Chapter 3: Pins and Needles

"Feel free to make yourself at home," Hiyori encouraged, shrugging off her coat and dangling the keys on a hook next to the door.

"Oh... okay," Yama started taking off her shoes, nervously glancing around the small apartment. It was possible to see almost all of the residence just from standing at the entrance- a tatami room with a TV and a table, doors that led to a bathroom, a hall with a small kitchen.

"I know it's not much. Shall I prepare tea?"

"Sounds good. Want some help?" But Yama already seated herself at the tiny table.

"No, thank you. I don't have enough tea to risk your culinary skills. Just relax and I'll be done in a blink."

Her friend flexed her legs, setting her chin on her hands. "It's too early to work," she yawned. "I've been dying to ask you, what possessed you to move this far out anyway? Emergency or no emergency, Ami-chan couldn't come with me because she wouldn't have time to arrive at her nephew's birthday party otherwise. Which isn't until, like, 1."

Hiyori's hands fumbled with a bag of tea leaves. "I know. That's why I asked you to come today."

"Ooh?" Yama's eyes widened a bit. "Why exactly is that?"

Hiyori kept her arms busy with pouring water into a teapot. "Well... you know how Ami-chan is with... secrets and family and responsibility..."

"Secrets," Yama smiled wickedly. "You have some juicy gossip you wanna confess, Hiyori-chan? Come, come, sit down."

"Well," Hiyori lowered herself next to the excited girl. "Okay, first, do you remember Yato?"

Yama's delight immediately turned down a notch. Hiyori tried not to feel too hurt when she rolled her eyes and said, "I, to be able to forget the guy you've been stalking for the last three months? Impossible."

"Excuse me, it is not stalking; it's called researching," her face felt warm.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetie. Yeah, I remember."

"And you know how I said I was going to take a year off to travel?"

"And you're staying in town to get some very unspecific last-minute business done before departing next week? Yeah, I remember."

Here goes. "Well..." Hiyori's eyes darted to the stove. It was hard to finally get the words out loud. "It's not all true. I am planning to stay here for an undetermined amount of time, but not for that reason. The real reason is... him. I've found him. Yato-sama. And he's accepted my offer."

Yama produced a high-pitched scream and jolted on her feet, startling the other girl to the floor. "Hiyori," she breathed, "you actually eloped with a hot MMA warrior-" she spun, taking in the room again, gears in her blonde head turning visibly. "Omigod, now it ALL makes sense! I can't beli-"

"No!" Hiyori thrust an arm towards the blabbing girl, utterly mortified. "No way! No! That is not what is happening here! I got him to agree to train me!"

Yama stopped her frenzied squealing. "Too bad," she sighed in disappointment, "I thought you've finally found some spunk in that muscular body of yours. Entered your rebellious phase. That kind of cool things."

Hiyori's face was red to the ears. "Sorry."

"Ahh, never mind. You said you got him to train you? Why? I thought you loved your club."

"I did," insisted Hiyori, "but we all knew it wouldn't be able to get me where I wanted to go. So I thought... it would be for the best to find someone who would."

"Where you wanted to go..." Yama's posture hardened. "Hiyori-chan, you don't mean-"

The other girl stayed silent, staring at her hands folded in her lap.

"Hiyori!" Yama jumped up again, a horrified expression on her face. "Hiyori..." she repeated, this time more awestruck. And then, she twisted in laughter. "You did become a little rebel, then! You are seriously pursuing that goal of becoming an ultimate champion!"

Her laughter was a bit deranged but expected and thus welcome by Hiyori's anxiety. "I don't know about the ultimate part. I just wanted to- I wanted an opportunity to win a tournament or two. Or three."

"Or four," Yama continued, "or maybe ten. How did Iki-san react? Did she faint?"

"No. She didn't. Because she doesn't know."

Yama blinked. Then, she cried, "That is so cruel of you! Hiyori, you? You, the little miss Med School? The top student? I know you could do it, but... you?"

She wasn't laughing at my intention, but my means. A wave of fondness washed over her.

