AN: Chapter not edited. Mistakes are inevitable.

May 15 20XX

Early Morning

Goro had put a lot of thought into this as he waited just outside of station square. Rain seemed hard-pressed this Sunday, so he had no choice but to stand within the covered area.

Weighing out the evens and odds to his current decisions, he knew that this was a risk worth taking. To put it simple: he wished to resume his original plans to use whatever means to pin Shido down through the SGI.

Now that he's gained enough understanding to what this organisation entails, along with a vague idea of how they operate; it was more than tempting to place his bets on their intelligence.

Despite his promise to Tinders, he knew that the only means to reaching his objective was through Saito.

But unlike before, he was confident to believe that he wasn't going to betray her trust if he were to show her the depth of his resolve.

His phone sang out a notification.

SAITO: I am so sorry.

Goro shook his head hopelessly as he sent her a reply.

GORO: Whatever for, I wonder?

SAITO: I'm getting on the train right now, so I'll be there a little late.

He chortled at her response, seeing how she still hasn't left that habit of hers to apologise for almost everything.

GORO: It's fine, Saito. No need to worry about it.

SAITO: …Okay.

The detective didn't miss the fact that she now seemed softer around him than before. A part of him wondered, if it was all thanks to that time when he found out about her past. Or maybe he thought of her that way now, since her circumstances somewhat mirrored his own.

He wasn't going to lie that he's found some fondness in her company. But, nevertheless, his reservations will always be put at the forefront before anything else.

By the time Mira left the train, she ran as fast as she could to their rendezvous point.

Climbing out of the stairs, she opened her umbrella as she entered the station square. Not far from where she was, she spotted Akechi in his casual clothes; a blue checker vest over a buttoned-up shirt with brown slacks.

The agent tried to calm down, taking in deep breaths before she strode towards him.

"Sorry I'm late," she said as soon as she reached him. "I have no excuse."

"On the contrary, Saito," he said casually. "You arrived earlier than I expected."

She soured at him.

"No need to give me that look," he smiled. "I'm merely saying what I think."

"Where are we off to?"

He tilted his head, gesturing for her to follow him as he opened his umbrella.

"How familiar are you with the art world, Saito?" he asked as they walked.

"I'm afraid you're asking the wrong person," Mira answered. "If you wanted an art critic, you'd might as well ask Thomas-san or Chamomile-san about it."

"That won't really be necessary, I just wanted to know if you have an opinion towards a certain celebrity in the art world at the moment."

The rain continued to fall heavily, pelleting on their umbrellas like thousands of falling rice grains.

"A convenient day for an outing, huh," she remarked at the weather.

"Oh, don't worry. Where I'm taking you is indoors."

Before she knew it, Akechi led them into a department store; inside, he navigated them the enclosed exhibition area.

'Ichiryusai Madarame Exhibition'

she read on one of the large banners.

'Opening hours from 10am-3pm'

"Akechi," Mira eyed him suspiciously. "What is this abo-"

He walked up to one of the guards standing by and muttered something inaudible to him. The guard nodded as he stepped aside.

"Come in," Akechi gestured to her.

The agent tightened her lip, following her companion as they entered the gallery.

"Take a good look at them Saito," he head-pointed at all the artwork on display. "See the epitome of Japan's most valued artworks. Fascinating, no?"

"…" she opened her mouth but decided to close it shut.

"Oh, what a surprise! To think that the second detective prince has decided to come by and visit. It is an honour."

Mira turned her head around and found an elderly man in a traditional yukata and haori steadily approach them.

"The honour is all mine, Madarame-sensei," Akechi said with a small bow. He then turned to Mira. "Saito-san, this is the man responsible for all the works on display; Ichiryusai Madarame. One of Japan's finest treasured icons."

"Ah- oh," Mira made a formal bow. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Mira Saito."

The elderly man laughed heartily. "There's no need to embellish things, Akechi-kun. I am just a humble artist who merely express my ideas through art. Although-"

He eyed Mira then turned to Akechi, keeping a professional smile on his face.

"-It seems quite a surprise to find you here, an hour before the exhibition opens," Madarame noted.

"I just so happened to have a friend who granted me early access, Sensei," Akechi wore his princely mask, carefully changing the intonation of his words. "I sure you're well familiar of how crowded this place can get on opening day."

"Yes, of course," the elderly man said jovially. "I hope you'll enjoy my finest works on display."

Before she knew it, the three of them had a small exchange in conversation. Though it was mostly between Madarame and Akechi, with Mira standing by to listen. With every praise Akechi says, the artist continued to parry his praises by continuing to belittle himself in his work.

