Daiki, Part 6

by Geri (gerichan@gmail.com)

My homepage: http://www.oocities.org/geris_petshop_fics/index.html

Rating: R (actually, mostly PG-13, but R for one steamy scene in Part 1, and for Leon's bad language throughout)

Pairing: Leon/D

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Matsuri Akino and Yumiko Kawahara. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Sequel to: This can be considered a continuation of my earlier series of stories (Revenge, The Day After, Spirits, Blodeuedd), but it can stand on its own as my version of what happens after Book 10.

SPOILER WARNING: Contains spoilers for Book 10 and the Shin Petshop of Horrors series currently running in Japan.

Summary: A crossover between Petshop of Horrors by Matsuri Akino and Dolls by Yumiko Kawahara. Leon, D, and Daiki discover a new shop in Chinatown...
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As Daiki grew older, Leon began to worry. On the surface, Daiki seemed like a normal child, aside from his extraordinary beauty and his ability to communicate with plants, so it took Leon awhile--several years, in fact--to notice the subtle but growing differences that set Daiki apart from the rest of his peers. He was reassured that Daiki liked to run and play like a normal little boy, and didn't worry about breaking his nails or getting his clothes dirty the way that D did. He did notice that while Daiki liked to toss a ball around and play catch with him and Chris, or roughhouse and play tag with the pets in the shop, he didn't seem to care much for team sports at school. Leon was secretly a little disappointed; Daiki was too small to play football, but he would probably be good at soccer or baseball, and Leon would have enjoyed cheering him on at matches.

Daiki seemed to get along well with the other kids at school, but gradually Leon began to notice that his playmates from school were all casual ones, and that he wasn't particularly close to any of them. At least, he didn't seem to have a best friend the way that Leon had been best friends with Harry as a kid. Occasionally Daiki was invited to another child's house for a birthday party or a play date, but Daiki never asked for permission to invite his school friends to the petshop to play. Of course, that was partly because D and Leon had once given him a birthday party at the shop and invited his classmates over, and it had turned into a near-disaster when Tet-chan had tried to bite a child who said it was weird that Daiki had two daddies. Leon suggested having his next birthday party at a Chuck E. Cheese or some other kid-friendly restaurant, but Daiki had said that he would rather just have a small party at home with Daddy and Papa and Uncle Chris and the pets, so that was what they did every year. Leon had actually been relieved not to have to deal with a bunch of snot-nosed kids amped up on too much sugar, but now that Daiki was nine and rarely socialized with other kids outside of school, he began to wonder if he should have encouraged his son to get out more.

Daiki had hobbies, but they were mostly solitary pastimes. He loved gardening, of course, and he liked math, a subject that Leon had hated in school. Daiki was not only good at it, he enjoyed it--maybe because D had made it seem more like play than work, teaching Daiki to count on an abacus. As a small child, Daiki had loved playing with the abacus and listening to the wooden beads clack against each other. He still used it now, to help D with the shop's accounts, doing equations far advanced beyond his grade level. He had also recently developed a fondness for art, and could spend hours happily drawing pictures with his crayons and pens. He enjoyed sketching the inhabitants of the petshop, and his art teacher had once commented during a parent-teacher conference that Daiki was quite talented and had a very fanciful imagination; Leon and D had just smiled nervously.

Leon found Daiki and Pon-chan sitting at the kitchen table one afternoon, both of them concentrating intently on the pictures they were drawing. "What're you drawing, kiddo?" Leon asked, peering over his son's shoulder.

"I'm drawing Papa," Daiki said, holding up the sketch so that Leon could see it. He had drawn a very lovely and realistic-looking picture of D dressed in a blue-green cheongsam decorated with a design of goldfish. Leon found it whimsical and charming--and quite impressive, considering that it was all done with crayons.

"This is a really great picture, Daiki," Leon said, and his son beamed at him proudly. "I don't think I've ever seen Papa wearing this particular dress, though."

Daiki and Pon-chan giggled; it was a long-running joke in the petshop that Leon would always refer to D's outfits as "dresses," and the Count would act miffed and call him an uneducated and uncouth American. Leon and D both found an odd sense of comfort and familiarity in indulging in their old quarrels even if they no longer really meant them, and besides, it provided a good excuse for Leon to bring D expensive sweets in order to "appease" him.

"Papa doesn't own a cheongsam that looks like that, Dad," Daiki said, still giggling. "I made it up. Do you think that he would like it?"

"I'm sure he would," Leon said. "You should show it to Papa later; he might even commission a special order based on your design." The kid really was talented; maybe he would grow up to be a fashion designer one day. There was a time when that thought would have horrified macho cop Leon, but those days were long past. Besides, he found the idea much preferable to Daiki going into the family business and selling murderous pets to unsuspecting customers.

