Oh my goodness, I am exhausted (since it's currently 1:56 AM), but we wanted to get this out to you before I (Arait) go to California. Kateracks, who wrote most of this chapter, worked very hard to get it done in time, so please give all the credit to her. Since I'm so tired, though, I will refrain from saying much in this comment for fear of rambling like a fool. I only wish to mention that I cried and was quite distressed when she read this chapter to me :'(

"Shun!" Azami addressed her quiet partner. The shorter of the males she teamed up with stopped and waited silently for her to catch up. She stopped in front of him, pulling her wet hair hurriedly into a ponytail. "Sorry, I wanted to catch you before you left."

Shun looked away, knowing that she was apologizing for not being completely ready for the day rather than the lack of honorific. Not that that bothered him either; he, Kazuki, and Azami were pretty good friends. He gave her a couple seconds to feel like she was presentable and uttered, "You don't have to apologize for not being perfect."

She'd been like that as long as he could remember—since the first day she woke up in their fortress and beat him to the bathroom. He had let it go because her hair had been matted with blood at the time and her skimpy clothes had been rather worse for the wear. Fortunately, after that she had started dressing with more covering—a boy-ish sort of wardrobe with loose pants, tank tops, and sweatshirts that wouldn't constrict her parkouring. And as time went on and her stealing his bathroom slot became a regular thing, he traded times with one of the other clansmen on their floor so he could still get up early.

"I don't have to be perfect, but I don't want to look like a slob."

He rolled his eyes and she went back to her original purpose for stopping him.

"You're patrolling the west side today, right?" He nodded in response so she continued, "I was wondering if you could keep an eye on something for me. You might not even find anything."

"What is it?"

"A car. Black Sedan. The license plate looks something like this…or at least the first half of it is right, if I remember…"

She showed him a crumpled napkin she had kept in her pocket with a series of characters surrounded by question marks. Shun gave her a look of questioning himself.

"Could be nothing. Hope it's nothing," she said and shrugged.

"Then why are you looking for it?"

"I think maybe shady people are using it for evil purposes," she responded vaguely.

"Have you talked to our King about this?"

Azami shook her head and shifted slightly. "I wanna know more before I bother him with something that could be nothing. Just let me know if you find it."

The room was dark. Only a single lamp could cast its light from a small, but elegant, table beside the bed. There were absolutely no windows. What kind of room had no windows? The young lady asked herself this as she crawled off of the bed and peeked behind the curtains. Draped over nothing but sheetrock along the walls, the curtains also were dark, something like a velvet crimson. Maybe they were hiding something, but it seemed their only purpose was for decoration.

The drapes were dark; the room was dark, but it was nice. Even if she couldn't remember exactly how or when she had gotten into the bed, she had slept peacefully. A soft mattress was covered by a purple blanket—one of the royal shades—that had felt smooth against her face, just as the numerous pillows had. Somehow, she got the feeling that she probably shouldn't have been dreaming of pleasant love as she slept the night before. Had it even been night? Was it really day now?

The bed was dark; the drapes were dark; the room was dark, but it was nice. Glancing around, she began to panic. Why was she here? Where was it? Was it day or night? In spite of the many elaborate ornaments adorning the room she was in, there was no clock. It would be impossible to keep track of time in any way. While she was, at least, able to find a door, stained in a deep, rich mahogany, it did not provide her any reassurance. With all of the solid wood's intimate carvings, there was no knob. On her side of the door were simply two lock panels, surrounded by bronze scroll work. She certainly didn't have the key.

The door was dark; the bed was dark; the drapes were dark; the room was dark. It was nice, but she was trapped. Those two words—lock and trapped—reminded her of the situation she was in. She remembered, then, why she should not have been having pleasant dreams. She had been kidnapped. Or, perhaps, since she wasn't a kid it shouldn't be called kidnapping. Emi shook that thought away, knowing her reflection should be on matters other than word choice.

Even if there were no windows and the door was locked, maybe she could find a way out. As wondrous as that possibility would be, a coughing sound on the other side of the door sapped such hopes. These people who brought her here were in no way ordinary. Something special set them apart. She had learned that quickly.

Emi had thought originally that her main enemies were the four members of the yakuza that had chased them into the shipyard. She had even calmly memorized three distinctive features of each man to identify them later like she had been instructed by her father. Her fingerprints were on their window, also. That impression, along with her effort, had been completely discarded when they brought her back out of the sedan. At first, she thought they were going to kill her right then and there. It would facilitate disposing of her body to kill her in the cemetery, especially since her family already had a purchased plot along the south side.

