Emiko laughed as a firework shot off from the back of a truck and zoomed through the air, causing Juuzou to clamp his arms over his ears and huddle down protectively on the ground. For a split second, nervous sank in that he might slip into what she liked to call his 'raw mode' - when he shut down and lost control. Fortunately he composed himself quickly, and she resumed her laughter. He shot her a dirty look, but it was light-hearted. Somehow over the years, they had learned to joke and laugh with each other.

It was currently fall, on the edge of winter, and there was a festival happening in the downtown region. Having some time off work, she made a deal with Shinohara that she would take the boy off his hands for the weekend. It would give her the opportunity to show off some cultural events, but also to get the boy out of the house. Not to mention, it would give Shinohara some quality time to spend with his new wife, who they just found out was pregnant.

"Come on!" she said, beckoning to him once he picked himself off the ground and was staring in wonder at the explosion of colors erupting into the evening sky. "I'll buy you some dango!" Luckily, the rest of the festival went by smoothly, at least until the parade.

Although Emiko was prohibited from developing personal relationships with her clients, as always she made special exceptions for Juuzou. There was nothing quite that professional about their relationship to begin with, anyway.

"Emi-chan?" he asked suddenly as they were making their way over to the parade that was forming at the end of the street. The sidewalks were crowded and the fall air was filled with the sticky scent of confectionaries mingled with gunpowder. Every once in awhile, a firework would explode overhead, causing an eruption of 'oohs' and ahhs' from the crowds below.

"Mhmm?" she asked.

"Why are you wearing that eye patch?"

It was more of a statement than a question, and one that he asked frequently enough to already know the answer to. Emiko just figured that asking a barrage of the same questions was his way of processing what had already happened, although he still did not make a move to say anything else about it.

"Because I'm partially blind in that eye," she explained, repeating calmly the phrase she always said when asked. That eye was now glazed over by a cataract, and it never looked in quite the same direction as the other one. Little children pushed excitedly passed their legs to run towards the parade, but Juuzou didn't seem to mind their carelessness.

A quiet grunt was all he uttered in reply.

"A girl died in my class yesterday."

Emiko kept her stride, not picking up her pace nor pausing at all. For some reason, Juuzou was always more open whenever she wasn't prying him with questions. She kept silence.

"It was Shizuku."

Emiko racked her brain, trying to sift through all of the names of classmates Juuzou had told her about. Was that his teacher? No. The girl who helped him with his math homework? Couldn't be. One of the twins in his class? Nope.

"She was sick for a long time."

In a final 'aha' moment, she realized it was the classmate who said hi to Juuzou everyday, the girl he thought was nice. It was too bad she died, Emiko hoped the girl might become Juuzou's first school friend.

They were just nearing the edge of the street, but were stopped by the edge of the thickening crowd. She pretended to be watching the parade go by, with all the floats and dancers, waving lights and playing instruments all around in traditional style.

Juuzou's face looked crumpled in deep thought as he absently watched the drummers go by. The sound was almost deafening, so it gave time to ponder.

"What do you think about her death?" Emiko asked casually as the drummers made way for the dancers. She hoped against her better judgment that his response would be different than the time he told her he felt nothing at the death of the animals that were found around the Academy.

Unusually, he responded rather quickly. "I've killed lots of people."

Piercing stares from the surrounding people crowded around them darted back and forth, all unwilling to make eye contact. Pretty soon, a wide space cleared about the odd pair, as people began to notice and feel uncomfortable with Juuzou's appearance and conversation. Emiko, like the white-haired boy, didn't respond to them.

"I've killed lots of people," he repeated. "I watched them all die. Sometimes they talked to me. Sometimes they…" he trailed off. He didn't sound cold, nor happy about what he did, but there was a bit of uncertainty in his voice - the first time that Emiko felt like he was actually trying to work through his problems.

There was a period of silence where Emiko dared not move, or even breath, but only hope. The last time he willingly gave up this much information about his past was that day in the car, right after he stuck her eye with a sewing needle.

The float went by and another came, with even more dancers and musicians. Then the next. She chanced a peek at the boy's face, to try and read his expression, but he only wore a contemplative frown.

"I didn't kill those cats and dogs at the Academy," he confessed, as though she might still be doubting. "And I didn't kill Shizuku either," he said, settling the matter.

This time, Emiko looked at him. "I believe you," she said, mustering up a smile.

Instantly, the boy's jaw dropped and he took off, pushing aggressively past the people who were blocking him in, and running the direction they just came like a wild man.

