The muffled announcement from the cockpit signals our descent into Tokyo. The city sprawls beneath the plane—an endless maze of twinkling lights piercing through the misty evening haze. My heart pounds against my ribs, a mix of anticipation and anxiety I can't shake. As the wheels touch the tarmac with a gentle thud, I straighten my tie and sit upright, my fingers tightening around the handle of my briefcase.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tokyo International Airport. The local time is 6:35 PM," the flight attendant announces, her voice warm and professional. I gather my things and join the slow procession of passengers disembarking.
The terminal is bustling, filled with the familiar cacophony of hurried footsteps, muted conversations, and announcements in Japanese and English. I step out into the arrivals area, scanning the crowd. Then I spot them: a man and a woman waving at me, their faces lighting up as our eyes meet.
"ようこそ,リアムさん!" the man calls out, bowing slightly.
"Yokoso, Liam-san!"
[Subtitles: "Welcome, Mr. Liam!"]
I bow in return, a gesture I've practiced more times than I'd like to admit. "こんばんは.おせわになります."
[Subtitles: "Good evening. Thank you for having me."]
The woman, younger and more formally dressed, steps forward, her smile polite but reserved. "私は高柚です.こちらはアイドーさん.」
[Subtitles: "I am Takayama. This is Aido."]
"よろしくお願いします." I reply with another bow, inwardly relieved my Japanese is holding up under the pressure.
[Subtitles: "It's a pleasure to meet you."]
They exchange glances, seemingly impressed. Aido gestures toward the exit. "さあ,いきましょう.車はこちらです."
[Subtitles: "Shall we go? The car is this way."]
We navigate through the crowd to the waiting car, a sleek black sedan that glistens under the airport's fluorescent lights. The driver steps out to load my luggage into the trunk. Takayama opens the door for me, her movements precise and practiced.
Once inside, the hum of the city fades slightly, replaced by the low purr of the engine. Aido takes the seat beside the driver, while Takayama sits next to me in the back. She hands me a folder.
"これは今日の予定です.事件の資料もあります."
[Subtitles: "This is today's schedule. It also contains information about the case."]
I nod, flipping through the documents. The photographs hit me hardest—a young woman's face, frozen in time, her eyes bright with life now extinguished. My jaw tightens as I absorb the details, the pain etched into her parents' statements resonating deeply.
The car weaves through Tokyo's streets, neon signs and bustling pedestrians flashing past the tinted windows. Takayama and Aido discuss logistical details in low voices, occasionally glancing at me to confirm arrangements. I offer polite nods, my focus split between their words and the city unfurling outside.
When we finally pull up to the house, a traditional-style home nestled discreetly amidst modern structures, I'm struck by its understated elegance. Wooden beams and sliding shoji doors evoke a timeless grace, standing in stark contrast to the chaos of the city.
Takayama steps out first, holding the door for me. "お疲れさまです.どうぞお中へ."
[Subtitles: "You must be tired. Please, come inside."]
"ありがとうございます."
[Subtitles: "Thank you very much."]
As I cross the threshold, the faint scent of tatami mats and cedarwood greets me, a nostalgic blend that tugs at something deep within. I set my briefcase down, my mind drifting for a moment. Somewhere in this vast city, Ava is out there. The thought lingers, bittersweet and persistent, as I prepare to face the days ahead.