Pulled along behind the tall man with the crooked nose and scarred upper lip, they approached a new group of people. Several of them were dressed in all black, except for gloves and masks in pure white. The wispy way their clothes blew around in the breeze reminded her of stories of ghosts. When one of them grabbed her arm, yanking her away from the yakuza, she nearly wished she could stay with the three mobsters. These men were going to kill her. They were definitely going to kill her in a cemetery.

The person holding her currently looked silently to another, and without a word, they departed. Emi's breathing quickened as they led her further away from all signs of life. The last words she would be able to hear on this planet would be the distant echo of the chubby man in the hat who had half of one finger missing asking about payment. If they weren't going to be paid, they should take her back. She really wished the yakuza would take her back. A tear slid down her face, and she glanced back at the group that remained in discussion. Don't leave me with these ghosts. But they hadn't killed her there.

She wasn't really sure where they had gone after that, or how they had gotten there. It was a tunnel. That much she understood. They were underground, tromping through debris filled, calf high liquid that smelled like it was probably human waste. Somehow, the two people—she couldn't even be sure if they were male or female, behind their masks, with their absolute silence, and several layers of fabric—could find their way without any additional light. She was unable to see in this kind of obscurity, and wished she had a way to know what kind of semi-solid substance kept bumping into her knees. Then again, with the things she could imagine being in a place like this, it was probably best she didn't know.

They were probably men, she had decided after a while of walking. Their height and strength inclined her to believe that way, but the final indication was how quickly they were able to slosh through the murky water. She found herself stumbling frequently just trying to keep up with the rate at which they tugged her along.

Sometimes there were things in the tunnel other than sewer products and furry vermin. One time, a shoelace had brushed against her leg, sending a shiver through her whole body, but she had been able to recognize the sneaker shortly thereafter. A lot of kids' toys had been lost down there, as well as a variety of garbage. For a while, she wondered if that rumor about dangerous wild animals such as alligators being let loose in the sewers were true.

Then, her foot caught against something hard, cold, and metallic. This is your chance, flashed through her mind. The plan that came to her at first thought was a horrible one. She knew she didn't have enough time to come up with another one with how quickly they were moving. Squishing her face into a look of dread and disgust, she took a breath in preparation.

She deliberately fell backward into the water. The shriek, she thought, was pretty believable. They would probably trust it had been an accident, even as her right hand wrapped tightly around whatever metal object she had kicked. Grasping her left arm tightly, the ghostly, possibly male, figure ripped her back to her feet, and she swung the stray scrap of rebar at his head.

His reaction seemed familiar to her, lifting his arm as a barrier to block the blow. Tatara had done the same at the pier, casually giving the impression that it didn't hurt at all to be hit. More than that, it nearly seemed like he hadn't been hit at all. Something akin to mist had enveloped her make-shift weapon when he took hold of that wrist as well. With a tingly sensation, it had disappeared.

That was the last thing she remembered before waking up in this bed: losing consciousness as she hopelessly dripped from head to toe in excrement. The weapon couldn't logically have disappeared in a tingly cloud. Yet, she knew for sure she hadn't dropped it. Tatara liked red and had made a shiny, red shield. This man wore all black and could make a tingly, black mist. There had to be a connection. She didn't know what it was, but for now she called it 'special.'

Keys jingled on the other side of the door and the sound of feet scratching on the floor made her back pedal into the center of the room. Someone was coming in. She didn't know what for and was afraid since she hadn't yet thought of any sort of escape plan. The last time one of those ghosts had touched her, she had been knocked out without any explainable reason.

The door opened into a dark corridor, revealing a person with a white, skull mask, dressed in wispy, black layers. In the outstretched hands of the silent ghost were a boring looking bento and a cup of water. Surprised, she took the food reluctantly, and the ghost immediately closed the door again. They were feeding her? This meant the time was around lunch.

The hallway was dark; the door was dark; the bed was dark; the drapes were dark; the room was dark; the food was dull. It was kind of nice, but she was trapped.

Kazuki made a noise like static and then held his hand to his face like a microphone. "In other news, Scepter 4 has let a dangerous Strain escape their custody due to the negligence of new recruits to their ranks. The Blue King refused to make a comment about his ineptitude at analyzing character and understanding of modern escape tactics."

"Aw, come on, Kazuki," Azami laughed. "He's still relatively new. Cut the guy some slack."

