps of her purse, wondering if she'll break their cover as soon as she exits the vehicle looking nothing like her real self. Will the people in the neighborhood see through her immediately?
They're just turning onto the street when he seems to sense her nervousness. He moves one hand off the wheel, slides it to the left to find her sweaty right hand. "Reiko, honey," he says with a voice that may as well be honey itself. "We'll do fine."
He's already switched Matsumoto Jun off, buried him away somewhere. The edge that had characterized their last meeting has disappeared. He's hopeful, optimistic, looking forward to the brand new start that seemed promised in the pages of their official op files. Keiko's already behind.
She's had a haircut. It stops at her shoulders now, and a cheerful red headband holds her fringe back. Her makeup is different, her nails are a pearlescent pink, and her shoes are open-toe wedges. She looks like a different person. She's not Keiko. She has to be Reiko.
She squeezes his hand in return, smiling brightly. Vapidly, Keiko would have judged in her most cynical of days. "I love you."
She sees a flicker of something quickly in his dark brown eyes, and even his glasses can't hide it. He swallows and keeps his attention firmly on the road. His hand drifts from hers and instead finds the gear shift as he pulls up to their new carport, the metal gate already pulled aside waiting for their arrival.
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
A family with three children lives in the tan house to one side. Their new house, three bedrooms, two baths, is a light blue. To the other side lies a carbon copy of theirs, save for a brown tiled roof instead of gray like their own. Sakurai Sho's house. They exit the car, stretch as Keiko joins her "husband" at the front door. He's already jingling their house keys in his hand.
"Our house. Yours and mine," he says a bit theatrically, and she smiles as charmingly as she can muster. He twists the key in the lock and pulls the door open. "After you."
They're only waiting for the major furniture now: the bedroom set, living room, and dining room furniture. In boxes labeled "Dishes and China" are surveillance equipment. Jun picks it up first thing and starts hauling it upstairs. The honeymoon's over, and there's work to be done.
They spend the next few hours unpacking the boxes. Clothes, toiletries, kitchenware. It's a large house. She'd grown up with her parents and brother in Kobe in a house maybe half this size (and three or four times older). The rooms are large and airy, windows are abundant. The hall just inside past the genkan is an open plan with a chandelier hanging down from the ceiling and a curved stairway leading up to their three bedrooms. One for the couple, one for guests, and a third for the baby they hope will be on the way once they settle in. Jun will be sleeping in the guest bedroom. This has all been detailed in the files.
The movers arrive with the rest of the furniture, and Keiko almost feels like this is truly her house as she gives the moving men orders on how to arrange the sofa and tea table while Jun hooks up their television and the wireless router for Internet service.
It's nightfall when they finish, collapsing on the couch at opposite ends. She's long since abandoned the pearls on her new upstairs vanity table, the matching earrings with them. Even with the A/C running, Jun's worked up a sweat, and the Meiji t-shirt clings to him. The leather jacket had been hiding his broad, muscled shoulders, the pale skin of his arms, his toned biceps. He leans forward for the TV remote control, finally distracting her from letting the sight of him soak in.
Today is Saturday and on Monday, Jun will be reporting to work. Conveniently he's in Sakurai Sho's division. It's Jun's job to cozy up to their neighbor at the office, get the ball rolling. And it's Keiko's job to make friends in the neighborhood. Let Sawada and wife become familiar, normal, so that Igarashi and any spies he has along the street don't suspect a thing.
Jun changes the channel to a soccer game. "The adventure begins," he announces with a tone of amusement in his voice. "Won't you go draw my bath, honey?"
She turns to look at him, quirking an eyebrow. "You have two legs to carry you upstairs, right?"
He frowns. "Aww, but Reiko..."
He draws out the syllables in her new name, so close to her own that it'll be a difficult adjustment. Is this how it's going to be? She's cooperated quite a bit already, but is he really expecting her to do these sorts of things? What's next? His laundry? Yes, his laundry, the voice of her mother insists. Of course his laundry. Even a fake marriage sends Keiko spiraling into all the ways she's disappointed her family. All the things she doesn't know how to do perfectly after years alone.
