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FIC: Daiki, Part 11 (of 22)
Title: Daiki, Part 11 (of 22)
Rating: R overall, but mostly PG-13
Pairing: Leon/D
Word count: ~10,175
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.
Thanks to: Spare from the Petshop discussion group on Yahoo, who planted the plot bunny in my head about the Dolls shopkeeper being Leon and D's child! ^_^
Summary: A crossover between Petshop of Horrors by Matsuri Akino and Dolls by Yumiko Kawahara. Leon is at the shop when the "theft" of a Plant Doll occurs; he and Daiki also become entangled in the lives of a wealthy but troubled family who buy a Plant Doll. This chapter is a retelling of the "Potpourri Doll" and "Snow White, part 2" stories from Book 1 of the Dolls manga. The customers in the original manga version do not have names, so I have invented names for the family in "Potpourri Doll".
Part 1a, Part 1b, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
***
Daiki moved into the apartment over the Plant Dolls shop--over the protests of his Papa. The pets made themselves scarce while D alternately shouted and wept, but Daiki remained quietly but stubbornly insistent. Leon wisely stood back and let the two of them argue it out, although he was tempted to hide under the couch with Tet-chan.
"Why can you not continue to work at the shop during the day and return home in the evening as you have been doing?" D demanded tearfully. "Your father--" He pointed almost accusingly at Leon. "--does not live at the police station, after all!"
"But I am the sole caretaker of the Plant Dolls now," Daiki said in a soft, reasonable voice. "I must be on hand in case there are any emergencies: a fire, a break-in, one of the dolls falling ill. The Plant Dolls shop is my responsibility, as this shop is yours. Could you move away from the petshop, Papa? Could you just walk away and leave the pets at five p.m. just because the work day is over?"
And that, D could not argue with. He bowed his head in defeat, and Daiki hugged his father. "Don't worry, Papa," he said soothingly. "It's not like I'm moving across the country or anything like that; I'll still be living in Chinatown just a few minutes away." He smiled teasingly. "And besides, I intend to invite myself over for dinner quite often, so that I can keep eating Tet-chan's good cooking."
"That's the problem with kids," Leon said with a grin, throwing an arm around his son's shoulders. "Even after they grow up and supposedly become independent, they still come home and mooch off their parents." Daiki laughed and D managed a weak smile as he brushed away his tears. "Seriously, kid," Leon said, "I'll miss you, too, but I'm really proud of you, running your own business while most of your old classmates are still going to school."
"Thank you, Dad," Daiki said, smiling at at Leon and getting a little teary-eyed himself.
Leon flung his other arm around D, pulling both his lover and his son into a tight embrace. "We gotta let him go, D," he said, planting a gentle kiss on the top of D's head. "He's all grown up, and we've got to trust that we did a good job raising him."
"I hate to admit it, but you are correct, Leon," D sighed, sniffling a little.
"And you, Dai, don't be a stranger," Leon said, turning back to Daiki. "It won't hurt to leave the shop for a couple of hours to come have dinner with your family."
"Yes, Dad."
"And both of you stop crying before you make me cry, too!"
Leon did end up shedding a few tears, but no one, not even Tet-chan gave him a hard time about it. And while it was hard for Leon, despite his words, to watch Daiki move out of the petshop, the separation wasn't as traumatic as it could have been. Daiki was still living in the same neighborhood, and stopped by for dinner almost every night, and Leon and D paid frequent visits to him at the Plant Dolls shop. Tet-chan was also a frequent visitor, saying gruffly, "I'm just checking up on you so the Count doesn't worry." He usually brought some food with him because "The Count's afraid that you don't have time to cook, and he doesn't want you eating junk food like your idiot detective father."
Leon missed having Daiki at home, but he enjoyed stopping by the Plant Dolls shop whenever he could. After witnessing the long courtship and sale of Snow White, he had become interested in observing Daiki's customers, who were often quite intriguing. One was a young model who bought a doll to console herself after her husband left her; Leon thought the husband must've been a real idiot, because the girl was gorgeous. Another customer was a writer of trashy paperback novels; he had some difficulty bonding with his doll at first, but found that she loved to listen to him telling her stories, so the pair turned out to be well-suited to each other, after all. And interestingly enough, the quality of his writing began to increase, perhaps because he had begun pouring his heart into his stories instead of just churning them out for a living.
Leon felt sorry for one would-be customer, a wealthy old man who was enraptured with a doll named Rainy Moon. He would willingly have paid ten times the already exorbitant asking price, but Rainy Moon was even more stubborn than Snow White, and refused to acknowledge the man. Normally Leon wouldn't have felt sorry for some rich old geezer, but the old man seemed very sad and lonely. Apparently he had family, but they weren't interested in anything but the money that they would inherit after he died, so maybe being rich wasn't so great after all. The geezer was in poor health, but whenever he felt up to it, he would come to the shop and drink tea and gaze longingly at Rainy Moon.
And then there was the young man who stumbled into the shop one evening. Leon had been working late, called to the scene of a murder. It was pretty open-and-shut, a case of domestic violence, and it was obvious that the husband had done it; he'd still had his wife's blood all over him, and he was blubbering about how much he loved her and how sorry he was. Leon and Jill had read him his rights, taken his confession, and booked him for murder. The Chief was pleased to have the case wrapped up so quickly, but Leon felt disgusted by the murderer's professions of love for the wife he had killed. So he decided not to go straight home; in the mood he was in, irritable and depressed, he would probably pick a fight with D and wind up sleeping on the couch. If D was in a generous mood, he would listen sympathetically to Leon's story, but with a slight air of detachment, because it would only serve to confirm D's belief that most humans were innately selfish and destructive. And hell, he was probably right, but Leon didn't really want to hear it right now.
So he stopped by the Plant Dolls shop first, hoping that some tea and the sight of his son would ease his bad mood. And it worked; he felt himself relaxing when Daiki smiled at him warmly and said, "Hello, Dad. Working late tonight?"
"Just finished; I'm on my way home," Leon replied, sinking down onto the couch. Daiki brought out some tea and cookies and sat on the couch next to him, and they drank their tea in companionable silence. He didn't press Leon for more information, but there was a sort of concerned and receptive air about him, as if he were willing to listen to Leon's problems if he wanted to talk, but equally willing to just sit here with Leon in silence if that was what he wanted. Looking at his son, Leon was reminded that there was good in the world as well as evil, and it made him feel much better.
Leon had just finished his cup of tea when he heard a commotion from outside the shop, and he got up to see what was going on. A young man in shabby-looking clothes was staggering down the street, barely able to stand; he had to reach out and brace his hand against the wall of the shop to keep from falling. People were staring and pointing at him, including a couple who appeared to be out on a date. The man said, "How annoying...a drunk." He wrapped his arm protectively around his date, turning the woman away from the shabby-looking man, saying, "Don't look."
One of the passersby recognized Leon and said, "Please do something about this man, Officer!"
Leon sighed and took the man by one arm, saying, "Come on, buddy, go home and sleep it off..." The man stumbled and would have collapsed if Leon had not been holding him up, and that was when Leon noticed that there was no alcohol on the man's breath. "Hey, are you all right?" Leon asked, feeling more concerned now. If the guy wasn't drunk, he must be seriously ill.
"What have I done to deserve this?" the man muttered to himself as if he hadn't heard Leon. "All I've ever done is to work diligently."
"Lost your job, huh?" Leon asked sympathetically, and the man's eyes finally seemed to focus on Leon.
"Uh...sorry," he said listlessly. "I'm not feeling well. I just need to rest for a moment...oh!" He exclaimed and his eyes widened in shock, and Leon turned to see what he was looking at: a doll in the shop window that was smiling at him affectionately, her eyes open and alert.
Daiki looked at the doll, and then at the man leaning against Leon, and then he smiled and said, "Please come in and have a cup of tea."
Dazed, the young man allowed Leon to lead him into the shop and seat him on the couch. "Have you ever heard of something called a Plant Doll?" Daiki asked as he poured a cup of tea for the man.
"No..." the man started to reply. "Er...wait...now that I think about it...I may have heard a rumor of something like that existing...where did I hear it?" Then he said, "Oh, thank you," as Daiki handed him the cup of tea. "This tea smells nice...it must be expensive."
"Please help yourself," Daiki said. "Have a cookie as well."
The man drank the tea and ate a cookie, and Leon wondered whether they ought to get the guy some real food. He looked pale and thin, as if he hadn't eaten for a while, and there was a sort of grayish tinge to his skin. Leon felt sure now that the guy was sick, not drunk; he probably couldn't afford a decent meal, let alone a doctor.
"You're a nice guy," the man said, setting down his empty teacup. "This is amazingly good."
"Would you like another cup?" Daiki asked.
"No, thanks," the man replied. "I'm sure you've gathered that I'm not rich enough to be your customer. You let me inside, allowed me to drink some tea...I'm grateful just for that. And for her, too." He rose from his seat to walk over and take a closer look at the doll in the window display. She had a quieter kind of beauty than the dramatic and showy good looks of Angel and Snow White, Leon noticed. Her hair was golden-brown and braided into two long plaits, and her eyes were a pale sky-blue. Her face looked kind and gentle, compared to Angel's mischievousness and Snow White's regal arrogance.
"Just to have been able to see her close up..." the young man said wistfully.
"You find her pleasing?" Daiki asked.
"Yes," the man replied. "How very beautiful she is. When I was a child, on the hill overlooking the city where I lived...there lived a very handsome family. Their garden always overflowed with flowering blossoms. They seemed to live so happily. In my childish heart, I imagined that was what heaven looked like. This doll...she looks just like the daughter there. And if I could be touched by that young girl...I thought for sure I could become an angel."
The doll suddenly reached out with her small hand and gently touched the young man's face. He shrieked in shock and jumped backwards, shouting, "WAAGH! It m-moved?! What is this?!" And as the doll laughed and tugged at his coat, he cried, "Is this some kind of trick?! But...it's laughing?! What's going on?!"
Leon couldn't help but laugh himself at the young man's reaction. "She's a Plant Doll, kid, not a Barbie doll. They're living creatures. They're plants who look and act like little girls."
"Hmm," Daiki said thoughtfully. "Now I am at a loss. That little one seems to have taken a fancy to you. It seems to want to go home with you."
"But I'm dirt poor!" the man protested, even as the doll was hugging him happily.
"I do understand that, yes," Daiki replied.
"Besides," the man continued, "I'm in no position to buy. These days I struggle just to pay for my next meal. As for work...I just got fired."
Daiki heaved an exaggerated sigh, and Leon smiled as he recognized his son slipping into his "professional shopkeeper" role. "This is a problem," Daiki said, frowning. "You see, Plant Dolls are very finicky. If there is a customer that they like, they won't so much as look at another customer."
"Uh...huh?" the bewildered young man asked.
With a dramatic flourish, Daiki picked up his calligraphy brush and wrote a price on a placard. "In other words, if you do not purchase that Plant Doll, it will become merchandise that is impossible to sell to anyone, anywhere."
"Gah!" the man said in a strangled cry when Daiki held up the placard.
Unperturbed, Daiki continued, "Just feed milk three times a day and a sugar cookie once a week. That is all there is. Of course, you must add in the cost of clothing, basic cosmetics, bath oils...ah, what else...?"
"What are you telling me this for?!" the man shouted frantically, the doll still clinging to him. "I told you I can't..."
"This is a problem," sighed Daiki. "Ah...that reminds me. This was a long time ago, but...there was a time that one was stolen. Of course it's a doll, so it wasn't a kidnapping crime. But to the store proprietor, my predecessor, it was a great loss. After all, the item had a price tag that read thus..."
He started to write down the price, but the young man cried, "Stop! Don't show me!"
"After that, my predecessor bought insurance, and I have maintained the policy," Daiki said calmly, a faint smile forming on his lips. "What is truly problematic is the fact that stealing a Plant Doll is easier than taking candy from a baby. After all, if the Plant Doll fancies the customer, she will just follow the customer." He sighed again. "It is terribly vexing." Then, in a brisk voice, he said, "Ah, my apologies for boring you with such a story. It is almost milk time. Could I possibly trouble you to...?"