"This is important stuff, Azami. The public needs to be informed about who they can expect to protect them." At that moment, his pocket began blaring a popular rock song and he lifted the cell phone to his ear. "Yo, Nakahara Kazuki, top news anchor of the Green Clan, at your service!" There was a pause and then he pouted "Way to burst my bubble, buddy" and forked the device over to his female companion.

"Co-anchor," Azami answered.

"It's Shun," came from the other end. "I found that car."

"You did? That's great!"

"Want me to do recon?" came next.

"No, leave it alone. I'll take care of it," she replied.

"Azami, what's going on?"

"Trust me, okay?" she said as reassuringly as she could. "I'll check it out and then I'll tell you what I found later. It was my tip. Where's it at?"

She mimed at Kazuki for the pen he had tucked behind his ear to look professional while they were looking for the latest gossip (as if he was really taking notes). She scribbled the location on the palm of her hand and then thanked her partner before she hung up. Kazuki looked down at her curiously.

"I gotta take care of this," she told him. "I'll be back soon."

"You're not gonna come back with a story that one-ups mine, are you?"

"Maybe," she said laughingly with a shrug as she departed from him.

"Aw, come on!" he called after her. "I got a growing family to feed!"

Azami stopped in her tracks and turned to look back at him. "Other than us?"

The cheesy grin on his face was all the confirmation she needed, and she jogged back to squeeze him in a hug.

"It's a little early," he admitted. "I haven't even gotten the ring yet, but babies are one of those things that you can't make wait."

"That's awesome!" Azami exclaimed. "I'm so excited for you guys! Congratulations! Look, I gotta take care of this thing, but I'll talk to you more when I get back. Take all the credit for that story for yourself, alright? See you tonight!"

Later that afternoon, she found herself in front of the hospital again. The hospital. This place didn't hold many good memories for her and she really didn't feel inclined to enter within its walls once more. Standing in the parking lot last night hadn't been so bad since she hadn't been facing the building, and she had had a bigger distraction on her mind, namely the Red King. Now, she stood looking through the clear glass doors and felt the chill every time someone walked past her into the interior. She felt kind of nauseous, and her chest was painfully tight; though, she was doing her exercises to control her breathing.

She couldn't just stand here all night looking like a creeper, though, she decided as a couple with young children gave her a weird look when they passed by. She swallowed the lump in her throat and drew in a deep breath as she walked through the automatic doors and into the lobby. She bypassed the initial receptionists and headed to the elevators. She was quite familiar with where they kept inpatients, so her sense of déjà vu didn't fade at all.

Once she exited onto the appropriate floor, that was quite a different story. The admitted patients for the ICU and cancer treatments were in a different area than those kept just for observation. What wing was he in? She then realized she didn't even know who she was looking for.

What was his name again? Yata and his elder, Kusanagi, had said it during their last encounter. What was it? Tanaka? Tetsuya? T-Tot…Totsuka! That was it.

Trying to look more confident than she felt, she strode up to the receptionist desk and spoke, "Hey, I'm trying to find a guy I know. Surname is Totsuka. Can you tell me what room he's in?"

The girl behind the desk was a petite brunette with dark eyes who, although she appeared worn out after a long day, was still very efficient at her job and meant business. Then she smiled, putting on her friendly assistant persona.

"What's his first name?" she inquired.

"Well, I…don't…actually…know that," she answered slowly. The receptionist gave her a scrutinizing look that seemed to warn Azami not to try anything fishy as she was not in the mood which prompted the girl to hurry and explain, "Look, I don't actually need to see him at all. What I really need is to talk to one of the guys who are with him—a blonde with purple shades or an intimidating redhead."

She saw the recognition flash across the clerk's face as her eyes flicked for a second down a hall to her left. Azami looked that direction, and the brunette frowned, realizing she had given herself away. It quickly rose into a tired smile and she sighed good-naturedly.

"Room 209," she mouthed to Azami, checking over her shoulder to make sure none of the nurses saw and then she jerked her head toward the hall. Azami nodded her thanks and slunk that away.

She sought out the correct room and then her feet glued themselves to the tile again when she looked through the window. The boy in the bed was only a few years older than her with sandy hair that appeared to be kept in a carefree way even when he wasn't in the hospital. His face looked that way as well except ghastly pale and slack, the way a comatose person usually looks in their prone state.

