Disclaimer: I don't own Nightmare Inspector, or any characters therein.

A/N: When the NI fanfiction archive hits 10, I will be happy. Oh, and I would very much like to thank Kirakishou/Alice-san for your reviews-thank you very much. ^^

Whispers of Abnormality

~.~

Things are normal most of the time.

The Silver Star Tea House does as well as it ever has, with customers passing in and out through the day to drink Mizuki's perfected tea and coffee. With the exception of the old nighttime patrons, that much hasn't changed.

Hifumi, despite his new job as a Silver Star waiter, still finds time to goof off and make ever more creative advances on the object of his eager affection. His smile rarely fades, and that is no different than it used to be.

Mizuki goes about her day making her usual caffeinated drinks, smiling at customers and acting like the polite young lady that she is. Her routine goes on without a hitch, which satisfies her; day after day, that routine shifts not a bit.

Yes, things are normal most of the time.

But there are things-small things, things that would be imperceptible to almost anyone else-that have changed. Whispers of abnormality; differences just noticeable enough to catch her attention and make her take notice.

Every day, when dusk falls and the sky goes from rose to smoky purple, she means to close the doors and lock them. This is a perfectly unremarkable segment of routine for most shop owners, but Mizuki tends to forget. It is only when she sees Hifumi quietly take care of it for her that she remembers: There is no working baku here anymore; no reason for people to visit after dark, seeking solace from their nightmares.

Every day, after the trickle of patrons slows to nothing and the teahouse's doors are closed, she goes behind the formerly locked door to visit her brother. Azusa is as reclusive as ever, occasionally leaving the teahouse at night to find and eat his required sustenance. He refuses to offer the same services of his past 'shift' as baku, the services that Hiruko offered as well; he will devour nightmares on his own terms. He is kind to Mizuki, albeit tired-seeming, and she is glad to have him near again, even if he can't taste her coffee. Yet it is unusual for her not to shudder and bow her head whenever she passes the door, unusual that she can see and touch her brother whenever she wishes.

Every day, she sees the chair, sitting at its unassuming wooden table, and it strikes her with recurring force that it is, indeed, empty. Nobody sits there anymore-nobody she really cares about, anyway-not Azusa, not Hiruko, not anyone. Hifumi never sits there, as if the chair is a holy shrine not to be desecrated. It is out of respect, she knows, and she appreciates it. Many customers have entered and seated themselves right on said chair, without a care in the world, and Mizuki feels her throat tighten. She wants to scream-never mind how unladylike it would be-at them to get off, get out, because that chair belongs to—but no, she doesn't, she bites her tongue; because regardless of whether she can get used to it or not, that chair belongs to nobody now.

Sometimes, she feels a sensation that she cannot explain. It comes in different forms. Sometimes, she has the notion that a pair of striking blue-violet eyes are resting their gaze on her back. Sometimes, she'll be making herself some tea during a slow day, and feel warm breath on the back of her neck. Sometimes, Hifumi will do or say something ridiculous, and she'll hear a dry chuckle, an almost-laugh; she thinks she hears these things, but she can't be sure.

Sometimes, Mizuki will feel a very slight pressure on the top of her head, as if someone is placing a hand there; and she'll feel warm at the thought of long pale fingers nestling themselves in her hair, but then it will be gone.

And she'll shiver, just a little, and wonder just when these things will cease to become abnormal to her.

~Owari