"And I guess it explains this flat too. You always had a taste for fanciness, so I knew something smelled fishy when I saw those khaki walls."

Her parents offered to provide funds for this year, but she knew spending a larger amount of money every month on a more suitable living space would seem suspicious. "Don't remind me."

"If you want, I could stop by your house tomorrow and grab a pillowcase or two. I meant to have a chat with your mom anyway."

Phantom ants crawled over Hiyori's skin.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Hiyori-chan, " sang Yama, "my lips are sealed, and you hold the key. I wanted to ask for an appropriate place where I can go for a fancy dress fitting. I have a special dinner coming up, and I absolutely have to be armed to the teeth."

Hiyori's shoulders relaxed. "Thank you. And," she added in a small voice, "a pillow would be nice." She couldn't take anything of the sort when she was packing. She didn't have a bed here, but she could still use something to brighten her homesickness a bit.

"So, now that we got all the doubt from the way," Yama sat across the table and rested her elbows on the table, folding her hands under her chin. "How is he? Is he everything you've hoped for?"

That was why Hiyori had the desperate need to talk to somebody. What made her send that invitation in the first place. "I don't know," she confessed, breathing out. "I'm not sure if this is what I wanted."

"What? Is he not a ' majestic strike of lightning'? A 'wonderfully adapting, powerful gust of wind'?"

Blood rushed to Hiyori's face upon remembering her rants. "I don't know. I mean, he is, when he's fighting, but out of the ring... He's weird. Bubbly. Talks like a hooligan. He makes me do ridiculous rookie drills and acts like it's something incredibly important. Do you know it took me days to move from a basic starting pose lesson? And I was there for hours at a time."

"Maybe the God of Calamity is an intimidation method he uses only on his opponents?"

"That's the thing," Hiyori threw her arms into the air, exasperated, "last night we caught some older kids bullying someone. He was hurt, so we took him to the hospital. And Yato- he completely turned around. I was pretty scared when I saw what happened to the boy, but he was composed and focused. Well, at first he was pretty mad, but once we managed to scare them off... It was as if he was an entirely different person. He gave off that responsible aura, confident. Quiet, didn't speak much. And his voice- his voice became so different, serious, and deeper somehow, and-"

She stopped talking. Remembering the unexpected change made her shudder from head to toe.

Yama was the one to interrupt the silence. "So, based on this one event, you're thinking of changing your entire attitude?"

"Well, it's not just one," Hiyori professed. "Sometimes during class, he says some things that sound really... wise? And he always takes me seriously. He can get skeptic, but that's because his students give up quickly. Nothing else. He recognizes the effort, no matter where-where it comes from."

Yama's head cocked. She understood what Hiyori meant.

"But-but I'm not sure it's enough, you know?" Hiyori suddenly felt rushed, like she needed to force all of the words from the last few weeks up her throat, "He becomes what I want, then makes me doubt it again. Doubt my choice. I have one chance at doing this- I can't pretend I'm traveling forever. I can't lie forever. I don't want to lie- I want Mother and Father to see- to see what I can do. I want them to trust me. I want to show them so they can understand how serious I am. I can finish school and still work on my training. I could last year, and it was not unprofessional, I made it work, so why- I need them to understand, and I'm afraid I'm placing my hopes on a wrong horse, and I'd get stuck for the rest of my life because of it," she blurted out.

Yama stayed silent, observing Hiyori's huffing form. She was sure her eyes showed the first signs of tears. She did nothing to stop them.

"What exactly," Yama started carefully, "makes you the most desperate about this situation?"

Hiyori let out a dry chuckle. "During our introductory meeting, he tried to answer too fast and almost choked on a mint."

"Hah, happened to me too. It never happened to you?"

"..."

