Chapter 500: Arc 6, - 116: To the Restless
’Tattoo of a winged serpent that could... that could...’ Her eyes began to wane, and her mind slipped in and out of unconsciousness. She leaned her head back and yawned, before she rubbed her eyes. ’What did it say? Right, appear only when they wanted to.’
Reading another one of her father’s file reports, she glanced over to the mug on the table, that had a mere puddle of black liquid left.
She grabbed it by the handle and gulped it down, only to gag at the cold coffee grounds that she had to swallow. Her tongue darted out, regretting not adding any sugar or milk to the drink.
The cup landed back on the table and she had her hand on her forehead, all the while eyeing the files and papers, she opened up... It was everywhere—all over the table, some on the floor, some jammed up against the windowsill...
’Okay, this is to do with the cult specifically, this is unrelated and these are closely related.’ She reminded herself where she had shoved aside whatever papers were relevant to the categories she deemed. However, the two files she laid on the mattress...
’...I’m gonna have to reread that one.’
Fumeko sighed; her gaze fell onto the drawer once more this night. Although hesitant, her hand reached down and pulled open the drawer with the pack of cigarettes and the lighter.
She took both into her hand and read what her father had wrote again. ’This stuff’s meant to help with stress... but it becomes an addiction... ...Realistically, I could try it and stop. I mean, dad clearly could, so it’s just a matter of willpower. Might as well give it a shot.’
She opened up the pack and took one out. She eyed it, inspected it all around—the colour, the length, the tobacco in the centre. Setting the rest aside, she put the filter to her lips and gave the dry paper a taste, to no shock of discovery.
The papery taste, the lollipop-like usage—this seemed rather mundane than what she was expecting. She held it between two fingers like she had seen Detective Ward and Rosemary hold them and held out the lighter in her other hand.
Only now did her expression begin to falter... Her thumb grazed the top of the lighter, flicking it open so lightly that it would just snap back shut... ’How does this thing work exactly?’
She set the lighter beneath the end of the cigarette; her hand began to shake. Her heart raced, faster, and faster, and faster, till she flicked it open!
...
The flame needed to be sparked despite the slow release of gas from the open lighter. ’Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Okay... Just what? Spin the wheel? It’s like a match?’
Sweat formed at her temples and her thumbnail scratched the spark wheel as she slowly put together that it would need to be quick. With the cigarette quivering between her lips, she flicked the wheel.
"Click."
A small flame emerged beneath the cigarette, but before it could even be lit... Oh how warm the fire felt right against her thumb that sparked it awake.
Her mind went blank, and she let out a squeak as she flung the lighter away; it dinged onto the table over the papers as the cigarette fell out of her mouth.
She flapped her hand amidst panicked breaths, as if putting out a fire that was never there on her skin. But there was in fact a fire that started—on the papers the lighter fell on...
Her eyes widened and she blew as hard as she could, which did blow out the lighter. The flame on the other hand was fanned by her breath, and spread faster, leaving ash and blackened paper corners.
Fumeko’s hands stumbled across the desk, trying to get anything to help, but only flammable objects sat in front of her. ’AHHHHH!!!’
She took a heap of papers and threw it onto the growing flame and smashed her hands down on it repeatedly. The orange glow disappeared as she lurched back.
...
...
Foul-smelling smoke rose, signalling that the fire petered out. She did not dare survey the damage underneath the pile... She grabbed the lighter from the edge, the cigarette from the floor, the pack on the table and shoved it back in the drawer before slamming it shut.
Her eyes watered, and her heart settled over the next few moments. She let a small gap open in the window and sat back in her seat, contemplating her life choices.
Whatever else in mind, while her stress levels were certainly at their peak, she was in fact, wide awake.
...
...
"Knock-knock."
’What now...?’ Fumeko turned to the door. "What?"
Hotaru opened up the door, "You’re still up?"
"Your eyes don’t work?"
The redhead’s ears bristled and she furrowed her brows, "Sorry I checked, yeesh."