"Huh?" the man said.
"You'll find some milk in the bureau over there," Daiki said. "It also comes in powdered form. Please excuse me, I have to look up something in the back."
"Uh...Dai?" Leon asked hesitantly.
"And I could use your help, Father," Daiki added, smiling cheerfully, and grabbed Leon by the arm, pulling him towards the back room. He glanced back at the man, who was staring at him in disbelief, and said casually, "Oh, if you would like, you can play around dressing her up. There are undergarments, shoes, and dresses arranged beyond the door over there. Please feel free..."
"W-wait a second," the man stammered.
"Now, if you will excuse me," Daiki said, ignoring him, and left the room with Leon in tow. "Ah, such troubles..."
"Daiki!" Leon exclaimed, when they had left the "customer" alone in the lobby with the doll. "Are you encouraging that guy to steal the doll?! And right in front of a police officer, too?!"
"Well, fortunately for him, he doesn't know that you're a police officer," Daiki said, smiling mischievously.
"Look, I know that guy can't afford to buy the doll," Leon argued, "but you can't let him steal it, either."
Daiki sighed again, and this time it sounded genuine. "Human nature can be a troublesome thing. I would have offered him a loan, but he is too responsible to sign for a loan that he knows he cannot repay. And he is too proud to accept charity, so I cannot give her to him outright."
"But it's okay for him to steal it?" Leon asked incredulously.
Daiki winked at him. "Human nature is also a very contradictory thing at times. And technically it's not stealing unless I press charges, right?"
"Well, I suppose so," Leon said dubiously. "If you don't intend to file a police report, officially there's no reason for me to get involved." He opened the door a crack and peered out to see what the young man was doing.
He was pacing back and forth, talking to himself. "Is that guy telling me to steal?! How...how could I? But if...aagh! I've got no money! Commit a crime? How could I?" He picked up the placard with the price on it, and stared at it despondently. "I couldn't come up with money like this, even if I worked my entire life." The doll tugged at his arm and smiled up at him, her eyes filled with love and compassion. She seemed to be silently telling him to calm down, that everything would be all right.
He reached out and gently cupped her face in his hand. "I couldn't take you back to my apartment. A doll as beautiful as you? It would arouse immediate suspicion if you were found there. Shall we go to an unfamiliar city?" The doll reached up to touch his hand, and the young man smiled, looking content and at peace, even though he was about (in his mind, anyway) to commit a crime. "Yes, that's right. I'll do anything to care for you...because you are the first to ever need me."
"Come, Dad," Daiki whispered. "Come upstairs to the apartment with me. I have some tea that I'd like you to take home to Papa."
Daiki took his time putting together a basket of tea and cookies for D, and by the time they went back downstairs, the young man and the brown-haired doll were gone.
***
Leon hoped that the young man and the doll were doing okay. He had intended to refer the guy to a health clinic in Chinatown and slip him a few bucks so that he could at least buy himself a hot meal. However, Daiki had arranged the "theft" and allowed his customer to slip away, so there was nothing Leon could do. Daiki did not seem worried that one of his precious dolls was in the care of a man so destitute that he could barely afford to take care of himself, let alone a pampered Plant Doll; he merely said with kami-like serenity that he had to believe in the trust that the doll had placed in the customer.
A couple of months later, Leon met a customer from the completely opposite end of the spectrum. A pretty little blonde girl ran into the shop one night, followed shortly by a tall, handsome blond man who was obviously her father, and by two anxious-looking servants. The blond man was dressed in an expensive tuxedo, and had an arrogant and aristocratic manner about him that immediately aroused Leon's dislike, even before he spoke a single word.
When he did speak, it was with a haughty European-sounding accent that made Leon wonder if he really was an aristocrat, and in his mind, he dubbed the blond man "the Nobleman". Meanwhile, the little girl had taken an immediate fancy to a blonde Plant Doll that could almost be her twin, and by the time her annoyed-looking father reached the shop, the two little girls were holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes as if communicating by telepathy. Leon found it a little eerie.
The Nobleman wrinkled his nose as if he smelt something foul, while Daiki went through his sales pitch and wrote down the price of the doll. That was one thing Leon had noticed over the years, that Hua, when he had run the shop, and now Daiki, never uttered the price of a doll out loud, as if it were too crass a thing to be discussed. They always discreetly wrote down the price and presented it to the customer on a placard--which didn't make the price any less exorbitant or outrageous, but apparently that was the way that aristocratic types liked to conduct business.
The Nobleman didn't even blink at the price, unlike most of Daiki's customers. "Come by tomorrow morning," he said coolly, as if the amount were mere pocket change. "I will have a check drawn out."
"Very good, sir," Daiki said.
"Ordinarily I don't have money to spend on such things," the Nobleman said, although he didn't look concerned about it. "But it can't be helped, since my daughter seems to fancy it."
"Yes, indeed," Daiki said. "The Plant Doll seems to have taken a fancy to your daughter as well. They could almost be twin sisters."
The Nobleman frowned at his daughter and the doll for a moment, then snapped, "A disagreeable comment! Come, wrap it up quickly, and I'll take it home."
Leon scowled, and had to suppress an urge to punch the guy in his aristocratic nose. However, Daiki just smiled and asked sweetly, "Then will the young lady be going into the box as well?"
"What?!" the Nobleman demanded.
"Ah well, children like their friends to be treated in the same way as themselves," Daiki replied pleasantly. "So if we are to wrap up the Plant Doll, then I presume..." The Nobleman just stared at him, a strange expression on his face that wavered somewhere between anger and confusion. Daiki asked gently, "Is it necessary for you to hurry? If you would just wait a minute, it will start walking on its own. In the meantime, I can instruct you on how to care--"
The Nobleman impatiently clapped his hands together, and his servants stepped forward. "Take the doll to the car," he said curtly. "We're going."
"Yes, sir," the male servant said, and scooped the doll up into his arms, briskly but not unkindly. The female servant, who seemed to be a nanny or nursemaid, took the little girl by the hand.
"Give the instructions to the servants," the Nobleman ordered Daiki, as if he were a servant himself. "I want to get back as soon as possible."
Leon gritted his teeth and clenched his fists together, but Daiki just said politely, "As you wish, sir."
The Nobleman started to turn away, then stopped and stared in surprise as his daughter tugged at Daiki's robes and gave him a questioning look. Daiki smiled at her and gently placed his hand on her head for a moment. "Please care for her well, Miss. You may name her as you please."
Leon expected the father to object to a mere shopkeeper treating his daughter with such familiarity, but he just looked pensive and murmured to himself, "For her to greet a man she doesn't know..." Then he shook his head and hurried out of the shop, and the servants hurried after him, after receiving the instructions on how to care for the doll from Daiki.
"I don't like that guy," Leon growled.
"Neither do I," Daiki said calmly, without any animosity in his voice. "But it does not matter what I like. All that matters is that the doll likes her owner. Even though the father is the one paying for the purchase, it is the daughter who is actually my customer."
"Is it worth it?" Leon asked. "To do business with a guy who looks down his nose at you like you're less than the dirt beneath his feet?"
"It is worth it so long as the dolls are happy," Daiki said, then smiled and added lightly, "Besides, you should be glad that I made such a big sale, Dad. That way I can save up enough to take care of my parents in their old age."
Leon gently tapped his fist on Daiki's head. "Show a little respect to your old man, kid. I've got plenty of years left before retirement." They both laughed, and Leon forgot about the arrogant Nobleman.
At least until a few days later, when the Nobleman's wife stopped by the shop. She was a very pretty lady, with curly blonde hair cut in a fashionable bob, and she looked a little too young to be the mother of the girl Leon had seen. She spoke with the same accent as her husband, but unlike her husband, she seemed cheerful and friendly. "Hello, I'm Mrs. D'Amato," she said. "My husband bought a doll from you the other day."
"Yes, I remember," Daiki said, smiling. He ushered her into the shop and offered her some tea. She even greeted Leon pleasantly, despite his scruffy appearance which seemed out of place in the Plant Dolls shop.
"Ooh, a police detective!" she said, looking appreciatively impressed when Leon explained who he was. "That must be very exciting work!" Leon smiled and shrugged modestly. "My husband says there is a great deal of crime in this city."
And he probably said it with that arrogant look of disdain on his face, Leon thought to himself disgruntledly. If he thought L.A. was so bad, then he should just go back to whatever damn country he'd come from! Still, it wasn't Mrs. D'Amato's fault, so Leon just said, "Well, any big city will have its share of crime, madam."
"How are the young miss and the doll getting along?" Daiki asked as he handed Mrs. D'Amato a cup of tea.
"Oh, they're getting along splendidly!" Mrs. D'Amato said, beaming at him. "It's such a miracle, the way that the doll has brought Sophia to life! Why, she even smiled at me this morning! She enjoys playing at tea parties with the doll, but of course we only serve the doll milk, as you instructed. The servants think that they're so adorable, like little twin angels..."
Mrs. D'Amato gushed on about how beautiful the doll was, but Leon was still dwelling on what she had said earlier. "It's a miracle that your daughter smiled at you?" he asked hesitantly.
"Oh, she's my stepdaughter," Mrs. D'Amato said, looking a little rueful. "She's been very cold to me up until now, although it's understandable. No child wants to see another woman take their mother's place. And...well, she's been very withdrawn since her mother died. She hasn't smiled or spoken a word since that day." Then she beamed at Daiki again. "But the doll seems to have drawn her out, so I'm very grateful to you! I think she's been lonely, so maybe all that she needed was a friend." She blushed prettily and added, "Please forgive me for burdening with you with my troubles. I just wanted to thank you for the doll, since she's been so good with Sophia."
Leon thought that perhaps Sophia wasn't the only one who was lonely, with the way Mrs. D'Amato had spilled family secrets so easily to a couple of strangers. Living in a foreign country with such a cold husband...he pictured her being shut up in a big mansion like a princess in a tower; her husband probably didn't like her mingling with the riffraff. Then he gave himself a mental shake and silently laughed at himself for being so fanciful. He didn't know anything about these people, after all; he'd probably been listening to too many of Daiki's fairy tales.
"Not at all," Daiki said kindly to Mrs. D'Amato. "I'm glad that the doll has made Sophia so happy. Has she given the doll a name yet?"
Mrs. D'Amato giggled. "She has, but she won't tell anyone what it is. She's always whispering and giggling with the doll; they really do seem like sisters, but my husband gets annoyed when anyone tells him that. Anyway, I came here today to thank you, and I thought that I would buy a new dress or some jewelry for the doll, to thank her as well."
"Of course, madam," Daiki said smoothly. "If you'll come with me, I have some items that you may choose from."
"Oh, by the way," Mrs. D'Amato said as she browsed through dresses of silk and satin and lace. "I wanted to ask you about her scent. She smells so lovely that it just makes me feel like melting. That day my stepdaughter came to your shop, my husband had taken her out for dinner. They were walking to the car, and she suddenly shook off the maid's hand and ran straight to your shop. I can almost believe that she was lured by the doll's scent."
Leon broke out into a nervous sweat; luring a customer to the shop by supernatural means was something that D might have done in the old days, but surely Daiki wouldn't play pied piper and lure innocent children into his shop...would he?
Mrs. D'Amato and Daiki both seemed blithely unaware of Leon's unease. "The doll that your husband bought is a very special type of doll, developed by a master artisan. She is a 'potpourri doll'."
"A potpourri doll?" Mrs. D'Amato asked.
"Yes, I tried to explain it to your husband, but he was in quite a rush that day," Daiki replied. He picked up a small, ornate glass jar filled with what looked like colorful round candies. "If you feed her one of these scent balls at every meal, she will continue to give off that lovely scent."
"Oh, then I must buy some!" Mrs. D'Amato said enthusiastically. "I just love the way she smells! My, they look just like candies. Do I need to be careful to keep them away from Sophia?"
"Oh no, they are perfectly safe," Daiki assured her. "Children like to eat the same things that their friends do, so we are careful to carry products that both humans and Plant Dolls can enjoy. There is no harm if your daughter eats these. They are in fact quite tasty, like candies, as you observed."