"Now if you excuse me," the art veteran nodded before he turned around. "I have some business to attend to."

The two students bowed as Madarame headed over to one of the curators.

"…Start talking," Mira soured as she crossed her arms.

"Haha… are you mad?"

"Knowing you, there's something else up your sleeve in bringing me here," the agent lowered her voice. "So, start talking."

He made a side-glance at her and lifted a corner of his mouth.

"Patience, Saito. Just enjoy the view for the moment," he assured her. "If it helps, think of this a date."

He's messing with me again.

She scoffed at his statement, "Might as well count the days when you've taken me to crime scenes."

This earned her a laugh from her apparent date.

For reasons she herself couldn't quite understand, she can't see their relationship under the 'boyfriend-girlfriend' tag. To even define it into simple terms would merely reduce its value into a conventional, lesser status. Or so she'd think of it.

We're going out, but it feels like I'm just being strung along to his whims at this rate.

She shook the thought away, not wanting to ruminate over it.

Mira then took a few steps in, her eyes welcomed at the sight of refined works of art. She was no artist, nor a critic, but the sight of these hand-crafted images framed on these walls almost seemed captivating.

Having forgotten for a moment of her companion, she filed through the works, drinking in the sights of the beauty of their details. It was hard to believe all works were made by one man in his lifetime. Then, she stopped before one particular work.

It was a simple piece, sumi-e piece defined by a few black lines against the white backdrop. It was a painting of a man standing at the edge of a cliff, his back facing the viewer within the frame. With his back turned, there was no way of knowing what the painted man saw.

Something about the image resonated with her, evoking a memory she had once forgotten.

A bigger hand holding hers, as they walked to a gallery.

It was a sumi-e art exhibit.

Her kid-brain found all pieces on display boring, but the owner of the hand that held hers wore a contemplative expression.

"Hotaru-chan. One day, I hope you will see it too."

"What are your thoughts?"

Mira blinked at Akechi's question.

"Quite the contrast to his other pieces," she said, leaning onto her left foot. "It's hard to believe a single artist could manufacture a diverse amount of styles within his lifetime."

"Hmph, is that all there is to it?" he prodded.

"…I've been to a few art exhibitions before," Mira began. "And I'm just borrowing someone else's words when I say this… but… the other previous galleries were arranged in a way where patrons would see the artist's talent progress with each new artwork while retaining their signature… but this gallery has no sense of an artist's progression…"

She then quickly shook her head, correcting herself; "I mean, what do I really know? I'm not an expert on the field, so I'm probably off the mark by a longshot."

"Not bad," he held his chin with a small nod. "Six points, at the very least."

"…Out of what?"

"Anyway," he quickly changed the subject. "Do you like what you see?"

The agent turned her head, glancing at the other paintings.

"It was an interesting experience," she said.

But I doubt I'd like to come here again.

Akechi made sure to leave the gallery before the opening ceremony, paying for their lunch at a café nearby.

The more they spent time together that day, the more Mira was beginning to suspect he really was arranging this as an excuse for a date. But as undecided as she was, she couldn't make up her own conclusions, fearing she might have been gravely mistaken.

"Can you tell me, why you called me here?" she asked again. "I thought you said you wanted my help on something."

"I do," he said, sipping his coffee. "And I'd like to ask for your opinion. Now that you've seen Madarame himself and his works; what do you make of it?"

The fact that Akechi is inquiring for her opinion led her to believe the detective was hinting her to something. Something that he knows but wanted to see if she could see it herself.

"Madarame-sensei…" she pulled out the recent memory of the elderly artist.

Compared to the variety of his works, where colours screamed with vibrant expressions; it remained quite the contrast to the artist's seemingly meek behaviour.

But in her experience, people are capable of contradicting behaviours; good behaviours for cruel intentions; cruel methods for supposedly 'righteous' causes. Meek exteriors to hide their pride; prideful dispositions to hide their insecurities.

"…Maybe it's just me," she scrunched her brow at her own conclusion. "But… for a man who created those paintings, he kinda… his meek disposition feels forced… I mean, for some reason… it's hard to connect the man to the artworks. Normally, you'd see a little more…passion in his words… I don't know."

Akechi stared at her, wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Saito," he began. "There's no need to make the run-around with your answers. It's just me, you know. I won't judge you for any differing opinion."

Hearing those words sounded like honey to her ears.

"…Really?" she said cautiously. "You won't think any less of me?"

He shook his head.