"Look, what I'm trying to say is," she reached for Hiyori's hands over the table and shook them gently, "sometimes you pester your parents to buy you concert tickets for your birthday. The terribly expensive, VIP ones you'd never get on an average day. And they finally say yes, and you get all excited and can't wait until your birthday to see them. And on you birthday you open the package, and it turns out your parents misheard you and got you tickets for some lame band that doesn't even use real drums. Like that stupid violin thing Ami-chan likes. The kind that makes you want to lay on the floor and cry. Who would do that to themselves, right? Well, anyway, you choose to go because, duh, VIP tickets, it should at least be better than staying at home crying because your parents also used a shady site that doesn't do refunds. And you're sitting there, and it starts, and you realize the performance is perfect. The lights are beautiful. Hologram dancers blink in time with the music, and it gets that bass feeling. The crowd is great at improv and nice, and there's an organized choreography. So you enjoy yourself and exit the hall thinking, Wow, this was awesome. I completely forgot about how stupid the music was. I am glad I went. So, to bring this unnecessarily long metaphor to an end, so I don't run out of the things to say," Yama grinned, "there are all kinds of stuff trapped inside everything. A concert. A guy. I'm sure you had already figured it out yourself some time ago, but let me say it: Maybe the stinking music is worth enduring after all."

Hiyori smiled through the tears. "That was very wise."

"Yeah, I wonder why? Usually, you're the one with good advice."

"Maybe... you have more experience with men, maybe that's why?"

"... let's pretend I did not spend my high school sending you to ask my crushes for contact info and say it's true."

Hiyori laughed out loud. She felt like a tower of bricks was lifted off her back. "Thank you so much, Yama-chan. I am glad I have such a good friend. This helped me a lot."

"Aw, come here. I'm glad I have such an adorable friend, too." Her friend stretched herself over the table and pulled Hiyori in a hug.

"Okay, now that you're feeling better, I think it's time to point out your teapot has been screaming bloody murder for a few hours. Seriously, I'm getting you an electric one as soon as I'm out of this cottage."

The silent, steady purr of the engine did nothing for a headache that was starting to blossom behind his brow. The bright spring light shooting at him through the windows didn't help, either. Maybe he should've asked for more painkillers and saved some for later. They didn't check his pockets on the sign-out. It would've been so easy.

He sighed. He'll have to make due.

"Hey. You okay back there?"

He bit his tongue. "Yeah. I'm all right."

"Yukine."

He watched as the rearview mirror adjusted so his father's green gaze could catch his brown one in it.

"Tell me what's wrong."

That silent, concerned voice picked at his brain, practically inviting him to burst out laughing.

"My head hurts a bit. Nothing too bad."

He heard the man releasing a breath. "Oh. That. Well, we should have some meds back at home. If not, I'll get some at the hospital tonight. Could you wait until my shift ends?"

He slumped in the seat. No. "Sure, whatever."

"When we get home, I'll make this wonder tea Otai-san has been telling me about. I guess this is a great chance to try it out, heh? Good thing I opened your window last night, the room should be nice and chilly by now. I'm not sure about that new tree number 4 has planted in the backyard, though- I think it's what's been giving us allergies all this time…"

Yukine watched the fingers drumming along the black leather of the steering wheel.

"Well, nothing could be worse than that cat from last summer, right?" his father laughed. "That time I swallowed that furball was the closest I've ever gotten to holding Death's hand. Your nose was red for ages afterward, too! Or maybe that time when..."

Automatically, he reached for his now red nose. He felt a pang of pain as soon as his fingers touched the nostril. Nothing he didn't feel tons of times before. He didn't remove the hand.

What the hell happened last night? It still felt too unreal. Everything was going along fine until that stupid girl showed up. And then it all ended up a travesty when the man appeared and started his intimidation show, only to practically weep at the sight of his bruises.

Yukine chuckled. Then, he remembered the piece of paper in his pocket.

He was ashamed to admit it, but at the moment the guy has given it to him, he was tempted to tell him he was ready right the, right then. But one look at the logo made him reconsider- of course he knew what Hafuri was. He spent quite a number of last winter's evenings strolling around the lobby and drinking hot chocolate - enough evenings to figure out what kind of a club it was.

A noble, honorable, traditional place filled basement-to-attic with success and awards.

