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Hey, This is the NYPD 82nd Precinct – Part 04

It was late afternoon.

Kazuya, still limping slightly, hurried down the main street and dashed into the NYPD 82nd precinct, an oval-shaped building on the corner. He raced across the floor and up the stairs to the second floor, pushing open the waist-high swing door.

“Victorique!” he shouted. His jet-black bangs swayed and settled. His equally black eyes glinted sharply. “Uh, this is the NYPD, right?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

On the second floor, police officers were throwing a ball around and slurping fried noodles.

One finally noticed him and said, “Are you the guardian of the dumpling thief? All right, you can pay for the dumplings.”

Puzzled, Kazuya said, “Pay for the dumpling?” but quickly understood and reached into his chest pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper, shook his head when he saw it was the map, and put it back, then took out three crumpled bills from his pants pocket. The officer took all three but, seeing Kazuya’s sad expression, thought for a moment and returned one.

The officer opened the iron door “Hey, dumpling girl, your guardian’s here.”

There was a space at the back of the second floor that looked like a storage area. About five rooms were squarely divided by concrete walls, with only the side facing the iron door separated by iron bars.

Kazuya found the person he was looking for in the dimness of the frontmost cell.

Victorique’s white-blonde hair fanned out like peacock feathers, and her pink yukata glowed like a strange insect lurking in the dark. She was looking down at the floor, glaring at a single point. Her small, porcelain face slowly moved. Her almond-shaped eyes gleamed with a dangerous green light as they caught sight of Kazuya.

“Victorique! There you are! Were you waiting for me? I’m sorry. A lot happened, so it took me some time to find you.”

“You warty tree frog.”

“I understand. You must have felt lonely. You don’t need to thank me. Let’s get you out of here. Wait, did you just call me a warty tree frog? That can’t be right. Wait…” Kazuya asked curiously, “Are you angry? No way. You have no reason to be angry.”

“I’m surprised you figured it out with that minuscule brain the size of a pickled plum, Kujou.” A terrifying voice echoed from the dimness. “Of course, I’m angry. I’m not leaving this place. I’m staying here, no matter what.”

Kazuya stared blankly at Victorique, then shot the nearby officer a quizzical look. The officer also looked bewildered.

As Kazuya’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw Victorique crouching in the middle of the frontmost cell. The officer opened the wire mesh door, but she wouldn’t come out.

“Hey,” Victorique called softly. Kazuya peered at her suspiciously. “I did not get lost!” Victorique declared, lifting her chin.

Her raspy, rumbling voice startled Kazuya.

“So, you’re angry about that ad?” he said wearily. “I don’t get it. What didn’t you like about it? But we’re together now, so let’s just go back to Ruri’s place.”

“No way!” Victorique raised her voice. “You were the one who got lost. Vanished into thin air. I was the one worried. Therefore, I’m staying here.”

“Wait, you mean here? You want to stay here? In this place?” Kazuya crossed his arms, adopting a grave tone. “Stop being such a diva. I’m really going to get angry.”

“I’ve decided to make this place my home. The lazy guard dog isn’t moving. S-Stop pulling me. My arm’s going to come off. Th-This is my home!”

“No, it’s not! Allow me, a mediocre savant, to inform you, Gray Wolf who knew everything about the Old World, that this is a cell on the second floor of a police station!”

Victorique was momentarily stunned, then her anger flared once more.

“What is a job? What is a home? Tell me, Kujou!”

“Huh? I don’t really get it, but being a prisoner isn’t a job, and a cell isn’t a home. Grr, Vic-tor-ique… Come on!”

The officers gathered around to watch.

Victorique resisted as Kazuya tried to pull her out, gripping the iron bars with both hands. Her eyes were watery, and her cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel’s. Kazuya was in a tug-of-war pose, trying to yank Victorique out.

The officers began to place bets.

“Thirty cents on the Chinese boy.”

“Seventy cents on the dumpling girl.”

“Let’s calculate the odds.”

Kazuya tumbled out of the iron bars. The officers whistled and booed.

Meanwhile, Victorique quickly crawled back inside. She took something out from the sleeve of her pink yukata. A blue radio with star patterns. She placed it in the middle of the cell and sat down on her soles.

“I thought we searched her for belongings,” one officer remarked.

“So the sleeves of that strange outfit are like bags. Guess we didn’t check well enough.”

Kazuya got up, holding the back of his head with both hands. He opened his eyes, and when he saw Victorique sitting, he yelled, “What are you doing?”

