Author's Notes:  Wow…so many reviews.  A lot of arigatos to everyone who're pushing me to get this finished, though the end's quite a bit far away.  School's started again so bear with me as I try to desperately piece together the few next chapters.  Am taking too many credits and have too much homework so I may slack off a bit.  I'll really try to get these chapters up as quickly as I can.  I've got the next chapter for 'Slipping…' done and ready to it, but 'Going Native' is on hiatus for a bit.  Anyway, yummy chapter.

Thanks to Kitty Neko, Luna (Sakura's cell ran out of power), KanbiAme, MoonlightGoddess, The Great One (maybe…maybe again…=P), Setsuna (I think the story's about half done right now), Cherry Wolf, tina, Final Fantasy Princess, cherry-princess (hehe, you're obsessed), Silly*Niecy (I know!  But I made it so the books weren't harmed…), lilum-star, chibicherry (you've been gone so long), Pink Cherry Blossom, mya (fun?  I like surprise twists *wicked smile*), bishonen lovah (yeah, Clue's going to be around for a few more chapters), nightshadow (not yet), ImMeEmmi (that's one of my favourite reviews ever), shazaoblossom, setsuna (gomen gomen.  It's been a really bad week…)

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom

Chapter 12:  Professor Plum

It's something that nags at me, the way the advertisement keeps staring back at me, plastered over a full spread in the newspaper.  'The Taste of Tomoeda.'  It's only a silly festival, a once a year thing with booths and people and activities.  But there's something wrong with it; it's just absolutely perfect.  Throngs of people, millions of distractions, the kind of anonymity that any criminal would want. 

Today's the day the letter indicated and Kaho's got everyone on duty, even recalling Noako back from her vacation.  I make a mental note not to run into her anytime soon.  We're stationed everywhere there's a possibility.  Restaurants that use plums, universities, factories that handle plums, any store with the word 'plum' in its name…and the festival.

I almost swallowed my pride and begged Mizuki to place me on duty there.  But instead, I'm sipping coffee out of a porcelain cup, nestled unobtrusively in a corner of a five star restaurant.  A fresco overhead smiles down at me with the quality that all expensive restaurants have as if saying, 'Enjoy the view while we screw you out of your money.'  Apparently this restaurant boasts the best plum tart in all of Japan.  I've tried it; they're not lying, though all that goodness comes at a hefty price.  But then again, I get it on the house as I'm guarding their posh establishment from the unwanted and uncivilized intrusion of a serial bomber.  It would be highly inappropriate and 'looked down upon.' 

And yet, my fingers are itching to be rid of these long coat sleeves, this tie that binds my throat, the air of unimpeachable respectability I have to ooze.  The lunch rush has come, the busy movement of the waiters, the formally attired customers with the presence of mind to look exactly the same as the person next to them.  All I can think is how unfair this is.

Yamakazi got an assignment to the festival, holding guard at the park's south entrance and I'm stuck here.  The manager is approaching me again, for what must be the tenth time in half an hour.  He walks with a sickeningly quiet gait, almost limping fashionably towards me.  He speaks in soft, demure, respectful tones, the kind that seeps subservience.  "If you could Li-san, we would appreciate if you would move to the bar.  We have some very frequent clients who wish to be seated at this table."

I curse softly under my breath, too low for him to hear.   I return a pulled back smile.  "I would be glad to oblige you, but I cannot survey the entire restaurant from the bar."

He gives a deeply offended look, frowning in an overbearingly disapproving manner.  "You have to understand Li-san…"

I sigh hard and stand up, cutting off the long speech on his lips.   I straighten my clothes as I walk to the bar, taking a seat on a high leather stool.  How I would like to be at the park right now…  The customers all just sit there, sipping, chewing, looking haughty and doing nothing, and I'm stuck here just watching them.  I look down at my watch and note with frustration that the festival's just started.  Slowly, I find myself leaning toward the door, deftly hopping off the stool and leisurely strolling past the doors.  Just a smoke break… a little breather…

And no one stops me, or even notices me.  I'm suddenly under the bright sky and standing on the curb, waving a taxi and flinging off the suit jacket off my shoulders.  The cell phone's out before the driven can even start down the street.  "Hwang?"  I cast away the obligatory snide remark he makes from the other side.  "Anything happen?  How's Kinomoto-sensei?"

"He's in class; I'm watching him right now.  In fact…"

"Good."  I hang up and quickly dial up Yamakazi.  It rings nearly five times before he comes on the line.  There's this thing in his voice that tells me he's laughing or at least grinning on the end.  Where does it come from?  "Yamakazi?"

"Yeah?"  There's a rustle and muffled voices and then scattered girlish giggles. 

"Yamakazi?!"

His voice drifts back again.  "Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Silence, another bout of giggles.  "Huh?"

