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Shishido Goro had been missing for about two weeks already.
In fact, as Toji said, there was no real reason to worry. He said it right at the beginning, when they had only just started to suspect something. Said the boss was just like that. He’d disappear into his demon dimension and sit there till he turned blue, and then, when the need arose, he’d come back. Back then, Toji told Zangi not to sweat it. He had that Cheshire grin stretched from ear to ear, but the thing was, he almost always wore it, and it was hard to tell whether he meant it sincerely, whether he was worried about the boss and trying to calm Zangi down, or whether it was some mysterious third option no one could even guess at; Zangi chose to believe in his sincerity and nodded, like, alright, I’m just an newbie anyway, and things like this are for the guys who are already pros.
Then unease spread through the division, and the Cheshire grin slipped off Toji’s face. Whispers began. Zangi’s familiar wiggled his brows at him, like, man, something’s off here, and Zangi once again lamented that his best advisor in this matter was a rooster wearing sneakers better than his own shoes, because he was just a newbie, and his salary was still… well, let’s not get into the truly depressing stuff… but at that moment he decided he had to act Fairly — that is, like a proper new guy in the team, not like some overgrown oaf who had finally passed the exam thanks to the younger crowd (again, best not dwell on the sad parts).
So one evening, when almost no one was left in their office, he swaggered up to Toji and leaned over him. He was sitting on a chair with his hands thrown behind his head, and it was hard to tell whether he had dozed off or was thinking about something, since his eyes weren’t visible. But he sensed the approach. The corners of his lips stretched wider, and Zangi suddenly felt extremely awkward, because… well, how to put it? You know those movies where a junior employee approaches the boss, the boss is asleep, the employee leans in…
Damn, he’d watched a show like that yesterday!
"Need something?" Toji purred like a huge cat, and Zangi awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.
"I just… got worried!" He spread his arms and put on a guilty smile. "You’re all so concerned about Mr. Shishido Goro… And I’m just… well…"
At first, Toji clearly didn’t understand what he was even talking about, and the smile vanished from his face for a moment. Then, he puckered his lips and gasped. What was that sudden realization? He jumped up from the chair so briskly that Zangi got startled and almost toppled onto the desk piled high with papers, and when he started grabbing everything that tried to fall, at the last moment — when a tiger-painted mug slid off the table — he reached out, but caught it at the same time as Toji. His hands were hot, and Zangi thought — wow, what a time to be pawing your de facto senior. Or how was it? Damn, this hierarchy was impossible to figure out! He smiled apologetically and set the mug back, and although Toji’s eyes weren’t visible, he felt like he was being watched every second.
However, what he said next stunned him, because Toji grabbed him by the arm and, quite briskly and still smiling, declared:
"You and I, Tosaka-san," that’s how he teased him, getting familiar, "still haven’t gone out for a drink together. Since the boss is missing," at that moment his voice grew a bit more serious, but then filled again with Cheshire cheerfulness, "we need to do what any responsible subordinate does when that happens."
Zangi thoughtfully scratched his chin.
"Go look for him?"
"We’ll get to that. We still have time."
At the time, Zangi thought Toji meant some critical and dangerous deadline, but when he found out it was about the concert of his favorite idol, he… started thinking about a lot of things that probably shouldn’t be said out loud, including some mild criticism of Shishido Goro's musical taste. But at that moment, he thought — ah, there’s still time, how great! Mr. Shishido Goro will definitely come back before the deadline! He looked at Toji expectantly, and Toji, tightening his bony fingers around his shoulder, leaned closer and blew cigarette smoke into his face, then barked cheerfully:
"We are obligated to slack off and ignore work!"
This was, chronologically, the first moment when Zangi started thinking about many things but said nothing, just like with the concert.
"Anyway, we should go grab a drink. I know you’re not against it, and neither is your pet."
Why would you say that about Cook, he’s not like that, he doesn’t support bad habits, he’s a bird of honor, Zangi wanted to say, but from behind came a cheerful "woof," and he took it as betrayal and a stab in the back. Cook strutted past holding a newspaper, which was a hint that it was time for Zangi to grab his jacket and head to the nearest pub. Honestly, what a jerk! He should’ve smacked that damn chicken with the newspaper! Might knock some of that arrogance out of him!
Not waiting for Zangi to reach the logical conclusion himself, Toji grabbed his hand with a steel grip and dragged him along, chuckling.
The place Toji chose was clearly to his taste; it was strange, but not as flashy as one might expect. The bartender poured them something, reacting only to Toji’s nod, and Zangi took that as a sign that he came here regularly. They sat at a table. It was hot, and he slipped off his jacket, and all the while Toji watched him with a wide, dangerous grin from somewhere beneath his thick black bangs. But then, when the alcohol arrived — it resembled schnapps, though Zangi wasn’t much of an expert — he traced a finger along the rim of the glass and said more seriously:
"This is my favorite stuff here. Recipe straight from the demon world. The boss brought it… I refined it. It sells like crazy. Sometimes I think our tastes aren’t that different after all," he snorted. "What do you think?"
"I don’t know… after everything that happened recently, I’m not really in the mood to think… about similarities and differences with demons."
When Zangi smiled awkwardly, Toji’s smile dimmed a little. He shrugged, and somehow the air seemed to cool.
"Interesting."
"But then again, that boy who works for Mr. Sakaki… the one who’s friends with a demon. He’s a nice guy, right? So I think it’s all… well," Zangi paused and drummed his fingers on the table. "Kind of superficial? I mean, is there really a difference? If those two get along, then I guess their taste in drinks can be similar too. It’s just something you have to learn, and that can be hard sometimes. I’m not the brightest bulb in the fridge, you know!"
His last words made Toji smile. He pushed the schnapps closer, and Zangi decided to try it. Good thing he started with a small sip — even that hit his head hard! Wow… No wonder someone would like this, it was seriously strong stuff! He stared at the glass in a daze, then at Toji, who had already finished half of his. When had he even managed that?!
"So, a demon and a human — that’s not a combination that would disgust you?"
"I don’t care," Zangi said, licking his lips. A sweet aftertaste… No, seriously, a demonic drink. What was that? But he looked at Toji in confusion. "I mean, what’s the difference? If some demon tells me he comes in peace, offers me a drink, and doesn’t stab me in the back, why should I hate him?"
It felt like it grew warm again, as if invisible ice had melted. Toji kept looking at him. The smile on his lips appeared and disappeared, as though he were thinking about something, and that made him resemble a cat even more. Any moment now, he’d start purring! No, that was nonsense. Zangi felt like slapping himself. It was all the booze putting stupid thoughts in his head, and the stress. Damn Shishido Goro, vanishing so suddenly. Though he had already gotten used to the fact that the entire top tier of exorcists was eccentric, except maybe Hijiri Tsurugi, who compensated for his colleagues’ oddities with unbearable pedantry. A quirk among quirks — being normal.
When Toji suddenly moved closer and sat beside him, Zangi thought the alcohol had hit him way too hard, because it suddenly got too hot…
"I like you, Tosaka," Toji told him honestly, then smiled even wider. "We should drink to that. A toast!"
Damn, if they drank to every bit of good news, they could kill their livers like that! But Toji clearly didn’t care — he shoved the glass into his hand, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed firmly, and then they drank together, and Zangi suddenly felt like Toji had brightened up even more than before, because now there was something else in his words and wide Cheshire grin, something different, almost happy.
Another quirk of a top-tier exorcist?