She gets up in a huff, making an extra effort to stomp up the stairs as best she can. There's a bathroom attached to the master bedroom, Keiko's bedroom. He doesn't get to use that tub. Instead she moves to the end of the hall. She angrily shoves the plug into the drain and turns on the hot water, sitting on the edge of the tub.
He's only doing this to get a rise out of her, and she should know that. She shouldn't let it bother her. This is her job, like it or not now. She lets the water run over her fingers, adjusting the dial to heat it up a little more. To be considerate of her husband's feelings and comfort. A bath of her own sounds pretty nice. When the tub's ready, she heads back down the hall, leaning over the bannister to peer into their new living room. He looks up at her approach, smiling in triumph.
"Your bath awaits, Your Majesty."
He hops to his feet, tiredness be damned, and merrily bounds up the stairs, more a little kid than a grown man. It seems like the undercover life suits Matsumoto Jun just fine. He's all too happy to play the salaryman, though she imagines he'll soon miss running down criminals in the streets and waving his gun around.
When he breezes past her, he manages to lean in and kiss her cheek before grabbing some towels they've just put into the hall closet. "Thanks!" he calls before closing the bathroom door behind him.
--
He doesn't seem willing to risk coming close again the following day. They continue unpacking, and when it's finally done, down to the last book in the bookcase, they go to the store and pick up groceries. It's the most simple, mundane thing in the world, and they go up and down the aisles, him pushing the cart and Keiko with a shopping list in hand.
He frowns at some of the things she throws in the cart, mostly of the unhealthy snack variety, but she gently reminds him in her new "Reiko voice" that some of these are his favorites. It doesn't seem as though Sawada Shin is as concerned about his figure as lady killer Matsumoto Jun. Such is the plight of the settled-down husband.
They load the groceries in the car and head back, and it's then that the neighbors find them. They haven't seen a peep from Sakurai Sho's house beside them, no car in the drive since they've moved in. But the couple on their other side comes calling. While Keiko puts away groceries, she receives a thorough welcome to the neighborhood from Suzuki Michiko-san, a decade older than Keiko who invites herself inside with a freshly baked sponge cake as payment. Michiko-san's bland-looking husband, Teruo, stays outside with Jun.
It doesn't take long to discover that Michiko-san is only the first wave. Tomorrow "once the men have gone," Michiko-san says like it's preferable, she'll take Keiko around the neighborhood. The neighbors have been desperate for someone to move in because an empty house on Igarashi-san's street seems impossible. Keiko takes in as much as she can, steering the conversation to Igarashi-san's home. Being a busy CEO, he's only at home a few nights a week. His wife is a jet setter and involved in half a dozen charities.
"They do such good work," Michiko-san says without a trace of irony in her voice. It appears that she and her family take pride in where they live, so close to the head of Higashimaru. It sounds almost like brainwashing to Keiko, but to Reiko it has to sound amazing.
It takes a few hours, but the Suzukis finally leave. It's dusk when Keiko sees a car pulling into the carport of the house next to them. "Sakurai," she announces to Jun, who's doing his best to memorize the Higashimaru employee handbook. He bolts out of his seat, joins her at the curtains where they peep out at their new neighbor. At the innocent man their job is forcing them to manipulate.
He gets out of the car, and suddenly Keiko wishes she didn't know as much about him as she already does. It's one thing to read the basic profile the squad cobbled together on him - Sakurai Sho, 31 years old, management track. It's another to see him in the flesh and know they'll have to lie to him. There's exhaustion and loneliness in every movement - opening the car door, shuffling to pull a duffel bag from his back seat, fumbling and dropping his house keys in front of the door with an inaudible but obvious sigh.
"Poor guy," Jun mumbles, as though he's reading Keiko's mind.
On paper, Sakurai Sho is a widower. A workaholic since his wife died in a car accident two years prior. No children. In person, it's all too visible in the sloppy way he's dressed. Nobody's taking care of him. Jeans too big for him, an old hooded sweatshirt, one of his shoes barely laced up. His hair needs a trim, his face seems a little puffy from lack of sleep. He'd be handsome, very handsome, if he cared about such things anymore. Keiko sees all this, absorbs it in a manner of seconds before he's through the door and shutting them out.
"I don't like this," she admits, deciding that Jun can tease her as he likes.
Instead she feels his fingers brush her shoulder for a brief instant before heading back to his manuals and the improvement of his lies. "I don't either."