"Not again," she muttered. Although this time, she knew better than to run after him. Instead, she walked over to the dango stand they were just at that was currently shut down for the parade, figuring he would have to run by there eventually. Sometimes, Juuzou went a little crazy, and when that happened it was important to give him his space.

About an hour later, long after the sun died down beyond the horizon, and just before the last groups of people had filed out of the nearly vacant streets, Juuzou finally showed up - a dark silhouette behind an empty background. But Emiko wasn't worried. He always came back, even if it took a long time.

He came up to her silently and even though it was dark, she could clearly see the blood soaking his sleeves and trailing down his arms and legs. It was then that she understood a big part of the reason for his self-harming behaviors had to be so that he didn't do them to people who didn't deserve them.

"Are you ready to go home now? You'll have to take a shower when we get back, you're all dirty."

Juuzou smiled as she stood up from her spot leaning against the stand. It was late.

"I'm getting sleepy."

"We had a long day," she agreed, lending him her jacket. The two padded back to the car and left the festival in silence.

When they arrived at Emiko's apartment, she directed him to the bathroom while she began to prep for dinner. When she didn't hear the water turn on for a good fifteen minutes though, she decided to do some investigating.

She knocked three times on the door, and each time a hollow sound reverberated back out at her. "All you alright in there?" But there was no response. Now, she was beginning to worry. Jiggling the handle, she found it unlocked, and so she dared a peek inside, peering in with her good eye.

"Juuzou?" she whispered into the dark room. A muffled noise from the bathtub told her that he was there. Immediately, she turned on the lights. The boy was lying in the middle of the tub, fully clothed and staring aimlessly at the ceiling. He didn't even flinch when the fluorescent lighting filled the room.

"Your bathroom is so white Emi-chan," he remarked absently as she walked in to sit beside him on the toilet. She looked around. It used to be white, at least before Juuzou dragged in all the mud and blood stains that were now lining the floor and walls.

"Just like your hair," she said, mostly thinking out loud. His hair was a brilliant white, but currently was lowlighted with blood, like the rest of the porcelain in her restroom. She would have to do some major cleaning when he left.

He looked curiously at her. "I don't like showers."

"But I can't let you stain my house red."

"I could sleep in the tub?"

"That won't do."

She hesitated for a moment, deciding what to do next. For a split second, she thought about helping him get ready, but then remembered that he didn't like to be touched. More so, he had to be at least sixteen now, and she didn't think it would be appropriate at his age.

"If you shower, I'll bake you some treats." She knew it was an offer he could not refuse, and watched happily as he scurried to stand up and made a move to peel off his soaked clothes.

"Emi-chan," he said, brow ruffled and lips pursed as he paused, mid - taking off his shirt. "You can't be in here when I shower."

Emiko's face immediately turned red at the implication. "Wha - I was going to - Err." It was no use. Angrily, she stood up and stomped over to the door. The sound of Juuzou's laughter from the bathroom was quickly drowned out from the hot water being turned on.

A half hour later Juuzou came out of the shower to find Emiko sitting on the sofa watching TV, with a cake sitting temptingly on the coffee table in front of her. The lights were dim, but he could see two plates sitting out, one for him and one for her. He immediately sat down next to one and waited impatiently to be served.

"How do you like Shinohara's wife?" Emiko asked, making light conversation.

"She's nice," he said, between mouthfulls of cake. "She always gives me treats like you do!" Emiko smirked.

Secretly she wanted to go back to their previous conversation about his dead classmate, but didn't know how to bring it up. Luckily, Juuzou seemed to read her mind.

"Shizuku used to bake me treats sometimes, too" he said, pondering over his cake.

"Do you miss her?" she asked. When he only shrugged, she silently cursed herself, making a vow to not ask him any more prying questions outside of their sessions.

Her silence was brought to fruition.

"I think," he said after a while. "That her death doesn't matter." He finished his first piece of cake and began on the second.

Emiko sat silent, completely tuning out the monotonous drone of the television.

"Everyone thinks that being dead is somehow different from any other activity."

She clutched her hands tightly together.

"If someone is cooking, we don't get sad. If someone is playing we don't get sad."

She glanced about the room, tugging at her hair.

"So why do people get sad when others die?" He stabbed his fork into his cake violently, hitting the plastic plate below, causing a scraping sound to reverberate throughout the room. "Dying isn't any different, ok!" he screamed at her.