"What…the hell…are you doing?"  The taxi takes a dangerous swerve and I slam hard into the door, sucking in a hissing pained breath.

"Maybe I should be asking what you're doing?"  I can almost hear his eyebrows wiggling.

"Baka.  How's the festival going?"

"It's going great.  There's this act where this guy swallows…"

"Yamakazi!  I meant if there was anything suspicious."

"Relax, breathe.  There's nothing going on.  It's all A-OK."  A few voices, too low to make out, a warble in the background before there's a scratchy, crackling sound in the phone and the line goes dead.

I scowl at the phone, suddenly hugely resentful.  And this is guy that Mizuki puts at the festival?  The driver knocks on the plastic partition and points to the approaching park.  I signal to the west entrance and get out of the cab, handing him the money.  As the taxi speeds away, I take in the mess that comes with all festivals.  Balloons everywhere, people too, all laughing and talking.  Children are screaming and running all over the place, dodging around the chairs and stands and signs.

No wonder Yamakazi was so happy to get this assignment.  There's food everywhere, rows and rows of vendors, selling anything from hot dogs to bowls of noodles.  The quiet sizzle of glistening steaks, drizzled sundaes with mountains of whipped cream, simmering thick stews of potatoes and meat, rolls of sushi boxed neatly and packed on a bed of ice. 

The temptation's intense as those around me are smacking their lips, sinking their teeth into free, delicious food.  Bakery samples of hot steaming breads and buns, the wafting aroma of ground coffee, jams on toast, bittersweet chocolates cooling on a nearby rack.  "Would you like a sample sir?"

I look down at a small child, a platter of round formed chocolates in her hands.  Something inside warns me that I'm duty, but it's the pull of the dark brown, glistening candy that involuntarily reaches my hand out and touches the cool shell.  It's a short trip from the platter to my mouth.  The candy's roundness and smoothness disintegrate into a rough, sticky intense gummy chocolate, clinging and catching between my teeth.  And when I bite into the mass, it spills a hidden wave of cold, liquid raspberry-cocoa liqueur, filling the back of my throat with a sweet bitterness so strong that it floods my nose and all I can smell as an overwhelming wave of chocolate and fruit and brandy.  Choking off my senses, all I know is the chocolate and the way it leaves my mouth cold and tingling.

When I finally swallow the candy, the little girl looks up and smiles.  "Good mister?"

I nod almost dazed and go along my way, completely confused as to where I was going a second earlier.  Something about a plum I think.  There's a loud peel of bells up ahead, signaling some cooking competition between the chefs of the four major five star restaurants in Tomoeda.  But my mind's cleared and I renew my mission to find Yamakazi, easily skirting around the developing crowd.

It seems impossible but the crowds get thicker as I go farther into the park.  All the natural views that the park boasts have been choked out by people and food and trash.  The giant arch of the north entrance looms above me and I try to find Yamakazi in the mess of people and police tape. 

I finally spot him standing under a tree, talking amicably to four or five girls.  I can already tell by his outsized gestures that he's telling one of his stories again.  I inch closer quietly, backing up toward him under the guise of a civilian.

"And there he was, gun in hand, in a dead end.  I told him to freeze but he didn't listen.  And then he fired two shots…"  Dramatic pause.  Then four or five voices gasping and urging him to continue.  "Two shots.  Thankfully they just barely missed me.  I shot back and got him in the leg.  I put the cuffs on him, picked up the money bag and waited for reinforcements."  He bathed in the resulting awed 'wows' and 'you're so braves' that were coming from the thunderstruck girls.  He's got to be kidding me.

I clear my throat loudly.  "You mean the bank robbery last year ne, Yamakazi?  Tell me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall you losing the criminal in a dead end only to have Noako finally shoot him in the leg as he ran down the next sidestreet…"  There's absolute silence, then the swift movement of girls rapidly brushing by me and disappearing into the crowd, faces clouded over by a righteous anger.

Yamakazi glares at me, his face finally without a hint of that stupid grin.  "What'd you do that for?"

"Hmm?  You're on duty, and you're telling tall tales to an audience of girls?  Hmm…  What is wrong with this picture?"

He only scowls and slowly trudges back to the entrance gates.  I shake my head and slowly push my way back into the crowd, scanning the passersby.  The impossibility the situation rises up to meet me as I watch.  The mess of people, the different indiscriminate faces, the seemingly coagulated smear of decorations, the roar of hundreds of voices talking all at once.

There's a quick tap on my back.  I turn around, ready to tell whoever it is to 'fuck off', but I'm stunned silent by the double atrocity standing before me.

Hiragizawa smiles, latched onto the arm of Daidouji.  Towering over them is Touya glowering down like a rain cloud.  The boyfriend speaks first in that slightly mocking tone of his.  "Konnichi wa, Li-san."  Touya merely grunts an acknowledgement of my existence.  Oh how I'm blessed…

"I'm on duty."  I strain to give the message as clearly and politely as I can.  The last thing Mizuki needs is the mayor in an uproar about rude cops.

