Author's Note: An old-fashioned case file, possibly a bit Reid-centric but then isn't everything. Takes place during the current season, but makes no reference to current events (like Rossi's ex-wife). Enjoy!

W.B. Yeats wrote: "We have fed our hearts on fantasy; the heart's grown brutal with the fare."

Reid, cradling an overfull briefcase and squirming within the confines of a new blue suit, was last to arrive in the conference room. He immediately noticed Garcia and Prentiss beaming at him.

Morgan, spinning a pen between the fingers of his left hand, asked casually: "You been looking pretty stressed these days, man. How's a vacation sound?"

Reid set down the briefcase and looked up cautiously. "Why do I get the feeling there's something I don't know?"

"We were thinking Japan," said Prentiss innocently.

"The ancestral spawning grounds of the American noid?" Garcia added, helpfully.

Reid blinked.

"You know," he said, "I kind of resent the implication that, simply because I am what some might describe as a species of 'nerd,' I automatically must love Japan. In fact it demeans both myself and the nation of Japan."

Prentiss rolled her eyes. "Give it a rest, Dr. Reid. How many episodes of Sailor Moon do you own on DVD?"

He looked down. "All forty-eight," he muttered, "and the three OVA's."

Morgan cackled.

Wedging himself into his seat Reid went on: "Besides, there's a great deal more to Japan than the best electronics and entertainment in the world. Such as one of the largest historical navies, with the largest battleships, ever seen by mankind, that stood a chance of toppling Western Judeo-Christian hegemony for good. Or a major trading partner, not mention dynamic player in the increasingly unstable eastern hemisphere…"

Hotch, as always most serious of the group, was wrestling with an uncooperative projector. "Settle down, everyone."

Rossi nodded. "I doubt you'll be in such a chipper mood after you see the cause of our upcoming vacation."

Garcia pressed both hands to her face. "Sir, sorry, just give us our little moment before the dry heaving starts? Please? I'm well aware this is not the ideal career for experiencing foreign lands."

"Still beats the army on a good day," said Rossi, a sullen note in his voice.

"Hmm?" said Prentiss. "Did your naval career ever take you through the Land of the Rising Sun, Dave?"

He nodded, curt.

"And?"

"And I…did some things I'm not entirely proud of." Prentiss raised her eyebrows; he waved his hand impatiently. "You know what I mean. It's easy to get carried away. Indiscretions. No lasting harm done…but you look back and think, My God…"

"You speak Japanese, Reid?" Morgan deftly changed the subject, "I always forget which five million languages you got."

"Some. Very little. Depending on when we leave, I might be able to reach a level of basic comprehension. But it's an extremely difficult language. The CIA rates it in the highest difficulty tier for English-speakers, along with Mandarin and Arabic."

The projector finally hummed online. Hotch tugged on his shirtsleeves before moving to the front of the room. "We have three bodies in the course of as many weeks," he began. "The most recent belongs to Ayumi Tosaka, twenty-three…a waitress in a cafe."

A photograph of a somewhat plain, shy-looking girl against a white background filled the screen. She wore a black sweater, and had been trying to smile. Garcia bit one fingernail. The briefing was by far the most difficult part of her desk job.

"Ms. Tosaka," said Hotch, his tired face lit dramatically by the beam of the projector, "was pushed from an elevated train platform in Akihabara Station, Tokyo, during the evening rush hour."

Morgan was sharp: "How do we know for sure?"

"Japan suffers from the fourth-highest suicide rate in the world…" Reid added.

"Please," said Prentiss, "even we know that."

"What you might not know is that most subway stations are fitted with metal barriers to prevent suicides. The network of elevated trains has no such safeguards, making suicide more likely."

"But also accidents?"

"Chillingly enough, suicide is far more common."

"That would be a logical conclusion. Especially," said Hotch, and switched the slide, "as this note was recovered from the victim's jacket pocket."

The scrap of paper was torn, crushed and partly covered by a mud-brown stain. An analysts's reconstruction, with translation for good measure, appeared beside it.

Dear Yu,

Perhaps we really did kill ourselves that day six years ago.

