Sho Fuwa wanted to forget- his responsibilities, his bloody grandfather, and the damn feelings he'd never wanted for the girl who would only view him as a stepbrother at best. Unable to obliterate his past, he settled for the next best thing: a couple shots of Froggy B and a glass of Macallan before calling an acquaintance who arrived with a plus one. After ensuring the NDAs were signed, he tossed back yet another shot and let the ladies work. They'd made the perfect diversion–for a while. Until he was no longer conscious. Until he dreamed.

The nightmare started the same as always – images of Lin Michaels as he'd seen her in a file sent by his grandfather. Sho watched as his girlfriend cheated on him; heard the sound of the man's name fall from the lips that were supposed to belong only to him. She's mine, he snarled, does she think I'll let her treat me like a fool? He drove to her apartment to confront her, to call her a whore right to her face, but she was drunk and they argued. Lin cursed at him, screamed that he was nothing but a narcissistic bastard, a man-child riding his family's coattails, before slapping him in the face. Sho heard a roaring in his ears as rage tore through him like a thunderstorm ripping through the atmosphere. His hand lashed out, quick and powerful as a strike of lightning across a face that was suddenly no longer Lin's. The body flew backwards at the force of the blow until the young woman slammed the side of her head against the entryway table.

In the silence, the Fuwa heir stared dispassionately at Kyoko Mogami's dead body.

Sho shot up to a sitting position, trembling in a cold sweat, a litany of profanities spewing from his mouth like steam from a nuclear reactor. His held his pounding head in his hands until the phantom pain subsided.

His bedding was soaked everywhere his shivering body touched and he partially regretted sending the two women home in an Uber earlier. At least I wouldn't have woken alone... With that pitiable thought, the young executive swung his feet over the side of his bed and headed towards the shower.

Last night's file from Hayate Fuwa had featured Kyoko and a man he unfortunately knew quite well, confirming Sho's earlier suspicions. His grandfather's message served two purposes: first, a reminder of their little chat to let go of his feelings and avoid acting rashly, and second, to rub salt in the festering wound beating in his chest. That was the kind of man his Ojii-san was. The kind of monster he had horrifyingly realized he resembled the night he'd struck Lin.

There had been no sense of remorse in Lin Michaels accidental death. Sho's only feeling had been one of immense satisfaction. The VP reached out to the one person he figured could help dispose of a dead body: his grandfather. The moment the domineering CEO, who had never once given Sho his approval, placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder and said, "I intended to leave a lasting impression with Williams Michaels and despite the beauty wasted, well done, boy," it was like scales fell from Sho's ice-blue eyes.

Well done. Well done? Well done!? Lin is dead.

His hands shook. He stared down at the instruments of her demise. She will never flash another radiant smile, never share her infectious laughter, never anything again. By my hands. My hands killed her. His quivering body now felt weak and Sho barely managed to keep on his feet, but knew it would be folly to display weakness in front of the old wolf. To Hayate Fuwa, everyone was disposable and he coached me to look at the world through those same eyes.

No, regardless of Ojii-san's machinations, I was the one who got pissed and hit her. He closed his eyes, trying to rid his mind of the images of her blood-matted hair. But that only made it worse. It was then Sho realized how hubris had blinded him to the kind of man he'd become–one who always laid fault at another's feet, one capable of killing a woman he'd once told he loved with scarcely the bat of an eye. Lin was like an adorable or a pretty doll to him at best for the latter half of their relationship. Was it any wonder she had found someone else?

The Fuwa elder's dark piercing eyes traveled over his grandchild's shoulder to the body lying in a heap on the tiled floor and he clicked his tongue, "Come," he continued, leading him by the shoulder, "now we must tidy this messyou've created." The Fuwa kingpin ordered one of his men to place the finishing touches on the VP in preparation for their web of deceit. They placed Lin in the driver's seat of her SUV, spinning the lie that her death was the result of a faulty air bag deployed during the crash from driving recklessly while intoxicated. Lin was survived by her boyfriend who was overcome with guilt that he was still counted among the living. The local politician, William Michaels, was immediately informed of his only child's tragic death, but never seemed satisfied with the police report and subsequent investigation he'd demanded. Hayate Fuwa meticulously covered all possible angles, using people already in his pocket or bringing in new ones at a hefty price, leaving no room for failure, but Sho knew nothing was ever infallible. Grandfather failed to consider me.