Touya's scowl deepens, folding his arms over his chest.  "Yeah, hard at work I see."

I return the glare, already balling my fists.  "At least I'm doing something instead of blaming everyone else.  What a good onni-san you are, letting your own sister get kidnapped."

Huge mistake, right at the moment when those words came out.  He yanks me by the collar, bring his face down to mine and I can see the dark circles, the unhealthy yellow tinge to his skin.  He hisses fiercely.  "Listen, you fucking brat.  Don't you dare think you know anything about me.  You're supposed to be finding Sakura, not being some sarcastic little prat.  Do your job or I'll…"  He stops abruptly, flicking a sideways look to his right, and drops me back down.

The man at his side has gray hair and glasses and seems to be tugging at the lunatic's sleeve.  What a fucking nutcase.  "Touya…" warns the gray haired man.  Touya fumes silently, muttering almost silent curses under his breath.  "I have to apologize for Touya; he has a very short temper and with everything…"

I nod slightly, watching the gray haired man smile with one of those disarming, goofy smiles that makes my skin crawl.  He takes a big bite of a slice of cake in his hand, almost swallowing it without chewing.  He offers me a piece.  "It's quite good; it's a plum cake.  I've got some plum gummies too if you want any."  He laughs just how he smiles, sort of a gentle quality but still a little too brightly for my tastes.  "Actually I think I put that plum stand out of business."

I look at the outstretched hand, brimming with food.  "No thanks ____"

"Oh, Yukito.  Are you a friend of Tomoyo's?"

"No.  I'm actually in charge of Sakura's case."

His face darkens appreciably and he says something softly under his breath that I barely catch.  "I still can't believe that this happened to her…"  I block out the rest of what he says.  Something starts to bother me, like a half forgotten bit of information that doesn't seem to have any relevance.  I can see his lips move, but the only sounds I hear is my own voice rapidly going through my head, the quick half sentences and mental checks. 

And then my eyes travel to his hand again, the napkin and wrapped candies peeking out, glistening in the sunshine. It's like a strange moment of complete silence that surrounds me as my insides start to move and turn strange, excited and anxious.  This was the key; somehow I knew it.  The crowd was still thick as I pushed hard through them.  Touya and the rest of them were probably looking strangely at my back as I rushed against the surging mob of people.  The answer was only a few more feet away.  It had to be.

The stand was busy, swamped with business, the backs of too many heads filling my sight.  Workers were taking orders as the customers crowded around the small hut, tightly packed around the sample platters.  The banner flapped loudly as the wind picked up, the plum logo snapping and rippling like a distorted mirage.  I managed to wedge myself through the crowd, hastily reaching for my badge.  "Excuse me; I'm an officer, I need to get ahead.  Excuse me."

But the murmur droned me out, forcing me to grab and pull randomly, yanking people of my way, ignoring their hissing curses and enraged shouts.  The heavy scent of sweetness perfumed the air as I got closer to the stand.  The plum…  And the kitchen…

I pushed hard between two people, finally finding myself against a velvet rope.  Ahead was the small temporary kitchen, a few plastic tables scattered around, people biting into dripping pastries.  I scanned the area hard for something; all there was were people.  But everything in me was telling me the answer was here, that this was what he meant. 

And yet, there were only people, sitting at those tables and talking and laughing or reading their newspapers and reaching over for napkins.  Just white plastic tables and chairs.  Just crumpled up napkins and abandoned plates and scattered utensils and a left behind book.  I squinted almost haphazardly at the cover, expecting some pointless trashy romance novel, but suddenly finding myself reading the words with a growing sense of seriousness.  'Unearthing Egypt.  Kinomoto Fujitaka.' 

Almost falling over on my face, I desperately jumped over the velvet rope, stretching for the table.  I would've said the tabletop seemed perfectly innocent if I hadn't known better.  The half eaten plum tart, the plastic knife that laid across the paper plate, the book, the crumpled napkin.  My instincts tell me to go for the book, but there's something about the yellow napkin, the strange pattern some black stains make.  Carefully poking it and unfolding it with a random chopstick, I smooth open the cloth, staring almost catatonically down at the neatly printed capitals.  'YOU HAVE SUCCEEDED I SEE.  LET'S TRY SOMETHING HARDER SHALL WE?  ONE MONTH.  MRS. PEACOCK IN THE CONSERVATORY WITH THE ROPE.'

I look up quickly, running my eyes over the people, all looking so plain and innocent.  And all I had was another stupid riddle.  I'm so fucked…

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Author's Notes:  Heh, that took a while to do.  And not even really that long.  Boo me.  Reviews remind to update faster.  Hint, hint. =)