Mrs. D'Amato laughed, "Then maybe I will eat some too, and the three of us can all smell lovely together!"
Over the next several weeks, Mrs. D'Amato stopped by the shop often. Leon learned that she was not a lonely captive princess after all, but a student in Sociology at the local university. She was from the same country as her husband, and had met him at some sort of event for expatriates; apparently there were enough of them living in L.A. to have formed a sort of club. Mr. D'Amato was not quite a nobleman, but close enough, a wealthy executive for an international banking firm who had been stationed in L.A. for three years. He was homesick and longed to return to his home country, but his requests to be transferred had so far been denied, which perhaps accounted for his rude behavior, although it didn't excuse it, at least in Leon's opinion.
Mrs. D'Amato was very nice, though, and was growing more and more concerned about her husband. She said that he kept complaining that the city smelled terrible and had become almost obsessed about it. He had even dismissed all their servants, believing that they were somehow bringing the stench of the city into the house with them. But he was happy that his daughter seemed to be coming out of her shell, thanks to the Plant Doll, Mrs. D'Amato hastened to assure them. And she had persuaded him to see a doctor about his "affliction"; Leon assumed that she meant a shrink, although she didn't say so specifically.
Leon was not reassured, however. "I'm worried about that guy," he told Daiki after Mrs. D'Amato left. "He sounds kind of unbalanced. I'd notify Child Protective Services, but what would I tell them, that the guy thinks that the city stinks? They'd think that I'm the one who needs to get my head examined!"
"Well, Mrs. D'Amato seems concerned as well, but I think that she fears more for her husband's well-being than Miss Sophia's or the doll's," Daiki said, although he looked a little worried, too. "He may be unbalanced, but there's no indication that he's dangerous."
"Yet," Leon said darkly, and decided to run a check on D'Amato's background. He wasn't just concerned about the man's recent obsession with the city's smell; he also wanted to look into D'Amato's past and find out how his first wife had died. It was only a hunch, but the daughter's extreme trauma could be a reaction to witnessing a violent death. And Leon certainly didn't want any murderers doing business with his son's shop.
***
D'Amato was unaware of the detective's investigation, but even if he had been, he would have been too preoccupied with his own problems to care. He knew that his wife was worried about him, and to pacify her, he went to see the doctor that she had recommended. The doctor did not seem too concerned, saying that he was just having trouble adapting to a foreign culture--as if he didn't already know that!
"But I wouldn't dwell on it too much," the doctor said dismissively. "You've merely become a bit oversensitive. Don't worry, you'll be well in no time."
D'Amato thought that all his problems would be solved if he could just return home to his own country. Three years was too long to live in exile, with the constant stench of the city in his nostrils. And if they could go home, surely that would speed his daughter's recovery. She could breathe in clean, fresh air instead of the filthy smog of this city, and she could make friends with children of the proper class and station. She was unable to attend school in her current condition, of course, but even before that, he'd had her tutored at home; the people who lived in this filthy city weren't fit companions for his daughter. His wife had said that perhaps Sophia was lonely, and it might help if she made some friends, which was partly why he had bought her the doll, since none of his fellow expatriates had children his daughter's age.
The thought of the doll made him almost as uneasy as the city's stench. He was glad that Sophia had begun to smile and laugh again, but it disturbed him profoundly to watch her play with the doll. She insisted on dressing the doll in outfits that matched her own, and even the doll's face was beginning to resemble Sophia's, perhaps because they spent so much time together. Or was it that Sophia was beginning to look like the doll...?
Still worrying about the doll's effect on his daughter, D'Amato arrived home after work. He sighed with relief, thankful to leave the city behind him for a few hours. His home was his sanctuary, decorated in the style of his homeland, and the windows were sealed up tight to keep out the stench of the city; an air conditioning system circulated pure, clean air throughout the house. The servants, who were local residents, had brought the smell of the city into the house with them, but now they were all gone, so the smell should have left with them.
Except that it hadn't. D'Amato went to greet his wife, and found her in the living room, playing cards with Sophia and the doll, the three of them sitting on the floor and giggling together. It made him smile at first, to see his wife and daughter getting along together like a real family, until he noticed the smell. His wife smiled and began prattling some nonsense to him about the doll and how Sophia had a secret name for her, but D'Amato paid no attention to her. All he could think of was that all the servants were gone, and there was no one here but himself, his wife, his daughter, and the doll, and yet the stink of the city still lingered in the house...
"Didn't you once tell me that this doll was like a perfumed sachet?" he asked slowly.
"Why yes," his wife replied, smiling up at him. "They say it's called a 'potpourri doll'. We give her a scent ball at every meal." She picked up a bottle filled with little colored balls. "See, aren't they pretty? Sophia seems to love this smell; she takes them herself." Mistaking the look on her husband's face, she hastily added, "Oh, the man at the shop said there's no harm in it. I started to take it, too, because I wanted to be part of the group. See? Our bodies have a nice fragrance from within!" She rose to her feet and reached out to him, laying a hand on his cheek. "What's the matter, dear? You're completely pale..."
"Stay..." D'Amato whispered, then pushed her away from him violently and shouted, "STAY AWAY!!" His wife flew backwards into a small table that held a teapot for Sophia's tea parties, and table, teapot, and wife all fell to the floor with a loud crash.
Sophia's eyes went wide with fear, and she began screaming over and over, "Aaah! Aaaah!" Meanwhile, the doll just stared silently at him with cold and blank eyes.
"What's...wrong?" D'Amato's wife whispered, staring up at him fearfully.
"This thing," D'Amato said angrily. "This doll!" It was the doll that had polluted his house with the stench of the city. He snatched it up and ran out of the house, intent on returning it to the shop. He ignored the sound of his wife screaming behind him, "WAIT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"
He threw the doll into the car and drove down to the Plant Dolls shop in Chinatown. He flung the doll down at the shopkeeper's feet, and the young blond man said in a tone of mild reproach, "I must say, this is extremely rough treatment." The doll remained silent, not even uttering a cry of pain or fear, and the shopkeeper gathered the girl up into his arms protectively.
"What's going on?!" D'Amato demanded.
"To what might you be referring?" the shopkeeper asked.
"Don't play dumb with me!" D'Amato snapped. "It's that smell!"
"Was it not to your liking?" the shopkeeper asked, and the tone of his voice, mild and reasonable, as if trying to calm an unruly child, infuriated D'Amato. Everyone acted as if he was going crazy...and then he began to worry that maybe they were right, and he really was losing his mind.
"What's going on?" D'Amato cried. "Why is this happening? Why am I the only one feeling this discomfort, this nauseating..."
"Oh, is that so?" the shopkeeper asked, a gentle smile on his face. He set the doll down on a chair; she remained limp and passive. "That is very unfortunate. The doll that you bought is an extremely popular model. But if you wish to return her, we do accept trade-ins." He picked up one of those fancy placards that he used to write prices and receipts on, and began jotting down some figures. "Hmm...for a used model, it would have to be..."
"It's not about the money!" D'Amato shouted.
"Yes, that is true," the shopkeeper said quietly. "The problem seems to lie in you, my customer." Taken aback, D'Amato could only stare at him in silence. When he did not reply, the shopkeeper continued, "I may be able to offer some advice."
"It's none of your business!" D'Amato snapped, turning away, finding the steady golden gaze of the shopkeeper's eyes unnerving. He had the peculiar feeling that those eyes could see straight through into the darkest reaches of his soul, to the things that he kept hidden from his friends, his wife, even from himself...
"Sir, this girl--" the shopkeeper said anxiously as D'Amato headed for the door.
"I'm returning it! I don't even want to look at it!" D'Amato shouted, and he ran out of the store. He didn't care about the money, even though the doll had cost a small fortune. It was worth losing the money as long as he never had to look at the doll again. He never again wanted to see eyes as cold as that doll's...
Eyes as cold as his daughter's had been, ever since the death of her mother. He could still see her eyes, blank and empty, as if the horrific sight of her mother's body and the blood spilled across the floor had driven any trace of emotion out of her. But although her eyes had been blank and emotionless, she had kept screaming over and over again, "Aaah! Aaaah!"
The same way she had been screaming tonight when he had pushed his wife into the table.
***
Leon walked into the Plant Dolls shop, to find Daiki sitting in a chair, cradling Sophia D'Amato's doll in his arms. There was an empty hollowness in her eyes that Leon found disturbing; it didn't seem like the blank look of an unawakened doll, but more like the look that you often saw in the eyes of abused or neglected children--children who had seen so many terrible things that they just seemed to shut down emotionally.
Daiki did not seem to notice Leon at first, preoccupied with gently rocking the doll in his arms and crooning, "You poor thing. Now then, what should we do?"
"Daiki?" Leon said.
Daiki looked up and smiled at his father, looking relieved and worried at the same time. "Oh, Dad, I'm glad that you're here. I may require your services, although I hope that it won't come to that."
"I see that D'Amato was here," Leon said, frowning. "I stopped by tonight because I wanted to tell you what I found out about him. His first wife did die violently, but not quite in the way that I thought."
"He did not murder her, then?" Daiki asked, not sounding surprised.
"No," Leon replied. "She had an affair with another man a little over a year ago, and D'Amato found out about it. It seems like he wasn't so much angry because she was cheating on him, but because she was cheating on him with a local man, an L.A. resident." Leon rolled his eyes. "He probably wouldn't have minded so much if she had been fooling around with a fellow aristocrat-in-exile. Anyway, he was furious, and threatened to divorce her, and she killed herself in remorse--slit her wrists. The daughter was the one who found the body, and that seems to be what traumatized her. D'Amato remarried recently--to the second Mrs. D'Amato, the one we know. I spoke to some of their former servants, and they seem to think that while he genuinely loves his new wife, he was also hoping that having a normal family life would help Sophia recover. She was cold to the stepmother at first, but she seemed to warm up after they bought that doll. Only D'Amato started getting that weird obsession about the way the city smells, and he fired all the servants. I guess he returned the doll, too."
"No, he did not," Daiki said softly. "Although he thinks that he did."
"Huh?" a puzzled Leon asked.
***
"Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!"
D'Amato kept hearing his daughter's screams in his mind...and then he felt someone grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard.
"Get a hold of yourself!"
D'Amato looked up into his wife's frantic eyes; he had not remembered returning home, but he realized now that he was back in his own house. Sophia was still sitting on the floor screaming in a shrill monotone that was curiously emotionless, as if she were an automaton rather than a living girl. But the sight of him appearing to attack her stepmother must have re-traumatized her, driving her back into her catatonic state. Then he suddenly noticed that there was a bruise on his wife's cheek, and he said, "I'm sorry. It must've hurt when I--"
"Forget about that!" she said, still looking frantic. "Where is she?!"
"The doll?" D'Amato asked. "I returned it."
A look of horror, sorrow, and pity filled his wife's face, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, looking too overcome to speak.
"What?" D'Amato asked, confused by the strength of her emotions. He knew that she was fond of the doll, but he hadn't expected her to be that upset about him returning it.
She clasped his hand and said in a quiet, urgent voice, "Get a hold of yourself. The one you took was..." She choked up, tears filling her eyes, and it took her a moment to recover. "The one left here is..."
"Aaah! Aaah!" Sophia screamed in the background.
"...the doll!"
***
Back in the Plant Dolls shop, Daiki whispered to the girl in his arms, "Will your daddy come to his senses? Will he come to get you?"
"Daiki!" Leon gasped. "You mean to say, that's not the doll...it's the daughter?!"
"In his current troubled state, it seems that he has mistaken Sophia for the doll," Daiki said with what seemed to Leon to be remarkable calm, under the circumstances; it must be his kami blood. "Perhaps it is not so surprising. As she is now, Sophia is emotionless, as one might expect a doll to be."
"But the Plant Dolls are alive!" Leon said. "They smile and laugh like normal little girls. And Sophia has been emotionless ever since her mother's death; Mrs. D'Amato said so herself! Although she's supposed to have been getting better..."
Daiki smiled sadly at him. "If you were a parent, which girl would you rather believe was your daughter...the little girl who laughs and cries and even screams, or the one who stares at you blankly with cold, emotionless eyes?"
