Disclaimer: See Act 1.

Warnings: See Act 1.

Author's Note: This was ridiculously hard to write. A literal, honest-to-god, "I want to bludgeon myself to death with a keyboard" pain in the ass. I have sections of the last chapter already written, and the rest of the story already planned out, but as for this part... well, this is what's otherwise called a filler. Basically you have here, a chapter where I thought that some Umeda sibling-ness might be a good additive to the plot, thus the appearance of Io out of nowhere. And it was only 500 words into the chapter when I realize that, woah, their relationship is hard to write, and that certain things simply don't work well outside of the land of graphics. Like Io's scary feministic powers against sullen siblings for example. I'm not satisfied at all with how this chapter turned out, but I'll probably revise it a great deal on a later date. Regardless, I have to apologize for any OOC-ness that jump up and attack you all anyway. Sorry.

As for any other issues with my characterization, let me explain (my view on) a few things: Ryouichi is not a nice person. He wasn't a nice person in the last three chapters of volume 14, nor is he any visibly any better some odd years later. He's selfish, demanding, and very self-centered. I don't know if it's just me, but I also find it highly disturbing that he still places Masato on a pedestal even after the whole junior high spiel. The kid is married, has two kids, and it's obvious that Kijima is still obsessing, whether consciously or unconsciously, over him. And Hokuto has to deal with the inconsiderateness. Yes, they've kept in touch for so many years, but the feeling I get is that Ryouichi enjoys being wanted (by an Umeda no less) and Umeda is reluctant/unable to give up the chase into which he's invested so much time (years) into.

Dedication: Happy Belated Birthday imoutochan! You're legal now! XD

Forward Motion Act 3 – Step Back
by kasugai gummie

Umeda Io was a very unique woman considering traditional Japanese standards. She was confident, self-assured, proud, leaned a far left on the social spectrum, and frightfully domineering.

For Umeda Hokuto, it could be said that those last two traits were what ruined his attraction towards women forever.

Pale eyes that betrayed the foreign influence in his heritage flickered towards the abrupt scattering of wildlife coming from the school's entrance. His ear twitched as it caught the telltale sound of rubber tires brutalizing asphalt and cement. He technically still had time to flee when he heard the decisive slamming of a car door. Everything was sharp, snappy, somewhat loud, and screamed, "Io."

Whether intentional or not, Io managed to announce her presence by merely existing. It was all in the little things: how she would command rather than ask; how she would dismiss rather than apologize; how she would recklessly abuse her car when coming to a sudden, organ-tearing stop rather than following the conventional method of gradual braking.

The resulting commotions did make for a very effective early-warning system though.

This time, however, due to unforeseen circumstances, there was no way for him to exploit the chance to avoid being conned into providing free labor. It'd been exactly twenty-two years, not counting the months and days, since a prepubescent Hokuto first came to the conclusion that Io's attention (and what she would assert to being "love") was just something he did not need in any measurable amounts.

He suppressed a wince when the door slammed open and the most influential woman in his life (second only to his mother) stepped through with a flourish. "Hokuto! Where do you think you're goi—?" The pre-prepared threat spluttered and died an unexpected death when Io caught sight of him still seated at his desk, poised (though resigned) and not in the middle of another ridiculous attempt to escape out the window. "You're still here?" She even managed to look impressed.

He arched a slender eyebrow at the teasing angle on her full lips, all the while entertaining a series of mental cringes as the developing glint of curiosity he'd learned to fear (at an impressionable young age) flickered to life in those darker eyes.

Io looked around the neat office as if to pinpoint what stayed her otherwise self-preserving sibling despite apparent knowledge of her arrival. There were no students seeking attention, no stacks of paperwork in progress. All that was really out of place was the diminutive cell phone set precariously close to the edge of the desk. Besides that there wasn't anything else noteworthy, except for maybe the faint but heady fragrance that wafted by her face... it was an rich smell, artificial and thick.

It most definitely caught her attention. Io sniffed experimentally before pursing her lips into what could've passed as a minor grimace. "Have you been dabbling with cologne Hokuto?" she finally asked, picking up a random sheaf of paper from atop the filing cabinet (she didn't even bother checking if it was important) to fan herself with.

"Obviously," was all he offered as a way of explanation (and in a flat, unwelcoming manner no less). But apparently that wasn't good enough to satisfy Io's prying need for information.

Even after those twenty-two years, he was still amazed (and no little disturbed) at how fast and how easy it was for Io to switch emotional gears (another one of those unwanted mysteries he attributed to the opposing sex). Only thirty seconds was necessary for teasing and faux harmless to make a complete U-turn into a Nazi-like control mania.

"Is that how you address your elder sister, Hokuto? No? Then I'd appreciate it if you would elaborate and with a little more respect." The voice was deceptively level, calm even. The killing aura on the other hand wasn't as pleasant. Umeda didn't need Kayashima Taiki's abilities to read the oppressive pressure rolling off of the one woman that wasn't his mother that he regarded with a respectable amount of fear.