He was pale. Too pale. Deathly pale. The dark red wetting the sheets underneath his prone figure and soaking through each gauze pad pressed onto his wounds proved just how accurate the description was. His messy hair was even more haphazard, but flattened in places where cuts had matted it and the goofy smile he constantly wore looked to be trying to hang on subconsciously despite the pain.

"He's only gasping, weak and erratic pulse…" one nurse relayed.

"Start CPR! Get the paddles in here now!" the ER doctor shouted and a short time later was ordering everyone to get clear. The boy of the gurney jerked from the shock, but did not respond.

"No response," the same nurse reported and resumed CPR. The boy's condition did not improve. A second shock was delivered. The patient jolted another time, like a lifeless marionette whose strings were tugged just long enough to tease the audience.

"Still no response. He's fading," said another nurse.

"Three hundred sixty joules. Let's go again," barked the doctor.

The boy's body arched, but still he didn't cough and his eyes didn't flutter to life.

"No pulse."

"He's gone."

Azami drew in a sharp gasp and took a step backward before she realized she had returned to the present. She blinked slowly and shook her head, trying to keep herself composed. The boy in the bed was not dying, his heart monitor was not screaming in her ears as it flatlined, but rather, keeping a steady rhythm. Besides that, the other male at his bedside was doing something on his PDA and obviously not in a panic at all.

She swallowed and brought herself forward again to tap her knuckles gently on the room's window. Kusanagi looked up curiously and then stood in surprise when Azami waved and moved around to the door.

"Hayashi-san," the bartender addressed her, his voice matching his expression. "What brings you back here so soon?"

"Found the car," she replied and looked past him to the person in the bed. "Is that him? Your clansman from the pictures?"

"Tatara," Kusanagi confirmed.

"Is he okay?" she wondered absently.

Kusanagi raised an eyebrow at her concern and then he caught that flicker once more, a sign of familiarity with the situation but also something hidden underneath…pain perhaps. "Yes. He woke up for a little while. He's just taking a while to recover."

"Internal bleeding?" she asked quietly.

Kusanagi cocked his head, trying to see her face and answered slowly," No…This is normally what happens when you use too much energy. He just needs to rest enough to get back on his feet. The tests came back negative for anything more serious." She was still staring at the bed so he nudged her gently toward the door with a hand on her shoulder. "Let's talk outside. Don't wanna wake him."

"But he will wake up again?" she murmured, eyes returning to the window.

"Hayashi-san, the car…?"

At that point, with the beeping of the monitor muffled by the closed door, she snapped back to the reason for her being there. "We found it."

"You said that already. Where?"

"Parked at that café where the picture was taken."

"At the café?" Kusanagi repeated.

She shrugged. "Yakuza gotta eat, too."

"Or maybe they were having a meeting to cut a deal…" he suggested.

"She wasn't there, if that's what you're thinking. She'd be here now talking to you if that was the case. I searched the car, too, and there was no sign of her in there—no purse, no scent of perfume, no hair on the seats—so I don't think they moved her again."

"So she's probably still at their base," Kusanagi guessed.

"It's possible," Azami agreed.

"But…?"

Azami started wandering the hall, hands in her pockets as she talked to him. Whatever had shaken her memory a few moments before had made her unsure of herself now. This was another interesting observation for him.

She shrugged another time. "I dunno, man. There was just something off about that car. I couldn't figure it out while I was there, but when I was coming here, it came to me. That car was too clean."

"Like it's been detailed recently?"

"Maybe. I mean, I even looked at the undercarriage and there was only the typical dirt. If you think about the slums where the Black Clan's hideout is—I mean, I know for a fact there are at least two construction zones they'd have to drive through to get there, but there wasn't any tar on the tires. There's no way that car would stay so clean! And I keep thinking…why would they drop her off at the cemetery if they were going to the club? What I mean is…I don't think they've ever been to the HQ."

"You might be right," Kusanagi admitted. He held his PDA up. "I was just talking to one of my contacts in the underground and they said there hasn't been any unusual activity at the Black Clan's club for almost a week."

"So we're back at square one…" Azami sighed.

"Looks that way," said Kusanagi, but he gave her shoulder a pat. "Hey, at least we know where she's not. That's a better start than what we had before. Thanks for the information. If you hear anything else, let us know, would you?"

She nodded and turned toward the exit.

"Hayashi-san," Kusanagi addressed her back. She paused and looked at him over her shoulder. "You've been a big help. You're welcome to come back any time."

