Schizo: And now I update this little story. Alright. SO, since I have so much in store for you all, I’m going to tell you a few things: I practically have the rest of this story laid out except for the chapter (you’ll learn about that when we get there…) and I also have to warn you that since there is so much in my head, I have to really detail everything out.

That means two things: One: Many chapters to come. And Two: This chapter might feel like a filler chapter, but it is actually crucial…

Anyways, this chapter has fluff, fillerness, fighting, emotional development, flirting, and old technology.

OH! And I posted some fanart on my blog, which is on my profile. Oh. And I, uh, actually made a profile as some people have asked (for some odd reason…) with all sorts of crap you guys don’t really need to know about me. You’ll see just how “weird” I am, I guess.

NOTE: I recommend everyone read Chapter 14 before reading this chapter, unless you all just are so amazing and remember every word I write, despite my last update being… like… 11 months ago. Seriously, even I had to read the last chapter over and I write this. But also, this chapter ties in heavily with the last, so you guys might just want to know what is going on… That’s all.

OH! AND OH MY GOD, you all have to read It’s the voices’ fault’s SATOSHIxTAKESHI story, Dangerous Interview. Do it. Do it now. NOW.

(And no, she didn’t compel me to promote it. I’m just that damned excited there’s another story out there… XD Now read it!—After mine.)

Commence to the reading!

I do not own D N Angel, but I do my research well.

Keiji

“Sir… I don’t know how else to put this, but…”

“But what, Funi-kun?”

“Sir,” Funabashi sighed and then cleared his throat before he said, “I’ve been… kidnapped.”

My eyes widened, wider than they normally are, which is pretty wide. I believe even the twin-girl realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Usually when a kidnapping occurred, the fools normally kidnapped my father or some leader in the business to threaten me. It never worked.

My mother hates it when people kidnap her sex slaves.

She gets… testy.

“Saga-sama?” The twin-girl spoke, “Is everything alright?”

“Shush, twinling,” I commanded. Diverting my attention to more important people, I simply asked, “Well, Funi-kun, where are you? You’re such a bother with this kidnapping of yourself.”

“Sir, I don’t know where I am.”

“How could you not know?—Oh, did they blind you?”

“It’s some girl, this girl kidnapped me and I just managed to get a hold of my cell phone. It’s dark—I—I think I’m in a basement.”

I rolled my eyes, “Of course she’s going to hide you in a basement, Funi-kun. You’re being held hostage. She is not planning on revealing you to the public.”

“Stop taking this so lightly, you idiot! I don’t know where I am! I’m tied up and cold and it’s dark and oh God, I think the girl is going to kill me. What did you do?”

“Calm down, Funi-kun. I will find you and everything will be just fine, alright, sweetie?” I cooed, trying to ease his little ears. “And then after I come pick you up, we’ll go out to an ice cream parlor and get you one of those sundaes.”

“I don’t want a sundae, you psycho! I want to get out of here! How can you think of a damn ice cream treat over me?”

“I’m thinking of having it with you when I come rescue you. See, Funi-kun. Remember that one day when you said I was the bane of your existence and you would never need me? Well, look at you now.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“I’ll come as fast as I can, Funi-kun. And—wait, didn’t you say you were tied up?”

“Yes.”

“Then how are you using your cell phone?”

“My teeth.”

“Ooooh…! Funi-kun, I knew that mouth of yours was amazing.”

“Sir.”

Sighing, I asked, “Can you see anything remotely odd around you?”

“Um, no.”

“Try. See the shadows.”

“Um… I think there’s a mirror. I don’t know, but I think so. It’s fairly large, to the ceiling.”

“Thank you, Funi-kun. Now, if they try to rape you, the best thing to do is flop like a fish, scream ‘macaroni and cheese’ multiple times, and jerk your body sharply. If they manage to get a hold of you and pin you down, do everything I taught you when I was in that jazz dance phase.”

“How is that going to help me?”

“You’d be surprised, Funi-kun.”

“Sir, please—please find me, I’ve never been so scared of my—”

The dial tone came on. Someone had turned it off.

“Saga-sama!” The twin-girl jumped back. “You dropped your phone. Is everything alright?”

“Little twinling,” I said. “I must… go.”

“Is there something wrong?”

I faced her, blankly staring at her features: average brown eyes with auburn hair, which was cut too short—and not in the quirky way. Her eyes winced slightly, worried, and her lips parted, baring some teeth that probably had braces on them years past.

“No, darling.” I smiled. “Everything is fine.”

“Well, if you have to go, that’s fine. We discussed the play. Is there anything you’d like to change?”

“No. It’s perfect.”

“Are you sure?”

I got up.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Goodbye, Saga-sama.”

“Goodbye.”

Now excuse me, all you stalkers inside my head, but I have to go kill a bitch now.

Takeshi

He had me pressed against the tiled wall adjacent to the shower head, where his hands gripped my thigh and the small of my back. With my right foot slipping down the wall of the tub, I stretched up slightly and leaned my head back while kissing Satoshi, who curved with me.

My hands were curiously fingering, like skipping, towards his neck. I didn’t clutch onto Satoshi, too hypnotized by his teasing suckle of my upper lip, pulling on it and repeating. Occasionally would my teeth graze over his bottom lip and I would shyly take a taste of him, never sure if tongue was acceptable just yet.

“Satoshi…” I whispered, leaning in further and gripping onto his shoulders for support.

He pulled me closer, intertwining the sweat from our bathed bodies together, and kissed me deeply. He stole the air from my mouth, but blew it back onto my neck, making me shudder. I really had no control over myself anywhere, with my feet scrunching up, rubbing his legs, slipping down and repeating the process. My hands were so indecisive—grip his neck, then his shoulders, rest on his chest, but slip down, twirl his hair, stop, cup his face, let go, don’t touch him all, touch him again. Evidently, Satoshi took it upon himself to simply grip my wrists and pin them back to the wall, pausing the kiss for a moment to regain our breaths.

“Always moving your hands,” he commented.

“I’m a writer,” I defended.

He laid his forehead onto my own, eyes peering down into mine, and said, “That’s no excuse.”

While I closed my eyes, he ghosted his lips over my cheek, left, kissing the corner of my eye and trailing down to my jaw. My shoulders hunched and I gasped, opening my eyes and meeting his. Our lips tantalized each other, just barely touching and creating a mist of hot air between us. Heated skin, eager breathing, moistened lips.

“Why do you do this to me?” He uttered, leaving my wrists and embracing me in his arms, to which I hugged his neck longingly and shrugged, just softly answering in return, “I don’t know.”

Like swans did we nuzzle each other, just wanting affectionate contact, almost needing it. At least, I did. I needed his touch, the reassurance of human compassion. It was more than a kiss; its emotional evolution was evidence all on its own, beginning as a fetish of heated abuse to a yearning of vulnerable insecurities.

