Dear Diary,

The cold July air washes over me as I sit on the wooden ledge that butted out from the rooftop overlooking the blurry skyline. Below me is a five hundred feet drop and to take that fall is a sure one-way ticket to afterlife.

Don't be concerned, I never think of suicide, or in this case, committing suicide. I'm still too young to just end things, especially before my world tour is concluded.

Looking down, I can see the tiny flicker of a nightlight from the balcony that extends out of my bedroom. We live on the top floor of a moderately lavish apartment right in the middle of Shibuya.

Shibuya is famous for many things—the food, the shrines, the festivities and gang activities. More stress on the later part. Here, pickpockets are the least of the local police's worries and a murder or two every other week, usually a fight gone terribly wrong, is common agenda in news reports.

It's funny to think people can get so messed up in their head that they end up deciding whether someone else gets to live or die. Dishing out justice, they say.

Gang life is not a kiddy party or a surrounding any minor should interact with. People involved don't care about age, gender, disabilities, innocence and all that. Power is everything. Without power you're weak. Hence, defenseless and disposable.

Getting involved in that situation is no good news. Gangsters pledge their loyalty to certain groups that may share a common motive but in the end, fidelity only lasts as long as you're not in the range of fire.

There is no honesty in how a gang operates. Many are, after all, extensions of Yakuza and equally savage in their activities. But when it comes to children calling themselves delinquents and gangsters, I get why the idea is ludicrous to some.

Thing is, kids don't have the mindset of owning up to the consequences of their actions. Adults get by because they can on their own—by bribery, violence or at the cost of their own life, they have the right to choose.

Kids can play the underage card but if they deem themselves ready for things that had grownups shivering in their boots, their actions should be judged all the same.

Just this morning, the national news channel highlighted an article: "Thirty underage girls trafficked all over the continent under the guise of running away with their lovers."

Maybe it is a bit twisted on my part, I couldn't help but laugh. Lover? Relationships? What were those girls thinking? What would I think if I was in their shoes? They were promised a better life, happiness, a chance to start over. The idea does sound awfully tempting.

The door to the rooftop slams open so hard, I half expect a body builder to emerge from the stairs. A sigh escapes me inevitably. There goes my peaceful night.

But if I was going to have company, I want to make sure it wasn't a creep. I may not be the toughest in the block but I can hold my own against a small group. . .when I'm not running on sleeping pills and a very tiny amount of alcohol.

The figure that comes out is shorter than an adult, maybe half a head taller than me. Judging by their silhouette, they are a male. Running his hand through his oddly shaped hair, he walks over to the railing.

I open my mouth to speak but purse my lips as his fist contacts the metal fence separating him from the unfortunate fall. My eyes mirror saucers as he removes his hand to reveal a prominent dent created.

Unintentionally, a whistle falls from my mouth and I'm slapping my forehead a second later. Anyway, there was no turning back now. "Do you often take your anger out on poor metal bars?"

The figure turns towards where I'm comfortably seated and for the first time under the sliver of moonlight that escapes the blanket of clouds, I can see his eyes. They're a pretty shade of honey with subtle flecks of gold peppering them.

For reasons unknown, I have always loved noticing the different colours of people's eyes. There's a saying eyes are the windows to one's soul. Don't know how much of that is true but it gives my oddity a hint of normalcy.

His eyes are red and his waterline is bleary. Consider my curiosity peaked. From my understanding, very few come up on rooftops in the middle of the night to sing away their sorrows. That kind of stuff barely avoids the cringe label in movies.

"Who are you?" He snaps.

A smile quirks on my lips. He has a gruff voice, the kind that fits a bulky man, not a tween. It takes me a few seconds to register his question as my eyes are fixated on his hands. His shoulders are tense and his left leg dragged back behind the right one. I'm very familiar with that stance.

"Hayashi", I say. "Are you new here? I haven't seen you around."

He scoffs. "Do you go around remembering every damn face you see or what?"

I've met many of his kind. They think they're cool by playing the tough act but they fool absolutely nobody.

"If I see someone wrecking my dad's property for no reason, it's kind of given."

For a moment, shock spreads over his face. "You're the owner's daughter? Your dad bought the whole top floor?"

I nod.

He runs a hand down his face. My gaze rakes down his prim clothes–a suit that looked out of place from his hasty demeanour. "This place isn't abandoned?"

I give him a look. "Why would you think it's abandoned? Does it look abandoned?"

He narrows his eyes but shakes his head anyway. His eyes travel to the lowered ledge and his gaze turns blank. "You're not going to jump, are you? I'm not trying to catch you if you do."

