Okay, screw it. It's been over a month... I think. This chapter was originally between 1/3 or 1/2 of the actual next chapter. In short, it was originally just the first part of the next chapter. Maybe at some point I will combine all of them into one monster chapter, but I have to finish writing it first. But I don't want you to think I'm not working on finishing this, though, and I especially don't want anyone to think I'm not writing at all. My brain has been all over the place on this one (that's this story, mind you), and I have not been writing it in a linear way. The ending, for instance, is mostly done; details just need to be filled in. Major scenes are also mostly done as well. I just need to connect all of them. We're also talking 7000 to 15000 worth of words, here, that need to be linked up. And edited... badly; like I said, 7000 to 15000 worth of words. A wee bit over... well, over-kill. I'm trying oh-so-hard to cut down on the purple prose. (Funny enough, that's probably why my stuff has gotten so short XD)

But since a bunch of people have started following this, I've decided to play nice and give you all something. Personally, I hate not getting updates from anything I'm following, whether it's a blog, a guy on YouTube, a Company, whatever. Even though I know I'm not super-duper famous or anything (I'm not even "kinda-sorta-a-little famous"), I would hate hate hate to disappoint people, and even worse, string them along. So, without further ado, here's the next part. And don't worry, this isn't some throw away scrap or anything. I've re-read and edited this part so much I could probably recite it by heart.

And thanks to everyone that's following me! Not just this story, but everything I do! Seriously, that means a lot. :)

Also, as usual, feedback is greatly appreciated. I'm an entertainer, albeit a sloppy one, so any feedback on how you feel about any of this is welcome.

There's nothing like a fancy restaurant. Even if you've never been able to make it past that lovely red rope, you've been in there. You already know. Trust me. You aren't missing much, anyway, except that feeling you get when you realize you've wasted far too much money in one go. And you're still hungry on top of that.

There weren't so many tables back where we were; there was plenty of space between parties, so we didn't have to listen to anyone else, and they wouldn't hear us. Not that they would have cared either way; they were far too busy enjoying the fact that it was a socially acceptable time to nurse their hangovers.

I was sitting across from a man whose face was part flushed and mostly white mustache. Thick white eyebrows were settled across his eyes, powerful looking, ready to spring and wrestle each other over his nose. He was stuffed in a beige suit, with his loud personality trying to burst out of it.

I suppose I could just be nice and call him portly and boisterous.

Next to him was a woman who I figured was his wife; it was either that or his favorite blue peacock. Katagiri was on my right, as sharp and gray as ever.

The ruddy man, whose name was Otomo Nozomu, took another sip at his drink, then looked at me square, "Well, it's been a hell of a week, hasn't it?"

"I suppose." I nibbled a bit at some bread. I hadn't ordered anything myself, much to everyone's chagrin. I wasn't hungry, and on top of that, I didn't feel like owing Otomo anything.

Katagiri nodded to what Otomo said, "Yes, it's been somewhat exciting ever since Nakai has joined our little search-party, but all the same, we haven't come up with a single lead."

Otomo nodded gravely. His wife pinched at his arm and spoke up, "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure she just wandered off. Maybe she found a man."

I gave her a look, "You think she wandered off to shack up with some guy?"

I could tell she didn't like my word usage from her tart tone, "Well, it would do her good. The poor thing always locks herself away in her little apartment with no one but Katagiri and her nurse for company. She is so detached as it is, a little relaxation and distraction would do her... would do her good." For someone who was so haughty when it came to language, she sure liked to talk in circles. "Maybe she would lose a bit of her... edge?" She puzzled over her words, what little of them she had left. "She can be so strange. But a girl with a mind like that can do wondrous things with a brush. She's practically born to do it."

I ignored a good portion of that, "Wait, Rin has a nurse?"

Otomo scoffed, "Of course! Why wouldn't she?"

"I... I didn't think that would be necessary. I mean, after all, back in school, she didn't have one."

Otomo looked at me as if I had just started undressing at the table while keeping a straight face, "But, she did have one in school."

I was all ready to protest this when I felt Katagiri touch my arm, and while looking at Otomo, "Nakai probably means back in high-school, in which case, yes, he is correct. Tezuka had a friend back then who was able to help her with most things. The staff also helped her on occasion, when her friend... couldn't."

I blinked at Katagiri. I had no idea that Rin had been reliant on the staff like that. After all, one of our first conversations had been about... well, it had taken place during the festival, and I had accidentally pulled a rather "private" matter out into the light like an ass. Which I have a habit of doing.