Which is why it hurt to know that Satoshi was hiding his investigation from me.

“You’ve managed to become very important to me,” I confessed.

And not one second passed when he replied, “You are constantly in my thoughts.”

“Am I?”

“More or less, yes.” He kissed me. “And before you even dare, no. I don’t focus on your physique only.”

I laughed, teasing anyway, “Why do I highly doubt that, hmm?”

“Because you are vain when it comes to your beauty.”

“You know just as well as I do that I’m not,” I said, slipping from his embrace and turning off the shower.

He frowned at this, gripping my arm when I slid the peppermint striped shower curtains to the side to step outside of the shower. And before he ever let out a word, I looked over my shoulder and murmured, “Don’t you want to go back to the bedroom?”

“No.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“I was having a lovely chat with you in the shower.”

“Were you? Or were you just telling me what I want to hear?”

It was more than just a kiss and more than just words to me. What it was exactly I can’t describe, but it was something, something I valued. I was putting all of my trust in Satoshi, revealing sides of me even I barely knew (or did know)—and damn, was it frightening. It was hard, really.

“I don’t want this to be a waste of time,” I whispered. “I really don’t.”

“Is there something wrong?”

In a swift move, he had twirled me back into his hold and tilted my chin upwards to face him.

Honestly, I could never understand how people could just do this so easily, just “fall in love” and open themselves up to their lover as if some kind of present to them. How Daisuke and Gavin managed to do so always astounded me, seeing them pain for each other and love one another just so openly. So easily. So… naturally.

“I’m too scared to tell you everything,” I uttered.

He smiled, kissing me again.

“We don’t have to worry about that right now.”

“You sure?—because what if I can’t really open myself up to you enough or you can’t to me—or, what if… well,” I pleaded in my eyes as I asked, “you wouldn’t hide things from me, right?—things important, at least. Right?”

As expected, with a worried tone did he say, “Takeshi? Takeshi, what’s wrong? Why are you acting this way?”

“Because,” I stuttered, “I—I… I don’t know.”

I wanted him to tell me.

“I mean,” I tried to hint at it though. “It’s just, all day today you kept acting weird. You were taking notes down and sometimes ignoring me when I was speaking—and then the papers, and I didn’t read them, but…”

“Ah.” He understood some aspect of my concern. “It’s just a case.”

“I know, but… what kind of case? You never hide them from me, or you at least never refuse to show me things.”

“I never knew you were so deeply concerned with them.”

“I just…”

“It’s just another murder case.”

He lied to me.

“That’s all.”

“Nothing else?” Just please…

“Nothing else.”

And this is what I mean, how I could never understand how Gavin and Daisuke just fell into a carefree adventure of love. But I guess it makes sense for Satoshi and me, to just be too stubborn to come out and say it, to just have me tell him what’s on my mind and to have him tell me the truth—because that’s who we are, right?

We’re not that sweet couple who met by chance, who has this fairytale story, who has two loving parents each and a wonderful background to rely on. We’re a couple who formed out of an argument, who has to juggle romance and concern for our troubled friends, who don’t quite fit the norm of a typical family (an orphan and a kid who lost his mother) and who know the dangers of the world. In some aspect, it just makes absolutely perfect sense that Satoshi and I won’t tell each other everything… just yet.

For whatever reason, he’s hiding this case about Gavin from me and it’s fine for now. He will eventually tell me, when it’s time. And until then, I’ll just simply do my own investigating to keep sure he’s safe.

The cop protects the reporter and the reporter keeps track of everything.

It just makes sense.

“Okay.” I smiled.

Satoshi

Generally, when having to lie and keep secrets, I don’t necessarily feel any form of guilt, but well… in all retrospect, it was the first time I had to lie to Takeshi when being asked a question. This wasn’t a matter of choice. Things would not go smoothly if Takeshi got involved, not because of his curiosity and journalistic insistence, but because of the relationship we have.

Surely things would be horrible in my case if Kei figured out that I had a weakness so tangible, an easy distraction to warp my priorities. No, no. For Takeshi’s own safety, he would just have to be kept in the dark.

It still, however, was difficult to do, especially knowing the fragile integrity Takeshi had with people. Despite his cocky overture, he was a person of many secrets, thoughts that lingered in a realm not many bystanders witnessed. Perhaps the closest glimpse of how Takeshi’s mind worked lied subliminally in his writing, but even then… Takeshi chose his words wisely, and when he didn’t—when he stuttered—he would stop himself from finishing a sentence to regain control of what he said. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else, it was losing control over what he said.

And that was always frustrating…

“Okay,” he said, smirking. “But anyways, I don’t want to have a conversation bare-naked, Mister Hiwatari. I’d like to put on some clothes, if you don’t mind.”

…because when he did regain some control, he would change the subject.

“Alright.”

This would always cut me off from my observations, from discovering another small detail of his psyche. It had gotten to the point where I just wished I didn’t have such an immense interest in Takeshi as a person, that I simply resort back to the beginning of this relationship, where I just lusted after his body, was simply infatuated with just his body.

“Come with me,” he whispered, taking my hand and leading me back into the bedroom.

He was so open, yet so vague. One of those rare creatures in the world that could tell you a story worthy of a thousand pages without ever revealing a single gaze at his true thoughts. I disliked how I was forced to solve the enigma of who Takeshi is, especially when he seemed like a simple person at first impression.

He wants to be a journalist, loves writing thusly, and is outspoken.

But when getting to know him, it can be concluded to realize his passion for writing is based on the entire process of writing, and that Takeshi isn’t as outspoken as one would think. Many times, he would scribble furiously in his notepad in a shorthanded language only he could comprehend, or if he did write completely, he would take hours on ends to write a page. Each word had to be absolutely perfect. Each sentence had to say everything it was intended to say. Each paragraph had to be stylistically proportionate to its metaphorical meaning, whether it was to subtly explain psychological development or foreshadow future statements. Every single letter was chosen after careful thinking, thoughtful consideration, artistic self-examination, editorial perfectionism.

And if it wasn’t, he didn’t waste a second to throw it all away.

That was always something I never could quite understand.

Hours of hard work would be deleted, or crimpled, in nanoseconds—and most were decent pieces of writing, sometimes even wonderful, but somehow not in his head. And I can’t say it’s a self esteem issue on his literary skills because when he is satisfied with his work, he truly is. I don’t know how to explain it, honestly. He shares, primarily, his articles in the school newspaper, but he writes more than just articles.

Occasionally, not often, he does let me read some of his other works. He writes short stories, small logs, tiny observations, literary sketches—all revolving around the same theme of watching people, narrating their lives for them. Intrinsically, he would report every action, but in a poetic manner, words flowing across the page so naturally like… breathing.

“Deep in thought?” Takeshi said, donning a pair of plaid boxer-briefs.

“To be fair,”

“Hmm?”