Tet-chan set a platter of warm, fresh-from-the-oven chocolate-chip cookies on the table. Leon reached for one and the Tou-Tet smacked his hand with the spatula he was still holding.

"Ow!" Leon protested. "What was that for, you mangy little sheep?"

"Those cookies are for the kids," Tet-chan snapped. "I certainly didn't make them for you!"

"Oh yeah?" Leon retorted. "How about mutton stew for dinner tonight?"

"How about broiled detective?" Tet-chan shot back. "Except that I wouldn't sully my palate with the likes of you!"

Leon was a little taken aback; his and Tet-chan's arguments were mostly in fun these days, but there was an edge of real anger in the Tou-Tet's voice today.

"There are plenty of cookies here, Tet-chan," Daiki said soothingly. "Pon-chan and I don't mind sharing them with Dad. Will you sit and have some cookies and milk with us?"

"No thanks," Tet-chan growled in a gruff, but less angry voice. "I've gotta go to the garden and pick some herbs that I need for tonight's dinner."

The Tou-Tet left the kitchen, and Pon-chan said apologetically, "He always gets grumpy after Chris leaves." Chris had flown in last weekend for one of his frequent visits, and now that Leon thought about it, Tet-chan had been more irritable than usual after Chris had returned home. Pon-chan now seemed resigned to the fact that Chris lived in a different world, and Leon had thought that Tet-chan had accepted it too, but maybe he had been wrong about that. After all, Tet had been closest to Chris out of all the pets, almost like a surrogate father or big brother to him. It was no wonder that he had taken Chris's departure hard, even with Daiki to comfort him. And maybe it was harder for him because he had never allowed himself to openly mourn the loss of Chris the way the other pets had.

Leon hesitated for a moment, wondering if he ought to go after Tet-chan, then decided that the Tou-Tet was hardly like to confide in him. Despite their unofficial truce, Leon thought that Tet-chan was probably too proud to admit to any sort of weakness or sentimentality, at least to him. He made a mental note to have a word with D, who could probably best comfort and advise Tet-chan. In the meantime, he turned his attention back to his original intent, which was to have a talk with Daiki.

Leon sat down at the kitchen table, helped himself to some milk and cookies, and said casually, "How are things at school, son?"

D had taught Daiki to have good table manners, and he carefully finished chewing and swallowing his cookie before replying, "Fine, Dad."

"Your teachers all say that you're doing well," Leon said. "And you got straight As on your last report card. You're a really good student, Dai." Leon grinned sheepishly. "Unlike your old man, I'm sorry to say."

"You weren't a good student, Dad?" Daiki asked.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Pon-chan muttered under her breath.

"I heard that, you little brat," Leon said, gently rapping her on the top of her head with his fist; she stuck out her tongue at him. "No, school always bored me; I hated having to sit still all day. I goofed off and played around a lot, but my best friend Harry was very studious and smart." Leon smiled wistfully at the thought of his old childhood friend. "Do you have a best friend, Daiki?"

"Of course," Daiki replied immediately. "Tet-chan and Pon-chan." The raccoon girl smiled happily. "And Ten-chan and Lupin and--"

"I meant, a human best friend," Leon interrupted.

"Oh," Daiki said, smiling brightly. "Then that would be Uncle Chris."

"Er...but what about kids your own age?" Leon asked. "Do you have any special friends at school?"

Daiki looked a little puzzled by Leon's question. "Well, I usually sit with Brian and Josh at lunch, and play with them at recess sometimes."

"You can invite your friends over if you want," Leon told him. "I know the birthday party didn't go so well, but I think it would be okay with just one or two kids at a time..."

"Thanks, but that's okay, Dad," Daiki said calmly. "I'd rather not."

"Why not?" Leon asked.

"It's not as much fun when there are normal people around--kids from school, or Papa's customers," Daiki replied. "Because we can't go play in the special rooms, and I have to pretend that Pon-chan and Tet-chan and the others are normal animals. It seems rude to leave them out, but if I talked to them like I usually do, then people would think I was weird. Anyway, I see my school friends everyday at school. I'd rather just play with the pets when I'm at home." He looked up at his father and asked, "Do you want me to invite my school friends to the shop?"

Leon noticed that there was no reluctance in Daiki's voice, but no enthusiasm, either. It was more as if it was something he was willing to do to make his father happy, even if he didn't understand why. Leon sighed in resignation and said, "Only if you want to, son. You don't have to."

