Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket. AND Yuki is now a female.
The detectives circled the table like ravenous crows. Their clenched fists and scowling faces exposed their impatience towards the man sitting quietly at the table. The detective with the balding head and grey speckled mustache suddenly slammed his fist on the table, apparently tired of waiting.
"Where the hell is the money you bastard?!"
The sudden display of temper made the man at the interrogation table jump slightly. He wasn't used to people lashing out at him, usually it was the other way around.
The other detective, Marcus, looked down at the man from where he stood. He put up one hand to calm his partner, though it did little good, the detective removed his clenched fist from the table and began pacing on the side. Marcus returned his gaze to the man at the table. He was normally the passive one, the reserved cop that noticed the little details that his partner overlooked. Marcus was the detective that helped put the puzzle together while his partner, Alfred, was the one that made things happen. He was the active, aggressive one while Marcus was the calm reasonable one. Although, today the man noticed that Marcus seemed less calm than usual, in fact he seemed rather angry.
But the man at the interrogation table was not indifferent to the change in Marcus. In fact, he seemed rather amused.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." The man at the table brought up his cuffed hands. "Been in prison, remember?"
The convict expected Alfred to explode again; instead it was Marcus who grabbed him by the collar of his jumpsuit and yanked him up off the rickety seat.
"Do I look stupid, you fucking bastard?" His voice was low, quiet with rage. Promising the convict violence should he give even the slightest movement to invite it.
The man, on the other hand, seemed unintimidated by the display of anger, showed by the normally patient detective. Even though a small part of his brain told him, he should be.
The man gave Marcus a rather conniving smirk. "Do you really want me to answer that detective?"
It was the first time that the man saw Alfred have to reign in his partner. He suspected it was the first time for Alfred too. He wrestled Marcus out of the interrogation room and the man heard them talking quickly, in low voices.
They didn't take more than a couple of minutes before they were back in the room. Both facing the convict this time, a united front rather than the usual good cop, bad cop routine. Marcus had a manila folder clutched tightly in both hands, he reached in, he made sure that the convict saw none of the other papers inside.
He pulled out a small four by four photograph and placed it on the table. It looked like a picture a stalker would take. There was an obviously naked woman featured in the picture, but any lewd or vulgar details were blotted out due to the fact that the woman behind the shower curtain. She was a silhouette, a naked silhouette, but a silhouette nonetheless. The picture was obviously taken by a cheap camera and any particular aspect of the woman was blurred due to the size of the pixels.
The man looked up at the detectives, his face was deadpan.
Alfred glared down at the convict, refusing to be the first to say anything. The two stared each other down, neither giving an inch. It wasn't until Marcus grew increasingly irritated that the tense silence was broken.
"Who is she?" Despite the previous scuffle, Marcus's voice remained low and quiet, yet it still betrayed his increasing anger.
The convict looked at the picture, before raising an eyebrow at the detective.
"How the hell am I supposed to know?" The man brought up his cuffed hands, hitting the table loudly. "She doesn't even have a face."
Alfred growled, "well no shit!" His wrinkling, tired, scowling face was shoved in front of the convicts. "This," he pointed at the picture, "was taken at your apartment in Venice."
The convict continued to stare at the detectives. "And?"
"Who the hell is she you son of a bitch?!" This time it was both of them who lost it. The convict flinched when the detectives both hit the table at the same time.
The man shrugged. "There were a lotof people that came to my apartment in Venice. You've got to be specific."
Alfred twitched violently, just barely able to contain himself from smashing the convict's head into the table. Marcus, one the other hand, sighed, irritated. It seemed that he had calmed down a lot since he tried to beat the man into a bloody pulp.
"This was December sixteenth of last year, taken between one o'clock and three o'clock." Marcus read off the one of the papers in the file, still keeping them hidden from the convict.
The man's hands folded lightly on the table, his head was bowed slightly, and his eyes were glazed over.
"I think, that she's Kagura Sohma, my cousin and ex-fiancé. She killed herself about a month before you arrested me."
They met in a one stop motel, the cheap kind that were used solely for sleeping through the night and getting back on the road the next day. They bumped into each other in the lobby, (that wasn't really a lobby but more like a counter in the middle of a parking garage) both running away for different reasons, from different people. But when they crashed into each other, it was like fate.
"I need a room NOW!" They had crushed each other shoulder to shoulder, both yelling at the tired, half-asleep clerk. He jerked up in his seat as the two ricocheted off each other.
"What the hell, asshole!"
"Goddamn it, bitch!"
They turned to each other, fully intending to unleash their fury upon the other. At least, until they got a good look at the other.
She eyed him wearily as he gazed disbelievingly at her. She looked like a runaway model. Her figure was perfect, she looked as if she had been sculpted from a statue of Aphrodite herself. Wearing nothing but a form fitting wife beater and low-rise jeans, she looked almost like a goddess trying to blend in with people. Her black hair was cropped short, just at her chin, showing off her elegant neck. And her face, with her high cheekbones and large grey eyes made her seem delicate and vulnerable, although through her body posture he could tell that she was anything but.
It took him only a moment before he noticed that she was appraising him as well.
He grinned, like a boy on Christmas morning, before holding one of his calloused hands out for her.
"Room for two?"