“Would you tell me something important?”

To this, he smirked and nodded just before he pulled the collar of a faded orange tee over his head. After poking his arms through the sleeves and slipping his shirt down, he nodded again, “Yeah.”

A pause.

“I don’t know what I would have that’s actually important to tell you, but if it is, I will.”

“What you’re thinking,” I suggested.

He froze, facing the closet.

“What do you think of when we have sex?”

It had crossed my mind a couple of times, this question, and perhaps this wasn’t the best time to ask, but the deed had been done.

He laughed nervously and answered, “I don’t… do much thinking, Satoshi.”

“You have to.”

“Satoshi,” he turned to me, raising an eyebrow. “Honestly. Do you even hear what I say when we have sex? I wouldn’t call ‘fuck me, oh, fuck me more’ very eloquent.”

“Thinking and speaking are two different matters. I curse profusely when we have sex, if I even speak at all,” I looked away at that comment for a moment. “But, I do know what I think in the process.”

“Which is?”

Takeshi

Reluctantly, he answered, “I think about… how you feel, how you feel against me. I think about… how gorgeous you look.”

I blushed, making eye contact with him and stood there silently. Awkwardly, he went over to his underwear and pants, placing them on, and he picked up his belt to strap his pants in place. My eyes followed him, watching his every move because I didn’t know what to say really.

“Sometimes I think about the irony in this all,” he said, breaking the silence.

My fingers played with each other behind my back as I nodded, taking in his statement. I grinned shyly, but more admiringly, and leaned my weight on my left foot as my right just relaxed, bending at the knee just slightly.

“What irony?” I asked, playfully.

“I think you already know.” He buckled his belt. “Now, answer the question.”

Why did he care?

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I think about… um, well, how you feel inside of me.” I blushed. “Oh, do I really have to answer this question?”

Sternly, he answered, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I want to know. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

I sighed.

“Most of it is barbaric, you know… animalistic thoughts concentrating on the raw connection we have we each other, when you’re inside of me. I think about how your dick feels, how hard you thrust up inside of me, how… you kiss me.”

“How do I kiss you?”

“Satoshi,”

“Just answer.”

Groaning, I crossed my arms, but obeyed.

“Um, well… you usually kiss me softly, but sometimes you suck on my lips a little.”

“Do you like that?”

“…Yeah.” I nodded. “I like it a lot.”

“Do you want me to do that more?”

“No. I don’t want you thinking about how you’re going to kiss me. Listen,” I uncrossed my arms, maneuvering my hands as I spoke. “It’s not how you kiss me, it’s the way you do.”
“Wouldn’t that involve me knowing ho—”

“When we kiss, we’re not thinking about how we’re going to kiss each other. We just do. And it’s that raw passion we have that I love, that we’re just naturally… kissing.”

So natural.

“So,” He took a few steps towards me. “You lose your mind when we have sex?”

“Yeah. I don’t do much thinking. I told you.”

Pulling me into an embrace, he clarified, “I just simply wanted an explanation.”

Blushing, I apologized. He kissed me, whispering his casual forgiveness, and just held me in his arms. I shuddered, becoming overwhelmed by this. Oh, how was it possible that he could do this? He wasn’t so romantic; he didn’t murmur poetry or sing sonnets to me, but…

I buried my head into his chest, forming fists just below my jaw.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and I guess that was what made me scared, what made me shudder.

“Sometimes,” he whispered, “I think about how amazing you are.”

He was getting to know me.

Detective Saehara

“They’re together. I can feel it. I can feel it in my veins.”

Otonashi was in my room, and although I referred to him as Officer 424 during work hours, I always called him by his first name on my breaks. Known him since he was a teenager; he’s almost like a second son to me. So, obviously he was my only shoulder to rant on when it came to that damned Satoshi.

“You don’t know that, Chief.”

“I should check on them, see if he’s really there.”

“Why don’t you just simply call Takeshi?”

“And give that bastard Hiwatari a chance to escape? No. I’ll just drop by to see if everything is as it should be.”

“…But isn’t that immoral, Chief?” Otonashi scratched his head. He needed a haircut; he was getting too much of a shag. “You know, just doing that to your son, as if you don’t trust him.”

Very clearly, I said, “I don’t trust him.”

“…Oh.”

“Well, I do. I just don’t trust Takeshi when Hiwatari is around. He’s like poison to my boy, sinking his venom into my son’s virginal brain.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘virginal’…”

I glared.

“I’m just saying.”

I sipped my coffee from a mug Takeshi gave me some Father’s Days ago, a simple black mug that read: “The mystery has been solved: You’re the Greatest Dad in the World.” I don’t know where he found it, but I’ve used this mug almost every day. I say “almost” only because sometimes I end up using a handmade mug Takeshi made in the fourth grade. It’s a bit lumpy, but it does the job. Holds the liquid and has a handle.

“When are you going to go?” Otonashi asked.

“In a half hour. I have to fill out some papers first.”

“Alright.” He stood up from the seat across my desk suddenly, “Well! My break’s over, so I guess I better get back to work.”

I nodded, placing my coffee down on a coaster, and went to my paperwork after hearing the click of the door when Otonashi left.

Satoshi

On the bed now, I kneeled over him with my legs between his. Primarily, I leaned on my left hand whereas my other guided Takeshi’s face to my lips, in case he had forgotten where they were. His eyes were closed and his grip on my shoulders was delicate, lingering their fingertip touches on my skin.

Click.

“Okay, you two.”

In unison, both of our eyes widened at the sound of Otonashi’s voice—well, at the sound of any voice really. It was Takeshi who pulled from the kiss and called out, “Otonashi?”

“Yeah,” He appeared at Takeshi’s door, leaning against the doorframe. “Better put the rest of your clothes on, punks. Chief’s about to come here any moment to catch you.”

“Excuse me?”

Takeshi was appalled by this, as expected.

“He has this crazy idea that you two are together as we speak and about to have sex. Ain’t he just paranoid?” He pointed at us sarcastically. “I mean, what ever would give him such an idea?”

“Wait,” Takeshi squirmed from underneath and stood up. “He doesn’t trust me enough to be at home alone like he asked?”

“Clearly you aren’t, Takeshi. You’re in your freaking underwear while genius-boy over there has his shirt off.”

“That’s… That’s not the point. He doesn’t trust me?”

Otonashi shrugged, running a hand through his hair. With the same hand, he waved it away from him and said, “Listen. You haven’t exactly been obeying your father for the past few weeks, okay?”

“Only because he hates Satoshi—and, and it’s not fair that I get penalized for it.”

“He just wants his little Take-kuuuun to be safe.”

“And you?”

To speed up the process, Otonashi walked into the room, bended down to pick up my shirt and shoved it into my chest. Recovering from my delayed reaction, I quickly placed my shirt on while Otonashi answered Takeshi with a pair of pants from the closet.

