Author's Notes: Well, let's see if we can't get to the end of this flashback in this chapter, since I failed miserably to do so in the last one. Sorry it's been such a while between updates, I was beckoned back to my DBZ stuff for a while, since it had been a few months since I'd updated there (yes, be glad I don't take that long with this series ^_^). I promise much more time coverage here (well, not that much more), though this will be another sad chapter. Weddings, funerals, and college—what else can make us cry so? Also, quite a big chunk of this will contain references to a "manga-only" scene, so if you're confused, just let me know and I'll explain!

And that college thing, I'm not kidding. It's killing me now…but enough of my whining. Why don't you go read now? That's what you clicked for!


Chapter Four: Hello, Goodbye, It's Been Too Short

   Tickticktick

   Ah, those blessedly quiet moments in the still mornings just before a hectic day begins, when the only sounds audible to even the most attuned ear are the soft steady intakes of breath as you slumber, blissfully unaware that in three…two…one…

   BRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING--! BAM!

   "…I'm up…I'm up…!" Niwa Daisuke murmured sleepily as he fumbled blindly at the bedside table to turn off the alarm clock, only managing to knock the device to the floor where it landed with a loud THUD. This sound, actually, served to wake up the redhead quicker than the insane clanging of the alarm clock, and he raised his head and blinked stupidly in an effort to focus his eyes.

   It was eight o' clock in the morning, and it was far too early to be up.

   Alas, though, he had a lab meeting in less then forty-five minutes—one which he could not afford to skip out on, as he'd already skipped out on the previous week's one for an early weekend with Satoshi and the twins at the downtown art-show. Riku had reprimanded him after learning of his cutting class, and made him promise never again to take such an action on her behalf, lest he face the consequences. Now, Daisuke didn't know what those consequences were, but he didn't particularly care to learn either.

   First priority, now, though, was a shower. An energizing shower, sure to bring him fully to his senses—which it did. While he swiftly toweled off and threw on a set of clothes suited to the mild April weather, he ran the day's agenda through his mind.

   Laboratory across campus—that was first—then the potentially interesting "History of European Renaissance Art," which would hopefully rouse him from the all-too-tedious tedium of lab. After that was lunch with Riku-san, who would have just been released from the claustrophobia-inducing rooms of the computer-science building.

   Tokyo University at Azumano—where he, Riku, and Risa were all enrolled, finishing up their freshman year. The campus in springtime was a sight to see, the sidewalks littered with sakura blossoms, blowing around in miniature tornados and staining the sky pink. All around the long-sleeved shirts of late winter were being traded for the lighter wear of March, April, and May. Skirts were getting shorter—not that he noticed, mind you—and study hours were getting longer with the impending presence of finals. But that didn't mean he couldn't take some time off and grab a bit of lunch with Riku-san, now did it? Certainly not.


   "Alright everyone, that's going to be it for today's lecture—just be sure to go over those pages I talked about in your books and don't forget to email me your contact information. I'll be back for lecture again on the twenty-third—or sooner, if Suzimaki-sensei calls upon me again before then. Good day." Hiwatari Satoshi bowed to two hundred or so faces staring back at him from the audience—the two hundred or so faces of his students.

   He found it only slightly ironic that he should be standing here before these people who were the same age as he—some older, in fact—assigning work and slapping examples up onto a blackboard as if he were their elder or something, though upon closer thought it wasn't that difficult to believe.

   Daisuke, Risa, Riku—he was their friend, yes, but he most definitely didn't care for them enough to go through college again. Once was enough, thank you very much. And even though Tokyo University didn't offer quite the educational challenge that Lagoon University had, it still wasn't a fun four years he was looking to repeat. Graduating high school at eight…college at thirteen…some things he didn't mind the second time around—especially with people like Niwa and Harada around; others he wouldn't go through again no matter the sum paid.

   So it was for this reason that Satoshi was standing at the front of this auditorium-sized classroom watching a mass of students his own age exit, eagerly discussing his lecture. His lecture, for he was the occasional guest lecturer to the university's "Archaeological Magic Through the Ages" class, and wouldn't lie by saying he didn't get some ego-boost from being addressed as "Hiwatari-sensei" by the students. Though one in particular never addressed him so formally—at least, not outside of class.

   His eyes swept the room up four rows and over seven seats to the petite brunette gathering her notebook and texts into her messenger bag, preparing to sling it over her shoulder as she followed the mass out the double doors. He sauntered over nonchalantly and leaned forward onto one of the desks a few rows below her—to which she didn't even look up, but failed to keep a smile from creeping over her lips. "So, Harada…when are you going to break down and actually find a real major like Niwa and your sister…I doubt 'General Studies' will get you very far in life, you know."

   "Well," she huffed as she stood up straight and lifted the pack onto her shoulder, "What's to say I haven't decided that this will be the field I specialize in?"

   He cocked his head slightly to the side and peered up at her knowingly from underneath ice-blue toned bangs as if to say, Come on… "Harada, it's one thing for me to lecture on it…I practically am magic…and it's not really a field, per se, unless you want to be sent to some hole-in-the-wall end-of-the-earth outpost in some place like Romania and study outdated tombs and track down vampires and werewolves or some other such nonsense humans have come up with over the years."

   "Then…" she began, scanning the room to be sure they were alone and stepping off to the side towards the stairs, to which he leaned back and watched her descend silently, "Maybe I simply need to little private tutoring."

   All he could do in response to this was smirk and shake his head, expertly hiding the blush which threatened to march across his cheeks. "I really don't know how you would survive this institution without my help."

   "And what's that supposed to mean, Hiwatari-sensei?" she queried in mock anger, and turned to face him full, hands set firmly on her hips as her gaze darkened threateningly. "Not all of us are geniuses, you know. What was it, graduated high school at ten?"

   "Eight, thank you very much," he corrected, "And since when do you call me 'Hiwatari-sensei'?" He held out a hand to walk her down the steps to the main level, ever gallant as a knight.

   As the two meandered out the main doors into the bright sunlight streaming down, Risa replied cheerily, "Would you rather I call you 'Satoshi-kun' in front of two-hundred students who feel you merit some modicum of respect even though you're the same age as most of them?"

   "Ah, touché…" After a moment's silence as they made their way to a nearby café for an afternoon cup of tea, he continued curiously, "I sometimes wonder just how much we're skirting the law by seeing each other. I am, technically, a faculty member, and you are, technically, a student, after all."

   "Well, you're the cop, Satoshi-kun. Isn't it your job to know these kinds of things?"

   "Was the cop—and it'll be too soon if I never have to take up that career again."

   "Oh?" She turned her head up to meet his gaze, which stared ahead unblinkingly from behind thin-wired frames. "You didn't like the police force…then what exactly are you planning on doing with your life?" It was, suffice to say, not a topic the two had discussed before.

   He appeared to ponder for a second, perhaps turning a few ideas over in his ever-calculating mind, before responding, "Well…I suppose…I wouldn't mind something along the lines of being curator for a museum or such. I could even host a few of Niwa's works, if he ever manages to graduate."