"Okay, Dad," Daiki replied, smiling at him cheerfully, as if to say, "Glad that's settled," and then he returned to his drawing.
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Leon spoke to D about Tet-chan, but he didn't bother to discuss what he saw as Daiki's growing detachment from the human world. He knew that D still didn't think very highly of humanity, and would probably approve of his son's preference for the company of the pets over that of his human classmates. So instead he talked it over with Jill. He had never actually come right out and said, "The Count is a kami" or "the petshop is magic and the pets are really people, not animals," but Jill had seemed to accept that the petshop and the Count were something very special, without requiring an explanation. And unlike Uncle Bob and Aunt Joyce, she had never asked if Daiki was adopted or who his mother was; she had seemed to understand that Daiki was a part of both Leon and D.

"You worry too much, Leon," Jill told him over a lunch of burgers and fries (Leon's one remaining vice since he had given up smoking) the next day. "Some kids are more introverted than others. It's not as if he's too shy or scared to socialize with the other kids; he just chooses not to. I don't think it's a big deal."

"Really?" Leon asked, hopefully but a bit skeptical. "You don't think it's a little unhealthy that his best friends are a raccoon and a mutant sheep?"

"I think that the company of animals is preferable to that of a lot of people I know," Jill said with a grin.

"Now you're starting to sound like D," Leon grumbled, and Jill laughed.

"Seriously, Leon," she said. "It's not as if he doesn't have any human friends. I think it's just that he finds it a little hard to relate to ordinary kids, and vice versa. You have to admit that his upbringing was a bit...er...unusual."

"You can say that again," Leon said ruefully.

"But that's not necessarily a bad thing," Jill continued. "So long as he's happy, I think it's okay for him to just be casual friends with the kids at school. Everybody's different, Leon. Some people are very gregarious and have a lot of friends, and some people just have one or two very close friends. I think Daiki probably falls into the latter category. I'm sure someday Daiki will find a good friend who can understand him and accept him as he is."

"You think so?" Leon asked.

"Sure," Jill said, smiling affectionately at him. "After all, you and the Count became friends in spite of all the differences between you."

Leon blushed slightly and mumbled, "Are you talking about friends or lovers?"

"Both," Jill said, grinning impishly. "You and D were friends before you became lovers, after all. Besides, a lover ought to be a friend as well, or the relationship's not really about anything but sex."

"I've had relationships like that," Leon said, feeling no nostalgia for those old memories; what he had now with D was much more satisfying. "But Daiki's a little too young to be thinking about girlfriends...or boyfriends, for that matter." He glowered fiercely, as only an overprotective father who also happened to be a police officer could.

Jill laughed again. "No problems there! With that expression, you'll scare off any potential suitors before they can get their foot in the door! But anyway, all I meant was that Daiki will find a friend when the right person comes along. You can't really rush things, Leon. Let him take it at his own pace."

"I suppose you're right," Leon sighed.

"And in the meantime," Jill continued, "he's got you and D and Chris and the pets to look after him. And me and Terry and Lian, of course. He has lots of people who love him, Leon. Daiki will be just fine."

"I suppose you're right," Leon repeated, and he knew that she was. Daiki was happy with things the way they were, and forcing him to make "friends" that he didn't really want for the sake of appearing normal would likely only make him unhappy. Still, as a father, Leon wanted the best for his son, and at times like these, he felt a little helpless knowing that the best thing he could for his son was to leave him alone. Inaction wasn't really in a cop's nature.

Jill smiled at him knowingly, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, which she probably did; she had always been able to read him like an open book. She leaned across the table to give Leon a little hug and said, "Don't worry, Leon. You and D have done a great job with Daiki. He'll turn out just fine."

And somehow, Jill's confidence made Leon feel much better. She was right about most things, after all; she had known that he and D belonged together long before Leon had been able to admit it to himself. It had been annoying at the time, and she was still downright smug about it, but right now, he found it reassuring. "You're right," Leon agreed. "I've got to let Daiki follow his own path."

"Of course I'm right," Jill said, with mock-indignation. "I'm always right!" And she winked at him and stole a french fry from his plate.

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to rub it in," Leon grumbled good-naturedly, and pushed the plate closer towards her. He still didn't understand why she would never buy her own fries but always ate his, as if they somehow had less calories if they came from someone else's plate. But he supposed that it was a small price to pay for her advice and friendship.

"Just call me the Dear Abby of the police department," Jill quipped as she reached for another fry.
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A few years later, things had not changed very much. Daiki was still doing well in school, and his closest friends were still the pets in the shop. They did see more of Chris these days, though, as he was now in college and going to school at Berkeley. He was planning to go into law enforcement, and Leon wasn't sure whether to feel proud or worried about that; he did know that Uncle Bob and Aunt Joyce weren't too thrilled about the idea of their baby boy taking up such a dangerous profession. Chris was a bit more ambitious than Leon, though; he was setting his sights on the F.B.I. rather than the police department. It was by no means certain that he would be able to secure a job with the F.B.I. when he graduated, but he had spoken to a recruiter at a college job fair who seemed to think that Chris was a good candidate.