“You’re like family, Takeshi. I know you want to be happy, but you should seriously get back to obeying your father. It’s not like he’s forbidding you to see Satoshi anymore, just… not when he isn’t around.”

“I should be able to see him whenever I want.”

“I realize that. I also realize that your father will only allow that if you seem like you’re obeying him, so… Satoshi, come on. We’re leaving.”

“You can’t just take him. He’s not a dog.”

“Oh, were you two having a moment? That sucks. Sorry for being so selfish and trying to rescue you so you two can have so many more moments. I’m lucky I got here before you two started having sex.”

“We weren’t going to have sex.”

Otonashi arched a brow.

“…because we already did.”

“And you wonder why your father doesn’t trust you anymore… so innocent, you are.”

And like a little brother to his older brother, Takeshi glared and huffed out, “I hate you sometimes. You and your sarcasm.”

“We are quite the couple, making love in front of everybody—sometimes we even have threesomes with Mockery.”

“Ugh! Get out of my room!”

Takeshi started shoving Otonashi, to which Otonashi laughed sadistically and headed for the doorway.

“Hey! Hey! Not without the Commander, okay? You know, I am trying to do you a favor here.”

Angrily pouting and furrowing his brows, Takeshi pointed outside his room, signaling Otonashi to close to the door to give us some privacy. Sighing, Otonashi obeyed. I, however, sat on the bed, trying to digest everything that just happened.

“Sorry, sometimes he can be a bit insistent.”

“All three of you are.”

He pouted, worried now.

“Enough of that,” I said, standing up and grabbing his waist to pull him closer. “It’s true.”

“I’m not that insistent.”

“Stop being insecure. Why do you worry so much?”

“I don’t know,” he mewled. “I’m paranoid.”

“Of?”

“I don’t know.” He groaned, “Oh… and that makes me even more paranoid.”

I chuckled. It was amusing to see the roles reverse just a tad, where I was a bit more carefree around him and he was the complete opposite. Oddly enough, though, he was cute when insecure and certainly sexy when he became submissive.

“Everything will be fine,” I cooed. “I’m not leaving.”

“Yes you are,” he pouted. “Oto-kun is taking you away from me. That bastard.”

“I meant figuratively, but alright. I don’t kno—”

He kissed me, hands cupping my face and with last-minute forcefulness. When we parted, he relaxed. He said, “I know,” and grinned, giddily kissing me repetitively.

“Mister Hiwatari cares about me,” he giggled.

“And I would hope you return the favor.”

He cocked his head to the side, curiously suggesting, “You know… You should come up with a nickname for me.”

“And what for?”

“Well, because I have one for you—two if you count ‘baby,’ but I don’t really like that one much.”

“Neither do I.”

He laughed.

“But yeah, come on, Satoshi. Call me something.”

“I don’t need to call you anything other than Takeshi.”

“But… my name is boring.”

“Your name is just fine.”

“I demand a nickname.” He softly gripped my shirt and pleaded, “Please?”

Rolling my eyes, I gave in, “I’ll think about it.”

“You know…”

“Hmm?”

“I like this side of you,” he flirted. “This manly, caring side of you.”

“Considering I’m the one on top, I would imagine I’d have to be.”

“Manly, manly Mister Hiwatar—”

“Hey, yo, lovebirds, I’m not kidding about Chief coming over, you know. Come on.”

“I… better go,” I said, opening the door.

Kissing him one more time, I uttered, “Goodbye.”

“See you later today?”

“Can’t.”

Perhaps it was the airy feeling in his tone, but I was somehow compelled to say, off a whim of teenaged ecstasy, “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” he breathed out, dreamily watching me leave. “That’s fine.”

“Take care.”

“You too.”

“Teenaged boys and their hormonal love fests,” Otonashi gripped my shoulders. “Come on.”

“Have you forgotten that I’m still your boss, Otonashi?”

“I can easily leave you here to die when Chief finds you, but hey… that’s your choice.”

It seems Otonashi, like Takeshi, is another protégé of Chief when it comes to blackmail. Damn all three of them.

“Hey,” Takeshi called. “I’ll be the one manipulating Satoshi to do things, okay?”

Seriously. Damn all three of them.

Gavin

Panting, we stood on opposite sides of the room. We were brutally screaming at each other, like the dysfunctional couple we were destined to be, shouting insults that cut deeply.

“You don’t even know what the relationship was like!”

“Of course I don’t,” I yelled back, “That’s in my future, the part of my life I never lived!”

“He was sweet and kind and brave—and all you do is complain about how perfect he is.”

“Only because I have to listen to you tell me all the damn time.”

In a bout of fury, he threw his alarm clock at me, ripping its cord from the electrical socket. I ducked, dodging the hit and listening to the sharp crack of the alarm clock colliding with the wall. Slightly frightened, I muttered, “Insane bitch.”

“Don’t think I won’t hurt you,” he hissed. “I don’t care if you have a broken arm anymore.”

“Can’t be that broken if it’s on a sling and not a cast.”

I guess the babe’s insanity was rubbing off of me because for some reason, in my twisted logic, I felt it appropriate to take off my sling, unbuckling the locks and pulling the strap over my head, and then throwing it on the floor while I stretched my right arm.

“If the broken arm is holding you back, babe, then I’ll just have to make it heal quicker, won’t I?”

Then the pain kicked in.

There’s a reason why people have to wear slings. Motherfucking arm was hurting so damn bad, but… whatever. I can suck it up.

“I bet Gavin wouldn’t have the balls to do this,” I snarled. “Hurts like a bitch, what the fuck ever, if it’ll shut you the hell up.”

His eyes widened as he took a few steps closer to me, “You crazy… Does—Doesn’t it hurt too much? No, stop that. Put it back on! You’ll make your arm worse.”

Daisuke tried to go for the sling, but I bent down and threw it out the window, which I didn’t even realize was open until I actually did the action. He cursed under his breath, clenched his fists, and glared at me, too angry to do much else. With a sneer, I waved with my right arm, but still winced at the pain. My body is still going to heal and now that I’m using my right arm, my lazy ass better get the memo to heal faster.

“He wouldn’t, would he?” I taunted.

“Because he’s smarter than that.”

“Babe, an injured arm still has to heal, sling or not.”

Throwing his arms up in the arm with his shout, he yelled, “But this is just stupid! You can seriously harm yourself if you don’t let your arm rest—and what if you accidentally fall on it and sprain or break it even more! You idiot! This isn’t ‘brave’, this is stupid!”

“Just fulfilling the role, babe.”

Angrily confused, he averted his eyebrows, implying for me to explain.

“Oh? Haven’t you realized? Yeah, babe. I mean, don’t you think it’s a bit much to constantly fight with me every day, never once giving me the chance to improve?”

“What are you talking about? You just refuse to improve.”