She gathered that he was most likely referring to their territory, not just the hospital room. She didn't want to be rude by telling him she'd rather not get mixed up with them again, but she knew she probably wouldn't be done until this girl was safe. She opted for a silent wave of acknowledgment instead.

She made her way back to the nurse's station and then stopped when she felt the heat beginning to flood the floor. No one else seemed unnerved, but the presence was unmistakable and drawing closer. When the elevator sounded and she saw a flash of red through the opening doors, she decided to take the stairs.

Kusanagi, however, was not oblivious to his King's arrival. He had no sooner sat down than he rose once more to greet him and Anna. "You just missed Hayashi, Azami."

Both heads popped up at the announcement and Mikoto glanced back out into the hallway. He had heard the door to the stairwell close as they were coming this way. He said, "Seems that brat is feeling less troubled about breaking the rules.

Kusanagi smirked, "You have that effect on people."

Mikoto returned the look and then slumped into the chair. "What did she say?"

"Hey Azami-san! Where have you been?" one of her fellow clansman called as she passed him in the hall. She hadn't remembered his name yet as he had just joined, but he was always cheerful and got along great with Kazuki because of it.

"Just on a delivery. Did you eat everything?"

"Nah, we left you the crumbs," he laughed in the distance.

"They'll have to wait for now, I'm afraid," said someone behind her and she recognized the voice of her King, Yanagizawa, Souma. "May I speak to you in my office, Azami?"

Azami nodded her agreement and followed him a short distance and then inside his room. She saw a dark splotch down the hall that looked out of place and she couldn't be sure, but she thought maybe it was Shun disappearing from sight. She had to admit, she had a looming sort of feeling about this.

"I hear you asked Shun-kun to look for a car that could be troublesome," he began. "Why wasn't I informed?"

Azami slumped. His tone of voice basically confirmed her suspicions that Shun had divulged what little he knew. She answered softly, "Because the Red King asked me to find it."

Souma didn't seem mad, but calmly inquisitive. "You're taking orders from the Red King now?"

"No! I was—"

"Then shouldn't you have cleared it with me first?"

"Yes!" she cried despite herself. "Yes…I should have. I…I was…"

Souma leaned against his desk and folded his arms. "Azami, why do you want to help them so badly?"

Azami stuffed her hands in her pockets and looked at her feet, biting her lip uncertainly. "Well, because…Because…Because they need my help." Souma scoffed and she was quick to defend, "They're not bad people, Souma-san! They don't allow gang deals to go down in their territory or human trafficking or dr…drugs…" She swallowed harshly and pressed on, "I know they're described as violent and not well-mannered, and that may be true, but they are a family just like we are. One of their own has gone missing, and they are scared—I've seen them!"

"And you think, with all the men and power they possess, they require your assistance? They are not your clan, Azami; your family is right here. Each look after their own, and the rest are not to interfere. Those are the rules set out for each clan by the Gold King himself.

"The Black Clan has her," Azami explained desperately. "I saw them and they're working with the yakuza. I know what they're capable of and if she is left alone with them for too long…!"

He held up a hand and Azami swallowed the rest of her outburst.

"I know you're excited, but you must realize by now that we've done our part. We put the ball in motion. That is all that is required of us. You've accomplished your mission. It's time to stop now."

"Then why did you involve me in this? When you know my past, you know all that I've been through, you knew how close I am to all of this, why did you send me on that mission in the first damn place?"

A frown crossed the Green King's face then and he stood up straight from his desk. "I don't need to explain myself to you. When has a King ever had to answer to a clansman or clanswoman, for that matter, about any decision he has made?"

"I need to do this, Souma-san. I have to do this," Azami insisted and turned toward the door, assuming that her defiance would get her abruptly dismissed.

"Azami." He stopped her instead and warned, "If you walk out that door and don't return to your room, don't trouble yourself to return at all. I think very highly of you, Hayashi, Azami, but I need to know that I can count on those that I have chosen. I know you'll make the right decision. I'll check on you later."

Azami didn't turn around, but she swallowed hard again and muttered "I'm sorry" before she shut the door.

She almost bumped into someone when she started her brisk walk toward her room. "Whoa, watch out!" It was Kazuki. "Hey, Azami, where are you going to in such a hurry?"

"Just to my room," she replied shortly.

"Ah, I'd heard you might be getting scolded. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't get to talk to you more."

But I have to go get my stuff, she added in her mind.

So there it is. Thank you all, the readers for loving us faithfully, and for making this the most popular story we've ever written. I'm going to bed now.