Leon was still a little worried about his son. The other children at school could sense that there was something odd about Daiki, something that set him apart from them--not just the fact that he had two fathers and no mother, but something indefinable that they couldn't quite put their fingers on. It was partly his almost inhuman beauty, and partly the way that small accidents seemed to befall the people who teased and picked on him (making fun of his two dads or his androgynous good looks). It was the same thing that had set Leon on edge when he had first met D, a sense of "otherness" about him that had made the stories about mermaids and dragons seem almost plausible, no matter how much Leon's common sense had told him that they could not possibly be true.

"I keep telling the plants not to do anything to the kids who tease me," Daiki sighed. "But they don't always listen to me. They seem to consider it their duty to protect me."

"Yes, well, the pets don't always listen to your Papa, either," Leon said with a wry smile. "Mostly they do, but occasionally they'll disobey him if they think it's for his own good."

Daiki laughed. "Like the way they let you into the shop when Papa told them not to! But I'm glad that they did, because otherwise I wouldn't have been born."

Leon hugged his son. "Oh, I would have tracked down D eventually, with or without their help. I am the L.A.P.D.'s greatest detective, after all!"

"You're the best, Dad!" Daiki laughed, hugging his father back.

Tet-chan, who was curled up beneath the couch in his sheep form, muttered, "I don't know about the greatest, but he certainly has the biggest ego."

The result of the plants' unwanted help was that the kids stopped teasing Daiki, but most of them gave him a wide berth. He wasn't precisely ostracized, but none of them seemed interested in getting too close to him, either. And since Daiki didn't seem bothered by that, Leon tried adhere to Jill's advice and not let it bother him, either.

Leon was grateful for some of Daiki's idiosyncrasies, like the fact that--unlike most of his peers--he didn't consider it "uncool" to hang out with his parents, and in fact, actually enjoyed doing so. So one weekend, D closed up the shop, and the three of them went out to have lunch at one of D's favorite restaurants in Chinatown (vegetarian cuisine, of course).

"But plants are living creatures, too," Leon teased D. "And Daiki has a special bond with plants. So isn't it just as bad to kill vegetables for food as it is to kill animals?"

D glared at Leon and said, "That is completely different, Keiji-san," in that lofty tone of voice he used when he couldn't refute Leon's arguments with logic. Leon grinned in triumph, and Daiki giggled.

"But Dad, we have to eat something, or we'd starve to death," Daiki pointed out practically.

"That's my boy," Leon said, ruffling his son's hair affectionately. D continued to glower at Leon, but after twelve years together, he was able to tell when D was really angry and when he was not, and Leon could see the nearly imperceptible quirk at the corner of D's mouth that meant he was trying not to smile.

After lunch, they took a leisurely stroll through Chinatown, stopping here and there along the way to buy some sweets for afternoon tea, or exchange greetings with the other shopkeepers. "What's down this way, Papa?" Daiki asked, and suddenly they were turning down a side street that looked unfamiliar to Leon, despite the fact that he had lived in Chinatown for years, and had been investigating and patrolling the area long before that.

They passed by a row of shops that seemed ordinary enough, at least for Chinatown: a small convenience store, a shop selling Chinese herbs and medicines, an antique and curio shop, a video store that--judging by the posters in the window--rented out Chinese movies. But Daiki hurried past all of them, as if drawn by some unseen magnet, to a shop at the end of the street.

At first glance, it appeared to be an upscale boutique. Through the plate-glass windows, Leon could see several dolls or mannequins wearing frilly dresses of lace and satin and silk. But the mannequins were all child-sized; was this some sort of children's clothing store? It seemed a bit out of place in Chinatown. And then Leon noticed the scent of incense wafting out from the shop; it reminded him of the incense that D used at the petshop, which gave him an uneasy feeling that quickly turned to alarm when he saw his son heading towards the shop entrance, a spellbound look on his face.

"Daiki, wait!" Leon cried, but Daiki was already pushing open the door and walking into the shop; Leon and D hastily followed.

The shop seemed much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, again, not unlike the petshop, and was decorated with costly-looking Chinese-style furnishings, vases, sculptures, and other knickknacks. In one corner of the room, there was a large statue of a dragon that stood tall enough to nearly reach the ceiling, and Leon eyed it nervously, half-expecting it to come to life. And all over the room, each seated on its own little velvet-lined chair, were more of those girl-mannequins. They looked eerily lifelike, and their eyes were all closed, which made it seem like they were real children who were only sleeping, and could wake up and come to life at any second.