“No, I do try, but you get angry—or suspicious—whenever I do. Ain’t it just queer how you just won’t let me turn into your perfect little Gavin?”

“That’s… stupid. That’s just stupid to say. I wouldn—”

“You’re scared shitless at the fact that I could,” I inferred, “because in your mind, it is absolutely unfathomable for an asshole like me to turn into your sweet Gavin. You don’t want to fall in love with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Then what makes you want to still be with me?”

He didn’t respond.

I went on, “Or is it the fact that you, whether you like or not, are attracted by just how opposite we are?”

He looked away.

“He’s nice; I’m mean. He’s self-discovered; I’m jaded. He let you have everything you want.”

Daisuke looked back, waiting for the next juxtaposition.

“I show you how spoiled you are.”

Daisuke

Ugh! God, did I just want to… want to… I wanted to strangle him!

Every single damn day, I’ve had to be patronized, be insulted, be condemned for my love for him and now this? As if suddenly they’re enemies instead of the same freaking person. Of course. I got the evil twin of Gavin. I got the bad end of the stick.

I got an asshole.

“You know,” I growled. “You’re right. You’re right! I give up! You’re bad, he’s good. It’s the battle between the albinos.”

He smirked even more, and I stepped closer.

“Alright,” he huskily whispered. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m… I’m…”

Raising my hands, they shook heatedly near his neck. I wanted to do it, but I couldn’t. And yet, he leaned down to my ear and taunted, “Do it. Hit me. Choke me. I deserve it, don’t I?”

“Shut up.”

I grabbed his neck, he grabbed my waist. In a blurry fashion, we sharply turned around and he pinned me against the wall, just next to the window. It was me who kissed him, grabbing his cheekbones and digging my fingers into his skin, but it was him who squeezed my ass and pulled me closer, where there wasn’t even a single inch between us. If we could help it, we were going to morph into one body, damn it.

“You,” I gasped, biting his bottom lip, “bastard.”

He squeezed me harder, lifting me off the ground and sliding me higher on the wall, where my shirt scrunched up with me, baring my stomach. His nails grazed against my bare flesh, indenting it whenever he clutched onto me.

We were animals. We had turned into animals.

I couldn’t even breathe as I kissed—if you can even called desperately biting and sucking each other’s mouths “kissing”—him, passionately growling as we did. His breathing grew hard, puffing heated air onto my skin, making me sweat, making me gasp. I couldn’t even think, dipping my head back as his mouth sucked on my neck, his teeth harshly rubbing down it.

So this is what raw, passionate lust feels like.

“Does he bite you?”

“Not really,” I said hoarsely, engulfed by my rage. “Just kisses.”

He softly nibbled up my jaw to my ear, where he whispered, “Sucks for him then.”

“Oh…”

My skin was on fire, leaving heated prints after each grope. While my hands submissively fell to his chest, his snaked their way up to mine, arousing my nipples to erection and groping my skin, pulling and grabbing, rubbing and scratching. And with my feet trying to stay on the wall to help support him lifting me up, they positioned themselves far apart to keep a base.

“I bet,” he said, “you’ve never had it rough, huh?”

He grinded his groin against mine, triggering my hips to buck. I nodded in agreement, immediately kissing him, feeling him. This was new to me, to kiss Gavin while we were angry, to engage in something that dripped sex off each word hissed and snarled. Yet, as we grinded against each other, furiously leading ourselves into humping in midair, I just didn’t care.

“N…No,” I moaned, bouncing heavily with him. His erection thumped against me, my opening puckering and waiting for contact, but he didn’t even attempt to pull at my jeans.

By now, I’d have been penetrated.

But now, I was being teased.

“Oh,” I moaned. “Oh, what are you waiting for?”

“Like the feel of my cock getting hard for you, huh, babe?”

All I could concentrate on was his cock, pounding against me but not inside of me.

“Bastard!”

Lifting me off the wall, he threw me onto the bottom bunk. Before I could even register my fall, he had dived in between my legs, shadowing me with his body and pulling my shirt up in the process. I was playing victim for the moment, having his vampire motives control me, our bodies arching towards the ceiling and our heads digging into the mattress.

His tongue had shoved its way into my mouth, taking a dominant role in exploring me. I sucked on him, intertwining our saliva, biting his lips, screaming into his mouth. It was getting nasty and I wanted it harder. I wanted to feel his throbbing member pump inside me, just brutally fuck me. No. I didn’t want to make love because we weren’t in love. I wanted to fuck.

“Was Gavin gentle with you?”

I growled, “Stop talking.”

“Figured you’d like to be talked to in foreplay.”

“You take too long—talk too much.”

He laughed, “Well, aren’t you a little feisty one?”

A flicker of emotions ran through his face, as he curiously stared down to me and uttered, “Hmm… a sex kitten, huh?”

“Hey, Daisuke, I just saw this amaz—” My father interrupted himself, staring at our position. “—zing… Not even three days, guys? Not even three days go by since you leave the hospital and you two are already at it?”

Why me? Why am I always interrupted? Takeshi and Satoshi never complain about interrupted because they never are, but Gavin and me? I’m lucky if I can even get a freaking hour.

Okay, so I’m ranting, but I have the right.

“On the bright side,” Gavin perked up, standing on his knees, “my arm is healing!”

“…Where did your sling go, Gavin?”

“Out the window.”

“…How?”

“Threw it out.”

“Are you allowed to have your sling off?”

“Listening to doctor’s orders is overrated.”

Digesting the comment, my father turned on his heels and left my room (not really caring), before calling out, “No sex!”

“Well,” Gavin stood up. “That’s going to be a bitch.”

“Where… are you going?”

Already putting his gray vest on, he threw a black jacket at me. I took it on cue, slipping it on, and followed his downstairs, where we put our shoes on and left the house.

“Well?” I asked again.

“You’re giving me a tour.” He nudged me. “You know, the one I never got.”

Takeshi

They were gone.

I rushed back into my room, scrambling for a notebook and pen.

Found them.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Scribbling hard on a blank piece of notebook paper, I furiously made circles to get ink from the pen.

“Fuck, come on.”

Ink.

“Yes!”

Before I could forget, I wrote down everything that I remembered reading from Satoshi’s notes. I had to write this down before even considering doing anything or face not even having a base. I would have made a copy of the papers, but I simply wasn’t given enough time to sufficiently do so, so my memory would have to suffice. It’s a good thing reporters are required to have a good memory in worst case scenarios.

My notes were as following,

There aren’t any records in Japan or the US or anywhere that can prove that Mio Hio exists, or any matching pictures to her face.

“Kei is involved with her” and… something about Dark and Krad, who are in Tokyo.

“Argentine”

Daisuke and Gavin are involved (Hio wanted to murder Gavin)

I observed my notes. Alright.

None of this made sense.