It was unsigned.

"This Yu is probably an initial," said Hotch. "I'm told it couldn't be a full name in itself."

Morgan, looking grave, tossed the pen between his hands. "Well either way, looks pretty open-and-shut to me. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"And drop it shall," said Rossi, who had evidently received a partial briefing ahead of time. "The two other bodies he mentioned? Both had identical notes on their person. Right down to the spacing of the characters."

Hotch nodded. The screen changed to portray two other women, both, like the first, unassuming and, in the present context, pitiable. "Mei Oda and Maya Asano. Killed in the same manner and while waiting for the same train. Both also waitresses."

"Of course," Reid put in, "given the neighborhood, they might not have been waitresses in the ordinary sense."

"Do tell," said Rossi. "Are we talking about some kind of red-light district?"

"Not exactly. I'll, um, explain later, it's complicated. But it's a question of what establishments they were waitresses at."

"You mean maid cafes," said Morgan and, when Reid stared, threw up his hands: "You pick these things up, man!" Prentiss silently mouthed to Garcia: maid cafes? Garcia only nodded.

"It isn't only maid cafes," said Reid, "there are any number of themed cafes and restaurants in Akihabara. It's the mecca of what's called otaku culture-which is to say, the sort of thing you all seem to imagine I love, and which to be fair I kind of do. Anime, manga, video games…"

Rossi also looked incredulous: "Any number of themed cafes?"

"Well there are cosplay cafes, where people dress as their favorite characters; little sister cafes…"

"Little sister cafes."

"Like I said," Reid shrugged, "it's complicated.-Anyway, all I'm trying to say is that even if these victims didn't share an employer, they might be connected by a stratum of fetish culture. I say fetish," he added with a glance at Rossi, "but it's not strictly sexual."

"I'm sure we'll appreciate your expertise in regards to this case, Agent Reid," said Hotch. "Anyone else? Thoughts?"

"Are they certain death was caused by the impact of the train?" Prentiss ventured.

"Beyond a doubt. These young women were alive when they fell. We can conjecture that the unsub stood behind them, threatened them silently with a weapon-a knife or gun pressed against the back-then slipped the notes into their pockets before delivering the push."

"Hmm. Well, if these women were connected to a…fetish culture, it's not hard to see the element of obsession. A lonely, possibly impotent unsub, driven to violence against unobtainable beings of attraction…"

"Agreed."

Reid raised his hand. "I have one question. Am I correct that this is the first time our unit, or in fact any unit, has been called in for an overseas consultation?"

"Correct," said Hotch.

"With all due respect, sir…why? The one case in Mexico involved a police force unused to dealing with psychopathology, but the phenomenon of serial killers is far from unknown in Japan. Miyuki Ishikawa, a midwife who preyed on infants, was especially prolific at over a hundred…"

With a brief shake of his head to stem the genius in his information dump, Rossi answered: "The fact of the matter is, we ought to be proud. This unit does good work, and it hasn't gone unnoticed. The chief of Tokyo police is an open-minded guy…we've spoken several times by phone. They'd like an outside prospective."

"If this goes well," added Hotch, "it could open a new chapter in international law enforcement cooperation."

"So, like, no pressure or anything," frowned Garcia.

"I will be holding this team to our highest standard of professionalism. Now, as you know, Agent Jareu is enjoying a well-deserved legitimate vacation; which is unfortunate, as we need a public relations officer perhaps more than ever. We'll be provided translators; but Agent Reid, however much Japanese you can pick up in the next four days…"

Even Reid had to gape. "Four days?"

Hotch managed the tiniest smile. "We have faith in you, Doctor.-You'll find details of our departure information in the briefings in front of you. I would encourage the rest of you to learn as much as possible about the local environment; apprehending the unsub won't be our only challenge."

Garcia looked up. "Including me, sir?"

"Yes, Agent Garcia, you will be accompanying us. Meeting adjourned."

As the others filed from the room, some looking thoughtful, others worried, Garcia remained for a moment at the table; and when they were out of sight, allowed herself a small, guilty grin.