   "I wouldn't worry about Niwa-kun—Riku will definitely make sure he stays on task here. Though I can't imagine him in any other field than art, so I don't think he'll spoil this opportunity. I mean, a full scholarship…"

   Satoshi nodded sagely and pushed open the coffeehouse door, eliciting a light merry tinkling from a tiny bell hanging overhead, and the two were immediately assaulted with the warm, rich aroma of freshly ground beans percolating in the kitchens behind the counters.

   While Risa wandered away and secured a pair of seats, Satoshi hung behind at the front counter while their cups of green tea were prepared, then joined her at a small table towards the rear of the establishment. As he was concentrating on his own drink and trying not to burn himself with the near-boiling liquid, he missed the look of hesitation which crossed the younger twin's face as she bit her lip uncertainly.

   "Ne…Satoshi-kun…" she began, forming the words slowly, and he looked up at her curiously, daring a sip from his mug—ah, still too hot!

   "What?" He blew lightly across the surface of the tea and swirled it a bit.

   "What would you think about…about…meeting my parents?"


   "You—your parents?" Daisuke choked out, pounding his chest to dislodge the food that had become stuck in his throat when he'd swallowed too large a bite. "What's brought this up all of a sudden, Riku-san?" Wait…the twins actually had parents? Wow, he'd never even asked about them before…

   Riku nodded shyly and shoved a few leaves of lettuce from her salad around with her fork. "They just got in yesterday from Belarus, and Papa said…that he and Mama would actually be in town for a few months while they wait for their company to send them elsewhere for their next relocation assignment. And, somewhere along the way, Risa and I mentioned Hiwatari-kun and you, and…well, you know how parents are…"

   Daisuke nodded dumbly, muting out Riku's voice as he went over the situation in his head. Meeting Riku-san's father…he'd heard far too many horror stories about a father disapproving of his daughter's taste in men and running of prospective suitors—would that happen to him? What—what if he told Daisuke he could never see Riku-san again?! What if he threatened the poor red-head with bodily harm if he ever got "too close" to the elder twin?! What if—what if—

   "Ne, Niwa-kun?" Riku waved a hand in front of his glazed-over eyes worriedly, tapping him a few times on the shoulder. "Niwa-kun? Hey—are you alright?" Snapping out of his stupor, he laughed embarrassedly and shook off the feeling of foreboding that had enveloped him for the past minute. "So, you think you could come over Friday evening? We'll have dinner, you, me, Risa, Hiwatari-kun, and Papa and Mama, that way you don't have to be alone with them!" She smiled broadly, and suddenly Daisuke felt ten times better, eagerly agreeing.


   Friday evening came much more quickly than either boy had expected—and had the twins not reminded them that very afternoon of the engagement, it was safe to say that both would have promptly forgotten the dinner, earning them black marks in the Harada books for all time, with the annotation, "Do Not Allow To Date Daughters" next to their pictures. Luckily, though, this was not the case, and Satoshi and Daisuke were standing on the front stoop as they'd done so many times before, except this time they were both just a bit nervous.

   "You think…it'll be alright?" Daisuke asked hesitantly, always the more obvious of the two in showing his anxiety. Satoshi, as always, was an expert at keeping a cold exterior, hiding away his emotions inside walls of ice deep within himself. But even now this was not much of an advantage over the smaller boy, and he shrugged uncertainly, fearing his voice might crack if he gave a verbal reply to the question.

   A single finger was lifted and triggered the doorbell, sending the gong echoing through the house—and much to their relief, the twins were their receptors, guiding them through the maze that was the Harada mansion into a spacious library/parlor that was overflowing with cushiony chairs, sofas, chaise-lounges, and any other bit of furniture that might be construed as "comfortable" to sit on. "Papa will be here in just a moment—good luck!" and with that, the two were abandoned to fate, and fate had never been one to play nice with Daisuke or Satoshi.

   After another few moments, during which Daisuke sat down, stood back up, paced, and sat down again no less than four times, the Harada paterfamilias slid open a side door and entered solemnly, a thin manila folder clutched in his left hand at his side. He was not all that distinctive in appearance, but rather exactly how one might have pictured the twins' father. Tall, stately, clean and clipped, dressed in a dark business suit; he was slightly thinning on top and slightly thickening in the middle, but his shoes shone immaculately without a speck of dust on them—was he, perhaps, a military man? Could that explain why they'd never met him or his wife before?

   Any further observations were cut short, though, as he breezed past the two younger boys and sank down into one of the sofas situated about a coffee table, holding out a hand for them to do the same, which they did after casting a glance to one another. The elder man turned his eyes from the two worried pairs searching him for new instructions, and now opened up the folder he'd been clutching, running his eyes up and down a page of information before moving on to the next page, brows furrowing in interest.

   Daisuke sweated nervously and looked down at his sneakers while he waited for him to speak, uncomfortably certain that he'd under-dressed for the occasion now, despite Riku's assurances that normal casual attire would be perfectly fine. A quick glance over at Satoshi sent a tiny pang of jealousy through his gut: the Hiwatari boy simply didn't understand the meaning of under-dressed, and even now wouldn't have looked out of place inside the staunchest of board-room meetings. From his crisply-ironed half-button-up shirt to his wrinkle-less trousers down to his barely-worn loafers, he was nearly as imposing as Riku-san's father.

   "You are Niwa Daisuke," a sharp voice interrupted his musings, and he snapped to attention immediately, back straightening up as he stared into the father's hard brown eyes, "Are you not?"

   "Y-yes sir. I am Ni-Niwa Daisuke, sir," he stammered out, nearly tripping over the syllables in his own name as he rushed to respond favorably towards Riku-san's father. The stuttering was paid no attention, though, as he merely turned his eyes back towards the file again and flipped back a few pages. Daisuke glanced over at Satoshi, a questioning expression on his face, and was returned a mental shrug, how would he know what that meant?

   "And you—Hiwatari Satoshi, is that correct?" The Hikari boy gave a curt nod and sat up straight as Daisuke had as well, but was returned the same cold stare before being dismissed so that the man might go over the folder again. Now it was Satoshi's turn to glance over at the red-head in confusion—what was this about?

   As if reading their minds, the Harada father cleared his throat loudly and set down the folder onto the coffee table with a loud thwap. "Alright—I approve."

   "Wha—what?" two voices stammered simultaneously, jaws dropping ungracefully as they momentarily forgot that they were trying to maintain some level of propriety in this man's presence. "Ap—prove?"

   He nodded, then his entire mien shifted as he broke into a wide grin. "Absolutely! Welcome to the family, boys!" And with a strength neither would have suspected, Harada hopped up and scooped the two up into his grasp, one body in each arm, and gave them what they guessed was a fatherly hug. "And about time, too! I was afraid without a mother most of the time that those two would never learn anything about relationships—but I guess I was wrong!"