Katagiri spoke to me, "She didn't really like the staff. She wasn't too fond of the former nurse, either, despite the fact that he got on so well with her friend. She said something about how that man was always wearing a mask, and he scared her the same way clowns did." Katagiri looked down at his plate, and half-sighed the rest, "We then talked about cotton-candy for the next hour."

Otomo's wife leaned back into a sudden peal of laughter. Talk about fear. "Oh my, that's just what I mean! She needs a man, and oh so badly, even if only for a short while."

Katagiri continued, "After high-school, though, she really had no choice but to get 'help.' Her parents were able to afford it, being that Tezuka had earned more than a handful of scholarships, not to mention certain types of financial-aid due to her 'condition' and her time at Yamaku. She was even able to get her own apartment, which was at her request, as I understand it. It's still her current one, as well."

I asked, "So, she's had this nurse a long time, huh? What does... he? Or probably she, know?"

Katagiri shook his head, "If you mean that first nurse in particular, I'm afraid that she is no longer around. She left Miss Tezuka's employ some time ago, and long before this incident. The current one has already been thoroughly questioned, so you needn't waste your time, Nakai."

"Why'd she leave? She get fired?"

Katagiri fidgeted, then gave me an apologetic smile, "Well, she had certain disagreements, and left because of them. I really don't know too much about it, to be honest."

"You think she still might be in the picture? I don't think it's a good idea to just write her off like that."

"No," Katagiri was quite insistent, "We're quite certain she isn't involved in this. She left on very disagreeable terms." He shrugged and sipped at his coffee, "You know, rather raised voices and all that, if you catch my meaning."

Otomo's wife moved to say something, but I only let her get as far as an inhale, "Wait, that would put her right at the top of my list. Well, maybe not all the way at the top, being that I don't know how angry she was and what it was all about, but if someone had any reason to harm Tezuka..."

Katagiri's face sharpened, "I've told you before, Nakai, we don't think that is the case."

"And why the hell not? Like you said, you told me just that, without a single reason as to why you think so. For all we know, Tezuka is dead." And cue the dramatic sip from my... water with lemon slice.

Otomo's wife inhaled again, bringing a hand to her mouth. If she did that one more time without release, she'd pop like a balloon. Maybe that's why her eyes were so wide. Katagiri's mouth drew into a thin, tight, line. Otomo kept blank for a second, and then chuckled, "Nakai, has anyone ever told you that you might be a little too serious for your own good?"

That remark got me to chip my teeth on my glass, and the sound of the strike moved Otomo to say, "Come, come now, Nakai, relax. Why not have a drink with me to calm your nerves?" He motioned for the waiter and ordered two glasses of something-or-other. I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy snorting and sulking, thoroughly defeated. Come, come. Who the hell says "Come, Come"? I mean, come on, come on.

The waiter hurried back and set a couple of glasses in front of us. I gave mine a look, and Otomo smiled wide, "Please, Nakai, indulge me. My wife likes to stick to wine and Katagiri here abstains from any sort of alcohol. Hell, part of the reason I was so agreeable to you joining us was that I thought I would finally be able to enjoy myself!" He let out a hearty laugh. What a funny town I was in. I raised my glass with him, and we both drank down a fair bit of it. It tasted like paint thinner mixed with all the sweat and tears collected during a traumatic childhood. And bitters. Lots of bitters.

Otomo let out a happy sigh when he put the glass back down and asked, "How much do you know about Miss Tezuka's career?"

"Not much," I said, shaking the slight dizziness out of my head. "Anything I have learned about it I only just found out today. I really didn't talk to Tezuka much during the end of high-school, which is around the time she started to get off the ground, I guess."

"How close were you two?" Otomo asked.

I drummed my fingers on the glass before drinking some more, "Pretty close, I guess. Tezuka is a hard one to get close to, but I'm pretty sure you all know that."

"Yes, all too well," Otomo chuckled. "Didn't you help her back then? You were sort of her assistant, weren't you?"

I huffed my own chuckle, "Sure, I carried some of her stuff a couple of times, mixed a bit of paint here and there." I took down some more of my drink. "But, after a while, she didn't need me anymore. She was just so busy with her work, that we didn't have time to talk, even. And on more than one occasion, she asked to be left completely alone. No calls, no visits, no post, nothing. She stayed all alone in her little atelier, living out her little dream." I killed my drink. "Or stereotype."

Otomo finished his drink as well, "Not bitter, are we, Nakai?"