He won't judge me for it…

She immediately downed her cup of tea and took in a deep breath.

"Madarame-sensei," she began. "His humble disposition… feels disingenuous. Normally artists, regardless of how nice or how good they are, they would have at least had a bit more pride in their work. Either the man secretly prides himself of his talents, but wants to retain his disposition as a 'humble' artist. Or, he genuinely doesn't believe he deserves the praise he gets…"

Akechi kept his eye on her, his smile not faltering.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What if I told you," his voice then lowered as he leaned in closer. "That you're half right in your observations."

"What do you mean?"

"Once we're finished here, there's something else I wish to show you."

Afternoon

What followed was something Mira never would have expected.

Unlike before where he would usually call in his driver to bring him to his requested location, Akechi called in a cab to their destination. The scent of the sea and rain wafted through her nose the very moment Mira stepped out of the car and opened her umbrella.

Port of Tokyo. One of the six largest ports of the country.

At this point, she knew that leading her here could only mean whatever it is that he wanted to show her, it involves a matter of smuggling. At this point, she knew asking him questions would be redundant and decided to wait for Akechi to tell her himself.

"We're a long way away from the inner cities," she remarked.

"Not too far off," he said. "This is perhaps, the best opportunity to show you, while others have had their hands busy with other things. But, just in case-"

Akechi then handed her a single-packed medical mask.

"Put this on and pull that hood over your head," he instructed. "It wouldn't be good if someone would remember your face."

"…What about you?" she opened the plastic wrap and put the medical mask on. "Wouldn't it be bad if you were seen?"

"The cleaners know me," he assured her. "As long as you're seen with me, they'll look the other way."

As soon as she pulled the hood over her head, the two of them headed over to the cargo bay area. There, a few men in suits stood around. At first, they halted at the sight of two wanderers walking along the area, but at the sight of Akechi, they resumed their previous positions.

Something's wrong here, she thought.

"Just a little farther ahead," he gestured towards one of the docking areas.

When they reached a spot closest to the water, her companion halted; raising an arm to signal her to stop. He then head-pointed towards one of the docks, prompting Mira to follow his line of sight.

"Do you see those two men over there," he asked, eyes lining up to the two men standing by the docks. "The one on the left is a former noblemen of a century old lineage. The other on the right is a paid art curator, responsible for verifying the authenticity of original and forged artworks."

Hearing this, accompanied with the fact that Akechi prompted her with leading questions regarding Madarame had her thoughts churning.

"…Is Madarame-sensei's artworks being smuggled with counterfeit pieces across the country?" she asked.

"If only it were that simple," he made a mirthless scoff. "On the surface, Madarame's exhibition serves as a means to boost our country's public cultural image and economy. But, under the table are backdoor deals that sell counterfeits of Madarame's world-famous artworks. Works like 'Sayuri' were one of the most requested pieces."

"Then, what does that make Madarame?"

"A fake. Just an old geezer who leaches off his most prized students' talents and pose them as his own works. It took one man to find the truth behind his 'talents' to make him participate in these counterfeit deals."

Hearing those words tainted the very image of her pre-supposed notions of the veteran artist. The agent remained silent as the two then headed over to the closest shelter, which happened to be a bus terminal.

Closing their umbrellas, Mira let his words sink in. And the more she thought of it, the more some things didn't make sense.

"…Why… are you telling me this?" she said. "It doesn't make any sense, Akechi. You're the second coming of the detective prince. If you know all of this, why…"

He turned towards her; eyes now half-lidded with a faint smile.

"I asked you once before, if you were familiar with the inner workings of the system of our current government."

She nodded.

"When you first showed me the extent of how far you were able to uncover my own personal history, I knew you and your organisation might be the right choice to assist me." -his gaze now hardened, clear with a strong conviction as he said the following words- "What you see here is merely scratching the surface of how deep the corruption goes. The counterfeit smuggling isn't the only one. Within the backstreets of Shibuya, there's a crime lord who extorts young high schoolers into selling drugs and blackmailing them with financial debts. Another is a conglomerate who underpays their workers and their surplus goes into their back pockets. All three of whom I listed grant a percentage of their funds towards one man; Masayoshi Shido."

Mira narrowed her eyes, mirroring his gaze.

"The truth is," he added. "The current system of our government has slowly been rotting from the inside. Even if you say you don't know enough of the political spectrum of our country; surely, you would at least have some notion that the system has created far too many loopholes.

