Disclaimer: I am tired of disclaimers… How many times am I supposed to rub salt into my own wounds? T.T

~*Opening Night*~

Miyu Kouzuki had been murdered. It was on all TV networks.

Kanata paused over his boost-me-up cup of coffee as her smiling face materialized on the widescreen wall-mounted LED TV in a brilliant splash of colors. Miyu Kouzuki, the leading diva of Japanese Film Industry, had been murdered. How uproarious.

Kanata sighed. No doubt, he would be roped in into this pretty soon. Already the ubiquitous hum of voices was gaining in volume as more tired late-nighters perked up at the mention of the word 'murder' and honed in on the newsreader on-screen. Heads turned in his direction as the whispers and murmurs turned from surprise to "you know…"

Yeah, yeah, nothing new there. Everyone knew that he was a childhood friend of the actress'. The 'secrecy' of the 'secret' hadn't been helped by the center page fold-out poster of the actress' wedding in the two year old edition of Glamor, featuring the actress arm-in-arm with her husband, and Kanata off to the side in the customary position of a close-friend-of-the-bride. It had been quite a field day of ribbing and probing at his office when the Crime Investigation's Chief's secretary had brought the magazine to office and squealed out how "Saionji-san is in the photo with Miyu Kouzuki!"

What everyone didn't know, however, was that her wedding had also been the last time he had met her. Quite understandable, when you figure in the fact that he had been in love with her, and had been, in fact, turned down by her a mere month before her marriage. He just didn't feel like hanging around watching her with another man if he could help it, you know?

What wasn't quite understandable, however, or expected, was how little he was affected by the sudden news of her death literally looming upon his face in a 41 inch by 24 inch dazzling still-shot on the widescreen LED TV.

What do you know, time does heal all wounds after all, huh?

Kanata threw back his head and chugged down his coffee like a shot of tequila. Already, he could feel the eyes of the entire Crime Investigation Department boring holes into his back. Some of the more solicitous ones shuffled over to him, with their tonics of healing words.

"You okay, Kanata?"

"Someone get him some beer…"

"Don't take it too hard, man."

"Chin up, Saionji."

"Listen, these things happen…"

Meaningless words, because Kanata wasn't in shock, wasn't in pain and wasn't in denial. What he was feeling was more of a she's-dead?-oh…-I-see,-now-where-was-I?

"Guys, I'm alright," he announced, pushing off from his desk and heading towards the restrooms. He just needed a wake-up splash to his face. It was bordering on one in the morning and he still had to file in his report on the Yamada case that was closed two days ago.

Santa cornered him in the men's room. Just as Kanata had known he would.

For a moment, he regarded him with a frown, before opening his mouth. "Kanata, I know something's not right. You can't fool me. You really okay?"

Kanata sighed. Why did Santa always think he had him figured out? Because, as it was, he was always so wrong. "Lay off, Santa. I am fine."

Anyone who knew Santa would also know that that was NOT the end of the matter. "But she was your close friend! You two were together for twelve years!" Friendships mattered a lot to Santa, for he had had very few while growing up.

Kanata, however, was least interested. All he wanted was to finish his report and get. To. BED. "Well, not so close apparently, if my lack of grief is to be believed." He turned the tap on and splashed his face and neck, getting the water into his eyes. Feeling better, he swiped off a couple of tissue papers from the dispenser and began wiping off.

Santa stared at him with narrowed eyes for a long minute. Finally, he asked in a grave voice, "What are you not telling me?"

Kanata raised an eyebrow at Santa's sudden assumption. So, the great detective Kurosu thought he could play mind games with him? Well, let him try…

He quirked a smirk and replied with a wave of his hand, already moving off towards the door, "Maybe everything. Or maybe nothing at all. Pick whichever you want."

...

He was right.

The very next day, he was called into the Crime Investigation's Chief's office. The Chief was a mostly-bald man with chestnut colored hair and a thick burgundy moustache. He loved to parade in the old-fashioned stereotypical detective get-up and was accordingly donning a wide-brimmed beige fedora hat with a matching long overcoat. A dark wool muffler was slung around his neck, presumably protecting him from the sweltering midsummer's heat.

"Saionji," he began, his moustache ruffling, "I assume you have heard the news about the crime incident reported yesterday night?"

Who hadn't? "Yes, Sir," Kanata dutifully replied.

"Then I take it that you know why you're here, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. You should know why I chose you. I want you to consider your acquaintanceship with the victim as a tool to get closer to information. Don't let your emotions get in the way. You did exceptionally well in the Yamada case, Saionji. I expect nothing less this time as well. Do you understand?"

'What a ruthless sadist,' Kanata thought. Nevertheless, the Chief was a man not to be crossed, and so Kanata gave him his quota of…

"Yes, Sir."

o.O… A new genre for me… Hope it turns out well!

Review please~ ^o^