The water abruptly shifted from hot to tepid and Sho switched the faucet to off position and stepped out to towel off his blonde locks. He recalled how Kyoko had bought into their farce and returned to help comfort him in his loss, knowing all too well the feelings of helplessness and guilt accompanying the death of a loved one.

His stepsister sat down beside him on the beige leather couch and placed a hand lightly on his arm. The beautiful golden eyes on her tear-streaked face shone with compassion as she offered him silent comfort in spite of everything he'd done to her. And it was an innumerable list of sins. He looked back at her helplessly, unable to speak any true words from his corrupt heart. He wanted to say he was sorry, but the young man couldn't force the words out. It was as though he were choking on all the vitriol he'd spoken- worthless, plain, ugly, pathetic, little wench. The words were like blades cutting him open and he imagined hell must be just like this. Like a thousand cuts for your thousand sins where your body was healed so you could suffer and replay the agony over and over and over. Kyoko saw his pained expression and gently brought his forehead to rest on her shoulder as he finally let tears fall like drops of rain from a spring sky. In that moment Sho silently pledged to treat her better. Though he kept up pretenses in his everyday life, he remembered his promise to his stepsister, shedding his cold, arrogant skin in her presence. His nightmare reminded him that he'd never apologized for any of his cruelties either. That he still had a long ways to go before making amends. Next time I see her, I'll tell her to her face.

He sent Kyoko a text containing two words long overdue before he lost his nerve- I'm sorry.

x=x=x=

"Mo! You're already forgiven," came Kanae Kotonami's vexed voice. "No more dogeza. Get up." She impatiently tapped her high-heeled toe on the solid hardwood floor, readying herself to forcibly lift her roommate if necessary, but Kyoko was back on her feet before the taller woman could blink an eye. "I'm glad you two are finally together, by the way," she continued in a huff, causing her formerly prostrated friend to brighten considerably, despite the exasperation in her tone.

"Yes!" the love-struck woman chirped with a wide smile and Moko could almost imagine pink roses blooming around her.

"I'm off to work." Kanae grabbed her keys and phone, pausing to stuff them into her Gucci shoulder bag before heading towards the door. "Be good, but not too good," she suggested with a wink.

Then Kyoko was left with only her own thoughts as company. In retrospect, she was glad her beautiful roommate had interrupted them because they'd gotten carried away and too many videos of high profile people in compromising positions ended up on the internet. If a recording were to appear... Kyoko shuddered, knowing she'd incur the wrath of her adopted grandfather. The intimidating CEO had never been pleased with his son and daughter-in-law's decision to adopt a young orphaned child and though the girl never quite understood why, she'd quickly learned to stay out of "Ojii-san's" way. And now, as a grown woman, she had the opportunity, perhaps, to discover information Hayate Fuwa had kept hidden- a secret involving Saena Mogami's death- the very event that haunted Kyoko for many years. She had no trouble imagining the ruthless Fuwa elder's involvement in nefarious activities, but her brain refused to accept that Naoki and Yayoi could be involved with, or even aware of, whatever allegedly transpired.

With the legitimacy of the claim still in question, Kyoko was determined to not involve anyone else in the craziness- even Kuon. She wondered if, by chasing the mysterious message, she was being as careless and foolish as Alice. Or maybe I'm in a construct created by machines, the teen thought, would be nice to be able to fly right over L.A. traffic. Slightly hysterical laughter bubbled from Kyoko's dry lips as she reached for her phone to respond to whomever was leading her down the rabbit hole.

I want the truth- if you can truly offer it, she sent.

She barely had to wait a minute before a reply popped up- Meet me in the on the Lower Level Four (LL4) of the Tom Bradley Wing in the Central Library at 1:00 PM. I will be wearing a white NFL Ram's-branded hat and jersey.

Kyoko pulled up the schematics of the library and snorted in amusement at the name of the department located on that floor before replying, Agreed.

Two hours remained until the meeting and knowing her best possible course of action would be to keep herself busy, the young woman changed into workout clothes, tucked her flash gun taser into her purse compartment, and headed to Haven Fitness. Though she normally preferred to exercise at the gym in their apartment complex, she welcomed the distracting hustle and bustle of a public place this time.

Kyoko chose the boxing class over the HIIT strength and cardio option- mostly because she just felt like hitting something. The therapist who'd advised her adopted parents and counseled her as a child through middle school ages recommended activities fostering self-esteem and empowerment- cooking and martial arts were the two she'd enjoyed most and threw her whole being into mastering. Kyoko had recently become a brown belt in Jiu-Jitsu and learning some boxing techniques seemed like a highly beneficial way to vent and add to her skill set.