Victorique gave a start. Then, she squared her shoulders. “Wh-Where the radio is, that’s my home,” she declared.

“What do you mean by that? You’re not making any sense. Why do you care so much about that beat-up radio anyway? You’re a weird one.”

“Th-That’s because… you gave it to me.”

For a fleeting moment, Victorique showed a genuine, uneasy expression.

Drip, drip.

But she quickly reverted to her nasty attitude. “Let me enlighten you, Kujou. You are nothing more than a shriveled-up, sun-dried version of a flattened tree frog.”

“What? That’s it! Enough already, you absolute idiot!”

“A-Absolute… idiot?”

Shocked and hurt, Victorique turned away. The officers watched with bated breath.

Kazuya folded his arms, deep in thought. Then, he clapped his hands and swiftly entered the cell, kneeling beside Victorique. He reached into her other sleeve and pulled out a golden lizard-shaped pipe.

He rose back up and swung it around triumphantly. “Heh-heh, this is your favorite item, isn’t it? After all, you risked your life last night to get your hands on it. Look, look! The place with the pipe is your home! It’s much better than that stupid, chipped radio. Come on, Victorique.”

Swinging his arms, he lifted his knees high and marched energetically like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

“Come on!”

Convinced Victorique was following him, he exited the cell all jolly, walked a short distance until he reached the swinging doors.

“Hey, Victorique?” He turned around with a smile. “All right, let’s… go… What? Victorique isn’t following me?!” he exclaimed in shock.

He hurried back, his expression showing a hint of frustration.

Victorique, still sitting in the middle of the cell, stared back with a cold, flat gaze. Kazuya’s shoulders sagged. Then, he sat cross-legged in front of the iron bars and folded his arms.

“What’s the matter, Victorique?” he asked. “You were full of energy when we left this morning, but now you won’t come out of the cell. I just don’t understand.”

Victorique turned away, her delicate lips pursed stubbornly. Kazuya stared fixedly at her while Victorique watched a bug crawling in the corner. Time passed.

Then, a woman’s voice came from a neighboring cell. “Excuse me, could I talk to you, sir?”

Kazuya gave a start. He blushed upon realizing someone else was nearby.

“S-Sorry for the disturbance.”

“Don’t worry about it. I believe the madam is simply anxious. Allow me to explain.”

Kazuya listened skeptically.

“Sometimes, people who were respected in one place might be seen as completely useless elsewhere. It happens often. I’ve experienced it myself. I grew up working on a cotton farm in the South, praised for my strength. But when the war came, I was criticized for being nothing more than a bungler.”

“What?”

“Sorry, I digress. Um, I don’t know your situation, but the lady seems unable to demonstrate her own abilities as she used to, and she might be upset about that.”

“I see.” Kazuya nodded solemnly.

He recalled how several years ago, he was chosen to enroll as an international student in Western Europe thanks to his academic excellence. After traveling across the sea, he was thrown into St. Marguerite Academy, where the culture and lifestyle were different from what he’d known, and the noble children shunned him, calling him the Black Reaper. The environment had changed so drastically that he couldn’t do anything about it on his own.

And when the second Great War began, everything on the battlefield was different. Now was no exception. They boarded a ship as nameless immigrants, finally arriving in the New World. All the while, Kazuya had Victorique in his heart.

“Hey, Victorique.” Kazuya’s voice carried concern. “I feel the same way. It’s not just you. Let’s go back to Ruri’s place and talk about it.”

“Don’t you know that Ruri doesn’t appreciate relatives staying at her home?” Victorique said.

“Why would you think that? Ruri doesn’t mind.”

“She doesn’t?” Victorique looked surprised.

Kazuya shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. I have my pride. I have to make you happy on my own.”

“There you go again with that bizarre nonsense.”

“Now, look here! Sure, it’ll be tough at first, but if you and I are together, we can overcome anything. Just like we did during all those cases. I-I’ve always given my all, b-because you were by my side. So, um…” Kazuya stumbled over his words, blushing.

At that moment, the policemen gathered and started making a fuss again.

“Hey, check out this article in the evening paper,” one said.

“Isn’t this the same guy?”

“Look, the one in the neighboring cell. The scary dude with bulging eyes and a scarred face.”

Kazuya raised his head. The officers approached the next cell and showed the article to the person inside.

Kazuya looked closer. “Oh, that article.”