Standard disclaimers apply.

Iraya was a lanky kid that wore thick glasses and moved awkwardly. The nut was from some farm in Hokkaido and planned to go back there once he was done, so why he was studying Actuarial Science I had no idea. Rose was a freckled crackhead from the Wakayama Prefecture and spoke Kansai-ben in all its glory; she didn't even bother finishing high school. Everything about those two clashed – imagine a Q-tip marrying a cow. It's irksome even if they are matched in size – just why are they together? It makes no sense.

"That's cuz we complement each other, ya crazy sonova bitch."

…The hell was that?

"That's said crackhead cow stifling you in your sleep, aho."

I sighed (yes, even in my sleep) and sat up, pushing away the heavy pile of – looked like every piece of clothing I had in my closet. "Rose…" I stifled a yawn. "How did you get in?" I locked my doors at night. It was my innocenceat stake here, alright?

"Please," Rose snorted. "That piece-of-shit disguised as a lock? You might as well leave your door open."

True that. Rose was…multitalented. Can't be blamed, really. She was abandoned at birth and grew up being kicked around in run-down orphanages; rumors had it that she wasn't even Japanese, that her parents were illegal immigrants from China. Shina pigs, we used to call those guys, back in our snobby private schools, and the local kids must've had something to the same effect. Girl had to fend for herself somehow, I suppose, and I'm sure her life was harder than what she had let me on.

I flopped back on my bed. "Whatever. What's up?" Usually Iraya's door was preferred over mine.

"Iraya wants you up. Says you got morning classes."

Ugh, Iraya. "Where is he?"

Rose gave out a goose bump-inducing, and strangely suggestive, giggle. "He's out still."

"Fancy that." I had a feeling that Rose knew that I knew about their nightly…activities. I did hack into the Police Department Databases occasionally; I dare say the patterns get pretty obvious when one of the persons-in-question lived with you, and the other made a routine out of crashing your place. As I understood it, the pair worked to make evidences available for stalled cases in subtle, suggestive, and largely illegitimate ways, and I be damned if they didn't also occasionally make them up. It was expected of Rose: the girl held a near-personal grudge against injustices of the world. Never saw it in Iraya though, the awkward farm boy. "Tell him I'm ditching."

"No you ain't," Rose gave me an I'm-warning-you look. "Last night was tricky. Get your ass to school so they find you where you're supposed to be!"

–At that time I had assumed that Rose was using the generic "they", referring to anyone and no-one, and by "tricky" she had meant "tricky to us but none of your sorry-ass business," complete with her cocky-ass attitude and everything. I was wrong.


I was found "where I was supposed to be," that's for sure. I was napping in the back row of the lecture hall when the police car whee-whoo'd onto campus. I was cuffed and taken away in no time, and spent two nights in a jail cell. Rose really did a number on us this time.