"A friend gave me a bottle of it as a birthday gift," Umeda explained while leaning as far away from his sister as was unobtrusively possible. He fished the delicate metal and glass container from where he now habitually carried it in his left coat pocket. Almost reluctantly he gave the small decanter of fragrance to Io for inspection against the office's artificial lighting.

"Platinum Egoist. Ghanel Paris," she read, expression thoughtful. "How... expensive."

Umeda cast a dark look at his sister though the disaster had been averted for the time being. The tension along his shoulders relaxed as long, lacquered nails traced over the silver leaf printing.

Io crossed the distance between them (much to the distress of Umeda's inner Darwin alarms) and sniffed the air around his head again. "The name suits the scent at least. Not that I approve of the smell though—it has too much of a snob appeal. And you're not that much of an egotist yet." The ominous tone crept back. "Or at least, you'd better not be. Otherwise something must've gone wrong when I babysat for you all those years and that would mean I'd have to fixyou. Again."

Umeda half-turned away from the retribution-promising glare. "That won't be necessary!" he snapped.

Io pulled back with a patronizing smile. "Good. But, ah, before you make me play twenty questions to drag out the name of this admirer, I suppose I should tell you why I'm here."

Umeda crossed his arms across his chest. "You suppose?" he muttered.

Io, feeling ever so benevolent, chose to ignore the sarcasm dripping from her younger brother's corner. "Mom and dad sent me to inform you of another family dinner tomorrow night. And any answer that is not a synonym for 'yes' will not be tolerated."

Umeda ran a hand through a messy path in his hair. "Fine, fine."

Io favored him with a knowledgeable look. "Also, even though she didn't quite put it into words, I think mom wants a credible update on your social life. So bring your boyfriend with you." She paused. "That is, if you have one. And if you don't, bring a friend along anyway. Like that what's-his-face fellow graduate of yours? Kimaji? Kamiji? Kajima?"

Tawny eyes narrowed. "It's Kijima."

"Of course it is." Io waved a fine-manicured hand dismissively, body language not at all reflecting the shrewd look in her eyes. "Well? I know for a fact that you still keep in touch with him."

Umeda exhaled slowly, pulled his eyes away from his sister's teasing smile, past the clock, and glanced out the window. "I don't know."

"We'll be expecting to see you tomorrow night at six o'clock sharp then," Io reminded Umeda a little while later.

After twenty minutes of hardcore interrogation, Io-style, she'd finally given up her attempts to intimidate the younger man into revealing his "cologne-friend." Invading his personal space with an unspoken promise of bodily harm didn't work this time, although she did notice him pale quite a bit when her hand was less than two inches away from his throat.

Apparently the memories of what happened at the disaster that was his high school graduation party were still fresh in his mind.

Pity that the idea of her throttling him wasn't enough to shake his resolve though. Io knew her brother well—better than he did himself sometimes. She knew his fears, his peeves, and his stubborn attitude when it came to keeping his own secrets in tandem to discovering those of others'. She knew that he was no pushover when it came to matters of tact, regardless of whom he was dealing with—herself included.

Some could call the stubbornness a flaw. She, however and oddly enough, was proud of the glaring streak of obstinacy in her little brother. It wasn't often for Umeda Hokuto to defy his neesan and Io supposed that the transgression was excusable once in a while.

Besides, she had connections to fall back on should curiosity really get the better of her. Tucking a wayward strand of glossy black behind her ear, Io "hmm-ed" in amusement.

When she crossed the floor to the door, she stopped to look slyly back her lab coat clad sibling. "Oh, and don't wear that stuff to dinner if you don't want mom to drag the information out of you."

Umeda twitched.

Just as she was placing her hand on the polished doorknob however, a polite rap sounded from the other side. Umeda's sudden jerk that made him rise halfway out of his chair caught her eye before the metal sliding beneath her hand as it turned re-commanded her attention. She looked up just as the slab of wood smoothed away from her in a soundless arc, revealing a tall person in black on black and impersonal eyes beneath a mess of spiky hair. She didn't even have to lean forward to notice a just recently made familiar scent clinging to the lean figure.

Somewhere at the back she could see her brother stiffen even more as he straightened completely out of his chair and reached into his inner pocket for another cigarette.

Interesting.

Turning back, she favored the newcomer with a calculating look. "You seem familiar," she announced after another moment of character analysis.

A single nod. "Aa. We've met—once. You must be Umeda Io-san."

"And you're the reason why Hokuto smells like... how he smells right now," Io snorted, blithely ignoring the strangled sounds that seemed to be coming from the direction of the cot a few feet away. "Who are you?"

End Act 3
Completed: 04/23/05