“Maybe… I should make a chart. Yeah. Connections…” I wrote as I spoke. “Daisuke and Gavin have an automatic connection being boyfriends… and Satoshi too, but I’ll put him at the top since this is his case. Oh, but what about his father? Whatever, I’ll just put Kei next to Satoshi and make a line. Okay… And Hio is involved with him, so… there.”

Unsure of where to put Dark, Krad, and Argentine, I placed them off to the side of the chart with question marks next to their names. These were the key names I have to figure out in order to know what Satoshi was involving himself into.

“Oh…” I bit my lip.

Why did Satoshi have to meddle with cases on his own?

Ugh. No. No worrying. Now was time for investigating.

Journalistic investigating.

“I have to get to the library.”

Detective Saehara

“Takeshi?”

“DAD!”

I knew it. I knew I would find—

“Dad!” Takeshi rushed out of his room with his notepad and scurried over to me. “Dad, can you take me to the library, please? I need to go.”

“…Library?”

“Yeah. Please? I don’t want to ride my bike all the way over there and since you’re here, can you take me?”

“Why do you need to go to the library?”

He wasn’t with Satoshi. I… doubted my own son.

“I need to do some research,” he said eagerly, “Come on! The library will close in two hours!”
Nodding, I opened the door and followed Takeshi into the car. It’s been a long time since I’ve drove him somewhere, much less the library. Good grief… I used to drive him to the library practically everyday when he was a kid.

“Daddy! I wanna get a book on giraffes. Can I? Can I?”

“You should start reading chapter books, Take-kun. You read so much, you could.”

“Are there chapter books on giraffes, Daddy?”

I laughed, “There are chapter books on everything, Takeshi. Who knows? Maybe there is one, but if not… read some mysteries. You’d like those.”

Buckling my seatbelt, I asked, “What are you researching on?”

“Um,” He looked out the window. “I need to look at some newspaper archives.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, “I think I found a lead in a new article and I just need to do some research first. That sort of stuff. Solve a mystery and report about it.”

Grinning proudly, I said, “Okay, sounds good. Tell me how you do when you solve it.”

“Heh… alright.” He nodded, “Yeah. Sometimes you need detective skills to be a good reporter. They come hand in hand.”

“That’s good to hear… Hey, if you ever need help, just ask, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Takeshi

“Thanks for the ride, Dad! I’ll take the train home, alright?”

“Be careful!”

Waving while running into the library, I headed for the information desk, where an elderly librarian with strawberry blonde hair sat. Large purple-rimmed glasses magnified her eyes as she read off the computer screen to the person in front me.

“Well, sir, I can’t seem to find that book.”

“Oh… That’s okay.”

He turned around sharply and bumped into me.

“Oh! Sorry!—Saehara?”

“Hmm?” I picked up my notepad, since I dropped it, and looked up.

It was Hachiro Iwate, a guy I knew by name. I saw him in the hallways a couple of times and sometimes in lunch (we have the same lunch hour), and I knew him to be a shy person who hung out with a guy that’s in my English Language class, Itsuki Kagoshima. Some girls have a crush on him because Hachiro is known to be a gentleman—and the good looks don’t hurt either.

“Oh, hi Iwate-san.”

“Now, sir, I can order that book for you if you’d like?”

“Huh? Oh! Um, yes, please. I’d like that.”

Curious, I mused, “What book, Iwate?”

“Just an old samurai novel,” he blushed. “I like reading those.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” I said, poking his chest. “Hey, at least you’re not trying to find some erotica novels.”

Blushing even harder, he avoided my smirks and gave his library card to the elder woman, who was glaring at me, to place his order. Ah, society. So uptight. Can’t a boy joke about sex every now and then?

“And you?” The librarian asked after giving Hachiro his card back. “What would you like?”

“Right. Um…”

After excusing myself for a moment from Hachiro, I took a step in front of him to the desk. I noticed from the corner of my eye that he had decided to wait for my request, which I found sweet, and that he looked away so as to not eavesdrop on my conversation. I always wondered how the guy never managed to have a girlfriend, considering he had the manners of an angel.

I continued with my request anyway, “Yes. I’d like to have access to the newspaper archives, please, and use the microfilmer.”

“What type of medium, and card please?”

Handing her my library card, I answered, “Microfilm and microfiche.”

“You’ll have to use one at a time, but I’ll give you both keys. Is that fine?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Do you know how to use the microfilmer, sir?”

“Yeah, but could you tell me… is the archive room for the microfilm in alphabetical order or chronicle?”

“They are alphabetical under topics, so if you were to be searching for a newspaper article on the possibility of orangutan extinction, you might want to search under the topic of ‘Apes.’ However, if you find trouble, we have provided a machine in the archive room that enables you to type in what you are looking for and will provide you the appropriate section.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

While handing me the keys to the archive room and the microfilmer and my library card, she said, “The archive room is in the back on the far right.”

“Thank you so much.”

Hachiro skipped a step to catch up to me, trailing behind my shoulder as he observed the keys in my hand. A tad bit nervous to begin conversation, he didn’t speak and stuffed his hands in his pockets, strolling behind. I guess I couldn’t blame him for being unsure of what to say since we normally wouldn’t speak with each other.

“So,” he stuttered out. “So… what are the keys for?”

“The archive room,” I answered, playfully smiling at the fact that he tried to play it off as if he really didn’t eavesdrop on my conversation with the librarian.

“The library has an archive room?”

Amused by his shock, I shook my head yes. When it came to libraries, I knew every inch and foot of the places—or if not, what would be located in them and how to use every part of the equipment. Dad used to take me to the library all the time when I little, said he wanted me to get active in knowing how to research, read, and use the information properly. Naturally, when I discovered my newfound passion for journalism, going to the library was simply a way of life. I had to research for facts, be ahead of the game.

I’m a library nerd and I’m proud of it, damn it.

“Is this library special or…?”

“No. Most libraries have archives,” I answered. “Some are better than others, depending on what you want. Nowadays, since everything is going digital, libraries are putting all the archives on the computer—you can check their website.”

“…Libraries have websites?”

I chuckled.

“Yeah, Iwate. They’re hip and happening, yo, getting with the program and everything.”

“Wow.”

“So, if you want, you can look up a document on their website. However…” We turned the corner at the psychology section. I said, “Since there are so many documents in the world, this including every type of media, it’s going to take forever for all the documents to go digital.”

“Why are they doing that anyways?”

“Documents are beginning to decay now, and in order to preserve them—because the traditional microfilm can only last so long—we have to resort to making them all digital and save them that way.”

“Are there real documents in this library?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, reaching for the doorknob to the entrance of the archive room. “Real documents are generally in the National Libraries, where they can be highly protected. Most of the archives in this library will probably be copies, hence the microfilm.”

“What is microfilm?”

“Um,” I unlocked the door, entering myself in. “It’s kind of like regular film, but not quite. It’s not negatives, it’s just film that holds documents.”