   "Uh—exc-excuse me, sir, but—this was a test of some sort?" Satoshi gasped, trying his best not to let his ribs be crushed in the overly-enthused father's grip, and his ears were assaulted with a loud raucous string of laughter, shaking him and Daisuke from side to side.

   "Test? Was it a test? Well, yes, I suppose it was some sort of test, if you wanted to call it anything." Here he released the boys who were only too pleased to put some few feet of distance between themselves and the laughing man, all air of dignity dispelled from the room.

    "I'm just glad," he continued in a more normal tone, wiping a few tears of laugher from his eyes, "That you weren't some hack detective obsessed with catching that thief Dark like that Inspector Saehara down at the precinct—" Satoshi gulped nervously, "Or even worse—that you weren't Dark himself—" Daisuke gulped as well, "That kaitou's gallivanting escapades made the news all the way over in Belarus; frankly we were getting a little worried for their sake. Good to see the girls found themselves some nice normal young men like yourselves!"

   "Ah heh…th-thank you, sir…" Satoshi managed, heart-rate increasing the longer he stood under Harada's beaming gaze. Daisuke, too was beginning to squirm, and added, "I guess we've been…taking care of them while you and Riku-san's mother have been away." Here he paused, and a though flitted across his mind, "But…if I may ask, where have you—"

   "Oh—girls!" the father called loudly, projecting his voice towards the back of the room where he'd entered, interrupting Daisuke mid-question. "Girls—is dinner ready yet?" He turned back to the boys, "Sorry to cut our meeting short, but I know you must both be famished, and Tsubouchi-san does like to eat promptly lest the food turn cold. Let's go out and join them, shall we?" He was returned two curt nods, and led the party out the parlor entry-door and through a long hallway into the dining room they'd passed by earlier.

   "Ne, Hiwatari-kun…" Daisuke muttered just loud enough for his friend to catch his voice, and the two hung back a few meters behind Harada, "Do you think…he was avoiding my question? Back in the library? He seems…" Satoshi turned curious eyes from the questioning boy to the object of his query and back.

   "…I…don't really know, actually…I'm usually good at reading people, but Harada's father—I just can't. He's got such emotional range it's hard for me to tell when he's serious and when he isn't…" Here he trailed off, for they'd arrived in the dining room and taken their proffered seats at the rights of Riku and Risa before flawless table settings, and in short order plates and platters, trays and tins, goblets and pots of all shapes and sizes were carted out and passed around—a veritable feast for the six who eagerly dug in.

   As their stomachs became fuller, the air of tenseness around the group dissipated—facilitated by the fact that Daisuke and Satoshi had survived "the talk" with the twins' father—and conversations between various parties flowed easily and lightly. When Risa's mother nonchalantly asked Satoshi what sort of business he was in, he easily replied, "Right now I'm a part-time lecturer up at the college, though in the fall I'm looking to enter into curator-ship of one of the downtown art museums." Risa gasped softly, barely audible to any save Hiwatari, who cast her a sideways smile, and studied his features to see if he'd actually decided upon this. During their conversation earlier that week, she'd thought he'd just suddenly entertained that thought about running some sort of museum—how long had he really been thinking about this?

   "Ah, a museum curator, is it? A fine career choice, Hiwatari-san, I trust you're a connoisseur of art, or some sort?" the Harada father cut in, and Satoshi fought the urge to smirk and laugh roughly.

   "You…could say that. I've been around art all my life—any and every form it can take: paint, pencil, clay, metal, song and lyric, the body itself. It only seemed fitting that I dedicate the rest of my life to preserving that which has supported me for so long. And—well, I figure Niwa's going to need someone to finance his first show when he hits it big."

   "Hiwatari-kuuun…" Daisuke moaned, eliciting a chorus of laughter from all present. The rest of the night was, thankfully, quite uneventful, though neither boy was able to get any more information out of the Harada parents regarding their line of work, and the twins didn't seem to be all that clear on the details of the nature of their work either.

   "Just business stuff, mostly. They travel around a lot, wherever their company sends them," was Risa's simple answer, and Riku's was pretty much the same, though this didn't seem to bother the girls that much at all, who'd never given their parents' work that much consideration before. The discussion was filed away for later re-thinking for the moment, and it was approaching ten o'clock before Daisuke noted that his own mother and father would probably reprimand him if he stayed out much longer, and that he needed to be heading home. Catching a ride on this idea, Satoshi too confessed that he needed to get home and begin piecing together notes for his next lecture. They bid the girls goodnight and stepped out into the pleasantly warm night air, headed up to the trolley station, from which they would take separate paths home.

   "So…Hiwatari-kun's going to be a museum head, huh?" Daisuke shook his head in mirth, "I suppose that's somewhat appropriate; after all—you spent all that time studying layouts of them to thwart Dark, you should know them like the back of your hand, right?" Satoshi playfully shoved him to the side.

   "Watch it, Niwa—don't make me fail you."

   "Hah! You can't pull that with me, I'm not your student. Unlike a certain Harada-san…" He leered at the blue-haired boy beside him and nudged him in the ribs. "I was wondering why she signed up for such an obscure class…"

   "Hey! It's not an obscure class—"

   "Tsk, not for people like us, Hiwatari-kun. I just find it difficult to picture Harada-san poring over some text on demonic seals and pure-white healing to prepare for a test in your class. Been giving a bit of private tutoring that Riku-san and I don't know about?"

   Satoshi rolled his eyes, by now quite used to Daisuke's banter on his unlikely pairing with the younger twin. "No more help than I'd give any other student."

   "Any other student who calls you 'Satoshi-kun', though?"

   "Oh, go paint a picture, Niwa."

   "Gladly!"


Six months later

   A trilling ringing shattered the peaceful slumber Satoshi had been enjoying up to now, curled in a warm nest beneath a comforter and several layers of sheets, and he hastily tried to sort out his mind and become conscious enough to discern what exactly the trilling noise was.

   It was the phone—the one he'd brilliantly had installed right at his bedside all those years ago so he might instantly be alerted to any new activity on Dark's part at any time of the day or night. Sure, it was brilliant—when he was fourteen. But he was not fourteen any longer; he had recently turned twenty, in fact. Yet here he still was, in the same apartment filled with the same memories, listening to the same phone ringing, wresting him from his dreams.

   Oh, right, the phone.

   Slapping himself a few times across the face to further rouse himself from the cobwebs of sleep, he shook his head and squinted around in the darkness, feeling with a shaking hand for the phone. By sheer luck he managed to knock it from the receiver and catch it just before the handset hit the floor, bringing it slowly to his ear and closing his eyes as he muttered wearily into the mouthpiece. "Hiwatari Satoshi here."

   There was a long pause on the other end of the line—so long, that he furrowed his brows and wondered if the caller had hung up—and suddenly a soft voice spoke up over the airwaves.

   "…Hiwatari-kun…"

   Had someone unceremoniously slung a bucket of ice water over his pajama-clad body, this could not have woken him up more than the simple uttering of his name by Daisuke did. "N—Niwa? Niwa, what…" He turned his head to focus on a glowing green set of numbers beside the phone receiver, "Cripes, Niwa, it's two in the morning!"