"Is this a clothing store or a doll shop?" Leon asked in confusion. Maybe it wasn't the dresses that were being sold, but the dolls themselves.

"They're not dolls, Dad," Daiki said, staring at sleeping mannequins with an awed look on his face. "They're plants!"

"What?" Leon asked incredulously, wondering if his son had been drugged by the incense. But he glanced over at D, and saw that his eyes were also wide with awe and surprise.

"Actually," said a pleasant voice, "they are both. These are Plant Dolls."

An elderly Chinese man had emerged from the back of the shop; he wore a long, Chinese-style robe similar to the ones that D wore. He was tall and thin, with gray hair that was braided into a long plait that hung down his back. The shopkeeper had the same otherworldly air about him that the Ds had, and some sort of look of recognition seemed to pass between the Count and the old man, who bowed low and said, "Greetings."

"I greet you, sir," D said politely, and bowed in return.

"What's going on?" Leon asked suspiciously. "Do you know each other?"

"I do not know this gentleman," D replied. "But I know what he is."

"He's one of you, isn't he?" Leon asked, almost accusingly. "Not a D, because he doesn't look like a carbon copy of you, but a...a..." Even after knowing and living with D's true nature for so long, Leon still found it a little difficult to say the word aloud, at least in front of a stranger, but he finally finished, "...a kami."

He half-expected the old man to laugh at him and say he was being ridiculous; in fact, Leon hoped he would. He would much rather look like an idiot than have to deal with another kami who might or might not be hostile towards humans. But the old man neither confirmed nor denied Leon's accusation, and merely smiled and said, "Let us say that I am one who has a special affinity for plants."

"Like me!" Daiki said delightedly.

"Indeed," the old man said, smiling at him kindly. "Would you like to take a look at the dolls, young sir?"

"Now wait just a minute--" Leon started to say, but D gently placed a hand on his arm.

"It is all right, Leon," D said quietly. "I do not believe that he intends any harm to Daiki."

"He'd better not," Leon growled, but subsided and watched Daiki walk up to the dolls and examine them closely. To his amazement, the dolls opened their eyes when Daiki approached, smiled faintly at him, and then closed their eyes again, slipping back into their apparent slumber.

"The dolls acknowledge him," the old man said, sounding very pleased. "And yet they do not completely awaken and bond to him." He turned to Daiki and said, "You are the one I have long awaited."

"What are you talking about?" Leon demanded.

"I am a very old man," the shopkeeper replied. "And for many years, I have been searching for a successor to carry on my work after I am gone. I have searched across Asia and Europe, to no avail. And then some impulse, some instinct, led me to America, to this Chinatown in this city. And now finally my apprentice has come to me!"

"Now hold on a minute!" Leon cried. "For one thing, he's only twelve years old--"

"It will take many years to train him properly," the old man said. "It is best to start young. I would have started even sooner if I had found him earlier."

"And for another thing, I haven't agreed to 'apprentice' my son to you!" Leon continued. "I don't even know your name--"

"Ah, please forgive my rudeness!" the old man exclaimed. "I was so overjoyed to have found my successor that I neglected to introduce myself." He bowed and said, "You may call me 'Mr. Hua'."

With a cop's cynicism, Leon noticed that he had said, "You may call me 'Mr. Hua,'" not "I am Mr. Hua". Which probably meant that it was an alias and not his real name. But he supposed that a kami wouldn't have a normal human name, anyway.

D looked amused, which meant that the name probably meant something significant in Chinese. Leon was going to ask him about it later when they were in private, but as it turned out, he didn't have to wait because Daiki innocently asked, "Hua? Doesn't that mean 'flower' in Mandarin?" Daiki was fluent in several languages, as D had taught him Cantonese, Mandarin, and Japanese at home.

"Yes indeed, young sir," Hua said, smiling approvingly at the boy.

"I am Count D," D said politely, bowing again. "And this is Detective Orcot, and our son Daiki."

Hua raised his eyebrows slightly, but showed no other sign of surprise or shock. "Ah yes, I have heard of you, Count D, even in the short time that I have been here. I should have realized that it was your son who was meant to be my successor."

"Now wait just a goddamned minute here!" Leon shouted. "Nobody is doing anything to or with my son without my permission!"

"Of course not, Detective," Hua said, inclining his head respectfully. "Please, sit down and have some tea, and let us discuss this in a civilized manner."

Leon was all for leaving the shop and going home right now, but D said in a mild voice, "Surely it can do no harm to at least hear him out, Leon."

"Please, Dad?" Daiki asked, looking at Leon hopefully. "Can we at least talk to Mr. Hua? I'd like to learn more about the Plant Dolls."

