Title: The Serial: The Reporter

Blood Type: Comtrex.

Disclaimer: Gravitation is not owned by me in any way, shape or form. But I have to obey it. Because it's the law.

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: So my roommate caught me trying to call Sakuma-sama a 'her'. Though it's been fixed, I don't think she has any room to talk as she accidentally left him in the fic she changed for her Advanced Fiction class.

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Kazawa Akito stared over the rim of her glass, which was currently half empty. Her nose twitched, not in a senile or idle way, but in the way that a rabbit's nose twitches when it is scenting the air.

There! Sakuma Ryuichi-sama. She would have squealed with delight if she weren't so terribly emotionless. Still, she allowed herself a smile. Sakuma-sama was here without an entourage, here without Seguchi Tohma-sama. She couldn't believe her unbelievable good luck.

Akito watched as a nondescript waiter delivered a bowl of ramen to Sakuma-sama's table. A waiter who had a reddish stain on the sleeve of his happi coat. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. This was purportedly one of the best restaurants in all of Tokyo and they couldn't even be bothered to keep their uniforms immaculate.

Sakuma-sama mumbled something through a mouthful of noodles; he looked up at the pink rabbit draped over his head. He swallowed and spoke again.

"The waiter looked familiar?" Sakuma-sama questioned the rabbit.

Akito saw every word perfectly formed, even though she was not near enough to hear the question. She was glad that, as a reporter, she had seen it befitting to learn how to read lips.

Sakuma-sama's head snapped around to follow the path of the waiter; the rabbit slipped off the singer's head and flounced onto the table, one fuzzy, pink paw brushing the bowl of ramen. Not finding the waiter, Sakuma-sama looked back at his bowl.

"Silly bunny! Always tricksy!" Sakuma-sama gathered the rabbit up and sat it in his lap. "If you wanted some, you should have ordered some," he finished, picking his chopsticks up and bundling up some noodles into a little nest.

Akito sat back and toyed with her glass, tiring of watching the singer's conversation with his rabbit. There was no story there; everyone knew about the Sakuma-sama's relationship to and with his stuffed bunny. She watched as he gobbled up the rest of the noodles, picked more slowly at the vegetables and then, finally, drained the dregs of the bowl noisily before setting the bowl down with a flourish.

He smacked his lips. Akito licked her own.

Akito waited for her moment. An interruption, she knew, always should be expertly timed. She didn't want to seem overly eager, nor did she want to seem so apathetic about her interview prospect. The interruption should seem like nothing more than a chance meeting between entertainer and reporter, nothing more.

She tapped her glossy maroon nails on the base of her glass; she had never been a particularly patient woman and Seguchi-sama had been denying her this interview for weeks.

She attempted to distract herself, her eyes never leaving her quarry. She composed the first few questions of her interview in her head.

Sakuma-sama swayed in his seat.

Akito snapped to attention; her nails stilled their drumming. Now this was new. Her mind whirled with a thousand possibilities. Effects of some new medication? Drugs, maybe? Her breath hitched with the excitement of having a story that no one else would be able to get.

Sakuma-sama mumbled something she couldn't quite make out. He swayed again and clutched his stomach, toppling Kumagoro from his lap.

Akito got to her feet. This was beyond news. Something was terribly wrong!

Sakuma-sama collapsed.

Akito screamed.