Nothing. Just an abandoned cafe, the Osakan would come to realize.
He relocated the discarded windbreaker on the floor, pocketed the dead cellphone and kicked the still sopping mess of clothing to the side. As he recalled, Heiji hadn’t been quite fond of the thing. It didn’t do much to break the wind, or at least lessen its hindrance as he ran the whole day looking for one shred of evidence to bring back to Osaka. But the bare bones of the fact was there wasn’t anything, not even a spot out of the ordinary that would catch his eye.
But that factor was the exact reason why his alarum bells were being set off. The dark-skinned teen allowed a quiet, exasperated sigh to escape him. What exactly were the odds that this case concerned his mutual benefactors, his superiors as it were? Or maybe it was a warning to himself, that perhaps he’d been caught in his ideal of perhaps shattering this organization from the inside. A thought like that could make him too paranoid, and what then of the original persona? How safe would he have been regardless of the pseudo-sleeper agent’s existence?
His thoughts upon that matter were shoved aside by a voice he didn’t recognize at first, and as such he responded by swiftly blowing out the lighter’s flare and pressing himself to the nearest wall. Of course, the owner of the voice was hardly unrecognizable—Hakuba finally returned, that forgetful teen who’d left an article of clothing behind. Inwardly he cursed himself as his hoary gaze fixed themselves upon the lighter resting upon the palm of his hand—damn. It would’ve been so easy just to return to the front and hand the lighter back, wouldn’t it? But that agent wanted no confrontation whatsoever, not even an exchange of neutral words. Slipping out the back would’ve been the preferable way out—and he could just mail this item back, procuring the address of another superintendent should be no problem, right?
But what if it was sent straight to the damn man? Chances were pretty high that Superintendent Hakuba knew nothing about this smoking vice of his son…Well. This was a bit of a tight bend, wasn’t it?
A handful of minutes later and the lighter persisted in its inability to be found. Hakuba abandoned the search only when his phone vibrated in his pocket. The detective straightened up, one hand on his back, the other lifting the phone to his ear.
“Moshi moshi?"
It was Baaya, of course; Hakuba rarely received phone calls from anyone else. She apologized for not getting his earlier messages and, though the static, exclaimed that she would be there soon.
"Ah, it’s all right, Baaya. I’ve found a place to hide away from the rain. Yes, it’s safe."
The detective paced, bare foot, while he conversed, tone light and casual. Genuine. With the apparent lack of company, Hakuba felt comfortable being more or less himself.
"Mm-hmm. Oh, I ran into Hattori-san. No, he’s gone off somewhere.” Pause. “You’ll have to see the bruise for yourself. No, I didn’t antagonize him! Well… maybe a little…”
The blond laughed, striding to the window to peer out, small and pleasant smile on his face.
“I know, I know. I’ll be careful. Ah, and, Baaya, I seem to have misplaced the lighter…"
Silence for a few moments as the governess launched into a well-intentioned and loud rant. Hakuba cut her off. "Ah, I know, I know.. I’ll keep looking. I must have dropped it somewhere… but I was certain that I had it when I got here, and.. Hmm. You don’t think that Hattori-san would have taken…?” Another brief pause. “N-no! Of course not, Baaya! Not with him. Certainly not. God…"
He sighed.
"Fifteen to twenty minutes? Certainly.. I’ll trace my steps and meet you there in a bit. Thank you, Baaya.”
The detective hung up his cell phone and checked the time before replacing it in his pocket, only to pull out his watch to, again, check the time. “Damn cellular towers are almost thirty four seconds slow… Unacceptable."
Rolling his eyes, Hakuba reached for his drenched shirt in preparation to leave.