Emiko took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. He doesn't know, she thought to herself. It's a coping mechanism. Thoughts of her father kept creeping up in her mind, making her forget and nearly making her cry. Was she supposed to just accept the fact that he was dead as just some activity like cooking or baking?

She shook her head and looked over at him, trying to figure out, trying to analyze, and trying to push out images of her dying father in the hallway. "You killed a lot of people," she whispered to herself. It must make sense, she told herself. He killed people. It must some sort of coping mechanism. If dying isn't any different than playing or cooking, it makes it easier to kill people - easier to watch them die. If dying is different, then to him, what he did before was murder.

"Exactly," he said, calming down himself. "There isn't a difference." In a twisted way, she could understand, but it did not make sense. She put down her fork, losing her appetite.

"Sometimes, when you lose someone who is important to you," she began slowly. She desperately wanted to make him understand. "You feel sad. You miss them because you don't get to play with them anymore. You get sad because you loved them and they aren't there anymore."

Juuzou bristled. "You don't have to stop loving them. And if you get sad, you can just play with someone else."

She stopped. She didn't know how to make him understand! But then, maybe she didn't need to, she thought. In time, he would come to understand the meaning of her words, one way or another. Everyone had to learn that lesson eventually - the death of someone close to them.

With her blessing, he began to eat her own unfinished slice of cake. "I had a friend before, you know," he said. "He was living with the ghouls before me, but he died a few years before I met Shinohara."

Emiko's jaw dropped. Her blood chilled, feeling like ice in her veins. Another human? With the ghouls?

"He was my friend, but I killed him."

"What was his name?" she asked, too quietly.

"He was nice to me, but Mama said I had to do it."

"What was his name Juuzou?!" she shouted. He jumped a little.

"I don't know," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Emiko clenched her fists. How can he not know? Does he not understand the magnitude and gravity of this confession? There was an undocumented person living with ghouls! There was a certain ferocity in her eyes that Juuzou was at a loss for what to say next.

"I told you I don't know! Everyone always called him something different every day."

How does he not know? Does he… seriously not care about the people in his life? Furious, she got up and stormed into her bedroom. She had quite enough of Juuzou for the day. Before slamming her door for the night, she threw some blankets on the edge of the couch, not even bothering to say goodnight to him.

The whole night she spent dwelling on the possibility that perhaps Juuzou was indeed a psychotic wild child - a tainted serial killer - and that there was, in fact, nothing that she could do to help him. All of her frustrations poured out with the single blink of an eye.

Those animals from the Junior Academy? It probably was him who killed them. Shizuku's death? He was probably sad he didn't get to see her insides. Her partially blinded eye? He probably didn't care at all. That cat Shiro he killed? He was probably disappointed that it wasn't white on the inside. In that instance, she doubted anything she ever learned from him, and anything she ever analyzed or thought she knew about him.

In the morning when Shinohara came to pick him up, she would tell him that there was nothing more that she could do. He would be branded as insane and thrown in an institution where he belonged. This decision gave her much peace, and she was able to finally fall asleep.

Her dreams, however, made her wish she had stayed awake. She was being haunted by ghostly white figures who sulked around her apartment, waiting for her to come out of her room so that they could eat her and her father who were huddled in safety in the closet. Then, it was Juuzou, the king of the ghosts (or were they ghouls?) who burst through her door to stab her father through the heart as her alarm went off, blaring in her ears with its incessant honking.

She ripped the cord from the wall violently and tossed the clock across the room, before she remembered that she had a guest sleeping in her living room. Quietly she tiptoed out into the hall, only to find the boy still sitting on the floor where she left him that night, the roll of blankets still lying in a heap at the end of the couch, and cake completely gone. She wondered if he even slept, but then quickly decided that she did not care.

It was about seven in the morning, and the loud rumbling growling loudly in the pit of her stomach reminded her of her need for food. Crossing over to the kitchen, she peered down at Juuzou who was working, hunched over something on the coffee table. He didn't even look up when she walked into the room, so she decided a morning greeting wasn't necessary. She would make them breakfast, then promptly turn him over to Shinohara, even if she had to drive him there herself.

She clicked on the stove top and reached into the fridge, the artificial light temporarily blinding her one good eye. As she turned around to go back to the counter, she nearly dropped the milk and eggs she was carrying to find her guest standing just inches away from her. For some reason, it was at that moment she noticed he was the same height as her, as his eyes were exactly level with hers. It was odd that it was something she had never noticed before, but also, that she was thinking about such frivolous things at that moment.