"What would make you say that?" Otomo went to say something, but I kept going, "Things looked like they weren't going to work out. Like we've been saying all night to each other, we all know how Rin can get. Some people can leave the room without their body leaving the room. Nobody's home until you pinch their arm. Well, Tezuka can be looking you straight in the eye, but her mind has gone and jumped over a chasm without looking back. And good luck finding her."

Katagiri nodded while looking at me, and spoke softly, "Yes, that is Tezuka."

"Yeah, charming girl, to be sure." I reached for more bread.

Otomo sat there for a moment with his hand on his chin, and then ordered two more drinks for himself and I. He spoke in a loud but amiable tone, "Well, Nakai, I guess I could help fill in the gaps between the last time you saw her and where we are currently. I'm not too sure it will help, but you never know."

"Yes, I do have to admit, I am pretty curious as to how Tezuka managed to get her little slice of popularity."

Otomo snorted. He wasn't shouting, but his voice was a little louder, and much sharper. "Little?" He shook his head, "What do you mean by that? Little?" He spat the word as if it tasted wrong to him.

I slowly blinked, "Well, I... I don't know, it's just..."

"Just what? Miss Tezuka is quite well known, and you should have found that out for yourself today. Or have you not been looking as hard as you claim?"

"Well, yeah, people know Tezuka, but she isn't a household name. I mean, she's up in galleries and stuff, but it's not like she's a star pitcher or any..." Wow. Just wow. Could I have honestly found a worse occupation to compare Rin to? Outside of wrist-watch model? Just what the hell made me think that?

"Or what?"

"Or, uh, anything." I folded my hands on the table in an attempt to save face. I then buried my glass into that same face.

"That girl...," Otomo practically snarled. Katagiri cleared his throat, and Otomo settled down some, taking a sip from his glass. Otomo then smiled, and said, "I'm so sorry I got worked up there, Nakai. You see, it hasn't been very easy for Tezuka. In fact, she can only get so far by herself. I'm not talking about daily routines, either. There's a reason why people know who she is. I helped put her works in those galleries, Nakai. I worked very hard to get them in there, in front of all those eyes. The girl deserves it, of course, she's a very hard worker, but she isn't the only one who has a stake in all of this."

"We all work together," Katagiri said. "Like a team."

Otomo nodded at him, "Yes, like a team. You see, someone needs to talk with these galleries, someone needs to let people know that the works exist, and someone has to make sure that no one gets cheated. It's a tough world, Nakai, and sometimes a very stressful line of work."

"Yes, very," Katagiri said.

I shrugged, "Why do it, then? If it's such a bother, I mean."

Otomo smiled, "It's quite rewarding. I'd hate to just back out now, just when I have finally started to get everything off the ground."

I leaned a bit over the table, "So, have you been doing this long, then?"

Both of them seemed taken aback. Otomo then spoke, "Well, yes, for a few years now. I got into this after buying a few pieces out of curiosity."

"Huh," I replied. "What'd you buy?"

Otomo waved his hand as if he was pushing cobwebs out sight, "I've sold those long ago, Nakai. I'm sorry, I can't say that I remember."

"You sold them? Why?"

Otomo shrugged, "They just... they just didn't really serve any purpose, anymore."

"What? You get bored of them or something?"

Otomo's wife piped up, "Oh, he's buying and selling all the time. I usually don't care, but I do have to ask Nozomu, do your tastes really change that often? I mean, it's not that much of a bother, but when you have those things moved in and out and hung or what-have-you, it just disturbs the general peace of our home, wouldn't you say?"

Otomo turned to her with his eyes narrowed, but his tone was joking, "Why do you ask? Afraid of your future in said home?"

"Well, I'd be glad to go at that point, being that your tastes will have become so poor." She giggled and he laughed lightly.

I asked, "Just how much work have you put into Tezuka's career?"

Otomo closed his eyes and nodded sagely, "Well, let's start at the beginning, like I promised. I was talking about how Miss Tezuka has had more than a few hardships as she's advanced over the years. As my wife pointed out before, Tezuka has more than just a 'knack' or 'talent' for what she does. It's more like painting is an extension of Tezuka herself. One could not live without the other, I am quite certain of that. There really isn't much she can do, otherwise. Again, to quote my wife, Tezuka is born for this. Still, that fact in and of itself is not enough to get by with. She had all that raw power inside of her when she started, but no way to control it. She really lacked a lot of direction, with many of her very early paintings just unnamed of all things! Unnamed, and pretty much indescribable! Composed excellently on a technical level, but only to a certain extent, being that the works didn't really 'lead' anywhere. They also weren't anything too new. I hate to say it, but abstraction has been around for quite some time, so they were mostly ignored. Not even I know too much about her work during that time. Still, she shone."

