The Edge of Equilibrium

Chapter 5: Broken Orbit

Exactly thirty days had passed since Masato had last set foot in Physics Laboratory No. 13.

In the stuffy criminal division office, Masato stared at the pile of autopsy reports, his vision blurring. The ashtray on the corner of his desk had filled up, and empty coffee cans stood scattered in messy rows, proof of every hour of sleep he'd given up. He pressed hard at the bridge of his nose, trying to push back the throbbing pain in his temples.

Usually, whenever a stack of cases like this left him stuck, his feet carried him to the university almost on their own. He'd settle into the lab's stiff visitor's chair, gripe about work, and let the scratch of marker on whiteboard smooth out his nerves.

Now, though, that routine felt like something from another life.

Masato reached for his phone on the desk. His finger hovered over Reiji's name in his contacts. More times than he could count this past month, he'd wanted to just call, check in, maybe toss out some dumb riddle for no reason at all. But every time he came close, he'd hear the professor's flat voice again, the one that had sent him away.

"Have Mio come alone from now on. Both of you here serves no purpose."

He dropped the phone back on the desk harder than he meant to. A dull thud. He sank into his chair and let out a long breath.

Irritation crept back up his chest. Reiji Kanzaki, the rigid scientist who'd rather spend a Saturday night with an electron microscope than deal with another person, had suddenly, specifically, asked for a woman to come see him. Just the thought of it twisted Masato's stomach. Had Reiji found some new "research subject" in Mio? Or was the genius who'd seemed immune to romance actually trying to court her like anyone else would?

Masato's logic rejected the idea, but the tightness in his chest wouldn't leave. It ate away at his sleep, night after night, until burying himself in work was the only way to keep from thinking. He took double shifts, drove out to the most out-of-the-way crime scenes, questioned witnesses deep into the night. Anything, as long as he didn't have to ask himself why one missing professor could tilt the whole axis of his world.

"Senior, you're still here?"

The gentle voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up to find Mio standing beside his desk. She'd already changed out of her uniform into a warm knit cardigan, but she'd still made time to brew a cup of strong green tea and set it on his desk.

"I still have to go back over the suspect's alibi in the Shibuya robbery," Masato said, forcing a tired smile. He pulled the cup toward him. "Thanks, Mio. You're a lifesaver. Go on home, it's nearly midnight."

She didn't move right away. She stood there, worry written all over her face, plain enough for anyone to see except the one man looking at her. "You've been pushing yourself too hard this whole month, Senior. You skipped lunch again today. If you get sick, who's going to lead the investigation team?"

"Cops don't get sick days," Masato said with an easy laugh. He flipped to a fresh page in the folder in front of him, completely missing the quiet mood his junior was trying to set. To him, Mio was a solid coworker and a valuable subordinate, nothing more, nothing less. "Don't worry about it. I'll buy you breakfast tomorrow to make up for it. Now go on, get home."

She went quiet for a moment. A flicker of disappointment crossed her eyes, but she only gave a small smile and a respectful bow. "All right. Please don't push yourself too hard, Senior. Good night."

Once she'd gone, Masato was alone again under the office's faintly flickering fluorescent lights. He took a sip of the green tea, cooling now. It tasted flat. None of the bitter edge of canned coffee from the university cafeteria, none of the marker-ink smell in the air.

He gripped the edge of his desk hard enough to whiten his knuckles. Whatever he'd mistaken for anger slowly peeled away, leaving behind a painful truth he'd been denying all along. He wasn't angry because Reiji wanted to get closer to Mio. He was angry because Reiji no longer wanted him around.

But a second later, doubt crept in. Was that really it?

That night, under the office's tired, flickering lights, Masato finally gave up on the paperwork piling dead on his desk. He grabbed his leather jacket off the back of his chair and trudged down the emergency stairwell toward the empty parking lot.

The engine cut through the quiet of the city streets. Without thinking, his hands turned the wheel down an old, familiar route, toward a hill on the edge of town, the place he always escaped to whenever his head got too full, too restless.

He climbed the steep stone steps. Cold night air swept his face when he reached the top. Below him, the city lights spread out like a sea of fallen stars, quiet and vast.

He leaned against the iron railing, cold under his hands. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been up here. Felt like years. Lately, whenever his thoughts tangled up and his brain wore thin, his feet had carried him to the university corridors instead. All he'd had to do was call Reiji, or just walk in and sink into the lab's visitor chair.

His mind drifted to that room that always smelled faintly of disinfectant. Masato gave himself a wry smile. Strange, when he thought about it. How had a room so white, so sterile, so rigid, so buried in journals, become the one place that could settle his restless mind?

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. He slid one between his lips and flicked his lighter. A small flame caught, lighting half of his tired face.

The first drag filled his lungs, and the slow curl of white smoke suddenly set off a memory. He could see Reiji's face clearly, turning from behind a stack of journals. That familiar faint furrow in his brow, the look he always got when irritation slipped past his rational front.

"You've been smoking by the parking lot's AC compressor again before coming into the lab, Masato. The odor molecules are clinging to your jacket fibers."

His hand froze midair. The ember slowly ate through the white paper between his fingers, ash scattering on the wind. He gave a small start and breathed out the rest of the smoke, confused.

Why, all the way out here, surrounded by a view this vast and beautiful, was it the professor's face that had come to him?

He let the cigarette burn out between his fingers without another drag. He stood there for a long time, letting the night wind cut through him. His eyes stayed on the glittering city lights, but his mind was busy piecing together variables he'd never once noticed.

Could it be...

A quiet tremor rolled through the detective's chest. The truth crept up on him, sharp as the night air, tearing apart every assumption he'd been holding onto.

What always brought him peace at Physics Laboratory No. 13 was never the calm of its white walls. Nor the quiet of the room itself.

It was the rigid, bespectacled man who always stood there.

A hollow laugh slipped out of him, lost in the night wind. What an irony. The detective who always trusted his gut to read a criminal's hidden motives had fallen hopelessly behind on reading his own heart.

And now, it was too late for all of it. Reiji had finally let his reason, and that ice-cold heart of his, come to rest somewhere else.

The thought left a bitter taste in Masato's mouth. Of course the professor would choose Mio. His junior, he'd admit, had a sweet face, a steady presence, and never dropped her professionalism. Mio was dependable through and through, the perfect counterweight to a life as rigid as Reiji's.

He bent down and stubbed out what was left of the cigarette against the stone wall. He closed his eyes, trying to shove the thought away, but all that surfaced was the image of Mio standing perfectly beside Reiji in that bright lab. It hit his chest like a hammer, a sharp ache tearing through his lungs.

Under that cold spread of stars, Masato stood alone, swallowing the fact that in this equation, he'd already been written out. He'd lost, completely, before he'd even had the chance to begin.