He lifted up a piece of computer paper, no doubt one that he stole from the printer kept in the spare bedroom she used as a study. On the page was a well-drawn, detailed youth with multiple stab wounds in his chest, drawn in crayon.

Still emerging from her stoicism from the night before, Emiko had to stop herself from laughing out loud. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked. He reminded her of a toddler bringing his mother a picture he just drew. Did he want her to tape it on the fridge?

"You were interested in my friend last night," he grumbled. "I couldn't tell you his name, so I drew you a picture of him. So you won't be mad at me anymore."

Emiko had a thought as she began to pour the milk into a mixing bowl with some eggs and whisk them together rapidly. At least, he could tell when she was angry. That was something she didn't think he had the capacity for. "Do you think you could draw me a picture of his face? Without any blood on it?" A smile spread across Juuzou's lips and he nodded vigorously, something like an artist's expression glowing on his face.

Flipping the paper over, he began to draw his next masterpiece portrait. Something like hope began to well up in Emiko's heart as she watched him, scrambling the eggs together in a pan with some rice. Maybe, this boy wasn't all bad. She shook her head. Nothing he could do now would stop her from resigning from his case. It was over.

As she set the table, her guest finished up with his drawing. "Look Emi-chan!" he said, holding the paper up to her.

One glance at did much to melt her hardened heart. It was in fact, a beautiful and well detailed portrait, almost as realistic as a photograph, but she was used to such A grade art from him already. She would turn it in with her report as soon as she got into the office the next day. The thing that caught her off guard however, was that the dead stranger whose name she did not know, was next to a smiling Juuzou. The two were holding hands, and they appeared to be at some sort of festival together, much like the one Emiko took Juuzou to the other day.

"You two looked happy," she said.

"Emi-chan, we still are happy!"

Emiko clutched the paper tightly in her grasp, trying not to cry. "Juuzou?" she asked, although this time, it wasn't a question trying to analyze or decipher. She honestly wanted to know his answer to her question. Juuzou could sense a shift in her attitude, and for the first time, listened intently.

"Do you think that your friend... could ever forgive you? For killing him?" She was thinking of her father again. Although she knew it was stupid to blame herself for his death, she had always blamed herself anyway for not being able to do more to protect him. For instead, being a coward and hiding in her room. For staring in silent horror as his broken body was feasted upon by a monster.

Juuzou ruffled his brow, but to her relief, didn't just shrug his shoulders and leave it at that. He appeared to be thinking.

"I don't know why he would be mad at me in the first place, Emi-chan. He's my friend after all. I wouldn't be mad if it was him who killed me." Juuzou thought back to that night. He would be the first to admit that he didn't really want to kill his best friend. But an order was an order, and so he had to. There was no hard feelings. No deep regrets. His friend waited patiently in the arena and smiled at him, not even putting up a fight.

"Do it Rei," his friend had said to him when his hand hesitated, the vacant smile his nameless friend always wore, still on his face. "Always follow orders." Those were the last words he said to him. His Mama had tried to break him by taking away the thing most important to him. And it worked.

After he had sliced his friend open, he never felt any more emotions after that, until feelings were just a distant memory of a past pain, something he never remembered having. That part of him was dead, and the only part of him left that felt any happiness were the sensations he got when he was killing or destroying. Those were his only real comfort. Those, and sweets.

"You're right," said Emiko, pondering over his simple words. She wouldn't have blamed her father if it was him hiding in his bedroom while she fought the ghoul. "Your friend would want what's best for you." Her own words rang in her ears. "Let's eat breakfast."

As the two ate together, Emiko resolved to not tell anybody about her moment of weakness the night before. She would have to keep on with Juuzou's case. There was no way she could back out now. He was a person, even if he was crazy, and she would not let Shinohara down.

The weekend they spent together had made her come to see they were actually a lot alike, but only when she stopped trying to fix him. It was true she didn't understand this boy's inner world, but she would now stop trying to. If he was not a person who could be fixed so easily, then she would only be there for him as a friend. She would stop trying to pry into his life but only listen, when he needed to talk. She would be his silent model of human kindness and behavior, and when he was ready to learn about the world, she would ready to teach. He seemed to learn more that way than when she was playing 'psychoanalyst' anyway.

All those horrible things she had thought and doubted about him the night before may or may not have been true. It didn't matter. All she knew, was that a typhoon could not be categorized, analysed and therefore fixed, and neither could Juuzou - or herself for that matter - be. What she could do, was be there to help him pick up the pieces, because in his own way, he would be there for her.