Speaking of noble… last night was the only time he got caught. And it was by two people he never met before in his life. What kind of reckless, brainless drive made a girl in a pink coat jump headfirst into a back-alley brawl? The guy is a martial artist, stupid, his brain chided. They had nothing to be afraid of.

He was pulled back to reality by the sudden silence that filled the car.

That wasn't nice.

"Yukine..."

The hurt in the man's voice was impossible to shut off.

"I am so sorry."

No, I'm sorry. He wanted to say it.

"I've… I've been careless. I didn't notice… I couldn't see."

He wanted to.

"And what makes it worse, I have all the means to could have prevented it," a dry, humorless laugh. "I have all the means, and yet I wasn't able to..."

He tried to steady his hands. With a pang of regret, he realized they were leaving a sweat stain on the black leather seat.

"I am so sorry, Yukine. Please, understand me. You are such a mature kid, you know? I know we can prevent this kind of stuff in the future. We have to."

Nothing to be afraid of, huh…

The card felt too heavy in his pocket.

"Heyy, Hiyorin, are you busy? I need a bit of help, you see..."

Hiyori kept rewinding those words over and over again in her mind, trying to keep her thoughts clear of the pain that was steadily spreading across her lower back. But the floor of the built-in wardrobe which she was currently using as her sanctuary was littered with books and folders that were terribly awkward to sit on.

"Ahhh," she dared to breathe out. "What a mess."

Earlier today, Kofuku-san asked her to deliver some files to the main office. She reminded her it was the suite behind the doors leading out of the room in which the two met. "I wouldn't suggest you to go in, though. Just ask for Kazu-chan and he'll know where to with these!" Kofuku-san reassured her.

But what the bubbly woman forgot to mention was, which of the many doors that followed in the hallway behind the first entrance was she supposed to take. So Hiyori tried a few: behind the closest one, archives. Behind the next one, more archives.

Further down the hallway, there was a bigger set of doors, so she supposed she'd find someone who could help her there. She knocked and entered, but her excuse got caught halfway in her throat when she saw where she found herself.

It looked like the main office she was looking for, but empty. Three desks positioned in a triangle were visible at the far end of the room, matching lamps on the surface covered in paperwork. Two completely transparent walls -the big windows visible from the main stairway outside- illuminated a large board plastered with...

Was that a *research*? It looked like something out of police movies, photos, lists, papers ripped out of notebooks and newspaper cutouts all connected by strings, which all ended in one or the other dots of a large-scale map of Tokyo.

Stunned, Hiyori set the contents from her arms on a nearby cupboard. Nearing the map, she noticed strings were different colors, but she couldn't distinguish a logical pattern. In one corner were pinned headshots of people she didn't recognize. At least she thought so until her eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of blue. Yato's photo was adorned with sharpie-drawn mustache and horns. What in the world...

Hiyori's fingers found a sheet of paper taped the closest to the map. It was a front page of a newspaper from five years ago, informing the world of a trial freeing the suspect in the murder of a local schoolgirl T. K., closing the case due to the lack of other proofs and leads.

"We apologize to the friends and family of the deceased," the article quoted the detective responsible for the case, "but continuing spending our time and resources, in this case, would be like beating a dead horse. Nevertheless, our thoughts and hearts are with them during these times of tragedy."

Hiyori shook her head. What kind of an officer makes a statement such as this in public? It was too cruel- as if the poor parents and friends of the unfortunate girl haven't heard enough about their precious person's murderer remaining unknown... Now their hope was called a dead animal.

What kind of things could happen to people… Fear of violence was the reason her father decided to enroll her six-year-old daughter in a karate class. "You'll learn how to protect yourself, which is a skill every young lady should possess nowadays!" her mother explained. It was supposed to last until elementary school graduation, then middle school graduation. But when fifteen-year-old Hiyori stayed an hour later in her dojo and caught the MMA class that was scheduled after her training, it became apparent it was love at first swing.

It wasn't a "vile, violent, barbaric" sport as her mother suggested. If you wanted to excel, it took discipline in both mind and body. It took concentration and a peaceful state of mind.

