Hell~o there, people! I'm reeeeally I finally finished this chapter. I don't know why I have so much trouble writing about this pairing... Really really tired... and hungry, too. Anyway, enjoy, please! And leave some reviews, please...

Makishima Shogo waved a hand and quietly went back to the castle.

After he left, Kougami lit up another cigarette and turned his back to look at the royal guards arresting the two dissidents. More exactly, they were arresting the first one of them and putting the second's body in a corpse bag. The prisoner was resisting like a dammed soul, thrashing and trying to kick the half a dozen of watchmen who were struggling to keep him immobile. The party still was resonating from the palace, laughs and chattering on a Canone alla terza background sound. They didn't need to witness such a trivial thing as a arrest.

A young woman dressed in a dark suit, with dark hair tied up in a pony-tail, was supervising the guards' work. Shinya walked to her.

"Kunizuka, did you learn anything from him?" He asked.

Kunizuka leaved through a notebook. "No. Nothing remarkable. Or at least, nothing the Public Safety Bureau can be interested in."

Shinya frowned and puffed a white smoke. "So back to square one."

"It isn't as if we had already left it. And you?" She cast him a limpid stare. "Did you get some useful information from the prince?"

Some useful information? From that man? The Inspector almost laughed out. "Nope. That man is an absolutely hopeless case. It would be a waste of time to stay with him anymore. I should come back to the first division for support, instead."

"Well, I have no authority in this." She closed the notebook and beckoned one of the guards to make his report: the only survivor hadn't said anything helpful, he hadn't given his name nor his friend's, even their aim was unclear. He only said something about 'a blaspheme to the Realm of P…', 'a marriage that only would bring misfortune on their country', 'killing the evil in his den'…

"And these men are clearly addicted to methamphetamines: dry mouth, dilated wards, blurred vision, anxiety and agitation… We'll carry out tests once at the headquarters. Nonetheless, we won't get coherent answers until he's totally severed, but it may take three of four days until…"

"Enough." Kunizuka raised a hand to make the private stop. The latter saluted and left right after a nod of the woman Inspector's head. "We're waiting for your report, Kougami. I assume you'll soon come back home. The division is already short-handed, we can't afford to have a single agent missing from their post. Inspector Ginoza is getting nervous about it."

Oh. Gino. Kougami could easily imagine him looking daggers at the entire division, with his stomach aching like no hell. That had never meant anything good for anyone. He had known Gino for too long to understand that. However, Kunizuka was right. Those incessant terrorist raids had become more and more bothersome, and until now the Public Safety bureau still was clueless about their origin. Their motivation was more or less simple – a violent hatred toward the Empire, and a pure aversion for the alliance concluded between the two countries – the motivation was simple, but finding out the rebels' hideout and dismantling their organization was another issue.

They had the first division with its back against the wall. Since Gino's team was in charge of the affair, no wonder the bespectacled man was getting nervous. And it was in this context that they sent Kougami to act as the prince's bodyguard. That way the Bureau thought they would capture the rebels more quickly.

In the end, the white haired man was a bait and nothing more. And the irony of the situation was that the latter was utterly aware of his position.

However, that night's assailants weren't the insurgents they had been waiting for. Those were mere junkies. Questioning them would simply be a waste of time.

"Yeah. I'll do my best. Just tell Gino to drink some milk."

The woman Inspector saluted and turned heels.

Shogo was indeed aware of the fact that he was being used. It wasn't something he was proud of; it was inevitable.

So he was thinking while walking quietly to his bedroom. The corridor he was following wasn't inside the royal castle, it was a courtyard much more than anything. The place was bordered by high, white columns. Moonlight was slipping through the gaps, streaking the tiled floor with white and black. A very peaceful scenery. At the end of the corridor, a staircase, this time inside the castle, was leading to his apartment.

