Kapitel 1.

Help me! Please!

The man wanted to cry for help. But his gags helplessly muffled his cry. Everything happened so quick. The last thing he remembered was that he was sitting on his armchair, watching a news on the television in his living room. But now, here he was, lying on the kitchen floor with restraints on his wrists and ankles. Desperate to live, the man wriggled his body and jerked his wrists and ankles wherever he could. It didn't take long for him to realize getting off of these restraints was impossible.

He took a deep breath and looked around. The infiltrator was nowhere to be found. Maybe he just wanted to rob him and leave? Whatever, his purpose was, the man was glad that the infiltrator was gone. The man took few more deep breaths and started to roll and squirm to get out of the kitchen. It wasn't effective, but it was rewarding.

Thankfully, his kitchen wasn't far from the front door. The man shedded tears of joy and relief when he saw the front door.

Okay… I can do this.

Like he did in the kitchen, the man squirmed and rolled repeatedly with the hope to live— until something struck and destroyed both of his kneecaps.

ARGHH!

If the man could have screamed, he would have. However, everything came out of his mouth was slightly louder scream.

"Where do you think you're going?" The infiltrator whispered with an accent which the man couldn't put a finger on. It felt like a lion whispering to his prey before he was about to devour him. The man looked at his predator and he shook his head to beg him. Please. Please don't do this to me! Please don't hurt me!

But the infiltrator just grinned. And when man realized what it meant, the terror devoured him. It even obliterated the pain of his broken kneecaps. With the fear and desperation of his death, he did anything he could do: he screamed louder and resisted harder. However, it was meaningless to the infiltrator. Without saying anything, he grabbed the man by his ankles and pulled him to the living room. Once again, the man's beg was helplessly muffled by the gag.

They arrived only to see all the furniture was pushed all the way to the walls. There was nothing but a giant eight-feet tripod device with a pulley and a hook attached at the top. The infiltrator pulled down the hook and attached it into the man's ankle restraint. Slowly, as the infiltrator spinned the pulley, the more the man got pulled to the end. From the pain of pulling the broken kneecaps to the air, the man let out a painful cry and tears which no one would listen or witness.

Why are you doing this to me! What do you want!

"Now, now." The infiltrator pulled out a long metal pipe stained with blood and grinned from black duffle bag. "It would be a shame if we waste what I've prepared for you, don't you think?"

Then the infiltrator swung his pipe straight into the man's jaw.

"Hi, my name is Carla and I'm an addict."

"Hi, Carla." Everyone in the group support meeting greeted Carla as she introduced herself— except one person who had been silent and motionless the entire time since he arrived with his sober companion, but no one including his sober companion noticed him.

"I have been sober for exactly… three hundred and fifty six days." Then she glanced at the longcase clock. "I could even give you hours and minutes but it'll look too weird I guess." Carla chuckled and shyly continued. "I just wanted to say thank you. To all of you. Without this meeting and your supports, I don't even wanna know where I'd be here right now." She continued her story and everyone listened to her carefully. They were all there for her.

Everyone clapped kindly as Carla returned to her seat. Every last one of them is here to support one another. but there was one person who was still silent and motionless.

Kiku glanced at her client. The man with silver hair and blood-red eyes was slumped on his chair without any movement; even his eyes didn't blink. Maybe he was sleeping with his eyes opened? "Hey." She whispered only to get exactly zero reaction, she was starting to get worried. "You okay?" She whispered again but he was still motionless.

Then it happened. At the moment when Kiku's palm touched her client's shoulder he skyrocketed out of his chair, shouting:

"MAPLE SYRUP!"

Everyone immediately jerked his or her faces at the man with wide-eyes. However, the man could care less. "Hmm, it's six thirty." He simply fished out his phone to check time like nothing had ever happened and marched away. Kiku apologized to the group members and Gilbert followed out of the meeting hall who was gladly marching out plainly. As they left the meeting hall, Kiku started. "Excuse me, Gilbert, but—"

"Ja, excuse you, Honda."

