The tengu knew that the chilly night would be even colder at the harbor, and she wanted to dress non-descriptly, so she donned a black hoodie, wool cap, black jeans and the running shoes that she hadn't worn up until now. A camera with a very long lens hung around her neck, tucked safely inside her hoodie.
It had been ages since Aya had seen the ocean. Even before the Hakurei Border raised, she seldom left the mountains, but she'd been to the shore once or twice. She wondered if the wind off the waves was still the same, or if even the ocean itself had changed.
Aya walked slowly through the shipping warehouse lot towards the peer. She checked the watch Hideaki had given her. Twenty minutes before midnight, when the shift change was set to begin. There would be no dense and lightning-fast barrage of danmaku to dodge here, but her pulse began to race all the same - this was real, breaking news that she would be bringing to the table. Provided everything went well, that was. She moved into the shadows between two warehouses, drew a deep breath, and took the sky.
The lights of the ships docked, the sodium lights around the stacks of shipping containers, the dim glow of a window of a trailer - it all gave an oddly compelling shimmer to the waves. Aya flew higher. The sea air this high up was exactly the same as it had been hundreds of years ago. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was there. It brought a smile to her face.
There were a number of ships farther out from the pier, floating in the harbor. Further out to sea, where she couldn't see the waves, the distant lonely lights of boats on the ocean stood still as stars. As she looked at the horizon, she wondered how far she could fly to the east. Would people be any different out there? Or were modern humans the same no matter where you went? The tengu imagined herself in other lands, hearing languages she didn't understand, in a faraway place where no one had even heard of tengu. It gave her a lonely, bittersweet feeling as she hovered there, wings silently stroking the air, her eyes on the horizon.
The stirring of an engine below her caught her attention. She watched as a fishing boat of some kind with writing on its hull that she didn't recognize slowly drifted up to Pier 4. Aya smiled to herself. Her instincts never failed her. It was good to see they were as sharp as ever. She unzipped her hoodie, lifted the camera, and zoomed in.
Aya had never seen Ryu smile so openly before. He and Hideaki stood at Aya's desk, looking at the gallery of photos she'd taken as she flipped through them, one by one, on her monitor – boxes offloaded from the fishing boat, carried into a shipping container, the crew quickly getting back on board and sailing off.
“These are really well done.” Ryu nodded, still beaming. “I knew that expensive camera would get put to good use some day.”
Hideaki appeared both impressed and confused. He clicked back to the shot of the boat at the pier, men carrying the boxes down the dock. “How did you even take this shot? This is incredible.” He turned to Aya. “Seriously, how? There's nothing out there. Did you rent a helicopter or something?”
Aya shrugged. “I took these from the top of a building near the harbor. The lens was really something else.”
Hideaki nodded, turning back to the photo. “Even so … that's an amazing shot, Aya.”
“Now do you see why I was saying it's a waste to use that camera for parades and culture festivals?” Ryu smirked at Hideaki. “Your crappy little digital will be just fine for that kinda thing. Alright.” Ryu clapped his hands together. “Now, let me handle the police end of this. I'm on pretty good terms with a detective there who's been itching to crack a big case. I'll forward him these photos, and he'll send in the posse.”
“I guess we should send Aya to the harbor to get some shots of the raid.” Hideaki added.
Ryu laughed. “I think Aya's earned herself the rest of the day off. You can go down there instead.”
“I think I can live with that,” said Hideaki, smiling, and turned to Aya. “Well, what do you think, Aya? Guess you better get started on writing the article for this piece now.”
The tengu smiled, and bowed to him. “Thanks again for letting me take on this story.”
Aya knew she should be thrilled with this accomplishment. She had taken an anonymous tip and broken a huge story, one that no one else in the news business had. It was an article that would earn the respect of other papers, with her name right in the by-line. She had proven herself in the world of modern humans; she could excel as one of their journalists. She thought she would be overjoyed.
But looking at the photos, and knowing what she'd accomplished, she felt strangely indifferent. Almost as if this were happening to someone else. The past few weeks had been exhausting – doing the same thing virtually every day, the repeated spells of sickness, Koji's bizarre behavior at the zoo, the thousands of miles of distance she felt between herself and everyone around her; it all just tired her and made her feel not even a part of the world around her. Breaking a major news story wasn't enough to shake her out of it.
“Thanks again, Syameimaru.” Ryu said. “You really proved yourself here. If I had the budget for it, I'd hire you fulltime on the spot. But maybe this break will change that. Or, I could just fire Hideaki here and pay you his salary.”
“You can't fire me,” Hideaki deadpanned. “Slaves have to be sold.”
The main number rang. Ryu picked it up from Aya's desk. “Mercury.” He looked at Aya. “One moment please.” Ryu covered the mouthpiece. “Guess who.”
Aya sighed. What was the point of ignoring Koji forever? She felt too tired to even avoid him anymore. She might as well hear what he had to say. “I'll take it.”
Ryu handed her the receiver, and he and Hideaki discreetly walked away.
“Hello?” Koji asked.
“It's me,” said Aya. “What do you want?”
“Aya.” Koji paused a moment. “I can't tell you how sorry I am about what I did. I was way out of line. I don't really have an excuse for it. I guess I just misread you. I thought … I don't know, I thought the feeling was mutual.”
Aya didn't know how to respond, so she stayed silent.
“The feeling isn't mutual, though, is it?” Koji asked. “I can live with that. Look. Aya, I don't want things to end like this. Can we put aside my clumsy misstep and forget it ever happened? Or do you really despise me that much?”
Aya was confused by this remark. “I don't despise you. I just-” The tengu looked around her. People at their desks were typing away, talking on the phone. Below the office windows, the rest of the world moved on, oblivious and uncaring. “I don't feel like I belong in this town.” Saying the words brought a pang to her chest. Aya knew from the start that this wasn't her world, and expected that she'd feel like an outsider. She just hadn't expected that these humans would be a whole other species from the ones she knew, that this world was an unfeeling facsimile; hollow, and painted in primary colors.
“I understand,” said Koji. “It's tough enough being a foreigner in this country without some guy complicating things with his clumsy romantic overtures.”
Aya didn't feel like correcting him. “Well, anyway, I'm sorry if I hurt you.”
“Nah. I've been shoved to the ground by bigger girls than you.”
Aya laughed. “I was going easy on you.”
“Alright, whatever you say.” Koji sighed. “Look, Aya, you know, Hitomi's been asking about you. And it'd be great to have you over again, you know, just to hang out and chat.”
“I did enjoy the first night we met. I don't think I've had that much fun since.”
“So why don't you come over? There's a great view of the harbor from the roof of our place.”
Aya looked up. Hideaki was watching, smiling.
“Alright. I'll come this afternoon.”
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