Sophia paid no attention to their conversation, as if she couldn't hear them; she seemed as lifeless as a plastic doll on a toy store shelf. Even the sleeping Plant Dolls in the shop seemed more alive than she did.
"Oh man," Leon groaned, running his hand through his hair in a distracted, slightly frazzled gesture. "You and D sure complicate my life with your shops!" Daiki gave him an apologetic smile. "All right," Leon sighed. "We'll have to contact Child Protective Services..."
"Could you wait a little longer, Dad?" Daiki asked. "Mr. D'Amato may still come to his senses..."
Leon frowned. "I think it's pretty clear now that this guy is emotionally disturbed. He abandoned his daughter--"
"She is safe here with us for now," Daiki pointed out. "Do you really think she would be better off in a foster home with strangers?"
Leon looked at the girl and sighed again. "No, but you can't keep her here forever, Dai. She's not a stray kitten or puppy."
"Just a little longer?" Daiki pleaded. "I think that Mr. D'Amato really does love his daughter. When he realizes what he's done, it might shock some sense into him and help him to get over the homesickness that he's allowed to fester into an obsession."
"And if it doesn't?" Leon asked skeptically.
"Even if her father isn't able to care for her, Sophia still has a mother," Daiki reminded him. "Mrs. D'Amato seems to sincerely care about Sophia as a daughter, even if they don't share the same blood."
Leon slowly nodded, thinking of how hard Mrs. D'Amato had been working to win her stepdaughter's trust, and how happy she had been just to see Sophia smile at her. "Well...I guess you're right. But shouldn't we call Mrs. D'Amato and explain what happened?"
"I think it is important for both Sophia's and Mr. D'Amato's sakes, that he return for her of his own free will," Daiki said gravely.
"I'd like a happy ending, too, Dai," Leon sighed. "But the guy seems pretty unhinged; I don't think that he's going to be able to get his act together anytime soon. As an officer of the law, I can't ignore an act of child abandonment. I'll give him another hour to get his butt back here, and then I have to call Mrs. D'Amato. And I may still have to call CPS; she may be a fit parent, but if he's a danger to the child and still living in the same house with them..."
"Then let us wait and see what happens," Daiki said. He continued to cradle Sophia in his arms, while Leon nervously paced back and forth. Then he went and made some tea, just to give himself something constructive to do, and tried to urge Sophia to drink a little, without much success.
Forty-five minutes later, the D'Amatos rushed into the shop, both looking pale and frightened, and in the husband's case, guilty. He was carrying the doll in his arms; she kept crying, "Aaah! Aaah!" But as soon as she saw Sophia, her eyes seemed to light up, filled with love and concern. D'Amato set her down on the floor and she ran over to Sophia and Daiki.
Daiki gently set Sophia down on the floor, and the doll flung her arms around her. The doll began to weep, tears sliding down her cheeks, and Sophia's dull, lifeless eyes gradually started to grow a little more alert. Very slowly and hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around the doll, returning the embrace.
"Is she all right?" Mrs. D'Amato asked tearfully.
"Well, physically she is fine," Daiki murmured. "However..."
Leon glowered fiercely at D'Amato, but the other man didn't seem to notice; all his attention was focused solely on his daughter. He stumbled forward and sank to his knees in front of Sophia and the doll. "I'm sorry, Sophia," he said, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry, for everything. Can you ever forgive me?"
Sophia just stared at him for a long moment, then took a step forward; the doll released her. She slowly reached up with her hand to touch her father's tear-streaked face. "Pa...pa...?" she said, her voice sounding slightly hoarse, as if rusty from disuse.
"Sophia!" he cried, sweeping her into his arms and hugging her tightly. Father and daughter clung to each other, both sobbing, but it seemed to be a cathartic release, of tears and emotions held in check for too many years.
Mrs. D'Amato was crying, too, but she was smiling. Daiki offered her a handkerchief, and she accepted it and thanked him, dabbing at her eyes. "The servants told me that he hasn't shed a tear since the day his first wife died," she said. "I guess that Sophia wasn't the only one who needed to be healed."
"I think that you helped them both to heal," Daiki said gently.
"Perhaps," Mrs. D'Amato said. "But I think it was mostly due to this little one here." She walked over and took the hand of the Plant Doll, who smiled up at her. She placed her free hand on her husband's shoulder, and he swept her and the doll into the embrace, the four of them laughing and weeping at the same time.
Leon allowed the D'Amatos to take their daughter home, but he checked up on them regularly to make sure that Sophia was living in a safe environment.
"He seems to be doing okay," Leon reported to Daiki later. "He's getting counseling, and so is Sophia, and that seems to be helping. He's hired back his servants, and he's less uptight than he used to be. Sophia still isn't talking much, but she's started speaking a few words, and she smiles and laughs and cries like a normal little girl should. If her recovery continues to go well, her parents will enroll her in school next year." Leon rolled his eyes slightly. "A fancy private school, of course, but at least she'll have a chance to make some friends besides Miss Plant Doll. Whose name is still a secret, by the way. Oh, and I promised Mrs. D'Amato that I'd pick up a jar of those scent balls for her."
"Of course," Daiki said with a smile, and fetched a jar for him. "The smell no longer bothers Mr. D'Amato?"
"No," Leon replied. "He says that it's strange, but now the smell seems sweet and pleasant. Guess it was all psychosomatic. The smell of the city doesn't nauseate him anymore, either, although D would probably agree with him that the city stinks." Leon grinned. "But I'm just an ignorant, uncouth American, so I'm used to it."
Daiki laughed. "Papa would say that all those years of smoking cigarettes has ruined your sense of smell."
"It's been years since I quit, but sometimes I still crave a smoke," Leon sighed wistfully. Instead, he accepted a cup of tea from Daiki. He hadn't really cared much for tea when he had first met D, but over the years he'd grown used to it, and now the taste of it was familiar and comforting because it reminded him of "home" and "family".
"Say, Daiki?" he asked, sipping at his tea. "I understand why Sophia shut down emotionally, but why did the doll respond that way, screaming when D'Amato pushed his wife?"
"Well, I have a theory," Daiki said thoughtfully. "I believe that Sophia and the doll formed such a close bond that the doll acted as a sort of channel or medium, if you will, to express the emotions that Sophia was unable to express herself. But it's only a theory." He smiled cheerily. "Of course, now that Sophia is doing well, the doll can return to being a simple friend and playmate. A Plant Doll is happiest when the ones that it loves are happy, too."
"Huh," Leon said, shaking his head. "A psychologist would have a field day with this! But I'm not sure that anyone would believe me if I tried to tell them what happened."
"It's just as well," Daiki said serenely. "It would be most inconvenient to have doctors and scholars interfering with business by pestering my dolls and my customers. I am a simple shopkeeper, after all."
Leon snorted and muttered under his breath, "Simple shopkeeper, my ass!" Daiki just smiled and pretended not to hear him.
***
A few months later, two detectives from San Francisco turned up at the station looking for Leon. When he saw what they had brought with them--a beautiful little girl with golden-brown hair and sky-blue eyes--he understood why. After they explained things to him, he said, "You came all this way just to deliver a doll?"
"Well, we couldn't exactly pack her in a box and mail her," the first detective said wryly.
Leon chuckled and said, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But if you'd called ahead of time, I could have spared you a trip. My brother lives in San Francisco, and you could have left the doll with him until my son had a chance to go pick her up. Or Chris could've brought her back himself; he comes to L.A. all the time, and he's due for another visit soon."
"Well, we needed to investigate as to whether a crime had been committed," the second detective said. "And besides, our mayor is a customer of your...er...of Count D."
Leon groaned, and the other detectives smiled. "He bought a kitten from the petshop the last time that he was in L.A., and it seems that he considers the Count a friend," the first detective said. "So we were ordered to personally deliver this doll to your son's shop."
So Leon drove them down to the shop, and the detectives returned the "stolen" doll to Daiki. The doll looked pale and unhappy, which was not surprising since her owner had just died, but she looked even lovelier than she had the last time Leon had seen her, despite the fact that she was wearing clean but plain and shabby-looking clothing instead of the silks and satins that the Plant Dolls usually wore.
"There was a letter left in that man's room," the first detective explained. "It stated that the doll should be returned here."
"Is that so...?" Daiki murmured.
"Was it stolen?" the detective asked. "There doesn't seem to be any report filed."
"He was good enough to purchase it," Daiki replied calmly.
"Really?" the detective exclaimed. "Where did he get the money?"
"There was a loan agreement made, but unfortunately I did not receive a single payment," Daiki said.
"Ah, is that right?" the detective asked. "Such misfortune. Even so, I guess that man still had a sliver of conscience, even if he didn't pay his debts."
"He was an extremely good man," Daiki said.
"Well, he was quite an unfortunate young man," the detective said. "I don't know if it was bad luck or what, but...he struggled hard, only to come down with a serious illness. He was fired from his job, too. So if it wasn't one thing, it was another."
The second detective added, "But it seems that for several months until his death, he worked hard and led a stable life."
"Yes, he must have been very happy," Daiki said, gazing down at the doll.
"Huh?" the detectives asked.
"I can tell clearly," Daiki said, smiling sadly. "The Plant Doll is not roughened at all. She must have been cared for with the utmost love."
"Truly beautiful, to be sure," the first detective said with a slightly regretful smile. "Even in shabby clothing. If we had enough money, we would want one ourselves. Well, we should be going. No need to drive us, Detective Orcot; we'll have lunch in Chinatown and then catch a cab to the airport."
Daiki said, "It's actually not about about money," but the detectives were already walking out the door and did not hear him. "Ah, well," he sighed, and turned to greet the doll, gently caressing her cheek. "Welcome back. You've come back looking even more beautiful."
The doll remained silent, but tears began to well in her eyes, and then they slowly overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. And as the tears fell from her face, they slowly hardened and crystalized into tiny pearl-like spheres that were a pale, shimmering blue, the same color as her eyes...
Leon gasped; the little blue gems were more beautiful than any he had ever seen, including the rubies and diamonds and sapphires in the jewelry store where Snow White's owner worked.
"Ah, how sublime, this blue like the sky," Daiki whispered, catching the tears in his hand as they fell. He turned towards Leon, smiling sadly. "These are the fabled 'Tears of Heaven' that my other customer was seeking. They are extremely rare, because only a doll raised with the utmost love can produce them, and of course, no one wants to make the one that they love cry."
"They're beautiful," Leon said, in a soft, subdued voice. "But heartbreakingly so. Maybe it's because I know how they were created, but I don't think that I could look at them without feeling sad."
"As Ten-chan would say, you are a softie, after all, Dad," Daiki said with an affectionate smile, although his eyes were still filled with sorrow for the doll.
"Little brat," Leon said, fondly ruffling his son's hair. After a couple of minutes, the doll stopped crying, and Daiki put the tears into a little velvet bag and locked them away. Leon knew without asking that he wouldn't sell them to the jewelry store, even though the tears were probably worth even more than the doll; it just didn't seem right somehow, to make a profit off the poor doll's unhappiness.
"Poor little thing," Leon said. "What will happen to her? Didn't you say that the dolls will wilt if they're unhappy?"
Daiki nodded. "Yes, but I will attempt to put her into hibernation, and perhaps someday another customer will come along who will awaken her from her slumber and help mend her broken heart." He warmed a cup of milk, stirring in a packet of herbs, then held the cup to the doll's lips. She refused to drink at first, but Daiki said gently, "Please drink this, little one. It will help you to rest and ease your pain. That young man who loved you so much would not want you to wither away and die." Reluctantly, the doll took the cup from him and drank it all down, then immediately fell into a deep slumber.
Daiki laid her down on a little couch in the back of the shop, and covered her with a blanket. "Sleep, my little beauty," he whispered tenderly, "until your prince arrives to awaken you."
