TW: Gun violence
(Monday, April 5th, around 15:30)
Kirishima stood behind Asami holding his prayer beads watching him pay his respects to Jin’s parents. Asami gave them an envelope with a thin black and white ribbon around it, holding it out to them with both hands. When he was finished, Asami stepped aside and Kirishima followed. The wake was lavish as planned.
Detective Shirai and his new man, Nakamura, were also in attendance. Asami had barely acknowledged his presence with a nod but Kirishima could see he was pleased they were there anyway. They had arrived after the priest had completed his prayers.
As Kirishima looked around, his thoughts drifted to the man in the garage. He had been thinking about him all day. The man had aroused long forgotten feelings in him. He realized with a slight shock that he was craving the man’s warmth. A wave of tender desire washed through him and he closed his eyes for a moment. He thought that it was unfair that he didn’t even know the man’s name. Kirishima shook himself, opening his eyes. He needed to pay attention so he pushed thoughts of the man out of his mind.
There were plenty of people in attendance. He recognized Jin’s parents, of course, and many of his student friends from his research on Jin’s background. He watched the people as he and Asami hovered around the outside of the crowd. He wondered why Asami wanted to be there. Perhaps it was a way to assure himself that Jin was really dead after receiving the phone call earlier.
Asami was attracting the usual attention though people were trying to be discreet about it. When they’d arrived Kirishima had glanced quickly over the young men in attendance for anyone who might have called Asami but they were all quiet and respectful. None of them seemed to recognize them and though many of them stared at Asami, it was more out of curiosity. All the women stared at him and even some of the men. Sometimes he thought his boss was too beautiful for his own good.
Asami stood expressionless, his arms by his side instead of in his pockets like they usually were. He seemed to be observing the proceedings but not looking around. The longer they stood there, the more people stopped staring at Asami until only a couple of people were glancing at him surreptitiously. Kirishima kept watching the crowd.
Asami caught his eye and nodded towards the door. Kirishima followed his boss outside. He kept careful watch as they walked through the building until they were standing to the right of the front door. A group of young people were standing about ten feet to their left, most in black, though some wore their school uniforms. They were speaking to each other in low voices.
Asami was looking at his phone. He stared at the front then opened it up slowly. Kirishima stood next to him, still looking around. He heard Asami breathe in sharply. Kirishima was just going to ask Asami about it when he saw a black town car with blacked out windows approaching the funeral home. He knew he shouldn’t be worried. This was a funeral home, after all, where such cars were common, but something about it bothered him.
The back passenger window rolled down and Kirishima grabbed Asami and shoved him through the front doorway as bullets from a semi-automatic thundered across the front door area. Young people screamed and the car sped away.
Kirishima was lying on top of him, his glasses askew. They were lying under the front window which was still intact.
“Are you all right?” asked Kirishima, rolling off him.
“Yes,” said Asami. He started to get up.
“Stay down,” said Kirishima. He sat up, adjusting his glasses, then reached for his gun.
“Not here, Kei. We need to leave,” said Asami. Kirishima had been so focused on keeping Asami safe that he hadn’t noticed the chaos around them. People were screaming and running for the exits, the funeral staff was shouting. Detective Shirai was rushing towards them. He looked very relieved.
“Glad to see you’re both okay. Nakamura is making the call. You should get out of here. I don’t want either of you getting caught up in this one,” he said.
“I saw the car,” said Kirishima.
The detective paused.
“It was a brand new town car with blacked out windows. It had a TKS 500 plate and the serial numbers were 51-02. I didn’t see the shooter,” said Kirishima. He didn’t bother mentioning the kind of gun the shooter used; the police would confirm that when they examined the victims.
“Good, thanks,” said Shirai. The sounds of sirens were approaching. “Now get out of here, Asami-sama. I’ll call you later.”
Kirishima grabbed his boss by the arm and they left the building. “My phone,” said Asami. He stopped for a moment and picked it up near the front door where he’d dropped it. They got into the car and were long gone by the time the police arrived.