What other problem?
What did she meant by that?
She kept staring at me with her gray eyes and sank into her chair. She was probably waiting for me to answer, but if I didn't even know what she meant by that, it might be complicated tp provide her with a satisfying answer.
Perhaps she understood that I didn't know what to answer, because she eventually spoke again.
"You... You can't stand the sight of blood," she said with a very serious air; severe, even. "Then how do you expect to assist me if you can't even keep your cool in the presence of blood?"
She had almost cut off my breath, with words as sharp as hers.
I suspected that she had already figured out that the color of blood triggered severe panic attacks in me, especially after she used my sunglasses to calm me down. But I didn't think she would bring up such a subject so strongly. Especially since, from her harsh and absolute tone, she was thinking very seriously about the consequences that such a problem could have in her own work.
I felt an unpleasant twinge of pain and realized that her words had probably hurt me a little.
However, I had been the first one to talk about honesty. So I had to honor those words, and took it upon myself.
"To tell the truth, it's not only the sight of blood that affects me, but any object that has a similar color... "I confessed under the inquisitive gaze of the detective.
She blinked slowly while continuing to look at me calmly, without saying a word. It was as if she drank in my words completely. Perhaps this was her way of memorizing personal information about a particular person.
"I never knew what triggered it, but I've been suffering from it for as long as I can remember..." I continued to explain. "And as you could see, even though the object or surface is small, the shock is still as big for me."
"I kind of suspected as much, but given that it's not just the blood, but outright the color that makes you feel bad, it makes it hard to live with it every day, right? "The detective interrupted me. "That's why you had sunglasses in your bag, the day we met; even though it was raining hard and dark..."
Then, was it since that moment that she'd noticed that I was unusually and permanently carrying sunglasses, then? That was probably what made her act so quickly during my panic attack...
Quickly I nodded my head in agreement.
"And so? It's a pretty big handicap, when you're involved in cases like mine..." The detective replied. "It doesn't always get out of hand, but you've seen it yourself: things can easily go for the worse..."
Certainly, it was a big handicap. But to me, it was less of a problem than my lack of emotion. I already knew that the uncontrollable terror I felt when I saw that burgundy red color wouldn't be easy to overcome; but it was something I was able to control a little, thanks to that pair of sunglasses.
On the other hand, my passivity and cold attitude with people was much more terrible to me. So I had to convince her.
"Even though it can be quite annoying on a daily basis, I know that what I can bring to you will exceed this inconvenience," I defended myself.
"Oh, and what will you bring me, Nijima-kun?" She asked mischievously while raising one of her eyebrows.
Looking around the whole apartment, my eyes fell on the trash bags, but also on the documents left on the floor, and on the dusty windows overlooking the street below.
"I can help you with the maintenance of the premises, in addition to helping you in the field," I offered. "And also help you with all of the paperwork...."
This time she frowned, and for a moment she looked up to the left, as if considering the pros and cons of my offer. She also pouted, and her general expression, though that of a focused and confused person no longer paying attention to the people around her, relieved me.
I felt good, watching her face gradually change, and not being afraid of her looking at me. I had always been afraid of what people might think about me, but the detective seemed far from that. To her, it was as if I was a normal person, despite my faults and shortcomings, and in this last respect, I even envied her a little bit. Because in her eyes, everyone had to look 'normal'...
"Sure, it's true that I don't necessarily have time to take care of the housework..." She reflects aloud. "And I admit that a little filing in my records would not be a luxury..."
I had surely hit the nail on the head with my proposal, because with her eyes opening and closing slightly, I understood that she was going through all the scenarios where I could be useful to her.
I just hoped she wouldn't abuse it on a daily basis...
The detective then suddenly got up from her chair, and stretched her hand towards me.
A little taken by surprise by this movement, and not really knowing what she wanted from me, I stared at the whitish hand pointed in my direction; before looking up at its owner.
She was smiling at me, and looking me straight in the eyes.
"Nijima Iwao-kun..." She said. "I've already explained to you that I'm not the type to open up easily to others, right?"
I nodded my head in agreement.
She had indeed addressed this point before, which she said was essential to being a good private investigator. But the more time I spent with her, the more I realized that this was more of an inherent trait of her personality: she didn't like to confide in others or reveal her true nature, hence the need she had to blackmail me. This was in absolute contradiction with the attitude she could have in the presence of her clients.
In the case of the latter, she wanted to be noticed, and to be the center of attention. It was a representation she gave, so I wondered if that was still the case here and now, or if I was dealing with the 'real' detective in front of me.
The answer to my question, as trivial as it was, would come quickly.
"See, I think I can trust you to at least tell you something about me," she added. "So, do you trust me enough too?"
Did I trust her? I wasn't really sure if that word applied to our current situation; but if I had to comfort her in her choice, then...
I got up from the couch where I had been sitting all this time, and carefully took her hand with an uncertain hand.
"I am Nijima Iwao, and I trust you," I announced, remaining completely still. "And I am applying to be your assistant..."
The detective smiled at me wider, and shaking my hand with hers, introduced herself.
"I'm Hiraoka Misato, and I trust you too," She said. "As for the assistant position, it's yours."