’Why’d I say that?’ Fumeko inhaled and rubbed her face to brush away her hair, "Sorry. I’m... fine. Can’t sleep; going through dad’s work." The smell of smoke was gone.
Hotaru was nearly closing the door; however, upon the brunette’s apology and with her eyes on her, the hand on the doorknob held it open and her crimson ears folded down. "Coffee’s not going to help with that then," she walked in.
"Like it helps in any way. I can drink five cups and still feel nothing. We should buy a different brand."
"...You know about building a tolerance, correct?"
Fumeko groaned and palmed her face, "Yeah, I fucking know. My body never fails to disappoint me. Needs sleep, needs to use the loo, a fucking pain every month as if I ever would want a damn kid.
Never enough energy to do something, but enough to be bumming about all day, can’t grow a single centimetre or a decent pair of tits- ugh, so needy!" she groaned again to the ceiling, louder. ’Can’t handle a little fire either!’
Hotaru’s hand landed like a feather upon her shoulder. She silently rubbed it in circles.
Fumeko huffed out her frustration in the few seconds that followed, until she realized her own outburst. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, "...I’m used to my affinity’s energy, that’s all; sorry. Forget I said anything."
"It’s okay. There’s no harm done," Hotaru replied.
The detective took a few slow breaths in and out, while a gentle hand held onto her shoulder. "How’s your affinity?"
"So-so," the wolf-woman admitted. "Mine doesn’t affect me the same yours does, but it does in other ways... But I’m doing fine. I’d rather not get used to Jotou not being around, but... I’m doing better."
"Think you can rejuvenate me?"
Hotaru looked at the disorganized mess of papers and files, and then down at the brunette. Her brilliant blue eyes looked up, then around while she thought. She gave a look of pity to Fumeko, "I don’t think that’s a good idea."
Fumeko rolled her eyes and leaned forward, out from the hand holding onto her.
Hotaru pursed her lips to the side, "Even if you can’t fall asleep, you should at least be in bed trying to get whatever rest you can."
’How can I rest?’ "The sooner I solve what the cult’s doing and where they’re keeping Jotou and Kineko, the sooner I can get all the rest I need. I figure tomorrow we’ll get a letter of permission to go speak with Sir Vogel."
Hotaru’s ears flickered. "We sort of already know what the cult is doing, no? If they failed with Beauregard, they’re bound to attempt it again. They will most likely target another, thing, that’s connected to an old god."
Fumeko’s eyes narrowed, "I meant they’re exact next move, not in general. I’m not sure what they’re planning to do with Jotou and Kineko, if they’ve killed dad."
"They’re clearly hostages so that we won’t continue interfering..."
The brunette turned back and sneered at Hotaru, "Then I’m figuring out where they are so they can’t hold hostages over our heads! I don’t know, there’s lots I can still do!"
Hotaru’s eyes glazed over at the sight of a manic detective; she blinked a few times before replying, "I don’t doubt that you can and will, but-"
"But nothing," Fumeko sighed and grabbed a random bunch of papers, as if she even knew what she was going to continue doing. "Everything’s a mess... and every second I’m not closer, they sprint further away. So, thank you for the concern Aru, but I can handle it."
The redhead went silent, and allowed Fumeko to fumble about the messy desk. She glanced around, taking in a good look of Kazuo Namora’s bedroom, that was more of an office with a bed in the corner next to a small vanity.
His daughter was hunched over, trying to regather her bearings of what she was doing for the past hour. A cold draft whistled in, keeping the room colder than comfortable.
Eventually, she raised her brow at the detective and offered, "You know you can ask for my help."
Fumeko side-eyed her, before looking back down. "What could you figure out that my dad couldn’t?"
"I’m not sure Fumeko. But I know one man couldn’t do it all."
The brunette chose to remain quiet.
"What are you even hoping to find?"
’Something. Anything. It’s already been helping me.’
Hotaru stood next to the sat figure and picked up documents with grace—her thumb perfectly at the middle of the pages to give it a soft fold as she scanned it over. "Move over a little."