Bloodlust such as in the case pinned in front of her face had absolutely nothing to do with sport.

"... and it's not sport!"

Puzzled, Hiyori wondered if those were her own thoughts voiced out loud. But when they continued with a "Let me get my keys," she flung herself as far as possible from the board.

She wasn't supposed to be here. Kofuku-san warned her. Where to now? The window? No, how could she get down from there?

Maybe she should stay in the room and apologize. Her face went hot just by thinking about it. No, she turned in her papers yesterday, she couldn't possibly be caught snooping around somebody's important, crime-related research! And murder at that!

"Huh? It wasn't locked?"

Desperate, she flung herself into the closet closest to the door.

"I swear that's the case more often that not, Veena."

Hiyori knew that voice! It was Kazuma-san! He'd understand, for sure! Elated, she reached for the handle, when-

"What is this?"

A click of heels quickly crossed the room.

"... Kazuma, was it you touching the board?"

"Me? No. I wouldn't get near it."

Well, now she wasn't getting out for sure.

A female sigh sounded through the wood. "Kazuma..."

"You know my opinion on this, Bishamon-sama. But I still wouldn't dream to try and disrupt-"

Bishamon-sama?! As in, the...

"Veena," the woman sliced. "And I wouldn't dream to accuse you of trying to disrupt it. I only wish..."

And she was insisting on him calling her by another name, too. The two must've been close, Hiyori figured. But imagining skinny Kazuma-san speaking this strictly to the famous Hafuri trainer and president Bishamon-san was a bit unbelievable.

"Veena," Kazuma-san corrected himself, but his tone remained the same. "I've said it dozens of times before; I'll say it again. It is not healthy for you. Spending all of your free time playing this game of cat and mouse with a person who disappeared off the face of the Earth is taking a toll on you."

"And I've told you hundreds of times," a sound like somebody sitting hard in a chair echoed through the air, "I am not straining myself too hard. It's completely manageable. It's worth every second of my time. Did you know I talked to Tama-chan's mother yesterday? She calls in every week asking if there's news. Every week. In all these years, she never gave up. So how could I? I owe that much to both her and her daughter..."

The woman's strong voice drifted off.

Hiyori felt like a voyeur.

"Veena," Kazuma interrupted the silence. His tone became incredibly soft. "Nobody ever mentioned giving up. I feel the same way about the case. I'm worried about your well being. And it's not just me- Mineha and Kofuku cornered me yesterday and forced me to promise I'd do something about those eyebags you've been sporting for the last few weeks. Your class stopped by my office and asked me if you were sick and if you needed some time off. We're all worried."

And from that point, she couldn't hear anything more, so she crouched lower on her uncomfortable would-be seat and muttered: "Aaah, what a mess."

Hiyori threw her face into her hands. She shouldn't have heard this. She barely knew him, and never met her in her life! And here they were, talking in such a manner... He was pretty close to Bishamon-san, wasn't he?

Wait a moment.

She opened her eyes through her fingers.

Close to her…

She was confident he joined her by the desk. His voice was silent enough to disappear in whispers now. And if she remembered correctly, the desks should be at the other side of the room... neither of them with a clear look of the door.

Mustering up all of her courage, Hiyori peeked out of the wardrobe.

She was right. The two were facing the window, Kazuma-san standing over a pile of blonde hair tossed over the headrest of the chair. The woman was partly lying down, her head invisible, and thus incapable of turning around. Perfect.

After carefully taking off her sneakers, Hiyori dashed straight through the still-open door. She didn't stop until she found herself on top of the stairs, her heart racing and mind buzzing. Just then, a head of pink curls jumped in front of her.

"Hey, Hiyorin! Did you manage to get the papers to Kazu-chan?"

"…"

Her head was already full enough as it was.

A/N

Hello! This is the first time I didn't forget to add this note into the doc. FF is confusing for a rookie such as me.

Anyway, I wanted to say, thank you for reading this fic. I send love to the guys that faved, followed and reviewed. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

See you next time!

-Jo