   There was no reply to the outburst, and this sent a shiver of unease through his body. Normally Daisuke would have rushed out a hurried apology before explaining himself, about how he hadn't realized how late—or early—it was. But he was having none of that now, nothing. "…Niwa? Niwa what's wrong?"

   "Gomen…for the time, Hiwatari-kun. I know you were sleeping…" The voice was weak, tired—but not from sleep, as Satoshi's surely sounded. Daisuke's sounded weary, as if he'd walked a thousand miles and was simply looking for a place to rest for a moment.

   "Just—tell me what you need, Niwa." He sounded sick, too; there was a raspy air to his voice, and every few moments he'd give a feeble sniff. "Niwa…?"

   "Hiwatari-kun, I need…you to do me a favor…" When Satoshi gave no response of refusal, Daisuke continued slowly and softly in almost whispered tones, "Could you please…tell Riku-san I'm sorry…but I won't be going to class tomorrow…" He sniffed again, "I know she'll be mad, but could you please…please apologize for me…"

   Shifting the handset from one ear to the other, he sat up a bit straighter and furrowed his eyebrows worriedly. The boy was beating around something, refusing to outright speak what was going on, and instead skirting the core issue. "Alright…I'll tell her Niwa—but first, you tell me…what's wrong. What's going on, Niwa? Why won't you be at school tomorrow?" He knew unless he made his question very specific, there was always the chance Daisuke would dodge him. Duck his head, run for cover, as a good phantom thief should.

   Not so this time, for it was as if this was the very question he'd been hoping Satoshi would ask. His voice was weak and tremulous, thin as a spider's thread: "…Jiichan…just died."


   The words had scarcely left the Niwa boy's lips before Satoshi slammed the phone back onto its cradle and had dashed out the door. The trolleys wouldn't be running at this hour, so he fired the engine of his own car and squealed out the apartment garage, leaving smoking tire-tracks on the concrete behind him as he shifted into drive and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, headed for the Niwa residence.

   A single ambulance was already there, lights flashing intermittently, with attendants carrying something—or someone—out into its cab on a stretcher, a crisp white sheet wrapped over it. He leaped from the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, rushing up the sidewalk and began knocking furiously on the door.

   It was Emiko, the Niwa family matron, who met him there, eyes widening slightly in shock—and who could blame her, really? The last remaining member of the Niwa's rival family, pounding down their door at such an ungodly hour, looking as if veritable demons from hell were on his heels, and what was more—right when their family had been hit with such a tragedy. Did these ice hunters not know when to give up, when to let them alone?

   "Ni…Niwa…where is Niwa? Daisuke?" he huffed, catching his breath.

   "I knew who you were looking for, Hikari boy, there was no reason for you to speak my son's name, you know," the mother practically growled out. It was obvious the stress of her father's sudden passing combined with the still-present grudge she held against him from those years ago was testing her patience, and Satoshi pulled back slightly in case she perhaps decided to physically lash out at him. He was saved, though, when Daisuke's father joined them at the threshold.

   "Hikari-san…Daisuke is up in his room…will you go to him?" The father's eyes still held the ever-gentle gleam they'd had when they'd first met, but it was more muted now, toned down by the depressing aura of the household, and Satoshi could do nothing but nod solemnly, and waited as Niwa Kosuke shuffled his wife to the side, whispering a soothing statement in her ear as she made a feeble objection at his entering their home.

   One hand steadying himself on the railing as he mounted the steps up to Daisuke's second-floor room, Satoshi had to force his breathing to slow down, force himself to calm down. Why was he here? To help Niwa, to just be there for him—for that was the reason he'd been called: Niwa needed someone there with him who understood. Who understood him. While Riku no doubt fit this description, it was clear only Satoshi would do in this instance.

   Padding softly as he could across the carpet, he gently eased the door open, cringing inwardly as it squeaked loudly on its hinges, and peered in, searching for Daisuke—whom he found seated hunched over on his futon couch, head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He didn't raise his head when the other boy entered, for he'd known he was coming, and knew neither of his parents would ever enter with such silence.

   "Ni…wa…" he murmured softly, steps slowing the nearer he got, until it seemed an eternity had passed before he was finally at his side, and slid down next to him, one hand resting comfortingly on the other's forearm. Daisuke shuddered unconsciously as if an electric circuit had been completed when the Hikari boy's fingers had brushed his skin, jolting him. For the next five minutes, they simply stayed this way: neither speaking, Daisuke hunched over, and Satoshi resting a palm on his arm in comfort, letting him know that he was there and he wasn't leaving.

   "Jiichan…left…Hiwatari-kun…"

   Satoshi faltered awkwardly, searching for words that didn't fall dumb in his mouth in response, "I…I know, Niwa…I'm sorry…"

   A silent nod from the redhead, who finally lifted his eyes from the floor to stare straight ahead at nothing, his thoughts turning inward. It was obvious to any onlooker he'd been crying, and here Satoshi realized that that was what he'd heard lacing the normally-cheery boy's voice over the phone: grief. He could see the tiny diamond-like glitter of tear-trails wending their ways down his flushed cheeks, and his eyes themselves were glazed over with a film of unshed sadness. "You were…very close to him, weren't you?"

   At any other point in time Daisuke might have laughed loudly at the ludicrousness of the question, but not now. Here, instead, he could only smile wryly and try and keep his voice from cracking as memories washed over him, and he nodded vigorously to keep the tears at bay. Wiping a sleeve purposefully over his eyes—futilely—he sniffed again and coughed. Voice a raspy whisper, he added, "…It's like…I lost him again…"

   Satoshi sat up straighter at this change in tone and cocked a worried eyebrow when Daisuke said "him". He pulled his hand away instinctively and fumbled for words for a moment, "Niwa…what do you…"

   In a frenzy, suddenly he whipped his head around to stare full on at the boy trying to comfort him, and the tears once again overflowed their banks and dripped down. "Him! Don't you see?! Him! Jiichan…Jiichan was all I had left…the only link left…to Dark! All this time—all these years—" His voice cracked, and he swallowed angrily. "—I could move on because of Jiichan! I could go out with Riku-san, and you, and Harada-san; I could have fun, I could enjoy school, life—because I knew deep down that if I ever felt lonely or sad or I missed him, then I didn't have to bother you and make you mad, or make Riku-san worry. I had Jiichan—Jiichan who was Dark, who lost him too, just like me. Jiichan who knew how it felt to lose that part of his soul that Dark had taken with him, just like me. Jiichan who…Jiichan who…

   "…He was all I had left…and now it feels like…like I lost him all over again…and it hurts still Hiwatari-kun…" His chest heaved as another bout of sobbing wracked his frail body, and still he resisted the urge to voice his sadness in the form of a cry—not before Hiwatari-kun, at least.

