Misplaced (13) : Things are just vanishing. Maybe it’s the heat, or the chaos of the times, but even if you swear you put something somewhere, it might be gone. Maybe as quickly as you exit a room and return. Usually it’s only small things; sometimes you might hear a strange rattling just before something disappears, but once it’s gone, it’s gone. So far, it’s mostly things that aren’t too big, but recently there have been reports of cars just disappearing, too…
Backdated to Wednesday, June 29th.
Dr. Kiyoshi Rokugin’s old office in the block belonging to DCU’s history department sat at, frankly, an ideal location, if anyone asked him about it. Normally, back-corner offices were reserved for more recent hires: junior professors, lecturers fresh out of their PhDs who might not even get offered a chance at the tenure track, other (relatively) young people who had the rest of their lives ahead of them and enough spring in their steps to walk the entire length of the corridor before they could ensconce themselves behind a closed door. The more time one did as a professor, the more respect one earned, and with that respect came the chance for offices closer to the door. Easier for students or whoever else to find, which made them less likely to suffer any additional stress between entering the office block and reaching you, especially during exam season, when everyone’s imaginations seemed to enjoy running wild.
Plus, most people’s opinions held that the views were nicer toward the front of the block, closer to the quad.
Most people, however, were not Reiki’s Ojiisan. He’d been in his office, down near the back corner of the history department’s block, since his own days prior to getting tenure, before Reiki and Junsei had even been born—as some of the books Reiki had packed up reflected quite clearly. Crumbling dust-jackets, yellowed pages, spines so cracked from repeat rereadings and plumbs into their pages that they’d been duct-taped back together at least twice.… In its own way, Ojiisan’s office had a history unto itself.
“What I don’t understand here,” Hinami, Reiki’s middle-born younger sister, groused as she hoisted up a cardboard box full of books, “is why he couldn’t have just moved years ago.”
“He didn’t want to. Literally what about that idea is difficult for you to understand?”
Hinami said nothing……at least not until she returned from carting the box down the hall. “It’s not like I really don’t get it, idiot. I just think it’s kind of crazy that he’s stayed here when he could’ve moved literally anywhere.”
“To which I reiterate: he didn’t want to move literally anywhere. He likes his office.”
“How many people in this department have either retired or died since he’s been in here, though?”
“Honestly, probably less than you think. Tenure means professors are less likely to retire than Democrat-appointed Supreme Court Justices.” Oh, it would’ve been hilarious if Ruth Bader Ginsburg were still alive. On the other side of her passing, though…… “Anyway, it’s not like Ojiisan’s been offered a new office every time someone from the department died, or retired, or fell into a spooky, mysterious coma.”
“Well, he’s gotten enough offers that he could’ve taken one way before now.”
“His health never made him want to leave this office.” Not until now, anyway. Not until this most recent scare that might have been nothing, but might have been a lot of potential somethings.…… Reiki could stand to leave that part unspoken, though.
Groaning dramatically, as if the entire world was out to get her, Hinami went for another box. “Look, I want him to not be getting sick again, too. I just also think he shouldn’t have needed that to inspire him to accept an office move. Like I said, he could’ve done this ages ago, like back when Jun-Jun could actually help us with moving anything.”
Perched on the edge of their grandfather’s desk, tank-top already starting to cling to his torso and tiny workout shorts offering little respite from the oppressive heat, Reiki quirked an eyebrow at her. “Nami-chan, I’m gonna give you one chance to clarify what you mean. Explain it to me like I’m five. And for both our sakes, I really hope you figure out a way to rephrase that so it doesn’t sound like you picking on Junsei about his weight.”
The sentiment of “Like Onibaba-sama always does to me” went unspoken—mostly because it wasn’t fair. Yes, their Mom’s mother did nag Reiki about his weight every time she saw him. Yes, she did it after Mom had asked her, as respectfully as possible (which had, in Reiki’s less than humble opinion, still shown far more respect than Onibaba-sama ever deserved about anything) to stop making comments like that for the sake of her son’s well-being. And yes, Hinami was far more likely to be careless with her words than to say anything like that out of malice or a genuine desire to hurt their brother (or, for that matter, Reiki himself).
Still, though. That didn’t mean Reiki had to like this fact about his sister, or enjoy what she had to say. Especially if she was trying to imply that Junsei putting on weight in undergrad somehow made him more incapable of helping move boxes than needing to be in court this afternoon. As if Junsei wouldn’t have been here if his court date over his expired plates hadn’t kept getting moved, first because the cop who’d written him up had had a divorce hearing to be at, and then because the judge initially assigned to the case had fallen into one of Destiny City’s endemic mystery comas. (Idly, Reiki wondered if a Dark Mirror senshi or someone from the Negaverse was responsible for that, and if it was the latter, then he was going to consider it homophobic in the sense of inconvenient to him personally.
After all: he may not have agreed with Hinami’s premise, or with how she was acting like Junsei had bailed on them deliberately because he didn’t want to help, or with how, specifically, she was choosing to express herself—but Reiki wouldn’t deny: having Junsei to provide an extra set of hands would’ve been quite nice, at the moment. The offices here always looked so damn tiny until you tried to move somebody from one to another, or went to pack up someone’s things from, and suddenly found yourself inundated by so much ******** stuff that, by all rights, shouldn’t have had any space because it should have exceeded the room’s maximum volume several cardboard boxes full of stuff ago.)