Kiku rolled her eyes. "What just happened there and where do you think you're going?"

"I woke up from a trance which I hypnotized myself. It's simple: repetition of a word, two, in this case. And maple syrup was the key word I'm sure you've already thought so."

Kiku didn't understand. Not just the absurd concept of self-hypnotizing, but also the choice of words. When she was hired by Herr Beilschmidt six weeks ago, he emailed her things about his son including the only food his son was allergic to. Even if someone wanted to put themself into a self-trance and they had to repeat a word, why would they use the only food they were allergic to? Her chain of thoughts didn't continue.

"And I'm going home." Gilbert answered the second question as if Kiku craved him for the answer of one plus one.

"Look, it's been a long time since your last group support meeting. Do you really want to blow this off like this?"

"Any reason to stay? There's nothing but a bunch of sob stories that waste time." Gilbert shrugged.

"In case you haven't notices, that's exactly the point." Kiku continued. "And, you know, you could always share your stories whenever you feel comfortable."

Gilbert scoffed. "Because I'm the type of person who shares my life stories. Congratulations, Honda! You've learn the master's degree of Gilbert Beilschmidt during your residence in my home for six weeks!"

Kiku shook her head. "And was there another reason not to stay and listen?"

Gilbert tapped his temple with his finger. "Attic Theory."

"A what?" Kiku grimaced.

"I believe that human brain could only hold the finite amount of informations. And because the space of the brains are finite, it should only hold the best of oneself. Allow me to demonstrate." Gilbert jerked his hand to grab the glass of lemonade from the table without waiting for the owner's permission and splashed the lemonade away onto the floor. "Can I borrow this?"

"Hey, what the hell!"

The glass's original owner spluttered.

"Your brain," Gilbert ignored her and displayed the glass to his sober companion who —and the glass's original owner— arched on eyebrow with try-me face. Then he displayed a jar of coffee beans, "useful facts: useful, intelligent, and golden." He poured the coffee beans and filled around two-third of the glass, "nattering." For his next step, Gilbert grabbed a sugar bowl and poured it until the sugar made a miniature mountain and overflowed the glass.

I can't believe this guy. Kiku shook her head as Gilbert finished his dashing demonstration of absurd theory.

Gilbert handed the glass to its original owner, "feel free to drink it." Who glared at him before stomping away with swear words.

Looking smug, Gilbert boasted like a high school kid showing off his skateboard skills to littluns next door. "Now you see?"

"Okay, this is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. That's not how the brains work."

"It's how my brain works. Takes notes. If mein lieber Vater is forcing me to live with you, I might as well just make your level of intellect —including the facts about myself— at least a little more higher."

Before Kiku could say anything, Gilbert's phone rang. Which was a perfect timing because if he had opened his mouth for a second, she wouldn't have been so sure that if she could've refrain herself from punching him in the face.

Gilbert answered the call. "Captain Kirkland." When she heard the name, Kiku paused. Captain Arthur Kirkland of the NYPD never called him without a reason. Something serious had happened. She knew what was about waiting for them. "How may I be your assistance?" he asked.

Captain Arthur Kirkland of NYPD was standing in front of the door waiting for his consulting detective impatiently. He had his glasses on it was his habit to wear glasses when he needed to focus or nervous. The house is crowded with NYPD officers. They all had horrified looks on their faces.

"Beilschmidt. Ms. Honda." Arthur took his glasses off and greeted them. "The owner of the house's name is Colin Bennett. His secretary came to drop off an errand and found the living room like this and called us." The British captain continued with uncertainty. "We're pretty sure that he's the victim."

"Define 'pretty sure' bitte?" Gilbert cocked his eyebrow.

"I mean there wasn't a body."

Gilbert didn't have a doubt that this was just another homicide case except the crime scene would be more terrifying than usual. However, when they entered the living room, he faced something that he had never expected to see.