Leon groaned inwardly at the pleading look in Daiki's golden eyes, which was all it took to turn the hardened detective to mush. D had once joked that their son had Leon wrapped around his little finger, but it wasn't that far off from the truth. It was a good thing for Leon that Daiki was sweet-natured and wasn't the manipulative sort--unlike his Papa, who was not above using pouting, cajoling, or a little seduction to get his way at times. Daiki rarely ever used what Leon thought of as that pleading puppy-dog-eyed look, but when he did, it was devastating.

"Oh, all right," Leon conceded reluctantly, and soon they were all seated around a small table in the lobby of the shop, while Mr. Hua poured tea for them and set out a plate of almond cookies. The two kami made polite small talk, with D exclaiming in delight over the tea, a very rare and expensive brand imported from China which he had not tasted in years, which in turn prompted Hua to promise to send him some as a gift.

"And these cookies come from Mrs. Hong's bakery, do they not?" D asked.

"Ah yes, I have just recently stumbled across it," Hua replied. "A fortuitous discovery, as they sell the most delicious sweets there."

Meanwhile, Leon tapped his foot impatiently, and Daiki was obviously trying very hard not to squirm with impatience himself. He was much too polite to tell his elders to hurry up and get down to business, so Leon obligingly did it for him.

"I don't have all day to make chitchat about tea and cookies," Leon interrupted in a curt voice. "You're the one who wanted this discussion, Mr. Hua, so let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

"As you wish, Detective," the old man said, looking more amused than offended by Leon's rudeness, although D gave him a reproving look.

"For starters," Leon continued, "what's a Plant Doll?"

"They are living dolls," Hua replied. "They look human, but are actually a form of plant life, as your son so astutely observed. They are plants that are carefully grown and cultivated to take the shape of young girls."

"That sounds a bit creepy," Leon said.

"But do not toy manufacturers make lifelike dolls that cry and drink milk and even wet their diapers?" Hua countered. "Do you consider that to be 'creepy'?"

"Well..." Leon said hesitantly.

"My dolls are much better than mere toys," Hua said passionately. "They do not feign the mere semblance of life, but actually are alive, and able to return the affections of their owners. They are able to love and cherish, and be loved and cherished in return."

That all sounded very nice, but Leon also remembered D's pretty speeches about selling love, hope, and dreams. "Is this some sort of magic?" Leon asked suspiciously. "If you took away the incense, would I see flowerpots instead of little girls sitting on those chairs?"

Hua gave him another amused smile. "No, Detective, these are their true forms. The Plant Dolls really do look like human girls."

"He speaks the truth, Leon," D said. "I have heard of Plant Dolls, although I have never seen one before. They are very rare, as they are extremely expensive to breed, and so only the very rich can afford them."

"Raising Plant Dolls has traditionally been a pastime for the nobility," Hua agreed.

"So how much does one of these things cost?" Leon asked curiously, taking a sip of his tea. That was a bad move, because when Hua discreetly jotted down the price on a small placard and held it up, Leon choked and ended up spraying tea all over the table.

"Keiji-san!" D scolded as he pulled a handkerchief out of his sleeve and attempted to wipe up the mess on the table. "Please forgive my companion," D told Hua. "He has atrocious table manners, but he is not usually this bad."

"Oh, not all," Hua chuckled good-naturedly. "It is a common reaction upon first seeing the price of a Plant Doll, I assure you."

"No wonder," Leon grumbled. "Only someone like Bill Gates could afford to buy something that expensive!"

"Well, we do offer loans and installment plans," Hua said cheerfully.

"I can see taking out a loan to buy a house or car," Leon said. "But to spend that much money on a doll?!"

"As I said, it's a pastime for the wealthy," Hua replied.

"So I suppose there's some sort of contract?" Leon demanded. "Specific conditions to be adhered to, and management cannot be held responsible if they are broken, yada yada."

"In a manner of speaking," Hua said calmly. "The Plant Dolls must be fed a very specific diet of sugar cookies, fertilizer compound, and milk. The contract states that the customer must not feed her anything else."

"Or they turn into murderous, bloodthirsty beasts?" Leon asked, thinking of the horde of carnivorous bunnies that had resulted from one of D's customers breaking their contract and feeding their pet a cookie.

"Oh no!" Hua laughed. "My, what a vivid imagination you have, Detective! No, the contract is more for the doll's sake than for the customer's, you see. If it is not cared for properly, in a worst-case scenario, a Plant Doll will wilt and die."

"And in a non-worst-case scenario?" Leon asked curiously.

Hua sighed, a distasteful look on his face. "If a Plant Doll is fed a steady diet of something other than milk, cookies, and fertilizer, it will most likely...mature."

"Mature?" Leon asked.

"Grow up," Hua clarified. "Turn into an adult."

"They don't grow up?" Leon asked, looking puzzled. "I mean, they obviously look like little girls right now, but they never get any older?"