With a series of non-verbal grunts that conveyed exactly nothing beyond <******** you, box heavy,” Hinami made her exit…but she came bounding back into the room not too long thereafter. As if she’d dropped the boxes on the first splotch of unclaimed floor with no regard for the contents and rushed to return so she could argue:
“Ugh, god, Kiki, you know that I’m not saying anything like that—”
“I mean, I have a lot of ideas about what you’re saying, but—”
“All I really meant was, like—”
“My point here is: I don’t know what you’re saying—”
“Ugh,” Hinami groaned. “I’m just venting, okay? I don’t even know what I’m ******** saying! Honestly, when do I ever? I just make sounds with my mouth and sometimes, they might be words in maybe one of the languages I can allegedly speak.”
“It’s adorable how you’re trying to dodge accountability about how you might’ve been picking on our brother behind his back—”
“Yeah, because Junsei’s a tiny, defenseless infant who super needs you to protect him, right? No matter what he might think about that?” Cocking a hip and planting her hands, Hinami shot Reiki a very pointed look with both eyebrows arched. Before she said a word, that expression absolutely dared him to argue with her (in all likelihood because she’d decided that he couldn’t). “You’re acting like he’s a baby who can’t stand up for himself or something, Kiki, and I don’t like it. ‘cause you know better than that, and you know him better than that, and it’s gross to treat him like he can’t speak for himself.”
Frowning, Reiki crossed his arms (which did exactly nothing to make him feel more protected under the glare he was getting, but he was sure gonna try). “I’m not doing that. For one thing, he’s not here to stand up for himself, so your argument sucks. For another, all I’m doing? Is telling you that I don’t like what you said. Because I know that you know that you’re better than that—and even if you don’t wanna act like it, Nami? I know that you know that there are things I just don’t like hearing generally. From anybody. Regardless of the context.”
With a tilt of her head, Hinami let her eyes dull over into the most unimpressed expression Reiki had seen since he’d insisted on making Cersei go outside in the heat to potty earlier. “Y’know, not to be that person? But sometimes, Kiki, I really do think you get confused about the line between ‘genuine triggers’ and ‘calling you on your bullshit.’ Or ‘undermining your little French vanilla fantasy’ or whatever.” Huffing, she clarified, “And okay, this? Isn’t one of those times. I get that. It’s fine. I said something not great for you, hurts you even, because it’s really close to a trigger, and I didn’t mean it like that or like anything, but still: I’m sorry. But in general, though……?”
Trailing off as if they both agreed on whatever point she thought she was making, Hinami let her eyes blow up like they were going to bug out of her head. After a fashion, Reiki recognized what she wanted to say to him right now: namely, that feeling the fantasy and selling it was fine and all on the stage, where such behavior was all part of his artistic expression and expected of him, but that, in her opinion, Reiki sometimes crossed the line from doing that and into a genuine commitment to ideas that weren’t supported by the reality everyone else had decided to agree upon, which inconvenienced his family (i.e., Hinami personally)……give or take pointing out how bullshit she thought it was for him to live his myriad ridiculous fantasies in the real world, where they nominally did not belong.
However, hearing his sister and seeing what she meant did not mean that Reiki needed to agree with what she was saying.
“Anyway,” she sighed when he stayed quiet, “have you seen my phone?”
“Why?” He threw back a long swig of water. “Expecting more saucy texts from the latest hot redhead down the bar?”
“Okay, her name is Melissa, and her hair is pink, not red, and also? No, actually. I’m not expecting anything. From her or anybody else.” Shrugging, Hinami said, “I just can’t find the stupid thing, okay? I know I, like, just had it.…”
As if doing so would produce her phone from out of the aether, Hinami patted herself down (despite the fact that her own tiny running shorts barely had functional pockets to begin with). Reiki pursed his lips. He thought about the one dead spot in the park where there’d been a garden, until recently……about Pendour, who’d been so upset about her cucumbers getting destroyed by whatever mystery blight kept sweeping through the city, apparently coming here from outer space……about how the two of them had been talking, one moment, and then the next, some rift had cracked open in the universe, sucking Pendour into it.
He thought about the distress all over the house, back on Father’s Day……about Ojiisan’s three-year and five-year sobriety chips mysteriously disappearing. Something about that must have been magical in nature, probably connected to Pendour’s disappearance and the mystery rifts, because Ojiisan never misplaced his sobriety chips. Before going anywhere, even before leaving one room for another sometimes, he always checked to make sure he had the velvet dice bag that he kept them in. Always counted them to make sure he had every single one of the colorful metal reminders of how long he’d stayed clean; of how hard he’d worked to get there and stay there; of everything he stood to lose if he ever relapsed again; of the grandson, Reiki, who should have been named after him (would have been, if not for him stumbling, falling off the wagon……then staying down for a good three years, pretending everything was fine while his and Dad’s relationship burned); of the grandchildren—Reiki, Junsei, and Erika—he’d sobered up so he could ever have a chance to know.
Ojiisan’s missing sobriety chips was obviously something magical. Reiki wasn’t sure if it was paranoia or simply being an egocentric b*****d, but part of him had wondered if someone hadn’t found out who he was—if they hadn’t grilled it out of Toráin, maybe, since the Negaverse clearly had no regard or care at all for their senshi anyway—and started ******** with his family to hurt him.… But on the other hand, Reiki knew that that wasn’t actually likely. How many people in this stupid magical gang war even knew who he was, never mind caring enough about him to come for the people he loved? Being the protagonist in his own mind didn’t make him any less insignificant in the overall grand scheme of things: a basic-level Dark Mirror senshi with powers that, by all appearances, only existed to traumatize people, but that, overall, weren’t anything remotely special.
Still, magic had to be involved, even if it was just the universe being a douchebag for the fun of it, or whatever gave the universe at large its kicks.
Hinami misplacing her phone, though? That was just Tuesday (even on a Wednesday).
Heaving a sigh, Reiki pushed himself up off the desk. “You probably put the stupid thing in your bag and forgot about it, Nami. Now, come on, these boxes aren’t going to move themselves.”