   "Back…when they'd just been sealed…I used to talk to Jiichan everyday…we'd just have some tea and talk about the 'good old days' and how great Dark was and all…and as time passed, I didn't need to talk to him about that as much to get by, to be happy, only once every so often—usually when something I'd seen or heard would remind me of a job we'd done together or some joke he'd made before, and then I'd just go home and we'd talk again…

   "And today…today I'd wanted to talk to him…but…I'll never be able to…ever again…"
   Satoshi let the boy wear himself out before even attempting to talk some sense into him, and after a few more minutes of silence had passed, he deemed it finally safe to come out. "Niwa…" he breathed, voice betraying his shock, "…You've been doing this…still dwelling on Dark…for all these years?" The boy nodded dumbly, refusing to meet his gaze, "…And you didn't tell any of us about it—you thought that I'd get mad, or Riku would worry, is that it?" Another nod, and Satoshi cursed. "Niwa…I still don't have your trust, do I?"

   "Wha—?!" Daisuke shot to attention, bloodshot eyes wide and frantic. "I—no! That's not it—!"

   "Then what is it, huh, Niwa? You thought I would get mad, is that it? That I would just brush you off and tell you to get over it, just because I didn't feel that way about Krad?! Give our friendship more credit! I—I would never treat you that way, especially about something like that; I care for you far too much to let you piddle away in your pity pool alone—because you and Harada surely didn't let me stay that way. You saved me, Niwa, inside Krad, made me see what life was really about: being near those who care about me. And what kind of—of—Hiwatari-kun would I be if I turned you away when you most needed someone who knew how you were feeling?

   "Because yes—loath as I am to admit it, I do know how it feels to lose that part of my soul that that demon clutched onto. He was as much a part of me as Dark was of you, and it too hurt when he left—though for me I considered it a good hurt. Inside, I can still feel a hole, a void that he occupied and filled—and…I desperately want something to replace it…so I hold onto Harada. But you…you tried to put your grandfather into it, rather than coming to one of us!" He leaned forward and swiftly grabbed onto Daisuke's shoulders, shaking him slightly as if such an action would make the shocked boy see reason. "Niwa—I—"

   He paused and turned his eyes down to the floor, biting his lip in frustration. "Niwa…you…are the closest thing I've ever had to a real family…You cared about me even when I was your enemy—even when Krad threatened your life…even when I stole Dark from you…and I never get to pay you back for that! I want to be—I want to be close to you too, to be there for you when you need it, even if you don't want it. But I can't when you won't let me. I learned to let you and Harada in—will you not do the same for me? You say you don't want to hurt me or make me angry, but by shutting me out you do so anyways!

   "You may have lost your grandfather…but you will not lose me." He released the boy from his grip and let his limbs fall back limp at his sides, exhausted. Daisuke was paralyzed with shock, unable to form a coherent reply for a good five minutes, and when he finally regained control of his senses, he found all he could—and wanted to—do was lean forward and wrap his arms around Satoshi, uttering a feeble, "Arigatou…Hiwatari-kun…"

   "No…" Satoshi reminded, returning the gesture, "Thank you, Niwa." An awkward moment suddenly descended on the two as they parted, surprised that they'd gotten so emotional, and Daisuke twiddled his thumbs absently, then turned his head towards his bedside table, reaching over and pulling open a drawer, withdrawing a shoebox from it. With curious eyes the blue-haired boy regarded this action, and sat in silence as the other gently shut the drawer back and set the shoebox down on his lap, sniffing once more, and removed the lid.

   The inside was littered with tiny bits of nostalgia: hundreds of newspaper clippings on Dark's various escapades, a ticket stub from their first trip down to the Mid Winter Carnival, a single unopened chocolate from one Valentine's Day, a program from their high school graduation ceremony. Shifting aside a few of the items, Daisuke slowly uncovered a tiny velvet box, deep violet in color, and lifted it from the rest of the contents, setting the carton aside into his bed, and turned the tiny box over in his palm, regarding it in silence.

   It took a full ten seconds for Satoshi to deduce just what was inside it. "Niwa…is that…?" A gentle smile crept up over Daisuke's lips, a decidedly foreign expression on an otherwise grief-stricken face, and he nodded slowly. Popping the top open, he revealed a thin golden band with a small diamond inlaid in it, glistening even in the dim light of the room—an engagement ring destined for the finger of one Harada Riku. "You…you're going to…"

   "I was…" Daisuke confessed dejectedly, and hastily closed the top back and dropped it back into the shoebox, replacing the cardboard lid. "It was supposed to be tomorrow…I'd made reservations and everything…it was all supposed to be perfect…but now…

   "Now it'll be put off indefinitely…I just…can't imagine celebrating something like an engagement to Riku-san at a time like this…" Truthfully, he couldn't at the moment imagine celebrating ever again, such was the pain in his heart. He'd been told before that the passage of time served to heal all injuries and ease the aching of the heart, but Dark's memory alone was testimony enough that this simply wasn't true. Time only served as salt on a wound in his case, reminding him day after day that there was something missing in his life, and until the day he died it would be the same way. This was his eternal Dark.

   "But…" Satoshi interrupted his thoughts and drew the box back out, staring at it intently, "He'd want you to be happy, wouldn't he? Not putting off something as serious as this for his sake, but moving forward—constantly moving forward, following your true feelings. He loved you…wouldn't he want what's best for you?"

    "Daisuke…the heart moves…when it does, the one you feel seriously about is everything…your feelings are the most important thing, understand?"

   "…Jiichan…" He looked up, pensive for a moment. "…He…would, I suppose…"

   "Of course he would," Satoshi repeated more firmly, "As would Dark—neither one of them would want to see you without a smile on your face, not on what should be one of the happiest days of your life." He reached out and grabbed Daisuke's wrist firmly in his fist, then posited the velvet box squarely in his palm and wrapped the boy's fingers securely around it. "I'm not…I'm not saying that you should be happy now…" He paused and stared deep into Daisuke's crimson orbs, and added with purpose, "But I am saying that you should be happy. Eventually. Content—with your life.  For them. For Riku, for me, for Harada…Take your time, mourn—and we'll all be here waiting for you, ready to help you. I will be here to talk—about anything, at any time. Since you don't seem to have a problem calling me at—oh, say, two in the morning."

   Daisuke gave a feeble laugh, unable to keep it in despite the somber atmosphere. "I…I will, Hiwatari-kun."

   "See that you do." He stood up from the couch now, arms limp at his sides as he stared down at the carpet beneath his socked feet. "If…you still want, I'll explain to Riku what's happened tomorrow." He began traipsing towards the door and out of Daisuke's room, and so he did not hear Daisuke's whispered words aimed at his retreating form.

   "Thank you, Hiwatari-kun…more than you'll ever know…"


   Meet me at the benches in front of the Rugaru Art Museum this evening, 7:00.