Keiko moves upstairs, changing into pajamas. She finds that her bedroom window faces Sakurai's house and apparently his own master bedroom. The lights are on, and the blinds are slightly open, allowing her to peep inside. All she sees is Sakurai Sho sitting alone on an unmade bed, duffel bag at his feet, staring at nothing.
She turns away from the window.
--
Sleep doesn't come easily. She's used to her own bed, her own small apartment. The sirens in the street, the hustle and bustle of people hurrying for the subway station nearby before the trains stop for the night. Out here it's quiet. Just the idyllic sound of chirping crickets, the occasional bark of a dog. She's surprised by how much she wants the noise back.
She wakes and heads downstairs, finding herself making breakfast for two. Jun comes downstairs just as she's sliding a slightly overcooked fried egg onto a plate for him. Cooking has never been her strongest suit. He's halfway dressed for his new job, neatly attired in the gray slacks and black leather belt of his suit, white dress shirt showing off the broadness of his shoulders, the way his body tapers down to his rather narrow waist.
He sits at the table, face a bit surprised as she brings over a fresh pot of coffee and gets ready to pour. "How do you like it?" she asks him quietly. "It's something I need to know."
When he looks up at her, something's different. For the first time, he doesn't seem to be looking down on her, his kohai on the force. He's seeing her as his partner for this job. Maybe even an equal. "Black is fine," he says, reaching for some pepper to probably disguise her egg massacre. "And thanks."
As they eat, they go over the week's plan. Despicable as Igarashi Shinya is, taking him down in a flash is not their assignment. They're playing the long game, getting established in the neighborhood, looking to be trusted. During the work week, Jun will be cozying up to Sakurai, looking for a way to break through, establish something that will hopefully blossom into a friendship. Keiko herself will steer clear, instead bolstering the couple's reputation in the neighborhood. That means playing nice with the other wives, learning her place at the bottom of the neighborhood food chain. This Keiko knows she can accomplish - being one of the only women on the force has taught her how to make the most of a frustrating situation and social position.
Jun thanks her for the meal, sounding sincere. Or maybe he's a really good liar, she thinks as she clears the table and he heads back upstairs to finish dressing. She's rinsing the plates when he comes up to her, his tie hanging loose around his neck. When she turns, he's looking at her expectantly.
"Something wrong?" The water in the sink continues to flow.
"Maybe you could tie this for me?"
"Do you not know how?"
He raises an eyebrow. The Jun from the coffee shop, the Jun from those group dates returns in an instant. "Of course I know how." He leans a bit into her space, switching off the faucet and holding up one of the ends of his tie and wiggling it a bit. "I just thought maybe you should do it."
You thought wrong, she wants to tell him. She's not his servant. She's his colleague. If nobody is there to see them, how much of the charade must they keep up? Isn't it enough that she made him breakfast?
Instead she dries her hands on a towel and turns to face him. He's watching, gauging her reaction. She grasps hold of both ends of the tie a bit roughly, and the motion propels him closer. But he's quick on his feet and not off balance for long. Her aggression has won her some points, she can see it in his eyes. Even though the air in the room seems heavier, more charged with their small battle, she focuses on getting it tied, manipulating the fabric with her small fingers until it's utterly perfect.
"There. Satisfactory?"
"Quite satisfactory," he says a bit mockingly, strolling off to get his jacket and briefcase. "Well, I'll be heading out."
"Have a nice day," she replies, turning the sink back on. From the kitchen window she sees Sakurai's empty kitchen, spying him coming out the door just in time with Jun. Jun who waves, smiles, says hello. Sakurai who only nods. They're dressed similarly, Jun and Sakurai, but Keiko knows that Sho had to attend to his tie on his own.
--
By the end of their first week in the neighborhood, Keiko has already been invited to attend the next meeting of the community council (with her husband, of course). She thinks that the attractiveness of her "husband" has a lot to do with how well the others are treating her. Sawada Shin with that big smile, that handsome intellectual look to him. It's as though Jun knew exactly what he was doing in opting for glasses over contacts. A young, good looking couple on the street makes Higashimaru seem all the more perfect.