All there were blood splatters all over the living room like something had exploded in the middle. Someone was brutally beaten down by something blunt until they died.

Even Kiku, who worked as a formal surgeon covered her mouth from the atrocious scene. "Oh my God…"

"We pulled some hairs from his comb in his bedroom to check for the DNA, so for now, yeah." Arthur was still shocked from the brutality of the crime scene.

Kiku glanced at Gilbert who knelt down and gazing at the floor. She felt that something wasn't right.

"Aside from… this." Arthur's face twisted in disgust. "The scene is clean. This sick son of a bitch left nothing. We don't know the first thing about him."

"Actually we have three."

"Pardon me?"

"The front door was meticulously picked. You can't learn such skills in streets. Judging by his works, he's well trained."

"Continue." Arthur crossed his arms.

"And also strong. He has to be. Since he hooked his victim before he murdered him." Gilbert drew a triangle with his arms. "The hook's gone now but it was one point attached to a tripod device of the killer's own design. He assembled it after incapacitated his victim then hung him upside down. Lastly, the perp beat his victim to death with a metal pipe."

"A metal pipe?"

Ignoring his captain's suspicion, Gilbert pointed three groove marks on the floor. "Here, there, and there." Arthur and Kiku stood where the groove marks were and carefully examined them.

"After murdering his victim, he dismantled the device and took it with the body." Gilbert concluded.

"How the hell could you deduce all that from these splatters of blood?" Kiku inquired.

"I did not. I've actually hunted this particular murderer before."

What? Arthur and Kiku made the same shocking expressions.

Gilbert's eyes sharpened like the eyes of the predator which had been patiently preparing to hunt its target. "In Berlin."

And now you're here. I won't let you go this time.

"'B'." Gilbert started with the name. In the bullpen of the 11th precinct, he stood in front of the bulletin board covered all over with documents and pictures of crime scenes and bodies presenting everything he knew about the perpetrator. Two dozens of police officers heeded him. Among them, two people paid their attentions the most. Captain Arthur Kirkland leaning on a wall at the corner with his glasses on and Kiku sat nervously with her legs crossed.

"It's rather a simple nickname for such an atrocious monster. And unfortunately, that's everything we have for now. He's been active seen july 20XX, during the last ten years and two months, he has tallied a body count of forty five— Forty six including Colin Bennett last night. Also he has no type or profile of victim, which indicates that it's almost impossible predict where, when, and who he'll strike."

"His oldest victim was in her early 80s and the youngest was… thirteen."

Half of the officer's face darkened.

Noticing this, Gilbert continued calmly. "He beats his victims with metal pipe until they die then dump their bodies in the oceans. Twenty three bodies of victims were recovered when they washed up on the coastline. The blood at the crime scene was confirmed to be Bennett, right?"

Arthur nodded. "Every last drop of them."

Gilbert suggested. "I suggest that body of Bennett would make an appearance in one of the beaches in few days."

One of the officers grabbed his phone and stood up from his seat. "I'll call the coast guards to keep an eye out."

"Over the years, 'B' rarely corresponded with the police." Gibert handed the pile of pictures of the letters he'd been holding to the nearest officer. The letters weren't written. They were typewritten but not with ink but blood. "You'll notice that he has a tendency to ramble. But I assure you: 'B' isn't a madman as he wants us to believe. His letters are attempts to make us to believe he's one thing when he's actually another."

Kiku noticed Gilbert's eyes glowered.

"Finally, whenever 'B' appears he's never satisfied with one murder; therefore, the whole NYPD and the FBI should prepare for more body drops. I've already shared my personal files about him to the station so make sure to read them. That's all."

Everyone either turned their chairs or went back to their seats as Gilbert ended his presentation about 'B'. Gilbert entered the meeting room and searched for the files in the storaged boxes marked 'B'. Kiku followed him. "Gil, how are you doing?"

Gilbert's eyes focused on the boxes but he replied. "Sehr gut. Lovely to see you doing your work."

"You seem more intense."

