No time to post a detailed commentary or anything else for this one, I'm afraid. The last chapters of my undergraduate thesis require my full attention.

I've finally decided to leave chapters one through four pretty much as they are, since I'm generally satisfied with them. Revision efforts will most likely be directed at chapters five and six. I'm not entirely content with those two -- especially this one -- but if I don't keep things moving I might end up postponing updates to the story indefinitely.

Fuji has always been something of an enigma for me. I find it difficult to imagine a conversation with him, so forgive me if the exchange between him and Ryoma in this chapter seems more than a trifle unconvincing. When my sister (the Fuji expert) is done cooing over her new puppy, perhaps I could persuade her to help me lay out a full dialogue once revision time comes around.

Chapter VI: A Word of Advice

"Nya, are you sure you're all right? Your face still looks a little green."

"I'm fine, Eiji-senpai. Don't worry, I can make it back to the lounge on my own."

The two officers walked through the entrance hall of the crime lab and headed straight for A-section. After confirming that Momoshiro had just suffered from a severe bout of dyspepsia, the station physician promptly ordered him to take antacids and gave him a special diet that would prevent future attacks. Needless to say, he had absolutely no intention of following the strict regimen.

"'A one- or two-day fast, followed by a bland or mild diet, with gradual additions until the normal diet is restored'", Momo read from the slip of paper in his hand. "You've got to be kidding me! Why, I'd rather have ulcers than give up eating for more than three hours at a time! Anyway, you don't have to accompany me to the lounge, Kikumaru san -- the crisis has passed and I'm feeling much better now."

"Well, if you're sure. In any case, I'd better head for my office and start sorting through all that paperwork. Ja!"

Momo entered the lounge by himself and approached Ryoma, who had fallen asleep where he sat.

"Oi, Echizen," he said, nudging the young man's foot. "Wake up, sleepy head."

Ryoma opened his eyes and glanced upwards. "A, Momo-senpai. What do you want?"

"Are you ready to begin your tour? But first, tell me where you've been so far." Momo dug into his pocket and fished out a bag of Jelly Babies, which he began to pop into his mouth two or three at a time.

After Ryoma described his recent wanderings, the officer said: "So it appears that we needn't go through B-section, and there isn't much else to see in A-section apart from the lounge. We'd better start with C-section, then."

They headed for the intersection and turned left. "This is C-section," Momo explained, chewing the head off a Jelly Baby. "The CSI facility has five laboratories, three of which are in this part of the building: the coroner's laboratory, the image and sound analysis laboratory, and the general workshop. Everyone uses the latter two, of course, but only one person holds sway over the first. And pretty much over the entire crime lab, if you ask me," he said conspiratorially.

Ryoma wondered what he meant by that.

--------------------

Momoshiro led him through a pair of gleaming stainless-steel doors with small windows of laminated glass set into them. The room they entered had everything that one would expect to find in a coroner's laboratory: metal autopsy table, X-ray equipment, surgical tools and so forth. Two sets of powerful lights, similar to those used in operating rooms, were suspended from a rack over the table. Along one side rose a massive wall of brushed steel lined with small doors – the refrigerated cabinets where corpses were stored prior to examination. The air felt dense, tinged as it was with faint traces of sickening odours, and the dull, bluish lighting contributed to the gloomy atmosphere that pervaded this room of death.

"Um . . . Fuji-san?" Momoshiro called. "I'm here to introduce the new recruit."

"Ah, yes," came a voice from an adjoining room. "I'll be with you in a moment, right after I take these cakes out of the oven."

Ryoma felt strangely troubled by that voice. Calm and smooth, perhaps even effeminate, but with a dark – almost threatening – undercurrent that made him shiver in his trench coat. It hung in the air long after the person to whom it belonged had stopped speaking. The sort of voice an interrogator would use to befriend his prisoner before dipping him in boiling oil.

The delicious scent of freshly-baked pastries wafted into the room and overpowered everything else. Momo sniffed the air and sighed longingly. "Ahh, Fuji-san's famous lotus-cream cakes." Seeing the puzzled look on the younger man's face, he said: "Believe me, Echizen-kun – those things are so delicious, we've stopped caring about the fact that he makes them next to a morgue."