   Riku read and re-read the notice, penned in Daisuke's short, neat hand, then turned the card over to see if any further clues had been left on the back—no such luck. Three weeks had passed since the sudden death of his grandfather, and she'd been surprised that he'd returned to school only a few days later, declining the proffered week's absence the university normally provided for the death of a family member. Hiwatari-kun, on the other hand, didn't seem all that surprised, leading her to conjecture that the two had probably had another one of their "talks" they seemed to share so often. And she would admit, he was probably a better audience for the nature of Niwa-kun's problems than she, but she wouldn't lie and say she didn't feel a slight pang of jealousy for the blue-haired Satoshi.

   Which explained how overjoyed she was—despite being a bit confused—at receiving this card from Daisuke in her inbox just now. It was Saturday, and classes had been cut short for a "reading day" in preparation for midterms—though few students actually used the time to study, instead opting to meet with friends and generally have fun. She considered, for a moment, getting Risa's opinion on Daisuke's sudden request for her company that night, then brushed it off. The last thing she wanted was teasing from her twin regarding an "exotic evening encounter with Niwa-kun".

   She ate lunch alone back at her dorm today, not wishing to intrude upon Hiwatari-kun's and Risa's "lunch date"—if it could be construed as such—and munched down a bland-tasting ham and cheese sandwich, staring ahead into space, before realizing she'd been staring right at a picture of herself and Daisuke from a few years earlier. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she set down the sandwich and reached across the desk to view the picture more closely, running a finger over the slightly dusty glass.

   Daisuke was standing before an easel, partially hidden by it, with a palette in one hand and a long paintbrush in the other, sporting an apron of which the original color was impossible to determine, so dirtied with paint was it. Behind him, and clutching him around the neck, was Riku, grinning widely as she tugged at Daisuke's cheeks, smearing them with blotches of blue paint she'd just dipped her fingers in. The Niwa boy didn't appear all that pleased with his face being used as a towel.

   She replaced the picture in its original position and turned to pick up its neighbor—one from their first trip down to the Mid Winter Carnival. She, Daisuke, Risa, and Hiwatari-kun were all standing in front of the great fireplace in the lobby, all offering large grins—or in Hiwatari-kun's case, simply smiling contentedly—exhausted from the long weekend. She vaguely remembered Risa recounting something about nearly being arrested that time, but had never had the full story explained, and feared she might faint from embarrassment if it ever was explained, so she didn't ask.

   But Niwa-kun…he was…more distant lately…Mostly in the past few weeks—she chalked it up to his grandfather's passing and tried to convince herself that with time he would shift back to the normal Niwa-kun she knew and loved.

   Because yes—she did love him. Loved him more than he knew, more than she knew, more than anyone could ever really know. For to understand such a love was impossible.

   She loved…loved his smile most of all, if she had to pin one thing. The brilliant grin he flashed so often, the epitome of his "Niwa-kun-ness" that speared her when he looked her way, sending a jolt of electricity through her heart. It had been a while since she'd seen that smiling face, and she missed it. It was like he wasn't even really there when he didn't have that smile in, was simply a moving body without a soul…

   A few times, a dark little voice had piped up inside her head, warning that the boy was, perhaps, growing tired of her. They'd been together now for nearly six years now—dating, "going out", "seeing each other", however one wanted to put it. She and the Niwa boy were virtually inseparable, but seldom did they have any quality time alone lately. When was the last time they'd had a night to themselves and gone and seen a movie or dined at a restaurant? Or even just sat and talked, just the two of them? College had certainly played a part in this, but it had never had such impact before—there had always been time for them to just relax and enjoy one another's presence. Until lately…

   She shook her head vigorously and brushed off the dark thoughts—tonight she was meeting with him! Perhaps tonight he might explain what had been bothering him of late, why he'd been so distant. And after that she'd forgive him and hug him—kiss him even, show that she loved and cared for him still, after all this time and all they'd been through. And then, maybe they'd walk down to the shore and wander the beach staring up at the stars, find a comfortable spot and gaze up into the night sky. Or perhaps they'd instead go out to eat—a casual dinner, just the two of them, and he would make her laugh with some stupid joke that was funny simply because Niwa-kun told it.

   She read the notice once more. The Rugaru Art Museum…something gnawed at the back of her mind, some significance of the location, but years had faded any memory she may have had as to why it mattered, and she giggled inwardly. Tonight, things would change. She could feel it.


   By the time seven o' clock rolled around and she stepped off the bus in front of the museum, part of the pieces of the memory puzzle this building played a part in began to fall into place. Its towering gothic walls dwarfed the few mom-and-pop shops at its sides, and the granite steps leading up to imposing oaken doors were littered with bits of paper and trash from passers-by and museum goers who'd wandered by the institution earlier that day. But this, she discovered, was not the first time she'd been here—for this had been one of the earlier targets of Dark Mousy's thieving jobs years back. What exactly had been his prize Riku couldn't tell you, as she didn't care enough to remember. It only stuck out in her mind in that respect because she herself had ventured here in search of Risa, who had foolishly come looking for the kaitou late at night.

   And Niwa-kun…of course Niwa-kun had been here. Thinking back she remembered running into him, and even remembered wondering just why he'd been here, and never really getting a straight answer. She ran a hand over the rough granite railings of one of the benches and smiled.

   "…Riku-san?" She gasped at her name and whipped her head around, nearly bumping into Daisuke, who'd approached with such silence that had he not uttered her name she still wouldn't have realized he was there.

   "Ah—Niwa-kun, s-sorry…you scared me." Her face grew slightly warmer, oscillating between embarrassment that he could still surprise her like that and embarrassment on account of the close quarters they were occupying right now. He'd come up from behind, and when she'd turned she'd found her nose barely an inch away from her own, and backed up a step out of habit. Searching around for something to tear her gaze from the cold fire of his own eyes, she turned her attentions to the card she clutched tightly in her fist. "Um, this…I got this today…you wanted to talk about something?"

   He smiled enigmatically but gave no verbal reply, merely reached down and took the card from her hand, ran his eyes over it a few times, then stuffed into his own back pocket. "Let's go, Riku-san," he declared simply, and grabbed her wrist in his grip, pulling her forward alongside him.

   "But, wait—! Niwa-kun—where are we going?" He turned his head left and right as they crossed the median over the four lanes of traffic running in front of the museum, and she awkwardly pulled her jacket a bit tighter with one hand as a gust of wind blew her short brown hair up around her face.

   "Just right over here, over to the side, along this fence here…" He trailed off, a bit distant, not really speaking to her so much as assuring himself of something. He stopped a moment later and let her hand drop from his, but this was only to grab her by the shoulders and steer her forward in front of him, positioning her in some stance he had obviously planned out before. Leaning back he looked down at her feet, then stepped back a few more feet from her, lifting his eyes back to hers. "There."

   She didn't say anything in response, still confused, until, "'There'…what? What is 'here'?" His cryptic smile grew even wider. "Ni—Niwa-kun, what is this?" She was starting to get a little annoyed with his game.