"Oh, do I?" Gilbert scoffed. "What do you think? As I laid my eyes on the crime scene, there was no doubt that it was done by 'B'."

"Yeah, I noticed that. But last night, the way you were staring at the crime scene. This is something personal, isn't it?" Worries and determinations coalesced in Kiku's eyes. During the six weeks of her job as a sober companion, she was never separated from Gilbert no longer than two hours. Where he went she went, resulting her to developed skills like being more aware of details and environments, looking at people with different angles, and spotting when someone was hiding something. This case is different from what they had worked through, she could feel it. However, Gilbert was Gilbert. Probably the smartest person Kiku had ever met. If he wanted to keep a secret, there was no way she could figure it out. The only way she could deal it with of was to confront him.

Finally, Gilbert turned his head at Kiku. Then he walked passed her to close the door and returned to his boxes. But this time, he didn't avoid Kiku. With an exhale, he admitted.

"Ten years ago, when 'B' committed his first murder, I was the axis of the investigation. However, by the time he claimed his forty-fifth life—" Gilbert paused but decided that Kiku won't stop until she figure things out: figure the truth out. "My addiction became so severe I became useless to the police. Now, he resurfaces in New York; it's a second chance to put this Ficker (fucker) behind bars." He grinned.

At that moment, never in her life Kiku had realized the true meaning behind what Gilbert said was something much more sinister.

Knock knock—

"Oi, let me ask you something, lad." Arthur entered the meeting room and joined their conversation. He looked like he had been waiting to ask Gilbert something in private. "This sick bastard 'B'— was he aware of you working with the police back in Berlin?"

"He referred me once or twice in the letters if my memory serves right, warum?"

"Don't you think you think it's weird? Him coming to New York after, what? Not even two months after you?"

Gilbert shrugged innocently. "Dunno. Maybe? To be honest I'm flattered though."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and Gilbert grinned innocently. "Anyway I'll put two uniforms in front of house."

Gilbert shook his head. "Oh, that's unnecessary—"

"We appreciate it. Thank you." Kiku cut Gilbert as he tried to decline Arthur's offer. When Gilbert tried to protect the next guest interrupted him.

Knock Knock—

"Captain." It was the officer who left to call coast guards "They found the body."

After a long night of work, Kiku and Gilbert came back home exhausted. Examining the body wasn't very productive. It only assured that it was the work of 'B'. However, founding the body narrowed the dumpsite to entire eastside of Manhattan.

Kiku hung her coat on the coat hanger but Gilbert sprinted into the living room only to halt.

"Okay, we're out of groceries and it's over eleven o'clock which means most of the restaurants are closed. But I think we can order some food from an overnight diner so if you want something to eat, just let me know." Kiku asked before dialing the number.

"Honda, I need you to be very quiet right now."

"Why? Does my nattering occupies unnecessary spaces in your brain?"

"Because I believe our house became a crime scene."

As Kiku jerked her face in shock, she saw what Gilbert was glaring. There was one thing that shouldn't be placed on the desk in the middle of the living room.

A note. Written in blood instead of ink by a typewriter on a sheet of paper, orchestrating a deadly message.

"Men make plans, God laughs. I am laughing at you now as I always have. You think you honor me with your pursuit, you do not. You are a mouse chasing a lion, a mere planet in orbit of a raging sun."

-B-

( A / N )

I wanted to finish writing the chapter 6 of When Wings melt the Frozen Heart, but for some reason I felt the strong necessity of posting the chapter 1. So… here you go! Hope you enjoyed!

I know many people in our fandom like to use "Sakura" for Fem!Japan's name, but I just decide to go with "Kiku". First, I loved the meaning behind it: Chrysanthemum. They are really beautiful flowers :) And according to my Japanese friend who actually came from Japan, "Kiku" is close to a girl's name!

Lastly, there will be no romance between Gilbert and Kiku! Sorry Prussia x Japan shippers! But this is strictly a PruCan story! ;)

Always craving for reviews :)