The white haired man was occupying the entire left wing. Apart from the servants who would clean the area from time to time, no one would come in that place. It's wrong to think that people weren't allowed to, the correct reason would be Makishima's idiosyncrasy. There was indeed something particular with the white haired man, something that would make people enticed, and in the same time afraid of him, thus instinctively rejecting him.

Makishima Shogo was the kind of person who can easily lure the common beings' attention to him, attract their sympathy or induce them to accomplish the stupidest things just in order to impress him. Just like insects attracted to the light, those are creatures attracted to the sun… But just like when you're looking at the sun, first you're marveled, still the enchantment won't last for long. Soon, it will burn your eyes; they're turning red, growing painful and getting blind.

People are afraid of the sun. They're afraid of the light.

Most of time, noblemen's antechamber are full of courtesans, of opportunists and animals of the same kind. In Shogo's case, his hall was constantly void of people. Not as if it bothered him, actually. His mornings were cracked up with hypocrisy and lies, at least his nights would be filled up with sincerity, may loneliness be the price of it.

However, at long last, loneliness can become truly heavy on one's shoulders. Therefore he was looking for amusement, for some way to reduce the boredom that would always numb his brain cells every time he was alone at night. No, he wasn't the lonely type, nor the type to look constantly for some company. Nevertheless, at the moment, he was feeling a little annoyed. The day began really tiresomely, the middle of the day and the evening hadn't been better, the party was just the icing of that exhausting misery. But this, he was used to.

What bothered him the most was that when he finally found a way to relieve himself from the deadly tedium, when he got some time to talk with the dark haired Inspector, they were rudely disturbed by those intruders. That was a shame. Besides, he didn't see the point for Shinya to lose his time in that never ending interrogating. So useless, when instead they could do anything worthier…

He reached his bedroom. It was a huge and luxurious room. The floor was covered by thick carpets and the windows by damask curtains. On the walls, a collection of valuable paintings, with one Makishima liked more than the others. It was a representation of a very beautiful, yet sad, landscape: a winter seashore. The sea was dull grey, almost motionless, except for foaming waves miles away at the horizon. One could spot dark cliffs which were slightly darkening the skyline. The sky was grey, too, because of the stormy clouds that were obscuring it. Only a feeble moon ray could be seen filtering from behind the mist. Not a single boat on the sea, not a single seagull in the sky. It was all monotone and depressing. The shore as well was: some beige-greyish sand where seaweed would settle, from time to time, because of the high tide.

The painting wasn't signed, but Shogo would have liked it to meet its creator. That unique piece of furniture was, in point of fact, the only one he did appreciate in that too spacious room.

After half unfastening his tie, he slumped on the canopy bed in the middle of the room, back against the silky sheets, with his right arm folded on his face, hiding it. A furtive smile stretched his lips.

"Am I getting too nervous?" He muttered. "It isn't like me."

He stayed like this, lying idly on his bed, for few hours unable to sleep. On a bedside table, under the weak light of a nightlight, there was a volume of the Gulliver's Travels, the same Kougami was reading the first time they met. He had already read that book million times before. It was a story written for children, despite the fact the contain could become quite twisted at certain moments. He could clearly recall a precise passage of the book, something he found quite strange the first time he read it, when he was still a kid:

"'They had a maxim that in a company it is good that there is silence from time to time, and I think they were right. In this interval and during this kind of truce, the mind is filled with new ideas,and the conversation then become livelier and more vivid' "He recited dully, eyes glancing idly at the ceiling. "Does that still have any meaning now?"

Even if it did, did that change anything? He didn't even know why he picked that book again. Was it because he saw Kougami reading it in the library? A childish reaction. But the fact he did that was rather puzzling him. A weird situation for him, without a doubt, that for once he was the one being influenced and not the contrary.