This time I glare at him. Who is he to disrupt my peace and anti-threaten me in my own home? I stand up from my seat which is on the side that connects with the terrace and still leaves a three feet space in front and jump over the rails. The questions are making my head hurt.

"Look buddy", I size him up, or try to. It's kind of difficult with the height difference. "You keep your questions to yourself and I keep mine. I came here to cool off, so, leave me be."

He contemplates my words and agrees without much fight. We go our different ways. I lay on one of the recliner chairs, spread-eagled. From the corner of my vision I see him shuffle toward the stairs leading up to the water tank.

I want to focus on the stars again but today the sky is a cloudy mess. White patches of mist cover the twinkling orbs. It is a perfect representation of my mental state: unclear, irate and ugly.

I curse at the universe for making my attention drift to the boy sitting not so far away from me. He is a stranger and that makes him all the more fun to unravel.

In my first few months of school, I have acquired many friends but it would be a stretch to call them that. I knew things about them, information that made mingling so much easier. But, if you ask them, all they could tell you would be my name, age and phone number.

From the perspective of playing a game, I was a pro at figuring people out.

"So. . .what's your deal?"

"What happened to keeping our questions to ourselves? And I don't have a deal." He looked over and made air quotes.

I nodded understandingly. "Okay, so, you punch metal bars on a daily basis." I shifted to the recliner closest to him. "I don't know, dude. Sounds like you have some serious anger issues."

He blinked before balking. "I—no. Just no." I shrugged in response. "Fine. If we're doing this, what's your deal? You sit on rooftops to ogle at cars on a daily basis?"

I smiled. It wasn't exactly untrue. "Only the ones Papa pays for." When I had successfully stunned him into silence, I couldn't hold back the giggles.

"You're kidding", he breathes. "How filthy rich are you?!"

Standing up, I walk over to the railing, motioning for him to follow. From there we hand our arms over the rail and stare at the traffic on the road. Really, I need to appreciate this view more. No one knows how long this will last, not even Papa.

I point at the cluster of buildings and a massive park that was still under construction across the road. "See that complex? It's going to be called 'Azure'. The Hayashi company are funding the whole thing." I turn to him with a smile. "Guess how I know all this."

The city lights bathe the boy in a strangely serene glow. His dark hair falls over his face and the neon luminance bounces off his eyes. "You're related to that Hayashi bastard? Garcia?"

"Ding-ding! Bingo."

The corners of his lips quirk up. "I came up here to think and here I'm getting bragged on by a little girl."

"A little girl?" I parrot. "I'm the same age as you are!"

He crossed his arms, leaning his back on the rail. "How'd you know?"

I tap the tag attached to his coat. "Sutome Middle School. My cousin goes there." It was my turn to ask, "That still doesn't answer my question. What are you doing here? You better answer before I call the police."

"Oi, you little—!" He growled before huffing indignantly, sitting on a chair. "I needed an outlet. Didn't exactly have the best day."

I hum. "Let me guess, funeral?"

"Nope."

"Marks distribution?" I try.

"Hah—no." He chuckles. "Court hearing."

That intrigued me. "Divorce?"

He rolls his eyes. "That's viable when you have two parents." He paused for a long time and I didn't find it in myself to probe him for answers. "I made some bad decisions—crazy decisions. I did something and had to fess up. Consequence of my stupidity."

"Look me in the eye and tell me I'm not talking to a criminal right now."

He gives me that crimson look and I don't know if it's the wind but a shiver shoots up my spine. "Ding-ding. Bingo."

What a small world. Consequences, he said. Fess up, he said. I push back the urge to laugh. "Seriously, whatever you did can't be that bad if they let you go."

He squeezes his eyes shut. I look away as a tear trickles down his face. I freeze at what he says next.

"Does murder count?"

I stand up immediately, feeling his brown eyes following me with a broken expression. The air around me closes in, almost choking me. I tug at the zipper of my jumper. Anxiety has been my companion since age six but nowhere near close to being one of my best friends.

I turn around as my feet tell me to, taking one last glance at the boy. He is a stranger, I remind myself. Chances are, after today, I'll never see him again.

I'm speaking before I can fully mull over my words, "Why'd you do it?"

"W-What?"

I can tell he is surprised by my choice of inquiry. But I don't need a 'who', I need a reason. I want to give him the chance I didn't get—to explain.

"Are you a lunatic? Do you kill people for fun? What is your deal. . .", squinting my eyes, I read from the tag again, "Hayate?"