***
Afterword: the "Potpourri Doll" chapter in the Dolls manga ends with the scene where the shopkeeper asks, "Will your daddy come to his senses? Will he come to get you...?" Some of the Dolls stories have sad or bittersweet endings, but this one in particular had an eerie, Petshop-like vibe and it really creeped me out the first time that I read it. I kept wondering if the father ever went back to the shop for his daughter. I thought that he probably did, or at least, the stepmother would have gone to get her, but the story is left hanging, giving it an air of uncertainty. So anyway, I created my own ending for the story, although it probably would have been more interesting if she remained at the shop, but I'm a sucker for happy endings. In a way, it makes me think of the Petshop story "Desire," where the selfish pet owner Maggie nearly gets turned into a stray dog herself.
Part 12
Daiki moved into the apartment over the Plant Dolls shop--over the protests of his Papa. The pets made themselves scarce while D alternately shouted and wept, but Daiki remained quietly but stubbornly insistent. Leon wisely stood back and let the two of them argue it out, although he was tempted to hide under the couch with Tet-chan.
"Why can you not continue to work at the shop during the day and return home in the evening as you have been doing?" D demanded tearfully. "Your father--" He pointed almost accusingly at Leon. "--does not live at the police station, after all!"
"But I am the sole caretaker of the Plant Dolls now," Daiki said in a soft, reasonable voice. "I must be on hand in case there are any emergencies: a fire, a break-in, one of the dolls falling ill. The Plant Dolls shop is my responsibility, as this shop is yours. Could you move away from the petshop, Papa? Could you just walk away and leave the pets at five p.m. just because the work day is over?"
And that, D could not argue with. He bowed his head in defeat, and Daiki hugged his father. "Don't worry, Papa," he said soothingly. "It's not like I'm moving across the country or anything like that; I'll still be living in Chinatown just a few minutes away." He smiled teasingly. "And besides, I intend to invite myself over for dinner quite often, so that I can keep eating Tet-chan's good cooking."
"That's the problem with kids," Leon said with a grin, throwing an arm around his son's shoulders. "Even after they grow up and supposedly become independent, they still come home and mooch off their parents." Daiki laughed and D managed a weak smile as he brushed away his tears. "Seriously, kid," Leon said, "I'll miss you, too, but I'm really proud of you, running your own business while most of your old classmates are still going to school."
"Thank you, Dad," Daiki said, smiling at at Leon and getting a little teary-eyed himself.
Leon flung his other arm around D, pulling both his lover and his son into a tight embrace. "We gotta let him go, D," he said, planting a gentle kiss on the top of D's head. "He's all grown up, and we've got to trust that we did a good job raising him."
"I hate to admit it, but you are correct, Leon," D sighed, sniffling a little.
"And you, Dai, don't be a stranger," Leon said, turning back to Daiki. "It won't hurt to leave the shop for a couple of hours to come have dinner with your family."
"Yes, Dad."
"And both of you stop crying before you make me cry, too!"
Leon did end up shedding a few tears, but no one, not even Tet-chan gave him a hard time about it. And while it was hard for Leon, despite his words, to watch Daiki move out of the petshop, the separation wasn't as traumatic as it could have been. Daiki was still living in the same neighborhood, and stopped by for dinner almost every night, and Leon and D paid frequent visits to him at the Plant Dolls shop. Tet-chan was also a frequent visitor, saying gruffly, "I'm just checking up on you so the Count doesn't worry." He usually brought some food with him because "The Count's afraid that you don't have time to cook, and he doesn't want you eating junk food like your idiot detective father."
Leon missed having Daiki at home, but he enjoyed stopping by the Plant Dolls shop whenever he could. After witnessing the long courtship and sale of Snow White, he had become interested in observing Daiki's customers, who were often quite intriguing. One was a young model who bought a doll to console herself after her husband left her; Leon thought the husband must've been a real idiot, because the girl was gorgeous. Another customer was a writer of trashy paperback novels; he had some difficulty bonding with his doll at first, but found that she loved to listen to him telling her stories, so the pair turned out to be well-suited to each other, after all. And interestingly enough, the quality of his writing began to increase, perhaps because he had begun pouring his heart into his stories instead of just churning them out for a living.
Leon felt sorry for one would-be customer, a wealthy old man who was enraptured with a doll named Rainy Moon. He would willingly have paid ten times the already exorbitant asking price, but Rainy Moon was even more stubborn than Snow White, and refused to acknowledge the man. Normally Leon wouldn't have felt sorry for some rich old geezer, but the old man seemed very sad and lonely. Apparently he had family, but they weren't interested in anything but the money that they would inherit after he died, so maybe being rich wasn't so great after all. The geezer was in poor health, but whenever he felt up to it, he would come to the shop and drink tea and gaze longingly at Rainy Moon.
And then there was the young man who stumbled into the shop one evening. Leon had been working late, called to the scene of a murder. It was pretty open-and-shut, a case of domestic violence, and it was obvious that the husband had done it; he'd still had his wife's blood all over him, and he was blubbering about how much he loved her and how sorry he was. Leon and Jill had read him his rights, taken his confession, and booked him for murder. The Chief was pleased to have the case wrapped up so quickly, but Leon felt disgusted by the murderer's professions of love for the wife he had killed. So he decided not to go straight home; in the mood he was in, irritable and depressed, he would probably pick a fight with D and wind up sleeping on the couch. If D was in a generous mood, he would listen sympathetically to Leon's story, but with a slight air of detachment, because it would only serve to confirm D's belief that most humans were innately selfish and destructive. And hell, he was probably right, but Leon didn't really want to hear it right now.
So he stopped by the Plant Dolls shop first, hoping that some tea and the sight of his son would ease his bad mood. And it worked; he felt himself relaxing when Daiki smiled at him warmly and said, "Hello, Dad. Working late tonight?"
"Just finished; I'm on my way home," Leon replied, sinking down onto the couch. Daiki brought out some tea and cookies and sat on the couch next to him, and they drank their tea in companionable silence. He didn't press Leon for more information, but there was a sort of concerned and receptive air about him, as if he were willing to listen to Leon's problems if he wanted to talk, but equally willing to just sit here with Leon in silence if that was what he wanted. Looking at his son, Leon was reminded that there was good in the world as well as evil, and it made him feel much better.
Leon had just finished his cup of tea when he heard a commotion from outside the shop, and he got up to see what was going on. A young man in shabby-looking clothes was staggering down the street, barely able to stand; he had to reach out and brace his hand against the wall of the shop to keep from falling. People were staring and pointing at him, including a couple who appeared to be out on a date. The man said, "How annoying...a drunk." He wrapped his arm protectively around his date, turning the woman away from the shabby-looking man, saying, "Don't look."
One of the passersby recognized Leon and said, "Please do something about this man, Officer!"
Leon sighed and took the man by one arm, saying, "Come on, buddy, go home and sleep it off..." The man stumbled and would have collapsed if Leon had not been holding him up, and that was when Leon noticed that there was no alcohol on the man's breath. "Hey, are you all right?" Leon asked, feeling more concerned now. If the guy wasn't drunk, he must be seriously ill.
"What have I done to deserve this?" the man muttered to himself as if he hadn't heard Leon. "All I've ever done is to work diligently."
"Lost your job, huh?" Leon asked sympathetically, and the man's eyes finally seemed to focus on Leon.
"Uh...sorry," he said listlessly. "I'm not feeling well. I just need to rest for a moment...oh!" He exclaimed and his eyes widened in shock, and Leon turned to see what he was looking at: a doll in the shop window that was smiling at him affectionately, her eyes open and alert.
Daiki looked at the doll, and then at the man leaning against Leon, and then he smiled and said, "Please come in and have a cup of tea."
Dazed, the young man allowed Leon to lead him into the shop and seat him on the couch. "Have you ever heard of something called a Plant Doll?" Daiki asked as he poured a cup of tea for the man.
"No..." the man started to reply. "Er...wait...now that I think about it...I may have heard a rumor of something like that existing...where did I hear it?" Then he said, "Oh, thank you," as Daiki handed him the cup of tea. "This tea smells nice...it must be expensive."
"Please help yourself," Daiki said. "Have a cookie as well."
The man drank the tea and ate a cookie, and Leon wondered whether they ought to get the guy some real food. He looked pale and thin, as if he hadn't eaten for a while, and there was a sort of grayish tinge to his skin. Leon felt sure now that the guy was sick, not drunk; he probably couldn't afford a decent meal, let alone a doctor.
"You're a nice guy," the man said, setting down his empty teacup. "This is amazingly good."
"Would you like another cup?" Daiki asked.
"No, thanks," the man replied. "I'm sure you've gathered that I'm not rich enough to be your customer. You let me inside, allowed me to drink some tea...I'm grateful just for that. And for her, too." He rose from his seat to walk over and take a closer look at the doll in the window display. She had a quieter kind of beauty than the dramatic and showy good looks of Angel and Snow White, Leon noticed. Her hair was golden-brown and braided into two long plaits, and her eyes were a pale sky-blue. Her face looked kind and gentle, compared to Angel's mischievousness and Snow White's regal arrogance.
"Just to have been able to see her close up..." the young man said wistfully.
"You find her pleasing?" Daiki asked.
"Yes," the man replied. "How very beautiful she is. When I was a child, on the hill overlooking the city where I lived...there lived a very handsome family. Their garden always overflowed with flowering blossoms. They seemed to live so happily. In my childish heart, I imagined that was what heaven looked like. This doll...she looks just like the daughter there. And if I could be touched by that young girl...I thought for sure I could become an angel."
The doll suddenly reached out with her small hand and gently touched the young man's face. He shrieked in shock and jumped backwards, shouting, "WAAGH! It m-moved?! What is this?!" And as the doll laughed and tugged at his coat, he cried, "Is this some kind of trick?! But...it's laughing?! What's going on?!"
Leon couldn't help but laugh himself at the young man's reaction. "She's a Plant Doll, kid, not a Barbie doll. They're living creatures. They're plants who look and act like little girls."
"Hmm," Daiki said thoughtfully. "Now I am at a loss. That little one seems to have taken a fancy to you. It seems to want to go home with you."
"But I'm dirt poor!" the man protested, even as the doll was hugging him happily.
"I do understand that, yes," Daiki replied.
"Besides," the man continued, "I'm in no position to buy. These days I struggle just to pay for my next meal. As for work...I just got fired."
Daiki heaved an exaggerated sigh, and Leon smiled as he recognized his son slipping into his "professional shopkeeper" role. "This is a problem," Daiki said, frowning. "You see, Plant Dolls are very finicky. If there is a customer that they like, they won't so much as look at another customer."
"Uh...huh?" the bewildered young man asked.
With a dramatic flourish, Daiki picked up his calligraphy brush and wrote a price on a placard. "In other words, if you do not purchase that Plant Doll, it will become merchandise that is impossible to sell to anyone, anywhere."
"Gah!" the man said in a strangled cry when Daiki held up the placard.
Unperturbed, Daiki continued, "Just feed milk three times a day and a sugar cookie once a week. That is all there is. Of course, you must add in the cost of clothing, basic cosmetics, bath oils...ah, what else...?"
"What are you telling me this for?!" the man shouted frantically, the doll still clinging to him. "I told you I can't..."
"This is a problem," sighed Daiki. "Ah...that reminds me. This was a long time ago, but...there was a time that one was stolen. Of course it's a doll, so it wasn't a kidnapping crime. But to the store proprietor, my predecessor, it was a great loss. After all, the item had a price tag that read thus..."
He started to write down the price, but the young man cried, "Stop! Don't show me!"
"After that, my predecessor bought insurance, and I have maintained the policy," Daiki said calmly, a faint smile forming on his lips. "What is truly problematic is the fact that stealing a Plant Doll is easier than taking candy from a baby. After all, if the Plant Doll fancies the customer, she will just follow the customer." He sighed again. "It is terribly vexing." Then, in a brisk voice, he said, "Ah, my apologies for boring you with such a story. It is almost milk time. Could I possibly trouble you to...?"
"Huh?" the man said.
"You'll find some milk in the bureau over there," Daiki said. "It also comes in powdered form. Please excuse me, I have to look up something in the back."
"Uh...Dai?" Leon asked hesitantly.
"And I could use your help, Father," Daiki added, smiling cheerfully, and grabbed Leon by the arm, pulling him towards the back room. He glanced back at the man, who was staring at him in disbelief, and said casually, "Oh, if you would like, you can play around dressing her up. There are undergarments, shoes, and dresses arranged beyond the door over there. Please feel free..."