   He pointed a single finger at the spot she was standing on. "It's not National Foundation Day, but I couldn't wait until then. And this probably holds more meaning for me than it did for you, because I've got more reason to remember it than just that. But…

   "This place, right where you're standing, right where I'm standing. This was…back in junior high, where I first told you that…I liked you." Her eyes widened as the final piece of the memory puzzle slid into place, and the fog lifted. "You couldn't hear me over the fireworks, but you did hear on the MD file Saga-san gave you the next day. Dark had come to retrieve the Moonlight Mask, and Harada-san had come for Dark. You'd come for her, and it wound up I came for you…here."

   He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, rubbing a few strands of her thin hair between his fingers and smoothing the pads over her skin. "I said, then, that I liked you…" He swallowed hard. "But that's not true anymore."

   Riku's heart stopped with shock and plummeted into her stomach, leaving a gaping vacuum where it had been—but he didn't even give her time to fully process the words before rushing to add, "I don't like you, Riku-san. I love you."

   As if time had been reversed her heart leapt back into its original position—no, rather it soared to new heights, and might have flown up her throat and out into the wild blue yonder had Daisuke not stopped it from doing so by swiftly planting his own lips on hers in a tender loving kiss, so soft, sweet, and yet all too short. He pulled back slowly, and she blinked stupidly, completely caught off guard by the bold move—but not hardly put off by it, she had no trouble admitting. As their faces parted, some voice in her mind noted blankly that Niwa-kun seemed to be getting shorter and shorter…but that was only because he was sinking down to one knee, teetering slightly off balance on the concrete, and reaching into the right-hip pocket of his well-worn jeans.

   Had she been in any right state of mind, she might have recognized the action from "the scene" spoken of in books, on television, in movies, in song, in pictures—in any media form, really. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, they kiss, boy gets down on one knee, and then…

   But her heart was still pounding a loud tattoo in her chest from the rash kiss, and she was still struggling to get her senses back on order, so she merely regarded him dumbly as he sank down to the ground before her, hand clutched around a tiny velvet box.

   "Harada Riku-san," he began steadily, surprising even himself with the fact that he managed to keep a quaver from worming its way into his throat. If ever he needed to be calm, this was the time. Now. He cracked open the lid and held it up for her to see its contents, "Will you marry me?"

   "…You…me…?" her mouth fumbled feebly in a half-whisper as his words washed over her, echoing loudly inside her mind, and he laughed easily.

   "Of course—who else would I be asking?"

   She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, blinking a few times to be sure that—yes, she was still here, standing in front of the Azumano District Rugaru Art Museum, with Niwa-kun, balancing before her on one knee, holding a positively gorgeous diamond ring, eyes hopeful red beacons. "…Y-yes…" she whispered, then repeated with firm conviction, voice rising in pitch, "YES! Yes yes yes!" She bent down a bit and threw herself forward into his waiting arms, completely ignoring the bit of jewelry he'd deftly slipped on her ring finger for the moment, and collapsing into sobs against his chest, breathing in his scent and burying herself in him. "Yes!" she repeated once more for assurance. He loved her, he loved her—and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. "Yes, Niwa-kun!"

   She pulled back abruptly and stared at his face, marking it in her memory, though her vision was blurred by eyes glazed over with tears of joy, and fought back a sniffle. He'd become remarkably adept at keeping his emotions from running too wildly across his face—something he'd been horrible at in junior high and even high school. She could always tell when he was lying, because he would flush red and begin to sweat a little, and his voice would quaver as he searched for a suitable lie—but not so nowadays. Usually she couldn't really tell what he was feeling unless he came out and told her, which frustrated her to no end knowing that he might have been hurting and she wouldn't have known it.

   But now…even though he'd become almost as good as Hiwatari-kun at disguising emotions, nothing could keep the joy from sparkling in his eyes, and his mouth broke into his wide "Niwa-kun" grin, the one she loved so much—the one she'd missed so much. And he was wearing it just for her. Raising a trembling hand, she grazed his lips with a fingertip, running it over them, just feeling his warm flesh under her touch. She tested his high cheekbones, his forehead, his sturdy jaw-line, even the very tip of his nose—it was all real, and it was all hers. She cried.

   Great big drops rolled down her own cheeks and plopped loudly on the pavement below as he pulled her close, whispering soothingly into her ear, a bit worried at the outburst. "I thought…you didn't like me anymore…I thought…" she blubbered, words mish-mashed with sobs of joy and lost in the fabric of his thin sweater.

   He gave a thin, knowing smile and held her, running a hand down the back of her head. "Never, Riku-san, I could never not like you…because I love you too much." She choked on a half-cry/half-laugh and sniffed again, pulling back and wiping a sleeve vigorously over her eyes, leaving only a few droplets on her lashes which sparkled like diamonds.

   She stood back fully upright and dropped her head to her chest, bringing her hands together and wringing them nervously in front of her, unconsciously brushing over the newly slipped-on diamond ring, and Daisuke too stood. "Ne, Niwa-kun…I…I want to ask something of you…" she began hesitantly, cheeks flushing a pale red, though it was unnoticed in the failing light.

   He cocked his head curiously to the side, heart still beating furiously, "Wha—what is it, Riku-san?"

   She dared to look up into his face, and queried shyly, "If…if it's alright…can I…call you Daisuke-kun—I mean, I like calling Niwa-kun Niwa-kun, but when…we marry…"

   She trailed off into idle rambling, unable to form a true question, and Daisuke merely shook his head in mirth, taking her hand in his and pulling her forward to kiss her lightly on the temple, then whispered against her skin, "I would be honored, Riku-san."

   After another bout of tears of happiness from Riku, her husband-to-be finally deemed it necessary to get her home, lest anyone worry as to just why he'd summoned her so mysteriously—after all, he hadn't been specific when requesting to meet her earlier that day. He pulled up into the circle of the Harada mansion driveway and walked her to the door, parting with a simple goodnight kiss and extracting a promise for a proper engagement lunch date the following afternoon.

   She squeezed inside and waved goodbye to him as he pulled out of the driveway with a crunch of gravel, then shut the door slowly, falling back against it and sighing deeply. Her eyes still stung slightly from crying so much—but it was good kind of hurt, and she closed them once more, pausing to pinch herself to once again be assured that the whole night hadn't been some miraculous dream. It was in this position that Risa found her a moment later while wandering from the drawing room into the living room, and started when her eyes took in the flushed cheeks of her sister.

   "Riku…were you…crying?" she tested softly, approaching cautiously, ready to lend an ear—had her elder had some kind of fight with Niwa-kun, or—heaven forbid—had they broken up? She knew emotions between her sister and friend had been tense for a while, but it had happened before, and they'd always seemed to come out the stronger for it. But perhaps this had been the final straw.

   Riku nodded her affirmation, that she had been crying, and even now tears threatened once more to spill over, but her face was curiously a broad grin, and she lifted a single hand, spreading the fingers wide so that the diamond encrusted into the gold band glittered noticeably.

   Risa's mouth dipped open, wider, wider, until it was amazing she was even able to form words at all, much less yell, "No way…NO WAY!" And it was here, that the two collapsed into fits of giggles and girlish screams that hadn't been heard in the Harada mansion since the twins were very young.