"As of now, in the wake of the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdown incidents, there's bound to be a vacuum of power that will inevitably be taken advantage of. And no doubt, when all these scandals are put to light, Shido will step in and climb the ladder into becoming the prime minister of this country."

To hear him say these words racked her nerves, shuddering at the revelation. If what Akechi had said was true, then, surely, the SGI would have known this was happening at some point.

But from her own experience, the only times the SGI ever interfered is when it involves other-worldly interferences, and something akin to a new world order. They never make themselves known to the public eye; and every mission accomplished would always be pinned onto public figures who were unrelated to the organisation.

Now having an idea of what Akechi might ask from her, she came to doubt whether or not the SGI could help him with his quest. But as a means to make sure, she had to ask;

"Akechi… what is it that you want from us?"

"What I want, is to find solid evidence. Enough to incriminate the one responsible for these mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns." He answered. "There is no doubt in my mind that Shido is also the one behind those incidents. There's a limit to what I can do to stop him, but… even he has something on me that I cannot fight against."

His vermillion eyes then stared down-casted to the floor, hands now clenched into balls of fists.

A sight she never thought she'd see from him.

Compared to her past, who was freed from the clutches of her parents' abuse, this boy in front of her-

He was never freed from his own past.

To carry that knowledge alone; to have no one to trust. To have known that his father casted both him and his mother away in favour of his political ascendance.

Just what could he have possibly felt, to endure all of that?

Mira's chest panged, feeling the weight of his own circumstances.

"…I can't guarantee the extent of what I am capable of," she said slowly, bringing his gaze towards her. "But, if you're okay working with me, then, I'll do my best to help you, in any way possible."

His eyes widened a little, then made a long sigh of relief.

Mira didn't know, or perhaps, could never truly imagine what kind of life he had been through. But after everything that had come between them, she felt more and more compelled to reach out her hand and touch him.

Before either of them knew it, her hands held one of his own; warming him, wanting to assure him that he's no longer alone in this fight.

Akechi, who hadn't said a word from her gesture, then took a step forward; standing toe to toe before her. His shadow then casted over her smaller frame as he leaned in and rested his forehead on her own.

"Thank you. Mira."

Evening

The rain doesn't stop.

It patters over the walls and windows, washing out the stains from the pavement.

Chamomile limped in the rain, her hand clutching her side.

I messed up.

The starcatcher knew she needed to call the team. Warn them of what she had found.

To think… Northerners managed to get a hold of-

She stumbled her footing to the floor, feeling the blood flowing out from her side.

I can't die here. She desperately thought. I have to warn Linda-!

She leaned against the wall of the narrow backstreet.

Where am I again?

The pain on her side stifled her line of thought. The little that she could recall, was that there was a sudden request of one of the members of their team to verify on an anonymous tip. She vaguely remembered volunteering to go onto the location, wanting to skip out on the fragment hunting for a while.

What was I supposed to verify?

Her memory began to fog as delirium starts to kick in.

That's not important right now…

With her withering strength, she raised her head up to the heavens.

"Star… of… Cassiopeia…" she muttered. "Come…"

The Starcatcher stretched out her hand, calling forth a small piece from the star in the clouded sky. A small sphere of light fell and landed into the palm of her hand. The star fragment in her hand began to rejuvenate her system, but with the rain and the lack of light in her hand slowly dimming, the healing process was too slow.

Footsteps in the rain approach her. At this point, the Starcatcher knew she was doomed.

"…Are you alright?!"

She raised her head to find a spectacled boy with curled locks standing over her, carrying an umbrella in hand.

Oh… Thank goodness.

"Wait, for a moment," he said, whipping out his phone from his pocket. "I'll call the ambulance-"

"No…" Chamomile shook her head. "Don't call the ambulance… please."

"But-!"

"I'll be alright… in a jiffy…"

Within seconds, the world around her grew dark.

I can't pass…out…

I have to warn Linda… there's an endowed rogue… in this… city…

AN:

A few things.

One. Yes, Akechi's still shady as ever. I can't help but think at the end of the day, he's still the type of guy who'd use who'd use anything for his own gain, so it's almost inevitable how manipulative he could get. Poor Mira. (I'm sorry).

But, I promise growth and that includes our pancake boy, so hey!

Two. I know I'm better at writing romantic one-shots, but... I do know romance was never my forte in fanfics like these. So I gotta ask: am I rushing it too fast? I hope the chemistry between them isn't too forced or anything...

Another thing. here's where the messy subplots start coming up. I swear, if I can write this better cohesively and not drag stuff around, I'd have made this fic a whole lot better.

And once again, thank you guys for sticking around.