"W-wait a second," the man stammered.
"Now, if you will excuse me," Daiki said, ignoring him, and left the room with Leon in tow. "Ah, such troubles..."
"Daiki!" Leon exclaimed, when they had left the "customer" alone in the lobby with the doll. "Are you encouraging that guy to steal the doll?! And right in front of a police officer, too?!"
"Well, fortunately for him, he doesn't know that you're a police officer," Daiki said, smiling mischievously.
"Look, I know that guy can't afford to buy the doll," Leon argued, "but you can't let him steal it, either."
Daiki sighed again, and this time it sounded genuine. "Human nature can be a troublesome thing. I would have offered him a loan, but he is too responsible to sign for a loan that he knows he cannot repay. And he is too proud to accept charity, so I cannot give her to him outright."
"But it's okay for him to steal it?" Leon asked incredulously.
Daiki winked at him. "Human nature is also a very contradictory thing at times. And technically it's not stealing unless I press charges, right?"
"Well, I suppose so," Leon said dubiously. "If you don't intend to file a police report, officially there's no reason for me to get involved." He opened the door a crack and peered out to see what the young man was doing.
He was pacing back and forth, talking to himself. "Is that guy telling me to steal?! How...how could I? But if...aagh! I've got no money! Commit a crime? How could I?" He picked up the placard with the price on it, and stared at it despondently. "I couldn't come up with money like this, even if I worked my entire life." The doll tugged at his arm and smiled up at him, her eyes filled with love and compassion. She seemed to be silently telling him to calm down, that everything would be all right.
He reached out and gently cupped her face in his hand. "I couldn't take you back to my apartment. A doll as beautiful as you? It would arouse immediate suspicion if you were found there. Shall we go to an unfamiliar city?" The doll reached up to touch his hand, and the young man smiled, looking content and at peace, even though he was about (in his mind, anyway) to commit a crime. "Yes, that's right. I'll do anything to care for you...because you are the first to ever need me."
"Come, Dad," Daiki whispered. "Come upstairs to the apartment with me. I have some tea that I'd like you to take home to Papa."
Daiki took his time putting together a basket of tea and cookies for D, and by the time they went back downstairs, the young man and the brown-haired doll were gone.
***
Leon hoped that the young man and the doll were doing okay. He had intended to refer the guy to a health clinic in Chinatown and slip him a few bucks so that he could at least buy himself a hot meal. However, Daiki had arranged the "theft" and allowed his customer to slip away, so there was nothing Leon could do. Daiki did not seem worried that one of his precious dolls was in the care of a man so destitute that he could barely afford to take care of himself, let alone a pampered Plant Doll; he merely said with kami-like serenity that he had to believe in the trust that the doll had placed in the customer.
A couple of months later, Leon met a customer from the completely opposite end of the spectrum. A pretty little blonde girl ran into the shop one night, followed shortly by a tall, handsome blond man who was obviously her father, and by two anxious-looking servants. The blond man was dressed in an expensive tuxedo, and had an arrogant and aristocratic manner about him that immediately aroused Leon's dislike, even before he spoke a single word.
When he did speak, it was with a haughty European-sounding accent that made Leon wonder if he really was an aristocrat, and in his mind, he dubbed the blond man "the Nobleman". Meanwhile, the little girl had taken an immediate fancy to a blonde Plant Doll that could almost be her twin, and by the time her annoyed-looking father reached the shop, the two little girls were holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes as if communicating by telepathy. Leon found it a little eerie.
The Nobleman wrinkled his nose as if he smelt something foul, while Daiki went through his sales pitch and wrote down the price of the doll. That was one thing Leon had noticed over the years, that Hua, when he had run the shop, and now Daiki, never uttered the price of a doll out loud, as if it were too crass a thing to be discussed. They always discreetly wrote down the price and presented it to the customer on a placard--which didn't make the price any less exorbitant or outrageous, but apparently that was the way that aristocratic types liked to conduct business.
The Nobleman didn't even blink at the price, unlike most of Daiki's customers. "Come by tomorrow morning," he said coolly, as if the amount were mere pocket change. "I will have a check drawn out."
"Very good, sir," Daiki said.
"Ordinarily I don't have money to spend on such things," the Nobleman said, although he didn't look concerned about it. "But it can't be helped, since my daughter seems to fancy it."
"Yes, indeed," Daiki said. "The Plant Doll seems to have taken a fancy to your daughter as well. They could almost be twin sisters."
The Nobleman frowned at his daughter and the doll for a moment, then snapped, "A disagreeable comment! Come, wrap it up quickly, and I'll take it home."
Leon scowled, and had to suppress an urge to punch the guy in his aristocratic nose. However, Daiki just smiled and asked sweetly, "Then will the young lady be going into the box as well?"
"What?!" the Nobleman demanded.
"Ah well, children like their friends to be treated in the same way as themselves," Daiki replied pleasantly. "So if we are to wrap up the Plant Doll, then I presume..." The Nobleman just stared at him, a strange expression on his face that wavered somewhere between anger and confusion. Daiki asked gently, "Is it necessary for you to hurry? If you would just wait a minute, it will start walking on its own. In the meantime, I can instruct you on how to care--"
The Nobleman impatiently clapped his hands together, and his servants stepped forward. "Take the doll to the car," he said curtly. "We're going."
"Yes, sir," the male servant said, and scooped the doll up into his arms, briskly but not unkindly. The female servant, who seemed to be a nanny or nursemaid, took the little girl by the hand.
"Give the instructions to the servants," the Nobleman ordered Daiki, as if he were a servant himself. "I want to get back as soon as possible."
Leon gritted his teeth and clenched his fists together, but Daiki just said politely, "As you wish, sir."
The Nobleman started to turn away, then stopped and stared in surprise as his daughter tugged at Daiki's robes and gave him a questioning look. Daiki smiled at her and gently placed his hand on her head for a moment. "Please care for her well, Miss. You may name her as you please."
Leon expected the father to object to a mere shopkeeper treating his daughter with such familiarity, but he just looked pensive and murmured to himself, "For her to greet a man she doesn't know..." Then he shook his head and hurried out of the shop, and the servants hurried after him, after receiving the instructions on how to care for the doll from Daiki.
"I don't like that guy," Leon growled.
"Neither do I," Daiki said calmly, without any animosity in his voice. "But it does not matter what I like. All that matters is that the doll likes her owner. Even though the father is the one paying for the purchase, it is the daughter who is actually my customer."
"Is it worth it?" Leon asked. "To do business with a guy who looks down his nose at you like you're less than the dirt beneath his feet?"
"It is worth it so long as the dolls are happy," Daiki said, then smiled and added lightly, "Besides, you should be glad that I made such a big sale, Dad. That way I can save up enough to take care of my parents in their old age."
Leon gently tapped his fist on Daiki's head. "Show a little respect to your old man, kid. I've got plenty of years left before retirement." They both laughed, and Leon forgot about the arrogant Nobleman.
At least until a few days later, when the Nobleman's wife stopped by the shop. She was a very pretty lady, with curly blonde hair cut in a fashionable bob, and she looked a little too young to be the mother of the girl Leon had seen. She spoke with the same accent as her husband, but unlike her husband, she seemed cheerful and friendly. "Hello, I'm Mrs. D'Amato," she said. "My husband bought a doll from you the other day."
"Yes, I remember," Daiki said, smiling. He ushered her into the shop and offered her some tea. She even greeted Leon pleasantly, despite his scruffy appearance which seemed out of place in the Plant Dolls shop.
"Ooh, a police detective!" she said, looking appreciatively impressed when Leon explained who he was. "That must be very exciting work!" Leon smiled and shrugged modestly. "My husband says there is a great deal of crime in this city."
And he probably said it with that arrogant look of disdain on his face, Leon thought to himself disgruntledly. If he thought L.A. was so bad, then he should just go back to whatever damn country he'd come from! Still, it wasn't Mrs. D'Amato's fault, so Leon just said, "Well, any big city will have its share of crime, madam."
"How are the young miss and the doll getting along?" Daiki asked as he handed Mrs. D'Amato a cup of tea.
"Oh, they're getting along splendidly!" Mrs. D'Amato said, beaming at him. "It's such a miracle, the way that the doll has brought Sophia to life! Why, she even smiled at me this morning! She enjoys playing at tea parties with the doll, but of course we only serve the doll milk, as you instructed. The servants think that they're so adorable, like little twin angels..."
Mrs. D'Amato gushed on about how beautiful the doll was, but Leon was still dwelling on what she had said earlier. "It's a miracle that your daughter smiled at you?" he asked hesitantly.
"Oh, she's my stepdaughter," Mrs. D'Amato said, looking a little rueful. "She's been very cold to me up until now, although it's understandable. No child wants to see another woman take their mother's place. And...well, she's been very withdrawn since her mother died. She hasn't smiled or spoken a word since that day." Then she beamed at Daiki again. "But the doll seems to have drawn her out, so I'm very grateful to you! I think she's been lonely, so maybe all that she needed was a friend." She blushed prettily and added, "Please forgive me for burdening with you with my troubles. I just wanted to thank you for the doll, since she's been so good with Sophia."
Leon thought that perhaps Sophia wasn't the only one who was lonely, with the way Mrs. D'Amato had spilled family secrets so easily to a couple of strangers. Living in a foreign country with such a cold husband...he pictured her being shut up in a big mansion like a princess in a tower; her husband probably didn't like her mingling with the riffraff. Then he gave himself a mental shake and silently laughed at himself for being so fanciful. He didn't know anything about these people, after all; he'd probably been listening to too many of Daiki's fairy tales.
"Not at all," Daiki said kindly to Mrs. D'Amato. "I'm glad that the doll has made Sophia so happy. Has she given the doll a name yet?"
Mrs. D'Amato giggled. "She has, but she won't tell anyone what it is. She's always whispering and giggling with the doll; they really do seem like sisters, but my husband gets annoyed when anyone tells him that. Anyway, I came here today to thank you, and I thought that I would buy a new dress or some jewelry for the doll, to thank her as well."
"Of course, madam," Daiki said smoothly. "If you'll come with me, I have some items that you may choose from."
"Oh, by the way," Mrs. D'Amato said as she browsed through dresses of silk and satin and lace. "I wanted to ask you about her scent. She smells so lovely that it just makes me feel like melting. That day my stepdaughter came to your shop, my husband had taken her out for dinner. They were walking to the car, and she suddenly shook off the maid's hand and ran straight to your shop. I can almost believe that she was lured by the doll's scent."
Leon broke out into a nervous sweat; luring a customer to the shop by supernatural means was something that D might have done in the old days, but surely Daiki wouldn't play pied piper and lure innocent children into his shop...would he?
Mrs. D'Amato and Daiki both seemed blithely unaware of Leon's unease. "The doll that your husband bought is a very special type of doll, developed by a master artisan. She is a 'potpourri doll'."
"A potpourri doll?" Mrs. D'Amato asked.
"Yes, I tried to explain it to your husband, but he was in quite a rush that day," Daiki replied. He picked up a small, ornate glass jar filled with what looked like colorful round candies. "If you feed her one of these scent balls at every meal, she will continue to give off that lovely scent."
"Oh, then I must buy some!" Mrs. D'Amato said enthusiastically. "I just love the way she smells! My, they look just like candies. Do I need to be careful to keep them away from Sophia?"
"Oh no, they are perfectly safe," Daiki assured her. "Children like to eat the same things that their friends do, so we are careful to carry products that both humans and Plant Dolls can enjoy. There is no harm if your daughter eats these. They are in fact quite tasty, like candies, as you observed."
Mrs. D'Amato laughed, "Then maybe I will eat some too, and the three of us can all smell lovely together!"
Over the next several weeks, Mrs. D'Amato stopped by the shop often. Leon learned that she was not a lonely captive princess after all, but a student in Sociology at the local university. She was from the same country as her husband, and had met him at some sort of event for expatriates; apparently there were enough of them living in L.A. to have formed a sort of club. Mr. D'Amato was not quite a nobleman, but close enough, a wealthy executive for an international banking firm who had been stationed in L.A. for three years. He was homesick and longed to return to his home country, but his requests to be transferred had so far been denied, which perhaps accounted for his rude behavior, although it didn't excuse it, at least in Leon's opinion.