   After the initial shock from both families had passed—though most everyone had known it was inevitable save Daisuke and Riku themselves—it took a good couple of weeks before anyone even realized how much planning actually went into a wedding. From wedding date (there were 365 days available—how could they choose one?), to location (a traditional shrine, or church? Would it even be in the Azumano district?), to even details as seemingly insignificant as what type of vegetable would be served at the reception (an all-out war over "kale or leeks" nearly broke out between Daisuke's mother and Risa—the self-appointed wedding organizers)—with so much to do, it was clear it was going to be a long road.

   But tedious as it was to sort out all the finer details and such, it seemed as if they'd merely blinked and another eight months had passed. A warm June breeze was drifting through the town, and Satoshi was traipsing back up the steps to the Central Art Museum, having just returned from lunch with Risa. She'd insisted on going over the table setup for the reception with him, claiming his "organizational skills from trying to catch Dark-san" would prove invaluable in the Riku/Daisuke wedding endeavor. She'd neglected to take into account though, apparently, the fact that he'd never actually caught Dark, but this didn't seem to deter her in the least.

   After an hour he'd managed to pry himself away from the younger twin and get back to his position as co-director—a job he'd picked up in the past few months, admitting begrudgingly that the notoriety the Hiwatari name gave him was not all bad, really. Apparently his step-father's family's contributions to the institution had not been small by any means, but rather had labeled the name as a major contributor to the arts—how ironic, he thought. While the occasional tour he gave to grade-schoolers and interested patrons was not the "glamorous" life of a curator he'd imagined, he did enjoy the decent pay and short hours he was required to put in, enabling him to stay on as a guest lecturer to the university and keep up with Harada, her sister, and Niwa. The three had just finished their sophomore years and, though they should be relaxing and enjoying the summer holidays ahead of them, instead all were gearing up for the finishing touches on the wedding, barely two weeks away. Daisuke's tuxedo had yet to arrive, the caterers still hadn't gotten back with them to finalize the guest numbers, and the wear on the bride-to-be was beginning to become evident, for according to Risa she'd been skipping meals in favor of going over last-minute plans for the rehearsal dinner later that week.

   The younger Harada, though, appeared to be enjoying herself immensely in the atmosphere of tension surrounding the two families. "I just, I dunno…maybe I could do this for a living, you know?" she conjectured to him one day, and he nearly sprayed his tea all over a woman walking past their table. "What was that? You don't think I could do it? I'll admit it's a trying career, but I got this—this rush when Emiko-san asked me, 'Quick, Risa-chan—red or lavender?! The florist has to know now!' the other day…" She finished with a wistful sigh and laid her head down upon her folded arms across the table, and Satoshi gulped nervously.


   Daisuke stood stiff and stately in front of a long mirror, staring intently at his reflection, and straightened his tie while Satoshi leaned, bored, against the wall off to the side. "It looks fine, Niwa. Stop twisting it around or you really will mess it up." Obediently the redhead removed his hands from the black tie and instead moved them to his suit, running a hand over the bottom of the jacket to smooth it out, and brushing a bit of dirt off the shining black surface of his shoes.

   He turned left, then right, admiring his profile, and fluffed his hair lightly, giving it a shake or two to be assured it was at its best. Then he was still, paused, running his eyes over his reflection, and was quiet. After a moment, he tentatively stated, eyes uncharacteristically somber, "I wish…I wish he could've been here, you know." He turned his head to face Satoshi. "Just…I want him to see what I'm doing, to know that I'm alright, and he doesn't have to worry…"

   He shifted back to the mirror and once again began nervously fiddling with the tie, obviously perfectly positioned around his neck, completing his immaculate appearance, from spiky red head to shiny black shoes. Satoshi lowered his head and sighed, then stepped forward and moved around behind Daisuke, so that he could face him in the mirror; the boy looked up from his tie into deep, serious blue eyes.

   "You know, Niwa…he could never have been here in the first place…" It was blatantly obvious that this just confused poor Daisuke, whose brows knit slightly in misunderstanding, and Satoshi stretched an arm out to encompass the dressing room they were occupying at the moment, "This, Niwa—all this. By the time you made it here, do you really think there would have been any of him left inside of you?"

   Apparently this only served to confuse him more, and the Hikari boy sighed low and continued as if lecturing a small child, "When he first manifested himself in your body…what were you told was the only way you would ever be free of his presence? I know that mother of yours told you—what did she say, Niwa?"

   Aah, now realization was washing over Daisuke as relentlessly as an ocean swell during a storm, taking away little bits and pieces of his happiness as he remembered. "In order for you to come this far…she would've accepted you—all of you. Dark as well. And then…he'd be gone." He paused, before adding, "Tell me, would it have hurt any less?"

   But just as soon as he'd uttered the last question, he wanted to take it back, for Daisuke's eyes fell to the floor, glistening with sadness. His own eyes had narrowed to dark slits, and he had to force himself to look away, disgusted with his speech. He cursed his actions—this was supposed to be Niwa's day, his time to shine and be happy, and Satoshi found himself ruining it for the poor boy. Something about him, though, almost gave him a wild thirst to rub his face in the hard truth, to force reality on his optimistic soul. This was, he'd convinced himself, the old Satoshi, the one he'd tried to keep locked away since becoming friends with Niwa, but at times he still resurfaced, heaping this desire to bring the boy down to earth on his mind—

   This, though…this day shouldn't be about his own desires. This was Niwa's day—his wedding day, finally arrived. His chance at happiness, one denied Satoshi for so long.

   "But…" he corrected himself, voice soft, and laid a hand gently on Daisuke's right shoulder, still staring at his reflection in the mirror, "If he could have been here…he would have been proud of how you've turned out…"

   A single tear rolled down his cheek, and Satoshi could not discern if it was from joy or from his previous words, stomach churning guiltily. "Th—thank you, Hiwatari-kun…"

   The deep gonging reverberation of the chimes overhead sounding called their attentions back to the present—the bells were ringing, signaling the imminent start of the ceremonies.

   It's timeNiwa Riku-san

fin chapter four


Post-chapter notes: Wah! I couldn't fit it all in this one either! Bad sage! And so, the full impact of the sadness has been split up and divided between this and the next chapter (dare I hope this loooong flashback might be finished then? I'm not holding my breath…) And that shounen-ai-esque scene is as far as I'm willing to go! So I hope those yaoi-crazed readers out there are satisfied, even though it wasn't meant to be taken in that respect—it was something I noticed when going over the chapter. As for the wedding scenes and all, I'm not all that knowledgeable on traditional Japanese weddings in any way, so I'm using the good old-fashioned American one as a template, hope this doesn't put anyone off ^_^. And about the Harada parents…heheheh…well, you'll just have to wait and see about them, won't you? On a final note, is the chapter length bothering anyone? Should I make them shorter and therefore update more often, or is longer better and worth the wait? Let me know in a review (yes, I'm sneaky that way)—sage