When Gavin, the squat trainer assigned to her, noticed the ease in which she grasped the desired forms, he adjusted his lesson to suit her higher skill level. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her body as the hour long session neared its' end and she took a quick break to hydrate and towel off before beginning her cool down laps. Turning briskly on her heel towards the track, Kyoko let out an oof! as she collided with the sweaty, muscled wall of an unknown male- or rather assumed he was unknown until she heard a familiar, "Whoa, bella donna!" and looked up into a pair of rich brown eyes. The shock on the man's face quickly turned to pleasure while the young woman, equally astonished at first, stammered a mishmash combination of apology and greeting, causing the older man to laugh.

"I didn't know you worked out here Kyoko," Antony flashed his signature smile at his colleague.

The junior chef, who was still feeling a sense of discomfort at running into someone she recently turned down while wearing very form-fitting clothing, managed a tight smile while taking a step back. "I've been here a couple times before, but I usually prefer to exercise in a more private setting," she explained.

"Ah, I see," he nodded. "Totally understandable. So, what do you think about our model turned manager? He seems to be keeping on top of things, wouldn't you agree?"

The questions seemed innocent enough, but his words were dripping with a tone that sent alarm bells ringing. Something must have shown on her face because the gruff voice of trainer Gavin interrupted them, "Is this guy bothering you Kyoko?"

"Oh, no," she said as neutrally as possible. "We're actually coworkers."

Gavin looked doubtfully between the two, but Kyoko's insistence that they knew each other caused him to shrug off whatever caused him concern initially. "If you say so. Don't forget about your cool down." She heard him mutter something unintelligible to Antony, causing the senior chef to stiffen a moment and glare at the trainer's retreating back.

I wonder what that was about... "Looks like I better leave you to it. See you tomorrow," Antony said, tossing her a sunny grin and a wave, but the tightness around his eyes failed to match his cheery mask.

Kyoko looked inquisitively at her senior a moment before replying, "Ok! See you then," with an equally faux cheer. Their awkward exchange made her grateful she wouldn't be working directly with Antony on tomorrow's shift. Eager to leave the unsettling encounter behind her, Kyoko moved in quick, wide strides, towards the shower and locker room area. She decided to keep her clothes casual, only making a slight alteration to the outfit she'd worn when she spoke with Kuon by changing into a Flyleaf tee and adding heavier eye make-up.

Kyoko arrived at the Central Library, whose limestone exterior gave the appearance of a museum despite its' bookish name, fifteen minutes before her appointment with the anonymous messenger whom she'd dubbed the White Ram. The landmark actually housed a number of exhibits and the remarkable architecture made the entire building seem like a dazzling work of art under the California sunshine. The library was one of the places she'd always wanted to visit, but had never quite found the time to and she figured a brief peek was better than nothing at all so although there were quicker ways of reaching the fourth floor, she opted pass through the vast Rotunda to catch a glimpse of the magnificent bronze and glass Zodiac globe chandelier and forty foot murals depicting California's past.

She had just reaching the fourth floor landing when her purse vibrated bzzzt! Kyoko squinted at the phone and rubbed her eyes a few times, convinced she must be imagining things. Never once had her stepbrother apologized to her for anything, though there had been a marked change in his behavior after the accident. There was no mistaking the bright words on the screen, however- I'm sorry. It had been obvious to her that Sho was struggling with survivor's guilt, although he never appeared to be anything other than his usual pompous self in a public setting. What could have happened...? I always assumed hell would freeze over before he said those words to me. The teen was so lost in thought it took her a moment to register a soft feminine voice saying, "Excuse me."

A red-cheeked Kyoko hastily moved aside, exclaiming, "Oh, pardon me!" but her embarrassment was quickly swallowed by awe as she focused on the person who'd spoken. Surely no other woman could make a baseball hat and jersey look as glamorous as the picture of femininity that strolled by, although she couldn't help imagine her stepbrother stopping to gawk at the gorgeous woman too. Just his (and pretty much any other guy's) type- huge ta-tas, curvy hips, and legs for miles Kyoko thought ruefully.

Kuon definitely prefers this type over you too said that doubtful voice in her mind, but this time she summoned her boyfriends words: my heart belongs to you, always. It became silent. Each time she remembered his precious promise, Kyoko felt like she was encircled by a layer of warmth and light that could prevent anything bad from happening ever again, but she knew it was naïve to believe it. Wait! Kyoko thought suddenly in recognition, that woman was wearing...!

A/N Pink roses symbolize happiness.