Before Fumeko could react, the wolf-girl was already pushing into the same chair to take a seat. With a scowl, she was forced to move to the side.
"...What happened here?" Hotaru’s hand grazed over the pile of papers that was slammed onto a few burnt documents; black bits crumbled as she lifted it.
"Don’t know, found it like that."
"Sure..." Hotaru dismissed and compiled the papers to a side.
...
...
Fumeko’s eyes waned. "I was working on... something about the tattoos. None of them are really, ’finished’. I’ve just been going through whatever’s relevant."
"Hoping to find something your father might’ve missed then?"
"I don’t think he missed anything," she retorted. "I think he might have had information that maybe didn’t help him then, but could help us now."
"To recontextualize his findings, I get it," Hotaru raised her brows in exasperation.
As Hotaru began looking over some material, Fumeko was unable to focus. Anything she read, she had to read over again, and then again slower.
Her entire side was brushing against the redhead while she worked, annoying her further. Strands of red hair would wisp over, and her shoulder would bump her in her movements.
’Is that?’ Fumeko looked to her left and down. ’Her tail...’ It brushed against her while it was curled up onto the redhead’s lap.
...
...
Her hand moved ever so slowly to touch it, for all her inhibitions were exhausted. Her hand hovered over, feeling the hair tips brush against her palm... Her eyes kept looking to the papers and back down, as if to check. ’So soft...’ She petted it.
Hotaru’s ear folded to the side and she twisted to look down at the hand holding her tail. "Meko?"
"S-sorry!" her hand shot up and away; her widened eyes had to look as far as possible away from the redhead. ’WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAT!?’ Her face reddened.
"Was it bothering you?" Hotaru grabbed her tail and folded it over on the other side of her lap. "Sorry, it can poke sometimes. But do you mind explaining why you were stroking it?" she side-eyed.
’Because it was soft and I wanted to?’ "Cause I wasn’t expecting it to be as soft as it was and... I don’t know," she shrugged.
...
...
Realizing the inside thought was blurted out, Fumeko’s blush disappeared with every second they sat in silence until they were shuffling papers around again.
"It’s fine, it’s just a tail; but maybe ask for permission next time?"
"Next time?" Fumeko replied.
"Never mind... It’s my fault for sitting this close I guess," Hotaru dismissed.
Fumeko’s eyes waned back down. ’It’s cold in here.’ She stopped pulling away from the redhead, and instead let herself lean into her and relax.
"Is this supposed to be relevant- Mh? Mek-" Hotaru looked to her right; the brunette’s head had slumped onto her shoulder. She put the document down and reached a hand over to lightly tap her cheek.
Fumeko was breathing softly, knocked-out cold.
Hotaru sighed into a smile, and chuckled to herself. She watched the top of her head with the purple headband for a few moments, allowing her to rest.
"Hopefully this helps with your mood," the wolf-woman whispered and petted Fumeko’s head. She gazed at the filled-up desk and inhaled. "I’ll take on the less sleep for tonight."
Hotaru very gently wedged her arm between the chair and the detective’s back, to steady her while she got up. She then proceeded to put her other arm under Fumeko before lifting her with ease.
She made sure her head rested on her upper arm, before she carried the brunette to the bed to lay her down. Fumeko mumbled a few times, however her eyelids were much too heavy for her to lift.
Hotaru sat on the bedside for a moment. "I agree, I’m not going to be the one to solve everything that’s going on." She pulled a blanket over the sleeping detective and let her settle in. "But I’m still your ally, and I am the Azure Firefly," she hushed.
She kissed Fumeko on the temple and stood up. "I’ve solved plenty of cases too, it doesn’t mean I need to run around all over the place like you. I’m not useless," she leaned down to give a light flick to Fumeko’s head.
The brunette grumbled in her sleep.
Hotaru’s fangs glistened whilst she walked back to the desk and sat down. "Sleep well," she uttered. Hotaru stretched her arms out, popped her fingers and splashed a quick rejuvenate on herself, before she got to work.