Awkwardly, I had to excuse myself, “Iwate-san, I’m going to have to leave you for a moment. Only one person is allowed in the archive room at a time, so…”

“Oh, that’s okay. Do you…” He fiddled with his fingers as he spoke, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“If you want. I don’t mind if you leave.”

“I’ll be in the history section then.”

“Okay.”

As he proceeded to head for the World History section, I closed the door, heading for directional machine. Typically a computer, its monitor was half the size of an average one and the keyboard was the basic typewriting model. I typed in “Great Phantom Thief Dark” and waited for the topic results, which were “Crime: Wanted List: Thieves: Great Phantom Thief.”

Sliding my index finger down the room, I walked over to the Co-Cr section, finding the Crime section. Opening the filing cabinet, I skimmed through the large red dividers of each subcategory in the Crime section, locating the red divider titled “Wanted List.” Now browsing through the traditional manila dividers, I skimmed until I found the second subcategory, “Thieves.”

I pulled out the thin black box located in the category, taking it over to a small white table that stood up to my bellybutton. Taking the lid off the black box, I skimmed my fingers through the rolls and chips until I found a roll (with according chip) labeled “Great Phantom Thief.” I had found what I needed.

Because this was the newspaper archive room, I simply needed to glance at some newspapers of the past week that reported on Dark to see if perhaps there were any details about his person that could help me out. So with the roll in my hands, I walked to the far end of the room, where the microfilmer sat at a desk near the “Zu-Zy” section. Microfilm machines are old technology, dating as far back as the early 19th century, but the process of photocopying documents on film has been the best way to keep them and enable people to see the documents without harming them. Of course, as time grew on, the machines advanced and it’s more organized than before, but the concept remains the same.

This particular microfilmer was not the newest, made in 1999, and its large flat screen looked that of a typical television set but without the curved surface. Its monitor stood on top of the main tower, where a slot was for the rolls to be put in place. Considering microfilms are intended for viewing purposes and nothing more, only a few buttons on the bottom right-hand corner of the tower were available: four directional arrows and two zoom buttons.

I slipped in the microfilm roll after turning on the machine and waited from the menu to appear. A list of dates of all the recorded newspapers appeared; the newest articles on top. Clicking on a date, I began to read some newspaper articles. They all seemed to revolve around the same issue: that Dark had never been caught and had gotten away numerous times with his stolen art piece without punishment.

It always sparked curiosity as to why Dark always stole art. He never really stole jewels or money, just art and maybe an occasional artifact here and there. Granted, he was known to be an art thief, but with his skills… why wouldn’t he go for even more valuable items?

I came across the headline: PHANTOM THIEF RETURNS!

It was November 11, 2004. Odd. That was Daisuke’s birthday.

“After forty years, there is a new Phantom Thief in Japan,” is what the lead of the article stated, detailing how Dark must have been an apprentice to the previous Phantom Thief.

“But…” I murmured to myself, “Why after forty years? That’s too long to be training someone.”

Returning back to the menu of article dates, I noticed newspaper articles dating back to the 1960s—and the 1920s—and the mid-1880s. Curiously, I read those copies of the newspapers, glancing over to the pictures, all featuring men that looked oddly too much alike. In fact, they all looked the same. It wasn’t as if they were perfect face-on shots, but even with the multiple angels, people can only look so similar.

Each picture featured purple hair, fine chin and nose, identical physique, and if there were eyes, all were purple. I’m sorry, but even if this were a family of thieves, hereditary genes can only be passed down so many times. Descendents are not identical to their ancestors.

Taking out the microfilm, I popped in the microfiche chips to get a closer look at Dark and “previous” Phantom Thieves faces.

“Oh my… God,” I uttered, staring at the same man over and over despite decade changes. Perhaps his hairstyle changed slightly over time, but it was the same person alright: Dark Mousy. Somehow newspapers hadn’t caught the fact that the same person was stealing artwork every forty-some years.

“How the hell…?”

I took out my notebook, jotting this down.

Dark Mousy appears every generation and continues to steal artwork—not caught in thieving or phenomenon. Immortal? Magic? How is this possible?

There wasn’t really much else to the information I found besides this unbelievable pattern of reoccurrences. So, I put the microfilm and microfiche chips away, pondering over how to approach this case. Who was I going to talk to? How was I even going to figure out the missing gaps, who people were?

Looking at my notepad, which on the first page I wrote down the names I needed to find information on, I noticed Gavin’s name. The thought came and it sounded cruel, but I didn’t have much of a choice. With Gavin having amnesia, he would be an easy interview to gain information from if I told him I knew some things already, but wanted to learn what Daisuke told him. The only risk would be not being able to lie about knowing “things,” whatever I was going to pretend to know.

Crap.

“Whatever,” I muttered, leaving the archive room. “I have to do it, so might as well gamble with fate. It’s what reporters have to do to get the facts.”

I sighed.

I was getting myself into some serious shit, wasn’t I?

…but this is pretty awesome…

“You done?”

Hachiro

He jumped, spooked from the sudden voice, but calmed down quickly and smiled softly. With a soft tone, he replied, “Yeah. I’m going to go home now, though.”

“Oh,” I fiddled with my fingers behind my back. “Where… do you live?”

“Pretty far from here. I’m going to have to catch a train.”

“Do you want a ride?” I offered, “I have a car, so… I could take you home if you’d like.”

Beaming at the favor, he grinned wider as he gasped gleefully, “Thanks, Iwate! Sure, I’d love that.”

“Okay.” I tried not to blush, but thumbed behind me, “I guess… we should go then.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I’ve never been much of a talker, but around Takeshi Saehara, I’m even worse. Last year (the second semester) we used to have Chemistry together, but I would usually sit in the back, so he never actually… saw me. Even so, he partnered up with Daisuke Niwa every time we had to perform a lab experiment. It always seemed to be an unspoken battle between those two on who could ruin the experiment first: Daisuke’s clumsiness and Takeshi’s irrational logic. One time he attempted to mix chloride and methyl alcohol in a tin pot—and then light it, believing it would create a firework-like sequence. Instead of fireworks, Takeshi received hurtling fireballs, to which Daisuke tripped, tipping the tin pot over and shooting fireballs at everyone in the class.

People could have died that day…

I usually would catch Takeshi in the halls, but I never could muster up the strength to greet him, despite wanting to. He was an outgoing, friendly guy, but it was hard to talk to him when people kept trying to get his attention. And now most of his attention was on Satoshi Hiwatari.

I don’t understand that.

“So,” I opened the door for him, causing him to blush as he took a seat and whispered his thank-you. After closing the door, I went over to my side of the car and entered, buckling my seatbelt in place once shutting the door. I said, “I saw you with Hiwatari today.”

“You did? Where?”

“Before school, by a tree.”

“Oh. Yeah,” He absentmindedly scratched behind his ear. “We’re dating.”