Mrs. D'Amato was very nice, though, and was growing more and more concerned about her husband. She said that he kept complaining that the city smelled terrible and had become almost obsessed about it. He had even dismissed all their servants, believing that they were somehow bringing the stench of the city into the house with them. But he was happy that his daughter seemed to be coming out of her shell, thanks to the Plant Doll, Mrs. D'Amato hastened to assure them. And she had persuaded him to see a doctor about his "affliction"; Leon assumed that she meant a shrink, although she didn't say so specifically.
Leon was not reassured, however. "I'm worried about that guy," he told Daiki after Mrs. D'Amato left. "He sounds kind of unbalanced. I'd notify Child Protective Services, but what would I tell them, that the guy thinks that the city stinks? They'd think that I'm the one who needs to get my head examined!"
"Well, Mrs. D'Amato seems concerned as well, but I think that she fears more for her husband's well-being than Miss Sophia's or the doll's," Daiki said, although he looked a little worried, too. "He may be unbalanced, but there's no indication that he's dangerous."
"Yet," Leon said darkly, and decided to run a check on D'Amato's background. He wasn't just concerned about the man's recent obsession with the city's smell; he also wanted to look into D'Amato's past and find out how his first wife had died. It was only a hunch, but the daughter's extreme trauma could be a reaction to witnessing a violent death. And Leon certainly didn't want any murderers doing business with his son's shop.
***
D'Amato was unaware of the detective's investigation, but even if he had been, he would have been too preoccupied with his own problems to care. He knew that his wife was worried about him, and to pacify her, he went to see the doctor that she had recommended. The doctor did not seem too concerned, saying that he was just having trouble adapting to a foreign culture--as if he didn't already know that!
"But I wouldn't dwell on it too much," the doctor said dismissively. "You've merely become a bit oversensitive. Don't worry, you'll be well in no time."
D'Amato thought that all his problems would be solved if he could just return home to his own country. Three years was too long to live in exile, with the constant stench of the city in his nostrils. And if they could go home, surely that would speed his daughter's recovery. She could breathe in clean, fresh air instead of the filthy smog of this city, and she could make friends with children of the proper class and station. She was unable to attend school in her current condition, of course, but even before that, he'd had her tutored at home; the people who lived in this filthy city weren't fit companions for his daughter. His wife had said that perhaps Sophia was lonely, and it might help if she made some friends, which was partly why he had bought her the doll, since none of his fellow expatriates had children his daughter's age.
The thought of the doll made him almost as uneasy as the city's stench. He was glad that Sophia had begun to smile and laugh again, but it disturbed him profoundly to watch her play with the doll. She insisted on dressing the doll in outfits that matched her own, and even the doll's face was beginning to resemble Sophia's, perhaps because they spent so much time together. Or was it that Sophia was beginning to look like the doll...?
Still worrying about the doll's effect on his daughter, D'Amato arrived home after work. He sighed with relief, thankful to leave the city behind him for a few hours. His home was his sanctuary, decorated in the style of his homeland, and the windows were sealed up tight to keep out the stench of the city; an air conditioning system circulated pure, clean air throughout the house. The servants, who were local residents, had brought the smell of the city into the house with them, but now they were all gone, so the smell should have left with them.
Except that it hadn't. D'Amato went to greet his wife, and found her in the living room, playing cards with Sophia and the doll, the three of them sitting on the floor and giggling together. It made him smile at first, to see his wife and daughter getting along together like a real family, until he noticed the smell. His wife smiled and began prattling some nonsense to him about the doll and how Sophia had a secret name for her, but D'Amato paid no attention to her. All he could think of was that all the servants were gone, and there was no one here but himself, his wife, his daughter, and the doll, and yet the stink of the city still lingered in the house...
"Didn't you once tell me that this doll was like a perfumed sachet?" he asked slowly.
"Why yes," his wife replied, smiling up at him. "They say it's called a 'potpourri doll'. We give her a scent ball at every meal." She picked up a bottle filled with little colored balls. "See, aren't they pretty? Sophia seems to love this smell; she takes them herself." Mistaking the look on her husband's face, she hastily added, "Oh, the man at the shop said there's no harm in it. I started to take it, too, because I wanted to be part of the group. See? Our bodies have a nice fragrance from within!" She rose to her feet and reached out to him, laying a hand on his cheek. "What's the matter, dear? You're completely pale..."
"Stay..." D'Amato whispered, then pushed her away from him violently and shouted, "STAY AWAY!!" His wife flew backwards into a small table that held a teapot for Sophia's tea parties, and table, teapot, and wife all fell to the floor with a loud crash.
Sophia's eyes went wide with fear, and she began screaming over and over, "Aaah! Aaaah!" Meanwhile, the doll just stared silently at him with cold and blank eyes.
"What's...wrong?" D'Amato's wife whispered, staring up at him fearfully.
"This thing," D'Amato said angrily. "This doll!" It was the doll that had polluted his house with the stench of the city. He snatched it up and ran out of the house, intent on returning it to the shop. He ignored the sound of his wife screaming behind him, "WAIT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"
He threw the doll into the car and drove down to the Plant Dolls shop in Chinatown. He flung the doll down at the shopkeeper's feet, and the young blond man said in a tone of mild reproach, "I must say, this is extremely rough treatment." The doll remained silent, not even uttering a cry of pain or fear, and the shopkeeper gathered the girl up into his arms protectively.
"What's going on?!" D'Amato demanded.
"To what might you be referring?" the shopkeeper asked.
"Don't play dumb with me!" D'Amato snapped. "It's that smell!"
"Was it not to your liking?" the shopkeeper asked, and the tone of his voice, mild and reasonable, as if trying to calm an unruly child, infuriated D'Amato. Everyone acted as if he was going crazy...and then he began to worry that maybe they were right, and he really was losing his mind.
"What's going on?" D'Amato cried. "Why is this happening? Why am I the only one feeling this discomfort, this nauseating..."
"Oh, is that so?" the shopkeeper asked, a gentle smile on his face. He set the doll down on a chair; she remained limp and passive. "That is very unfortunate. The doll that you bought is an extremely popular model. But if you wish to return her, we do accept trade-ins." He picked up one of those fancy placards that he used to write prices and receipts on, and began jotting down some figures. "Hmm...for a used model, it would have to be..."
"It's not about the money!" D'Amato shouted.
"Yes, that is true," the shopkeeper said quietly. "The problem seems to lie in you, my customer." Taken aback, D'Amato could only stare at him in silence. When he did not reply, the shopkeeper continued, "I may be able to offer some advice."
"It's none of your business!" D'Amato snapped, turning away, finding the steady golden gaze of the shopkeeper's eyes unnerving. He had the peculiar feeling that those eyes could see straight through into the darkest reaches of his soul, to the things that he kept hidden from his friends, his wife, even from himself...
"Sir, this girl--" the shopkeeper said anxiously as D'Amato headed for the door.
"I'm returning it! I don't even want to look at it!" D'Amato shouted, and he ran out of the store. He didn't care about the money, even though the doll had cost a small fortune. It was worth losing the money as long as he never had to look at the doll again. He never again wanted to see eyes as cold as that doll's...
Eyes as cold as his daughter's had been, ever since the death of her mother. He could still see her eyes, blank and empty, as if the horrific sight of her mother's body and the blood spilled across the floor had driven any trace of emotion out of her. But although her eyes had been blank and emotionless, she had kept screaming over and over again, "Aaah! Aaaah!"
The same way she had been screaming tonight when he had pushed his wife into the table.
***
Leon walked into the Plant Dolls shop, to find Daiki sitting in a chair, cradling Sophia D'Amato's doll in his arms. There was an empty hollowness in her eyes that Leon found disturbing; it didn't seem like the blank look of an unawakened doll, but more like the look that you often saw in the eyes of abused or neglected children--children who had seen so many terrible things that they just seemed to shut down emotionally.
Daiki did not seem to notice Leon at first, preoccupied with gently rocking the doll in his arms and crooning, "You poor thing. Now then, what should we do?"
"Daiki?" Leon said.
Daiki looked up and smiled at his father, looking relieved and worried at the same time. "Oh, Dad, I'm glad that you're here. I may require your services, although I hope that it won't come to that."
"I see that D'Amato was here," Leon said, frowning. "I stopped by tonight because I wanted to tell you what I found out about him. His first wife did die violently, but not quite in the way that I thought."
"He did not murder her, then?" Daiki asked, not sounding surprised.
"No," Leon replied. "She had an affair with another man a little over a year ago, and D'Amato found out about it. It seems like he wasn't so much angry because she was cheating on him, but because she was cheating on him with a local man, an L.A. resident." Leon rolled his eyes. "He probably wouldn't have minded so much if she had been fooling around with a fellow aristocrat-in-exile. Anyway, he was furious, and threatened to divorce her, and she killed herself in remorse--slit her wrists. The daughter was the one who found the body, and that seems to be what traumatized her. D'Amato remarried recently--to the second Mrs. D'Amato, the one we know. I spoke to some of their former servants, and they seem to think that while he genuinely loves his new wife, he was also hoping that having a normal family life would help Sophia recover. She was cold to the stepmother at first, but she seemed to warm up after they bought that doll. Only D'Amato started getting that weird obsession about the way the city smells, and he fired all the servants. I guess he returned the doll, too."
"No, he did not," Daiki said softly. "Although he thinks that he did."
"Huh?" a puzzled Leon asked.
***
"Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!"
D'Amato kept hearing his daughter's screams in his mind...and then he felt someone grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard.
"Get a hold of yourself!"
D'Amato looked up into his wife's frantic eyes; he had not remembered returning home, but he realized now that he was back in his own house. Sophia was still sitting on the floor screaming in a shrill monotone that was curiously emotionless, as if she were an automaton rather than a living girl. But the sight of him appearing to attack her stepmother must have re-traumatized her, driving her back into her catatonic state. Then he suddenly noticed that there was a bruise on his wife's cheek, and he said, "I'm sorry. It must've hurt when I--"
"Forget about that!" she said, still looking frantic. "Where is she?!"
"The doll?" D'Amato asked. "I returned it."
A look of horror, sorrow, and pity filled his wife's face, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, looking too overcome to speak.
"What?" D'Amato asked, confused by the strength of her emotions. He knew that she was fond of the doll, but he hadn't expected her to be that upset about him returning it.
She clasped his hand and said in a quiet, urgent voice, "Get a hold of yourself. The one you took was..." She choked up, tears filling her eyes, and it took her a moment to recover. "The one left here is..."
"Aaah! Aaah!" Sophia screamed in the background.
"...the doll!"
***
Back in the Plant Dolls shop, Daiki whispered to the girl in his arms, "Will your daddy come to his senses? Will he come to get you?"
"Daiki!" Leon gasped. "You mean to say, that's not the doll...it's the daughter?!"
"In his current troubled state, it seems that he has mistaken Sophia for the doll," Daiki said with what seemed to Leon to be remarkable calm, under the circumstances; it must be his kami blood. "Perhaps it is not so surprising. As she is now, Sophia is emotionless, as one might expect a doll to be."
"But the Plant Dolls are alive!" Leon said. "They smile and laugh like normal little girls. And Sophia has been emotionless ever since her mother's death; Mrs. D'Amato said so herself! Although she's supposed to have been getting better..."
Daiki smiled sadly at him. "If you were a parent, which girl would you rather believe was your daughter...the little girl who laughs and cries and even screams, or the one who stares at you blankly with cold, emotionless eyes?"
Sophia paid no attention to their conversation, as if she couldn't hear them; she seemed as lifeless as a plastic doll on a toy store shelf. Even the sleeping Plant Dolls in the shop seemed more alive than she did.
"Oh man," Leon groaned, running his hand through his hair in a distracted, slightly frazzled gesture. "You and D sure complicate my life with your shops!" Daiki gave him an apologetic smile. "All right," Leon sighed. "We'll have to contact Child Protective Services..."