It goes quiet for a while. All kinds of emotions fleet through his face in the matter of seconds—anger, desperation, regret and loss.

"It was an accident", his voice breaks as he speaks. "I didn't mean to. . .I. . .I'm sorry. I thought I could fix it. He took all the blame. He didn't do anything."

They remind me of an uncannily similar situation: white tiled floor, the annoying smell of antiseptics and an irony odor covering a little girl. "I'm sorry! I swear I can fix this! Come back! Please. . .come back!"

Hot tears spill from his eyes. Those pretty eyes. I don't get a single thing as to what he is babbling on about but something tells me he needs it.

Guilt, it comes off of him in waves. It is one of those burdens that suck out the joy of being an empath. The drowning feeling returns and it is easier to succumb underwater than struggling to stay afloat.

"He's didn't mean it", I murmur over and over again, walking down the lone stairs that led to my apartment. The crashing and clattering of objects had long ceased.

A sob gets caught in my throat. The gloom I could still sense from the floor above. I turn the doorknob and take in the mess sprawled everywhere.

Manami rushes in with a duster before I can take another step. "Miss, please be careful. There is glass all over the floor."

"They're at it again?" I laugh, plopping down on the couch. That disgusting feeling oozes out from the master bedroom. Icing on top.

The maid lowers her gaze. "Tamara-san isn't in favour of Sir's long absences. You know how it is."

I pick up the headphones from the coffee table, a yawn ripping out from me. "I don't care. Don't wake me up tomorrow."

It's going to be a long night.

— Rin

"Kairi, Rin!" A loud yell that was the gremlin himself rang out alongside fervent banging on the bedroom door. "Wakey-wakey!"

Twin groans sounded in response as Rin blinked, rubbing the sleep from and forcing open her uncooperative eyes.

"I swear to God, I'm gonna strangle that kid one of these days", Kairi gritted out, sluggishly trudging towards the bathroom to brush her teeth.

The redhead threw her legs over the edge of her bed, narrowly avoiding tripping over a plaid skirt. Well, that was to be expected with the amount of clothes strewn across the length of the ply floor.

"Geez, sorry." Kairi had the decency to look guilty when subjected to the younger girl's glare.

There was a routine rapping of knuckles on the door and this time the knob turned to reveal her stepmother's head. You know, all those stories about stepmums breaking stereotypes of being evil and yada yada yada? Well, Karin Tamara was none of that and then some.

The woman's face scrunched up into a sneer. "Just look at the condition of this room! You have ten minutes to clean it up, shower and make it to breakfast. Or you can make your own arrangements at school."

She tapped the Swiss watch sitting snug around her wrist and Rin briefly considered nicking it and feeding it to that annoying kitten that meowed at every second of every hour of...you get the point.

"Ten minutes?!" Kairi shrieked. "You can't expect us to both finish up in ten minutes. Get real!"

A cruel smile curled on her bold red lips. "You're not the boss of me, darling. Now, I suggest you get going. Clock's ticking."

Karin turned her head toward Rin, pursing her lips as though the younger was a hopeless case of failed kitchen experiment. "You, pick up these clothes and make your bed. And God forbid, do something about that bird's nest!"

She gestured to her own head before disappearing down the stairs with the sound of her stilettos going tic-tac-tic-tac...

"Cruella", Rin whispered under her breath and Kairi heckled with laughter in response.

"Anyway, I'm hitting the shower first." She ducked to look under the bed for her missing shoe. There was a snort and the rapid shuffling of feet made her look up.

"Apologies in advance."

Kairi had snatched her bathrobe and was running for the bathroom!

Rin's eyes widened as the door started closing. She bolted for it and in the nick of time managed to get a hairbrush between the door and it's frame. She scowled, "Fat chance. Get out."

The taller girl patted her dark brown tresses with a pout. "Aw, come on. Just this once, please. Can't you cut your favorite big sis some slack?"

"No. Out'ta my way."

"I can give you my fries at lunch tod—"

"Out!"

It took fifteen minutes for them to race down the stairs fully dressed, Rin jumping over the last couple steps just because. Her father was rich enough to afford a giant condo with a big terrace. The downstairs kitchen was generously decorated with futuristic knickknacks and a big abstract art peice over the joint living-room fireplace.

Rin smiled proudly at the signature glimmering in gold paint on the main subject of the drawing. A tiny detail that made claiming said art as an antique impossible. Take that, Cruella.

"Somebody's up in time", her father's amused voice greeted her, his hand coming up to ruffle her hair from behind. "Make it a habit, kiddo."

Rin blew a raspberry. "The probability of that happening is right up there with the invention of rainbow barfing unicorns."