Still at that instant, he was recalling the dark hair man's obsidian eyes focused on the book's lines, his spiky black locks, his pallid skin and well-built stature standing out in the crowd at the princess' arrival. He'd known the inspector only for few days, yet Shogo was considering him differently: he was the first one who could seriously arouse his curiosity. Maybe that was in his way of thinking which, oddly, was easily following his, in his unwavering stare, or simply the straightforwardness he had when he was with the white haired man… all those little details that made the prince feel at ease near him.

"Ah, but he isn't here." Surely still taking care of some paperwork.

Uncertainty was slowly filling the white haired man's head. He'd been alone for so long that the mere sensation of wanting to be with someone else for the first time in his life was making him hesitant. That mix of necessity and joy was making him hesitant. However that was exactly what he wanted at the moment. He was at least perfectly aware of that fact.

That feeling was gradually warming up his chest. He carefully averted his eyes from Swift's book not to have to face his own discomfort.

At the very last, his eyelids started to feel heavy. He fell asleep.

…

The next day, his doubts still were lingering in his mind. Shogo didn't want to see that pathetic crowd anymore, he didn't want to attend some futile parties nor act as if he was pleased to hear the usual praying and wishes of happiness for him and his 'family'. That meant nothing, that was coming to nothing.

Even Kougami noticed the unusual quietness of the white haired prince. Makishima was totally lost in his thoughts. At first, he found it very practical not to have him voice every little complaint about his agenda, annoy him with his twisted concepts of life – of which he was, in point of fact, really thankful; and mostly not to have to nearly drag him out of his bathroom.

On the other hand, the days were turning dreadfully tedious. Since the last attack, the security in the castle had been leveled up (something they should have done since long, Shinya remarked: maybe an excess of confidence, maybe pure unconsciousness, but when he first arrived in the palace, the security level was close to nil). The time spent outside had been reduced to half; moreover they wanted to give Makishima a complete escort, something the prince vehemently refused, as well as the Inspector: his aim was to lure the dissidents to Shogo, having a wall of guards around him wouldn't help the Inspector at all.

"A very judicious decision, Inspector Kougami Shinya." Makishima smiled at him from behind the half open door of his bedroom. "Sur ce."

He closed the door.

Yes, the days were monotonous, and to make things worse, it started to rain. A real storm. The weather was cold and windy, absolutely awful. The outings were completely cancelled. And so, Shogo was confined within the palace's walls all through days and nights. The library itself had become boring, it left the prince with nothing else to do aside from watching stupidly raindrops hitting the huge glass roof of the greenhouse he almost hadn't left for days. A splendid vegetation was surrounding him: trees and flowers from all over the world, as magnificent and luxuriant as in a real jungle, climbing on the posts and the walls, blossoming wild and loutish.

Yet, it was just an imitation, a satire. Everything surrounding him was always lifeless fake.

Shogo was lying on a lounger and, exactly like that night after the assault, he was watching lazily at the transparent roof. The only difference was that, contrary to that night, he was holding the Gulliver's Travel in his hands, both resting on his stomach. What he saw above him was only dull clouds, rain and torn off leaves. From time to time, a flash of lightning would enlighten the clouds, the rapid glow almost already followed by a grumble.

"We should leave this place. The storm is getting closer." Kougami's voice raised.

"Yes… that's right." Shogo replied, his golden orbs fastened on the cloudy sky.

"It'll become dangerous to stay here. The glass may break."

"Yes… that's right."

"Did you hear anything I said?"

"Yes…"

The conversation was getting annoying for the dark haired Inspector. He was okay for Makishima not talking to him, he was okay for him brooding silently in his corner, but only when the white haired man complied to what he said. Now, the situation was more like talking to a living puppet which would always repeat the same sentence, like a scratched disc. And why was he brooding like that anyway? Was he angry about something? Shouldn't be Kougami the angry one? He was stuck with someone he couldn't bring himself to like the slightest in the world, when his division had to deal with the rebels' attacks almost on a daily basis.

"Hey, Makishima. What's bothering you this much?"