From one of the side doors emerged a man garbed in a white laboratory gown. Ryoma's brain, sensing that this was someone worth remembering, began to file away the necessary information: slight build; height just under average; pale skin; rich brown hair. He had the appearance of a twenty-year-old, though this was more than compensated for with the grace and confidence of someone much older. His eyelids were closed, and the face carried what seemed to be a permanent smile.

But what struck Ryoma most about him were his eyes, which were revealed when the man began to study the young newcomer's face. They were of an unnatural shade of blue, mysterious and striking, like two jewels set into a field of burnished ivory. Though he had never seen them before, Ryoma had no trouble imagining that one could dive into those twin pools of unfathomable depth for hours on end and surface with not even the slightest clue as to what this person was thinking. A single glance from the unassuming coroner, on the other hand, would be enough for the man to find his way into other people's minds and probe their innermost thoughts.

Echizen Ryoma had been at CSI Seigaku for less than six hours, and already he'd found two people who were capable of arousing genuine fear in him.

No wonder he works with the dead. The world of the living isn't ready for a man like this.

"Fuji-san, this is Field Agent Echizen Ryoma."

"Pleased to meet you," the coroner said, shaking the young man's hand. "Dr. Fuji Syuusuke, medical examiner and chief crime scene photographer."

"Dozo." A few gears clashed in Ryoma's head, prompting him to ask: "Medical examiner and chief crime scene photographer?"

"That's right," Fuji replied. "Photography has always been a hobby of mine -- well, more than a hobby, actually. Besides, there aren't nearly as many homicides in Seigaku as there are elsewhere in Tokyo, which means that there isn't much work for me as a coroner." He waved his hand vaguely at the wall of refrigerated cabinets behind them. "See those? They're all empty. Luckily I managed to convince Captain Tezuka to roll two positions into one so that I'd spend more time out of this stuffy lab."

After the usual pleasantries, Fuji led his guests through the side door into his office, where he prepared to serve them some hot Earl Grey and small Chinese-style cakes filled with white lotus cream.

Ryoma stood in the middle of the room while Fuji and Momo busied themselves with the trays. The office closely resembled that of Captain Tezuka in its dimensions, but it was better lit and more elegantly furnished. Everything, from the chairs to the well-stocked bookcases, spoke of good breeding and extraordinarily refined taste. Stunning photographs of landscapes, sunsets, and people of all sorts were arranged carefully on every wall. Towards the far end was a kitchenette with marble countertops and appliances coated in white enamel. A low shelf positioned beneath a false window -- complete with a computer-generated alpine backdrop -- held small, spiky green cacti in bright red pots. Some had been lovingly decorated with beige ribbons.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?" Fuji said, appearing suddenly behind him. "Here, let's transform it into something that's a bit closer to home." He pulled a remote control out of his pocket and pressed a button. The projected landscape instantly changed from snow-topped mountains to a traditional Japanese garden, with sparrows flitting about and cherry trees in full bloom. A hidden set of speakers added to the realism by producing appropriate sounds.

They converged on a small coffee table by the window and sat down. Momoshiro's arm instinctively flew towards the cake tray, but Ryoma grabbed his wrist and pulled it back.

"Hey, what was that about?" Momo asked him indignantly. "I'm hungry!"

"Kikumaru-san whispered something to me when we passed the intersection on our way here. He says you're not supposed to eat anything tonight because of your bad stomach, and that I need to make sure that you stick to your diet."

"WHAT!"

"Ah, too bad, Momo." Fuji moved the platter away from him . . .

"Nooooooo!"

. . . and pushed it towards Ryoma. "Would you like to have some?"

"Thanks." He picked up a cake and began to nibble at it while Momo watched him enviously. "Hmm, this tastes good."

"It's my speciality," Fuji said, taking a cake for himself. "An outer layer made of soft wheat-flour pastry, sweetened with fresh honey and brushed with beaten egg. The filling is moist lotus-seed cream . . ."

Momo looked on as they ate, his mouth open and eyes brimming with tears.

"C-Can't I have just one?" he pleaded with Ryoma.

"No. I don't want to get into trouble with the lieutenant on my first day."