"Hey!" Kai screamed. "Unicorns are real!"

"Sure they are, hun", Karin strutted into the kitchen, squishing the boy's cheek before coiling herself around Miguel. She chuckled, taking over tying his tie for him. "You should have seen her a while ago. No daughter of mine is allowed to go out looking like a clown."

"Right, that's your job."

Miguel narrowed his gaze at the whistling redhead. "What was that?" Under his warning look, she recoiled. "Ah, I keep forgetting to tell you, Rin, you'll be walking to school today."

Rin was affronted. "What, why? Today's Friday. We are getting dango together, right?

"Your brother—"

"He's not my brother"

"Kai's sports day is today." He looked sheepish and Karin's aloof expression was answer enough. "We'll get you hamburgers for dinner, okay? That's your favorite."

Huffing, Rin held out her palm, Miguel eyeing it suspiciously. "Fine but I need lunch money."

"I already packed your lunch", Karin quipped, wiping the spilled cereal from Kai's shirt. "It's in the fridge. Heat it up."

"I want lunch money."

"Don't be difficult, Sabrina", Miguel sighed.

"If I'm old enough to walk to school, I can buy my own lunch, thank you very much", she insisted, waving her hand infront of his face.

The weather was cold, wet, bothersome and downright infuriating. Yeah, that about summed up the entirety of her past week.

Rin didn't get why she had to walk to school when her father would drive Karin to and from her social service club every other day or even Kai to his playschool while on his way to work.

Actually, she didn't get the point of going to school on any day of any year, let alone attending the slow and boring lessons of the last few days before freedom graced the children in the form of summer break.

It wasn't as if she could anyhow patiently sit down to take in the bouts of information served to her with a side of frustrated teachers.

But case in point, she did not like her current predicament of drenched fabric clinging to her limbs and a white shirt that made the new addition to her 'big girl closet' completely and utterly visible for the whole world to see.

Soggy, worn-out red sneakers squeaked with every step on the asphalt as she kicked pebbles into puddles. She gave the stink-eye the pedestrians dashing away with bright umbrellas or lucky bastards driving off, creating earthen fountains to smear more forbidden chocolate onto her outfit.

As she stumbled across the crossing beyond which lay Golden Oak Academy, Rin felt a rough shove to her shoulder. "Tag, you're it!"

"Tnar!" She groaned, following the crowd that crossed the road at the red light.

Tnar was a tall guy, much too lanky for being a seven-year-old. He had shifted to her school midyear due to some unfortunate events that he refused to elaborate on. What the second graders did know was that an accident had left him unable to use his legs. Hence, the crutches.

"I'm not the one lost in my own head", he snickered. "A yen for your thoughts?"

Rin quirked a brow, adjusting the straps of her backpack. "The fact that I'm dripping wet from head to toe doesn't answer your question?"

"Well, it's you we're talking about. It could be anything." He shrugged, matching her pace without much difficulty. "Daddy dearest chose the wicked witch of the west over you again?"

"She's not—hey, you know what it suits her!" The redhead grinned, ignoring the rest of his words.

"You can thank me by eating my lunch."

"That's hardly payment. I'd eat sushi any time anywhere!"

"Kids!" Fukuzawa-san—their homeroom teacher—hollered from the front entranceway, dressed in a mustard raincoat. "Hurry up. You'll catch a cold."

Rin took Tnar's bag, prepared to walk down the road when a force collided with her, toppling her over. Sitting in the wet road with scratches on the inside of her palms, she glared. "Who—"

"I'm sorry, wasn't watching where I was going!" A dark-haired female clad in a ridiculously orange T-shirt gave a hasty apology in English and ran away.

"You okay?" Tnar stood by her but his eyes never left the departing figure. "That was a nasty fall."

"What was that?" Rin gaped, eyes blown wide open. Her eyes were trained on what was an unmistakable dagger hanging on a holster around the girl's waist. Her first thoughts were she was a wild drama club member—oh, she'd heard all about that category of high-schoolers—but what were the possibilities?

"What was what?" Tnar repeated, now giving her his full attention.

Rin stood on the entrance of her school as her teacher draped a towel around her. "Is walking around with lethal weapons a trend nowadays?"

The boy shrugged. "Dunno what you're on about. Let's go to class, yeah?"

As he nudged her along the hallway towards their homeroom, Rin glanced over her shoulders one more time. Maybe there was something wrong with her sight but she saw a flicker of red on the other side of the road, the same shade as that of her hair.

Strange. The weirdness just kept piling up.