"Plant Dolls remain young and beautiful for their entire lifespan," Hua said. "That is their appeal, after all. A grown-up doll would no longer be a doll, and be...well...too much like an ordinary woman."

"The way that baby chicks aren't so cute after they grow up and turn into chickens," Leon murmured. He wasn't sure that he liked the concept. "These dolls..." he said slowly. "They would be like a pedophile's wet dream." He didn't think that it would be against the law to abuse a plant, but he still found the idea repulsive.

"Oh, that would never happen, Detective!" Hua assured him firmly. "I do not sell these dolls to just anyone. It is not the customer who chooses the doll, but the doll who chooses the customer."

"What?" Leon asked, startled, then turned to D. "Like the pets in your shop?"

"So I have heard," D replied, and Hua nodded.

"As you can see, all these Plant Dolls are sleeping," Hua said. "They will only awaken for their chosen owner."

"And if someone tried to take one by force?" Leon asked.

"They would remain asleep, refusing to take food or drink, and would quickly wilt and die," Hua replied. "However, that is a hypothetical scenario only, as I assure you that the security in this store is quite good."

"I don't doubt it," Leon said dryly, and he was sure that Hua was not talking about security cameras or a fancy alarm system.

"So you only sell the dolls to nice people, who will take good care of them?" Daiki asked anxiously.

Hua smiled at him. "The dolls choose their owners," he said. "Occasionally they will choose unwisely, and select an owner who loves them too well and gives them forbidden foods, the way that an overindulgent parent might allow a child to gorge itself sick on sweets. And sometimes circumstances change, and a customer will find himself unable to take care of the Plant Doll any longer, and will return the doll to the shop. But those are rare instances. In most cases, the doll will choose an owner who will care for it with warmth and compassion."

"I still don't understand," Leon said, shaking his head slightly. "Sure, the dolls are beautiful, but to pay such an exorbitant price for them...if you want something beautiful and expensive to show off, why not buy a diamond necklace? Or if you want affection, why not get a puppy or kitten?"

"Perhaps if you could see a Plant Doll that was awake and not asleep, you would understand, Detective," Hua said with a smile. "But then again, perhaps not. There are a few people who are immune to the charms of Plant Dolls. All I can say is that if you treat them with love and care, they will in return offer you the most exquisite smile."

"That's it?" Leon asked incredulously. "A smile?"

"Ah, but do you not cherish the smiles that your son bestows upon you, Detective Orcot?" Hua replied. "Are they not more precious than gold to you?" A startled Leon turned to look at Daiki, who automatically smiled at him, and he felt himself melting with love and pride, the same way that he had when he had first held his newborn son in his arms.

"Yeah," Leon agreed gruffly, his face turning red, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw D lift a hand to his face, not quite quickly enough to cover a tender and amused smile.

"Well then," Hua said pleasantly, pretending not to notice Leon's discomfiture, "that is the way that my customers feel about their Plant Dolls. They cherish them as if they were their children. In fact, some of my customers are childless couples who want a child of their own to care for, or parents who buy a Plant Doll to be a friend and companion to their child."

"Are they intelligent, then?" Leon asked. "Can they talk and stuff?"

"It depends upon the doll, and upon the owner," Hua replied. "I once developed a type of doll that could sing, but was never able to replicate the process. But for the most part, the skills and talents that the doll develops depend upon how it is raised. Most Plant Dolls do not speak, but they will learn to if the owner desires it strongly enough. But they can communicate most eloquently with their eyes and facial expressions, and they are at least as intelligent as a child of their apparent age. I once had a customer who was an artist, and her Plant Doll began imitating her, and became quite talented at drawing and painting. Another customer, who was a professional gambler, taught his Plant Doll to play cards with him."

"He turned her into a miniature card shark?" Leon asked, and couldn't help but laugh at that mental image.

"A bit unusual, I must admit," Hua conceded. "I believe that she only played cards with her owner for his amusement, though, and not for money. But it demonstrates the fact that a Plant Doll seeks to please its owner and make him or her happy, the way that a child seeks to please his or her parents. Although some dolls are rather temperamental, and make the owner work at winning their affection rather than the other way around. Some customers actually prefer that. Each doll is unique, and has its own personality."

"It still sounds a bit creepy to me," Leon said, frowning. "Even if they're plants, they look human, so the idea of them having 'owners'...it almost seems like slavery."

"Perhaps I chose my words poorly," Hua said in a placating tone. "It is really more of an adoption than a sale, and my customers are more like adoptive parents or guardians of the dolls than they are owners. As I told you before--"

"The doll chooses the customer, yes, I know," Leon sighed. "So if...and I'm saying 'if,' mind you, I'm not giving my consent yet...but if Daiki became your apprentice, what would that entail?"