Keiko's got a notebook full of "helpful reminders" already from Michiko-san and the chatterbox hens who litter the street and follow Michiko-san's lead. They're nice, Keiko thinks, except when they're vicious. Keiko as the newcomer can still be molded into their image. They haven't found fault with her yet, although she's quite certain they're already gossiping behind her back about some deficiency or another - her hair? Or maybe her clothes? That she hasn't had a baby yet with her gorgeous husband? She's 26 after all, shouldn't they be getting on that? They're so insulated, so out of touch that Keiko finds half-moon shaped indentations in her palms from her fingernails daily, keeping in her irritation while she smiles and tells them she hopes for a little Sawada someday soon.
Their advice is drilled into her brain. What she'd give for her service weapon and the range and a target, bang bang bang. Garbage day is on x day and this is how we set it out. And this is the recycling schedule so please be diligent about your plastics! Tending our gardens and plants on a regular rotation keeps the community attractive (and we will definitely let you know if you're not keeping up, they imply). Every June we hold a little block party here, and if he can, Igarashi-san attends. Please bring your best dishes!
Jun must have it easier, Keiko is convinced. After turning up with money to buy lunch in the cafeteria his first day, somehow word had gotten around, and now Keiko rises even earlier to put together a bento for him to take. Sometimes he helps, slicing veggies into irritatingly cute shapes so people can praise his wife for being so darling. He returns late every night, sometimes after 10:00 PM even though he's just started. Working late, come his texts. Drinking with my new colleagues. Must be hard work indeed.
As to Sakurai Sho, Keiko's usually making dinner for herself (and some to set aside for Jun to wolf down when he returns) when he gets home. The neighborhood ladies talk about him in the most pitying of tones. Not so secretly, they wish for him to move away and take his sad aura with him. His car pulls up, he gets out and loosens his tie, disappears into the large, empty house. Apparently Sakurai used to be a member of an informal company soccer club - Jun's already talked himself onto the team, and the only interactions he's had with Sakurai have been about said team, maybe getting him to come back.
His wife died, she grumbles, and you're pushing him to play soccer. His wife died, he shoots back, and that was two years ago.
Headquarters gets an emailed update from them, a joint report that lists their accomplishments and progress. Jun receives nothing but praise for his quick work at becoming a team player. Keiko receives little commentary. "Maybe I should have asked for a few recipe suggestions for the block party," she complains.
Every night is the same. Jun comes home late, and she already has his bath water drawn and his clothes laid out for the next day. She reads a magazine about keeping a clean home, cooking healthy meals, and using energy wisely. She looks out her window and watches Sakurai Sho turn out the light in his bedroom.
--
"He's coming for dinner," Jun reports one evening in their second week, his legs propped up on the table and his work computer in his lap. "Sakurai Sho. Tomorrow."
Keiko nearly flings the remote control at him. But that would be needless waste, Michiko-san clucks in her head. "And you're telling me this now?"
Jun types up whatever report he's working on. Apparently his job mostly consists of writing reports, attending meetings, and talking about "developing a rapport with both the public and our stakeholders in a consistent, forward-thinking manner." Whatever that means. "I've been having lunch with him. I asked him today. I told him it was silly for us to be neighbors and not get to know one another."
"You didn't leave him much choice, did you?"
"Oh no," Jun brags, "there was a whole group of us eating, so he couldn't possibly decline without looking rude to his kohai. If anything, he should be inviting us over, but given his situation..."
Keiko fumes at Jun's casual switch-up of their relationship with Sakurai Sho. Now he'll be in the house, tasting her cooking? She makes an irritated little squeal and leaves Jun in the living room, hurrying to the kitchen cabinets, frowning. "What do I cook for the person we're trying to manipulate?"
He laughs and it carries in from the living room. "He eats cafeteria slop every day. Or ramen. I think he'll eat just about anything."
She hovers in the doorway, staring at him as he continues typing while the news broadcast blares on. "You're moving too fast."
He doesn't even turn. "You look bored. I'm doing this for you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He saves his file, shuts the laptop and gets to his feet. His slippers scuff lazily across the wood floor. "You're trapped here all day," he explains, something like sympathy plain on his face. "Maybe you can get to him in ways I haven't. Two weeks in and he's not joining the soccer team, and even though we live next door and work in the same building, he keeps turning me down for the carpool."
