Shinjuku blazed with neon at night.
Nagayama Keiichiro walked ahead, tugging Kenichi's suitcase—work that really should have been Kenichi's own.
After passing a pink neon sign, Kenichi spotted a Boy of about seven or eight.
He was dressed in rags, mud stains on his cuffs, huddled alone behind the neon board, chin on his knees, utterly out of place.
Kenichi called Nagayama Keiichiro's name and flicked his eyes toward the Child.
They stopped.
Click.
Nagayama flicked open a metal lighter; the flame reached the cigarette between his lips, then he remembered they were on the street.
Grudgingly he snapped the lighter shut and yanked the crumpled cigarette from his mouth.
They stood some distance away and watched the Boy; after about ten minutes no parent or grandparent showed up to claim him.
Kenichi stepped forward, suitcase rattling, but stopped a meter short instead of looming over him.
"Kid, where are your parents?" he asked.
The street noise drowned him out; the Boy didn't answer—he didn't even lift his head, just hugged his knees.
"Hey! Kid, where are your parents?"
Kenichi stepped closer and tried again.
The Boy slowly raised his head, letting Kenichi see his face.
Round eyes blinked, heart-meltingly cute; tear-tracks still wet on his plump cheeks.
"Kid, where did your parents go?"
Seeing this, Kenichi softened his voice and crouched until their eyes were level.
"I—I don't know. Grandma told me to wait there for her…"
The Child's stammer made Kenichi frown; he straightened and looked around—only his partner was watching.
"Where did Grandma go?"
"I don't know."
The Boy answered blankly.
"Call it in?"
Kenichi asked as his carefree partner strolled over.
Nagayama shook his head. "Aren't we the police?"
"We're not in charge of—"
"Same thing." Nagayama turned, crouched, and looked at the Boy: "Remember any family phone numbers?"
The Boy shook his head.
"Name?" Nagayama continued.
The Boy shook again: "I don't know. Grandma never used my name; Mom and Dad only call me by my pet name."
"Da Yong, okay?"
He looked at Nagayama with hopeful eyes.
The cold man hadn't scared the Child; instead he seemed to get along with kids. The Boy caught Nagayama's sleeve: "Da Yong, I'm Da Yong."
"A pet name won't help much."
Kenichi, surprised at his gentle Captain, added: "Know where you live?"
This time they got a firm answer.
Sanya?
Kenichi nodded; it was the well-known slum you couldn't find on any map.
"Let's go." Nagayama carefully lifted the Boy; at his partner's stunned look he jerked his chin, and the two men carried the Child toward the nearby subway.
One cold-faced yet tenderly cradling the Boy, the other grumbling as he hauled the suitcase again.
Dim hotel lights glowed around them.
In this setting they drew stares—strange looks, part blessing, part envy and praise.
Kenichi was bewildered: What's going on?
He instinctively tugged his Captain's sleeve: "Nagayama—"
"Shut up if you don't want people getting the wrong idea! And don't touch me!"
Chastised, Kenichi let go, muttering in confusion: Wrong idea? Just tugging your sleeve—same as always.
——Kenichi's daily sleeve-tugging——
The evening subway was still busy but not packed; the two men found a seat for Da Yong.
The Child sat quietly, big eyes curiously studying the stone-faced Nagayama Keiichiro.
Bored, Kenichi struck up a conversation.
"Grandma accidentally left you there; now two handsome uncles are taking you home."
"Is Grandma forgetful?"
"Da Yong, am I handsome or is Mr. Ice-face next to me?"
"Da Yong, do you have a little girl you like?"
The Boy didn't show any impatience and answered Yoshino Kenichi's questions word for word.
From that reply, the two men heard far too many unpleasant things.
Nagayama Keiichiro spoke up: "You mean this is the fourth time your grandma has 'forgotten' you outside?"
The Boy nodded obediently, fingers unconsciously picking at the mud on his sleeve. "I always find my own way back! Last time, Grandma was eating and stared at me like she couldn't believe it—probably didn't expect me to come back so fast. Pretty amazing, huh, Da Yong?"
The two men exchanged glances; Yoshino Kenichi mouthed, Doing it on purpose?
Nagayama Keiichiro nodded and mouthed back, Looks like it.
Their eyes toward the Boy turned pitying.
"Are things hard at home?"
The instant the words left Yoshino Kenichi's mouth he realized the Boy probably wouldn't understand "conditions," so he rephrased: "Do you all live together? How many rooms? Do you usually take the subway? Have your own car?"
The Boy tilted his head to think, then shook it. "I live with Grandma, Mama, and Papa. Rooms? Just one—we all sleep in one bed. Getting around… we walk? Never been on a train."
Nagayama Keiichiro cut in, helpless: "He lives in Sanya—why even ask?"
A notorious slum.
Yoshino Kenichi rolled his eyes. "Of course I ask! Maybe he's a secret little tycoon who actually lives near Senso-ji."
Nagayama Keiichiro gave a stiff smile. "You're getting married soon. I hope you stay this chatty after the wedding."
The topic only made Yoshino Kenichi livelier.
"Reiko just got promoted, Ice-block—she's now the logistics head of the Ritualist armory."
"Oh dear, my wife will soon outrank you. Be polite when you speak to me."
Yoshino Kenichi's fiancée, Usami Reiko, was also a Contactee.
Recently the woman had been promoted to logistics supervisor.
Nagayama Keiichiro ignored the subject.
He gave Yoshino Kenichi a dissatisfied look and voiced the thought he'd kept back:
"From the moment we met this Child until now, haven't you sensed it? As a Contactee, you're falling short, Yoshino Kenichi."
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