"Fuji-san, just one little bite . . ."

"No, Mo-mo." He smiled wickedly as he took another bite of cake. "Remember your diet."

"Aaargh! I never could stand watching someone else eat when I can't!" He rushed out of the room, saying, "I'll wait in the damn corridor!"

When they were alone, Ryoma said to Fuji, "You really laid it on quite thick there, didn't you? Describing the cake inside and out . . ."

"Ah well. I enjoy seeing people suffer." There was no hint of malice in these words, only a childlike sense of amusement at the troubles befalling others. It almost seemed utterly innocent.

I can't let my guard down with him, Ryoma thought as he raised a teacup to his mouth and took a tentative sip. His cynicism had progressed to the point that not even children could completely gain his trust.

"Echizen Ryoma," Fuji said, putting the merest suggestion of emphasis on the family name. "Your name seems vaguely familiar to me."

"I don't see how it could, Fuji-san. I haven't been in Japan for over a decade."

"Are you by any chance related to Echizen Nanjiroh?"

Ryoma nearly choked on his tea, but he managed to keep it down and feign a complete lack of concern. How could he know that? Then again, Captain Tezuka had that dossier . . .

"Your silence condemns you," Fuji told him gently. "A yes or no would have sufficed."

"Echizen is not an uncommon surname," Ryoma said evasively. The unwavering smile that hovered on the older man's face was beginning to make him feel ill at ease.

"Ah, but you see, I have complete access to Inui-san's information database. Your records clearly indicate that you were born to Takeuchi Rinko and . . ."

"The name Nanjiroh isn't particularly hard to find, either."

"Quite so. I must be thinking of a different Echizen Nanjiroh." Fuji idly divided a cake into four equal parts with a butter knife, then reassembled the pieces. "He's an intriguing character, you know. One of the few people in the world of criminalistics who've managed to pique my interest. They used to call him the '37-hour Samurai', since there wasn't a case he couldn't solve within thirty-seven hours. He was well within sight of a senior position in one of America's finest crime laboratories, but he suddenly resigned and withdrew from public life. No-one seems to know why the man left at the height of his career." He lifted a teacup and quietly sipped its contents.

"If my memory serves me right," Fuji continued, "Nanjiroh-san left his post at about the same time you were born." He lowered the cup slightly and opened his eyes, staring at Ryoma over the gilt-edged rim. "And you were born in the United States, weren't you? An amazing set of coincidences, if I do say so myself."

"Coincidences do happen."

"Indeed they do." Fuji set the teacup down on a saucer and stood up, turning to face the window. "I look forward to working with you on your first case, Echizen-kun. I expect that it will be a very interesting experience."

For me or for you? Ryoma wondered. "If there's nothing else," he said, standing up, "I'd better take my leave. Momo-senpai hasn't finished introducing me to everyone in the lab yet."

"Let me show you out, then."

Fuji accompanied him all the way to the corridor. Momo stood just outside the doors of the laboratory, trying to ease his hunger pangs by munching on Jelly Babies. The pained expression on his face showed that he was having little success.

"Oh, I don't think a cake or two will do any harm," Fuji said, smiling brightly. "Momo, I think you'll find some left over in my office."

"Really? Thanks, Fuji-san -- you're the best!" The field agent was gone in a flash.

"Well, I'd better follow him and make sure he doesn't overeat. Echizen . . ."

"What is it, Fuji-san?"

"A word of advice." The smiling coroner stepped through the open laboratory doors and began to swing them shut. "If you want to achieve true greatness, you'll have to aim a lot higher than your father did. And you must never stop."

He closed the doors and disappeared from view, leaving Ryoma alone with his thoughts in the silence of the empty corridor.

So much for that. Rather pointless, I'll admit. (I can almost hear my sister wailing "This simply doesn't do Fuji-sama justice!" -- right before she lops my head off with a tennis racquet.) But schoolwork has left me utterly drained, and this is the best that I can manage for now. Changes will be made just as soon as I can think of something better to write.

Character preview for the final chapter: Inui and Kawamura. They're easier to re-create "on paper" -- in my view, at least -- so the last chapter will probably be better than this one.