“Really.” I wasn’t really surprised by this, considering Itsuki kept gossiping about it. Yet, a gentleman should never criticize a person’s lover. “When did you start dating?”

He fidgeted in his seat.

“During the field trip.”

“Ah, so not so long ago—oh, wait, didn’t the accident happen to Ravencroth then?”

“Yeah…”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine. He’s doing fine, just… Well, he’s just trying to remember things.”

I started the car, backing out of the parking lot, and started driving onto the road.

“So why Hiwatari, huh?” I paused, regretting my question. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“It’s okay.” He nudged my shoulder, “Stop being so nervous, Iwate-san.”

“…Sorry,” I muttered.

“I just like him. I like being around him.”

“You two are very different though.”

“I guess, but since when did that stop attraction?” He sighed, “I know people don’t really understand why I would ‘fall for such a bastard,’ but… he’s actually really nice and very interesting.”

I shrugged, “I can’t really say. He’s always reading whenever I see him.”

“He’s not much of a talker outside of his group of people.”

“It’s just a little odd to others, I suppose. A social butterfly dating a loner, that is.”

And it was odd. Other than a few moments, it was rare to see Takeshi and Satoshi speaking to one another in school. I suppose it was the complete opposite outside of school hours, but to everyone else who only witnessed them in school, it was a shocker. Even more especially when in past years, it was known that Satoshi would criticize some of Takeshi’s newspaper articles.

“I don’t mind,” he said.

“I’ve heard some guys are pretty upset.”

“Oh? Why?”

Slightly embarrassed to be the messenger, I told him, “You’ve grown differently, Saehara.”

“Hmm?”

“Last year you looked a little awkward, but this year…”

Genuinely confused by my point, he pushed further, “This year I look… what?”

“Sexy,” I said quickly, keeping my eyes locked on the road.

Blushing, he murmured a soft “oh” and fidgeted a little bit more in his seat, sitting on top of his hands. Despite the awkward tension in the car, it was true. Last year, Takeshi was a bit of an odd person to gaze at, his physique a bit too skinny and lanky. His notorious fang was first known to look creepy because his face was boney, and since Takeshi slept late at night (always writing articles in the evening), dark circles formed around his eyes. He wasn’t short, but he wasn’t tall either. Takeshi was simply an odd-looking goose.

It was then that Takeshi started to realize he was a bit too skinny and thus started to eat more filling food, experimenting with some cooking dishes, which he boasted that his father most enjoyed this change. He always had a reputation for being a good cook, but too lazy. Now, he had grown almost a small passion with preparing food. And so, it was common then to start seeing Takeshi snack around to fill himself in.

What the result was a very… satisfying.

Takeshi plumped up slightly, forming thicker limbs and a rounder face, which complimented him finely. Instead of paling down, he had a soft tan. And instead of his fang disturbing people, it came to be a seducing member of his mouth, in which he had a habit of licking it when intrigued—very sexually…

Takeshi, whether this was his intention or not, had shaped his body into one that could force a boy to question his sexuality.

“And now,” I timidly broke the silence, “since you’re so confident and all, some guys just wish they weren’t so late to notice.”

He blushed.

“It’s the ass, isn’t it?”

My eyes widened.

“My ass got juicy—all those muffins, I tell you. Oh, and having to climb trees all the time when investigating. Shaped it out nicely,” he laughed, teasing himself. “Satoshi tells me it’s a nice feature.”

Yeah. Guys stared at his behind a lot.

A. Lot.

“I find it weird that guys think I’m sexy though. I’m, like, always trying to find a lead and scribbling down notes. Oh yeah, I’m a sexpot.”

“You do more than that,” I defended.

“Okay, maybe they find my cooking skills sexy, but there are plenty of girls that can cook.”

“It’s not that… There are reasons.”

He turned to me, flirtatiously smirking, and asked, “Iwate-san… Do you find me sexy?”

“Um,” My face flushed as I stuttered, “Uh, well, it’s um, I…”

“Oh! That’s my house right over there!”

Thankful at the perfect timing, I pulled over in front of his house.

“Thanks so much for the ride, Iwate-san!” Takeshi got out of the car, but leaned down before closing the door. “And it’s okay if you think I’m sexy. I won’t tell Satoshi.”

Closing the door, he waved and turned around, swaying his hips gently as he walked to his front door. Before entering his house, he faced me again and yelled, “Goodbye!”

“Goo—Goodbye, Saehara!”

He shut the door behind him.

I drove off.

Schizo: Now, if anyone goes off to the library and tries to use a microfilmer but the library doesn’t have them, that’s not my fault. Thought I should protect myself before anything like that comes back to me… Anyways, there was more to this chapter, but I wanted to stop writing and work on some other things I want to have you guys read.

Next chapter will feature: Gavin and Dai’s walk, Satoshi’s phone call, more of Takeshi sneaking around, Keiji madness, Funabashi victim-ness, and other crazy shit.

Review Columnist Thingy:

(like “There’s a Catch,” you might want to read your reviews over or skip this)
(names might be outdated, but again… my wont for hurried posting when it’s time to post prevails over correcting names…)

KireiRakuen: Haha. Yeah. Phone sex is just mandatory when it comes to good relationships. Satoshi, that sexy devil, him…

lovinbishiboysanyaoi: Takeshi and Satoshi will always be sexy together. Haha, interesting apathy towards Gavin and Daisuke. And well, go read It’s the voices’ fault’s story for TakexSato if you so desire!

Hyper Chef: Well, if you’re new to opera, just start with the classics. Anything by the Three Tenors and such. However, I highly recommend Andrea Bocelli if you want some amazing romantic Spanish opera. He makes me swoon…

ToastedBread: I’m sorry for tricking you! I honestly didn’t mean it!—O…Okay, I did, but still. I like both “sexy” and “cute” guys, but I get what you mean. Sexy guys can sometimes be too brooding or cocky…

Disco-Dancing on the Roof: …If ff(dot)net did mess with me by not sending me your review, then I shall forever scorn them…

Halo Sora: Thank you! Yes… I just absolutely swoon over Andrea Bocelli!

Shadow Vampiress: Haha. Thanks. I’m still learning, still experimenting and dabbling with my lemons and trying to perfect it, so I don’t mind that people are above me. I just look forward to improving (and also, all the amazing sex XD)

Angel Born of Darkness: Keiji is about to go nuts, that’s what…O.o

schizo and proud: Schizo? You signed on and reviewed? Come on, woman… Have some class and sign anonymously or something… You silly goose.

U.123: Need not fear! Dai and Gav will get it on soon! I don’t know how soon, but soon! They will! And I fulfilled a little of your wish with reminding Gavin of Dai’s little nickname. And no, that was a bluff… There are no cameras in Takeshi’s room.

I can smell noodles. I am so hungry right now…

Cheers -Steph