"I would teach him how to raise and care for the Plant Dolls, of course," Hua replied. "And the finer points of salesmanship and how to evaluate prospective customers."

"I thought this was more of an adoption than a sale," Leon reminded him with a cynical smile. "You made it sound almost like you were providing a public service..."

"Of course my foremost goal is to make both the dolls and my customers happy," Hua said smoothly. "But I do have expenses to pay: the monthly rent, not to mention that raising and maintaining the Plant Dolls can be quite costly..."

"Dad, Papa, please can I do it?" Daiki asked eagerly. "Can I become Mr. Hua's apprentice? This is exactly what I want to do when I grow up: sell plants that will make people happy--and make the plants happy, too! You know that I love gardening, and I've never seen such beautiful plants before, not even in Papa's shop!"

"I would not tell the flower maidens that, if I were you," D said with a wry little smile.

"Oh, of course not, I wouldn't want to hurt their feelings," Daiki said hastily. "But the Plant Dolls really are beautiful and I would love to learn how to raise them. Please?"

"I don't know, son," Leon hedged. "You're awfully young to be deciding on a future career...maybe you should wait till you're older, say in high school, or even after you graduate..."

"Detective," Hua said, his composure beginning to slip for the first time as his voice took on a note of desperation. "I do not wish to be melodramatic, but I am very old, much older than you can imagine. I may not have that many years left. It is imperative that I begin training my replacement now, before it is too late."

"Please, Dad?" Daiki pleaded. "This is what I'm meant to do, I just know it! I can't really explain it, but I felt the shop calling to me when we were walking down the street. I think that I'm meant to be here, to take care of the Plant Dolls the way that Papa takes care of the pets at his shop."

Leon did not find that comforting. "And what is your purpose here?" he asked Hua sharply. "Are you here to take revenge upon humanity for despoiling the earth, like D's family?"

"Leon!" D protested, looking both hurt and guilty at the same time.

Leon's expression softened slightly, but his resolve remained adamant. "I'm sorry if I offended you, D. And I can even understand why your dad and grandpa hated humans. But I won't let our son be used as an instrument of revenge."

"Revenge?" Hua asked, looking genuinely surprised. "No, I do seek revenge; I will leave that to others. I am an artisan, and I seek only to create the beauty that you see here--" He gestured at the dolls in the shop. "--and to find loving homes for my creations. That is all." When Leon still looked skeptical, the shopkeeper said, "If you do not trust me, then you need not send Daiki to my shop unsupervised. I have no objection if you or Count D accompany him on his visits and observe our lessons."

"That seems fair enough," D said. "Truly, Leon, I believe that Mr. Hua speaks the truth. I sense no malice or deception in him."

"Please, Dad?" Daiki begged.

Leon stared into those soulful, pleading eyes for a moment, then gave into the inevitable. "Oh, all right," he groaned in a resigned voice. "But either Papa or myself will go with you to these lessons. And obviously, we'll have to schedule them around school and work."

"I can cut back on my hours at the petshop, if necessary," D offered, "as my schedule is more flexible than yours."

"And you have to keep up your grades at school," Leon warned his son.

"I will, Dad, I promise!" Daiki shouted happily, jumping up and throwing his arms around his father. "Thank you so much, Dad!"

Despite his misgivings, Leon couldn't help but smile affectionately at his son and return the embrace. "I believe that he will be fine, Leon," D said reassuringly, smiling at the two of them. "He does not participate in any extracurricular activities, after all. Think of it as being no different than, say, having soccer practice or drama club meetings afterschool and on the weekends."

"I think this is a bit different than soccer practice, D," Leon sighed. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he had been expecting something like this ever since Daiki was a baby. Perhaps not this precisely, but he had suspected that his son was destined for something other than an ordinary human life. "Is this what you really want, kiddo?" Leon asked solemnly, and Daiki nodded.

"Yes, Dad."

"Okay, then," Leon said. "All I want is for you to be happy."

"I know, Dad," Daiki said quietly, hugging him again. "Thank you." D rose from his seat; he was not very demonstrative with his affections in public and in front of strangers, but he came over and placed one hand on Leon's shoulder and the other on Daiki's. "And thank you, Papa," Daiki said, smiling up at him.

"You are welcome, my son," D said, smiling tenderly at him. "I am sure that you will make a fine shopkeeper." Then his smile turned a bit mischievous as he added, "It is in your blood, after all!"

"You will not regret this, Detective Orcot," Hua assured Leon.

"I hope not," Leon said, but with his son in his arms and his lover standing beside him, his cynicism was stilled, at least for the moment, and he somehow felt that everything would turn out all right in the end.

Part 7

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