"A real diamond in the rough," chimed in Katagiri. Otomo nodded at him, "Very much. The girl needed a lot of work, but at that stage, it was too early to tell if she was going to fizz out or not. She had made a splash when she was still in school—and that's art school—so some people were keeping an eye on her after she graduated. No one was willing to risk anything on her for quite some time, though." He gulped from his glass, "You always look for graduates that have been out at least five years."

"Why five years?" I said that more to the bottom of my glass.

"Well," Otomo answered, "Usually less than five percent of graduates really make anything worthwhile or meaningful after that point." He guzzled some more, then continued, "I remember being goaded into showing my face at an exhibition where some of her works were being displayed, and I actually got to meet and talk with her for a few moments. She really put me off at first. Almost everything she said was utterly incoherent. Very unprofessional, and now that I think about it, quite unbecoming. She just seemed... so... well, childish. When she was pressed about her work, she would just go on about 'translating' or some non-sense. I remember the exhibition had lot's of butterfly paintings. She had been painting that sort of thing for a long while, in what people now call Tezuka's 'Sky' period. The people who looked at them said they felt like they were flying free over the world. It was all very novel, but it wasn't bringing her anywhere worthwhile, and more importantly, wasn't bringing her into my confidence." Otomo shrugged, sipped, and continued, "She would always babble about 'perspectives' and people's viewpoints, and that's what the whole 'translating' business was about, I don't know." He shrugged. I grunted something. Nobody at the table cared. Otomo kept going, "Someone pressed her to go with that theme. She focused on it, and well...," he smiled wide, "that's what got her famous."

"What... theme? The sky?" It took my brain a second to load the rest of that sentence. I rubbed my eyes, feeling my chest start to get tight. My fingers were nervously playing with my matches, and clumsily, at that.

"Well, how she viewed things," said Otomo. "Translating! Or whatever she calls it now. That's what really caught my eye, what made her stand out." Another long sip, and it left him with a bigger smile, "Before, I figured that all the fuss was about her... disadvantages. She also had technique, incredible technique, but like I said, nothing really to say. It was all a mess that no one could understand. All style and no substance. But then, she started to, to, well, transform the world around her. She focused on things that were easy to recognize, but she added some of her... flair, her view, or her," he nodded at his wife, "her edge, I guess you could say. It's quite difficult to put into words."

"Please try."

Otomo pondered his words for a moment, then spoke with sweeping gestures,"Well, a busy street would become... something else. Politics became otherworldly. Stores became alien landscapes. That girl has wit, I tell you. Satire, comedy, sadness, she can bring it all out of the world around her. Lay everything bare. It's quite incredible." Another sip. "Transforming what we recognize into something that at first seems bizarre, but then it becomes even more recognizable. She is able to see the true face of everyone and everything. That's when I realized," he said while proudly puffing out his chest, "there was more to her than her disability." He plunked the empty glass down with a flourish, "It really caught people's attention. Heh, with any luck, it can be used as a snapshot of this time!"

"A... what?" I badly needed coffee. And to be away.

Katagiri popped back in, "Over time, Miss Tezuka's work will be... nostalgic. That's very good, very valuable."

"Yes, yes!" said Otomo. "Of how we all felt about certain things, and show the future what we thought at that period in time! More than just valuable! And more than just secure!" He then looked saddened, and folded his hands on the table. He spoke somewhat softly—for him, anyway—while he was looking down at them, "She is just starting to get close to her peak. Maybe. I hope I'm wrong, of course. Who knows where someone like her will peak! I was hoping to be there for every step of her journey, but now..." He let it trail off, looking over everyone's head like a widow gazing out to sea. I could almost see the one lone tear falling down his cheek. Such things don't happen in real life, of course. There's always, like, so much snot when people cry. It's disgusting. True measure of love, to wipe all that crap up.

Just what the hell was I thinking about? Goddammit, twice in one hour...

I went to get up, but couldn't. I needed a second to grab both corners of the room to try and keep it from rocking back and forth. No one seemed to notice or care. Par never really was that exciting.

Otomo spoke, "I hope she's all right. I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to her."

"Boy," I said, "she sure is lucky to have someone like you looking out for her."

Otomo turned to me, looking quite stern, "I've given her everything that she needs, out of my own pocket, no less. I've had to fight and finagle her into every respectable gallery in Tokyo. Sure, my name carries more than just a little weight, but these people...," he shook his head in a resigned manner, "Nakai, you don't understand how unreasonable these people can be sometimes. They have their little club, and the hoops they expect you to jump through can be some of the most painful and degrading things you can ever hope to do. I try my damnedest to keep Tezuka away from all that. She just wants to paint, and paint, and paint." He raised his empty glass and contemplated it, "And I give her that ability."