"Could you wait a little longer, Dad?" Daiki asked. "Mr. D'Amato may still come to his senses..."
Leon frowned. "I think it's pretty clear now that this guy is emotionally disturbed. He abandoned his daughter--"
"She is safe here with us for now," Daiki pointed out. "Do you really think she would be better off in a foster home with strangers?"
Leon looked at the girl and sighed again. "No, but you can't keep her here forever, Dai. She's not a stray kitten or puppy."
"Just a little longer?" Daiki pleaded. "I think that Mr. D'Amato really does love his daughter. When he realizes what he's done, it might shock some sense into him and help him to get over the homesickness that he's allowed to fester into an obsession."
"And if it doesn't?" Leon asked skeptically.
"Even if her father isn't able to care for her, Sophia still has a mother," Daiki reminded him. "Mrs. D'Amato seems to sincerely care about Sophia as a daughter, even if they don't share the same blood."
Leon slowly nodded, thinking of how hard Mrs. D'Amato had been working to win her stepdaughter's trust, and how happy she had been just to see Sophia smile at her. "Well...I guess you're right. But shouldn't we call Mrs. D'Amato and explain what happened?"
"I think it is important for both Sophia's and Mr. D'Amato's sakes, that he return for her of his own free will," Daiki said gravely.
"I'd like a happy ending, too, Dai," Leon sighed. "But the guy seems pretty unhinged; I don't think that he's going to be able to get his act together anytime soon. As an officer of the law, I can't ignore an act of child abandonment. I'll give him another hour to get his butt back here, and then I have to call Mrs. D'Amato. And I may still have to call CPS; she may be a fit parent, but if he's a danger to the child and still living in the same house with them..."
"Then let us wait and see what happens," Daiki said. He continued to cradle Sophia in his arms, while Leon nervously paced back and forth. Then he went and made some tea, just to give himself something constructive to do, and tried to urge Sophia to drink a little, without much success.
Forty-five minutes later, the D'Amatos rushed into the shop, both looking pale and frightened, and in the husband's case, guilty. He was carrying the doll in his arms; she kept crying, "Aaah! Aaah!" But as soon as she saw Sophia, her eyes seemed to light up, filled with love and concern. D'Amato set her down on the floor and she ran over to Sophia and Daiki.
Daiki gently set Sophia down on the floor, and the doll flung her arms around her. The doll began to weep, tears sliding down her cheeks, and Sophia's dull, lifeless eyes gradually started to grow a little more alert. Very slowly and hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around the doll, returning the embrace.
"Is she all right?" Mrs. D'Amato asked tearfully.
"Well, physically she is fine," Daiki murmured. "However..."
Leon glowered fiercely at D'Amato, but the other man didn't seem to notice; all his attention was focused solely on his daughter. He stumbled forward and sank to his knees in front of Sophia and the doll. "I'm sorry, Sophia," he said, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry, for everything. Can you ever forgive me?"
Sophia just stared at him for a long moment, then took a step forward; the doll released her. She slowly reached up with her hand to touch her father's tear-streaked face. "Pa...pa...?" she said, her voice sounding slightly hoarse, as if rusty from disuse.
"Sophia!" he cried, sweeping her into his arms and hugging her tightly. Father and daughter clung to each other, both sobbing, but it seemed to be a cathartic release, of tears and emotions held in check for too many years.
Mrs. D'Amato was crying, too, but she was smiling. Daiki offered her a handkerchief, and she accepted it and thanked him, dabbing at her eyes. "The servants told me that he hasn't shed a tear since the day his first wife died," she said. "I guess that Sophia wasn't the only one who needed to be healed."
"I think that you helped them both to heal," Daiki said gently.
"Perhaps," Mrs. D'Amato said. "But I think it was mostly due to this little one here." She walked over and took the hand of the Plant Doll, who smiled up at her. She placed her free hand on her husband's shoulder, and he swept her and the doll into the embrace, the four of them laughing and weeping at the same time.
Leon allowed the D'Amatos to take their daughter home, but he checked up on them regularly to make sure that Sophia was living in a safe environment.
"He seems to be doing okay," Leon reported to Daiki later. "He's getting counseling, and so is Sophia, and that seems to be helping. He's hired back his servants, and he's less uptight than he used to be. Sophia still isn't talking much, but she's started speaking a few words, and she smiles and laughs and cries like a normal little girl should. If her recovery continues to go well, her parents will enroll her in school next year." Leon rolled his eyes slightly. "A fancy private school, of course, but at least she'll have a chance to make some friends besides Miss Plant Doll. Whose name is still a secret, by the way. Oh, and I promised Mrs. D'Amato that I'd pick up a jar of those scent balls for her."
"Of course," Daiki said with a smile, and fetched a jar for him. "The smell no longer bothers Mr. D'Amato?"
"No," Leon replied. "He says that it's strange, but now the smell seems sweet and pleasant. Guess it was all psychosomatic. The smell of the city doesn't nauseate him anymore, either, although D would probably agree with him that the city stinks." Leon grinned. "But I'm just an ignorant, uncouth American, so I'm used to it."
Daiki laughed. "Papa would say that all those years of smoking cigarettes has ruined your sense of smell."
"It's been years since I quit, but sometimes I still crave a smoke," Leon sighed wistfully. Instead, he accepted a cup of tea from Daiki. He hadn't really cared much for tea when he had first met D, but over the years he'd grown used to it, and now the taste of it was familiar and comforting because it reminded him of "home" and "family".
"Say, Daiki?" he asked, sipping at his tea. "I understand why Sophia shut down emotionally, but why did the doll respond that way, screaming when D'Amato pushed his wife?"
"Well, I have a theory," Daiki said thoughtfully. "I believe that Sophia and the doll formed such a close bond that the doll acted as a sort of channel or medium, if you will, to express the emotions that Sophia was unable to express herself. But it's only a theory." He smiled cheerily. "Of course, now that Sophia is doing well, the doll can return to being a simple friend and playmate. A Plant Doll is happiest when the ones that it loves are happy, too."
"Huh," Leon said, shaking his head. "A psychologist would have a field day with this! But I'm not sure that anyone would believe me if I tried to tell them what happened."
"It's just as well," Daiki said serenely. "It would be most inconvenient to have doctors and scholars interfering with business by pestering my dolls and my customers. I am a simple shopkeeper, after all."
Leon snorted and muttered under his breath, "Simple shopkeeper, my ass!" Daiki just smiled and pretended not to hear him.
***
A few months later, two detectives from San Francisco turned up at the station looking for Leon. When he saw what they had brought with them--a beautiful little girl with golden-brown hair and sky-blue eyes--he understood why. After they explained things to him, he said, "You came all this way just to deliver a doll?"
"Well, we couldn't exactly pack her in a box and mail her," the first detective said wryly.
Leon chuckled and said, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But if you'd called ahead of time, I could have spared you a trip. My brother lives in San Francisco, and you could have left the doll with him until my son had a chance to go pick her up. Or Chris could've brought her back himself; he comes to L.A. all the time, and he's due for another visit soon."
"Well, we needed to investigate as to whether a crime had been committed," the second detective said. "And besides, our mayor is a customer of your...er...of Count D."
Leon groaned, and the other detectives smiled. "He bought a kitten from the petshop the last time that he was in L.A., and it seems that he considers the Count a friend," the first detective said. "So we were ordered to personally deliver this doll to your son's shop."
So Leon drove them down to the shop, and the detectives returned the "stolen" doll to Daiki. The doll looked pale and unhappy, which was not surprising since her owner had just died, but she looked even lovelier than she had the last time Leon had seen her, despite the fact that she was wearing clean but plain and shabby-looking clothing instead of the silks and satins that the Plant Dolls usually wore.
"There was a letter left in that man's room," the first detective explained. "It stated that the doll should be returned here."
"Is that so...?" Daiki murmured.
"Was it stolen?" the detective asked. "There doesn't seem to be any report filed."
"He was good enough to purchase it," Daiki replied calmly.
"Really?" the detective exclaimed. "Where did he get the money?"
"There was a loan agreement made, but unfortunately I did not receive a single payment," Daiki said.
"Ah, is that right?" the detective asked. "Such misfortune. Even so, I guess that man still had a sliver of conscience, even if he didn't pay his debts."
"He was an extremely good man," Daiki said.
"Well, he was quite an unfortunate young man," the detective said. "I don't know if it was bad luck or what, but...he struggled hard, only to come down with a serious illness. He was fired from his job, too. So if it wasn't one thing, it was another."
The second detective added, "But it seems that for several months until his death, he worked hard and led a stable life."
"Yes, he must have been very happy," Daiki said, gazing down at the doll.
"Huh?" the detectives asked.
"I can tell clearly," Daiki said, smiling sadly. "The Plant Doll is not roughened at all. She must have been cared for with the utmost love."
"Truly beautiful, to be sure," the first detective said with a slightly regretful smile. "Even in shabby clothing. If we had enough money, we would want one ourselves. Well, we should be going. No need to drive us, Detective Orcot; we'll have lunch in Chinatown and then catch a cab to the airport."
Daiki said, "It's actually not about about money," but the detectives were already walking out the door and did not hear him. "Ah, well," he sighed, and turned to greet the doll, gently caressing her cheek. "Welcome back. You've come back looking even more beautiful."
The doll remained silent, but tears began to well in her eyes, and then they slowly overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. And as the tears fell from her face, they slowly hardened and crystalized into tiny pearl-like spheres that were a pale, shimmering blue, the same color as her eyes...
Leon gasped; the little blue gems were more beautiful than any he had ever seen, including the rubies and diamonds and sapphires in the jewelry store where Snow White's owner worked.
"Ah, how sublime, this blue like the sky," Daiki whispered, catching the tears in his hand as they fell. He turned towards Leon, smiling sadly. "These are the fabled 'Tears of Heaven' that my other customer was seeking. They are extremely rare, because only a doll raised with the utmost love can produce them, and of course, no one wants to make the one that they love cry."
"They're beautiful," Leon said, in a soft, subdued voice. "But heartbreakingly so. Maybe it's because I know how they were created, but I don't think that I could look at them without feeling sad."
"As Ten-chan would say, you are a softie, after all, Dad," Daiki said with an affectionate smile, although his eyes were still filled with sorrow for the doll.
"Little brat," Leon said, fondly ruffling his son's hair. After a couple of minutes, the doll stopped crying, and Daiki put the tears into a little velvet bag and locked them away. Leon knew without asking that he wouldn't sell them to the jewelry store, even though the tears were probably worth even more than the doll; it just didn't seem right somehow, to make a profit off the poor doll's unhappiness.
"Poor little thing," Leon said. "What will happen to her? Didn't you say that the dolls will wilt if they're unhappy?"
Daiki nodded. "Yes, but I will attempt to put her into hibernation, and perhaps someday another customer will come along who will awaken her from her slumber and help mend her broken heart." He warmed a cup of milk, stirring in a packet of herbs, then held the cup to the doll's lips. She refused to drink at first, but Daiki said gently, "Please drink this, little one. It will help you to rest and ease your pain. That young man who loved you so much would not want you to wither away and die." Reluctantly, the doll took the cup from him and drank it all down, then immediately fell into a deep slumber.
Daiki laid her down on a little couch in the back of the shop, and covered her with a blanket. "Sleep, my little beauty," he whispered tenderly, "until your prince arrives to awaken you."
***
Afterword: the "Potpourri Doll" chapter in the Dolls manga ends with the scene where the shopkeeper asks, "Will your daddy come to his senses? Will he come to get you...?" Some of the Dolls stories have sad or bittersweet endings, but this one in particular had an eerie, Petshop-like vibe and it really creeped me out the first time that I read it. I kept wondering if the father ever went back to the shop for his daughter. I thought that he probably did, or at least, the stepmother would have gone to get her, but the story is left hanging, giving it an air of uncertainty. So anyway, I created my own ending for the story, although it probably would have been more interesting if she remained at the shop, but I'm a sucker for happy endings. In a way, it makes me think of the Petshop story "Desire," where the selfish pet owner Maggie nearly gets turned into a stray dog herself.
Part 12