The prince's eyes widened in surprise. He turned to look at Shinya: the Inspector was standing few meters from him, a put out cigarette between his lips. He was frowning; two small wrinkles streaking the space between his eyebrows, like every time the raven was truly upset about something. That was actually the first time Kougami asked him something this personal. Well, that wasn't that personal, but, at any rate, Shogo was glad the Inspector was showing him some concern, concern that had nothing to do with work or good forms. He smiled unconsciously, unsure of how long that attention would last.

"I'm fine, Inspector Kougami. I was only listening to it."

"To what?"

"Can't you hear it? It's the storm. This is practically the only living thing in this eternally motionless and odorless world. Something no one will ever be able to trap in an aseptic bottle like those false trees. A exquisite, wonderful event. Even the destruction it brings is beautiful, I only gives back the natural shape of matters and people. A simple, artless, savage melody: the sound of the wind that breaks down the artificial forms, upturning the vessels in the sea, razing mountains to the ground, all together with the thunder. The roar, the deafening cry of thunder which collapses on the arid soil, burning down hundred-year-old trees, and, at last, the salvation rain which will lightly wipe away the charred rubble of the civilization and scorch the skin until there's nothing left anymore but our bones…" Everything, anything but the deafening, mind-numbing silence and its cadaverous fixity."Isn't that a lovely vision?"

Shinya said nothing. They were both staring at each other, the wind whipping against the glass as their only watcher. Seeing that the dark haired man wasn't willing for a conversation, Shogo sighed lightly and got up. 'Ah. If thou let go of me now…' He recited in his mind.

"I'm going out. Can you ask for a car, please?"

Kougami looked at him, incredulous. "Going out? With that storm outside? Are you going insane?"

"I'm happy you seem to worry about my mental sanity." Shogo smirked while walking to the castle's main entrance. "Feel free to follow me if you want. Anyway, I'll bring Ooryou with me."

When they reached the entrance and walked down the landing's stairs, a coach was already waiting for them. Fortunately for the prince, with the wind blowing in his ears, he could only hear one out of two words Kougami was yelling at him. At last, the Inspector had to get in the car, at least in order to have the satisfaction to shout to his heart's content at Makishima's nonsense.

They took place on the leather benches, both men sitting face to face.

"… And tell me what kind of bloody idiot would go out with a damn tempest above their head?"

The white haired man didn't look at the dark hair one when he impassively replied. "A tempest… That's right. 'We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is rounded with a sleep' "

His eyes were closed when he finished his sentence, his head resting on his hand, as if he was remembering a nice memory. Seeing him like this was exasperating Shinya. "Have you already read this one?" That question, Makishima had directed it to a young girl who had been sitting next to Kougami during the whole argument. She was the same girl who gave him the chocolate box, days earlier. Her long and dark hair waved when she laughed silently at Shogo's inquiring.

"Oh, please. I have a profound respect in Shakespeare and his work, and that's precisely why I don't quite understand this story. After all, it must have been some sort of pastime for an old man near his retirement."

"An old man's pastime?" Kougami's eyebrow raised. "A kind-hearted father who, beyond his wish for revenge, chose the happiness of his daughter instead of bloodbath and cannibalism... What's so incomprehensible in that?"

Shinya asked this question rather emotionlessly. He really wasn't in the mood for talking and debating about literacy. Ooryou nodded

"This is a defendable theory. But I'm sure our driver is getting impatient. Look, it started to rain. Coachman" She called through the spyhole behind her head. "At the Hotel, my friend."

The hotel? What was that garbage again? Some kind of joke? Kougami cursed in his inner self. He really wanted a smoke, but gave up. Let it go, he thought to himself. It didn't take much time for him to understand what the Hotel was.

Yeah... i'm done...

Gosh I love Sakurai Takahiro's voice so much... But i have that strange feeling that, lately, every white haired chara he's the seiyuu of ends up... dead... T.T