We all sat there in silence for a few moments. Katagiri then cleared his throat, "Well, I think it's about time we called it an evening, don't you think?"

"Quite right, Katagiri," Otomo said. He looked to his wife, "Are you ready darling?" She cooed something back, and I stood up, "Well, thanks for the meal, Otomo. I'll try my damnedest to find Tezuka." We shook hands, and I turned to leave. But after a thought, I turned back and asked, "It's really that hard out there? Even for someone like her?"

"You have no idea, Nakai," Otomo spoke gravely. "The talent, or even in Tezuka's case, that gift, is nowhere near and never enough."

I stood there with my hands in my pockets, chewing things over. I thought about Rin, kneeling on the floor that night in the atelier, sweat drenched, with nothing but her unbuttoned shirt on. I thought about lighting cigarettes for her, and my first smoke. I thought about how sad Saionji and Nomiya would look sometimes. I thought about Emi at her Emi-est. And then I went back to a sweat-chilled, naked, and lonely Rin, destroying herself.

"I'll find her," I said. "I will find her."

Otomo nodded at me, and his wife flashed me a smile. I didn't return either, and walked away, weaving through the tables towards the front. I'd catch the occasional glance from the clientele. It was getting harder and harder for me to see anything in the low lighting, but that made me move faster. I wanted out.

I made it past the head waiter, and was standing in the entrance-way to the place. I tried not to look up. Large and ornate chandeliers hung above, slightly dimmed, looking as lively and glamorous as foppish suicidals whose necks hadn't broken completely. I knew that if I made eye-contact, it was all over. I desperately needed a drink, a smoke, a life, and someone to hold close. What I got was a firm grip on my shoulder, a spin, and a face-full of Katagiri. "I hope you don't find this too intrusive, Nakai, but what are your plans for the rest of the evening?" He didn't look all that pleased at me.

I shrugged, "I don't know. Like I said to you on the phone, these people are probably night-owls. I figured I would scope out a club or bar or coffee-house or whatever."

"Oh, really? And then what about tomorrow?"

"I get up and hit the pavement all over again. What's it to you, anyway?"

He actually laughed at that, "Oh, I don't know, Nakai, it's just that is has been a week since you joined, and you haven't made any real progress, as well as the fact that if you get burned out, you won't make any progress at all."

"Stop calling it a week, Katagiri. Being melodramatic won't get anyone anywhere."

His face twisted into mock confusion, "Oh? I guess I shall wait for midnight. That way it will be a proper week."

A very small part of me felt a bit cold. The majority ignored it, of course, because it hadn't caught on yet, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Katagiri studied me seriously, "Nakai, are you drunk?"

"What?" My turn to laugh. Nervously. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy, but I'm not totally far-gone."

He seemed to get more serious, which started to get more and more of me nervous. He was studying me so intently, and I had no idea why. He said his next bit slowly, and very carefully, "Nakai, it's probably a very good idea for you to go straight back to your hotel. We've wasted six days already. We need you in top form. Did you already forget the promise you just made?"

Something wasn't right.

Something was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

I licked my lips, realized what I was doing, then tried my best to be amiable, "Has it really been six days?"

Katagiri took a step back. He was looking at me differently, but I couldn't tell you how. He spoke slowly again, "Six days ago, I spoke to you at Jay's Bar. I didn't talk to you again until this morning. I called you, but you didn't answer. So, yes, Nakai, it has been almost a week."

Two days.

I hadn't gone to work for two days.

Right?

Please. Please be right. That's what I thought to myself.

But right then, deep down, I knew I was wrong. I still glanced down at my phone, pretending to check the time and not the date, despite the fact that the hand that held my phone was the same arm my watch was on.

Five days. I hadn't gone to work for five days.

I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my neck, and I instinctively swiped at it. I tried to laugh off the tension, but it probably made me look crazier. "Well, time sure does fly, doesn't it?" I tried smiling. I probably shouldn't have.

Katagiri just nodded.

I looked at my watch, then at my phone in another failed save, "Well, I have about an hour and a half until you're right, Katagiri. I guess I should be heading back now."

"Yes. It would put me quite at ease."

I nodded at him and walked off. I could still feel his stare on my back even after I stepped outside. I knew then what the look on his face had been: it was the same tense look a man gets when he is confronted with a wild and unpredictable animal.