It seems as though Jun's been able to work his charm on everyone at Higashimaru but the one person he's supposed to. She can see a bit of irritation in his eyes. "And what can I possibly do to befriend him?"
Jun hesitates, looks pained. Genuine thoughtfulness is taking place. "Maybe I'm cheating on you."
Rage flares up for the briefest of moments before Keiko realizes what he means. "You're cheating on me?"
"Not really," he says, looking embarrassed. The tips of his ears turn a little pink. "But what if I was? Maybe you don't know. Maybe Sakurai sees me, catches me doing something I shouldn't?"
Keiko shakes her head. "I've spent all this time talking about how happy we are with the neighborhood ladies. You're a saint."
"And I'll still be a saint for them. But just think about it. Sakurai, he's lonely, sees a pretty woman being wronged..." Keiko decides not to comment on Jun's assessment of her attractiveness. "Maybe he'll open up to you. Want to help you. Comfort you."
She stares up at him, ignoring what 'comfort' might really imply. "You don't think this is a bit drastic?"
Jun shrugs. "I don't know, let's just have him over. I think he'll like you."
"Oh really? And what's so likable about me?"
His movement is so sudden she forgets her training. His fingers are under her chin, tilting it upward so she has no choice but to look at him. "Everything."
She regains her composure and wrenches away from him. "You're going to push me towards him. And you think headquarters will like it?"
He smirks. "Unless you can convince him to join the soccer club..."
The conversation ends there. She goes up and draws his bath despite how much he's enraged her. "Everything," his words echo. What's so likable about her? "Everything."
As she sits on the edge of the tub, angry, she wonders just what's got her so worked up. They're not really married - him "cheating" on her, real or fictional, shouldn't matter. Maybe it's Sakurai, the sight of his loneliness every day. Can she really say she cares about him, worries about him when she doesn't even know him? When she knows she has to betray him?
She can understand Jun's frustration. His first week had been so promising, but he's stalled. If they don't get Sakurai, they can't move forward. And his little cheating scenario, self-serving as it is, holds merit. Objectively, a man like Sakurai still in mourning might easily fall for any woman who gives him the slightest bit of attention. Especially a lonely housewife whose husband is disrespecting her. And Jun, with his squad reputation as a ladies' man, is probably itching for an excuse to go bed some young beauty. He's got a lady at home who cooks and irons and cleans, but maybe it's not enough for him. A long work day and a cold, empty bed every night.
Not that the thought of sleeping with Jun hasn't crossed her mind. Much as she's tried to fight it, it's difficult when she's making his food with as much care as she can manage. Smelling the scent of him on his work shirts and tees before she tosses them in the wash. His cheerful "I'm home"s every night, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Being alone in bed every night with the crickets chirping and wondering what he looks like when he sleeps, if he shuts down the playboy act and becomes the prince she's told the neighborhood wives he is. She's forced to speak glowingly of him all the time. Maybe she's started to believe her own bullshit.
She brings her fingers nervously to her chin, to where he'd touched her. She'd be a liar if she said it did nothing to her. After all, if he's a little lonely, who's to say she isn't, too?
When she shuts off the faucet, he's in the doorway. She doesn't even want to know how long he's been standing there, watching her stare into space. "We've got that grill," he says as his only apology for springing his plans on her. "If you pick up some things at the store, we can just grill some meat and veggies in the living room. Put a game on, keep it low key."
Wordlessly she gets up and walks over to him. He's been working in the living room in his dress shirt still. He's rolled up the sleeves, wrinkled the damn thing so it'll take her a lifetime tomorrow getting it perfect again. Her fingers find their way to his buttons, and he seems to be holding his breath as she slowly undoes the button at the top. She trails down to the second button, even slower this time. It seems she's wanted to do this for so long, and only now that she's actually doing it does she acknowledge the impulse.
When she reaches the bottom, she steps back. "I'll put this in the laundry room. Have a nice bath."
He slides out of the shirt, not saying a thing even as she gets her first glimpse of his pale skin, the flatness of his stomach, the dark promise of hair below his navel that disappears into his trousers. His muscled arms, the sharp angles of his collarbone. She takes the shirt from him and hurries down to the laundry room, wondering just what the hell's come over her.
Part Two