Galatea

Second Movement: Abdication

"People don't choose their careers; they are engulfed by them."

John Dos Passos

Friday. This horrid week was finally over—almost. If he could get through this day without having Niwa cast a pitying stare his way, Satoshi would be thankful enough. After all, he'd have an entire evening to imagine that same stare set behind a pair of laughing eyes belonging to one Dark Mousy. He didn't need to dwell on them in his daytime.

For the past few days, Krad had been unusually silent. Indeed, the blonde hadn't spoken anything beyond admonishing him to tend to his hand. Slightly unsettled, yet not wanting his curse to know this, he resigned himself to simply accepting that Krad was feeling either complacent or conniving, the latter of which was still unsettling, but he could do nothing about it at this point until his curse showed his hand.

Sighing, he settled back into his seat and idly took a few bites from his bentou, chopsticks resting limply in his hand as he studied the paper in front of him. The Kan no Ken…Dark would try for it tonight, or so the advance notice had said, signed with that characteristic flourish all the notices had. Saehara had faxed him a layout of the museum—apparently forgetting that he already had numerous blueprints of the building in his apartment—and had highlighted areas where he intended to station himself and his men, along with where he thought Satoshi would be most effective.

"…He would choose to have me in a van outside relaying orders over a radio… Idiot…" He flinched even as he cursed the man, and glowered at his palm, which was now throbbing painfully from the effort of holding the chopsticks. He ignored the twinge, though, and simply switched hands, turning his attentions back to the paper.

But perhaps the detective was onto something. He'd caught onto the presence of a new ventilation system installed in the past few weeks to circulate air through a simulated rain-forest environment on one of the upper floors…Dark would most likely not be familiar with it yet, and he could use that to his advantage to pounce on the thief.

The problem remained with making sure he got the right Dark—that familiar of his seemed to always be there to help him out, confusing Satoshi as to which image to chase after. While he could quite easily tap into Krad's own power to silence the little demon rabbit, he was bound and determined not to sink so low as to require such means; he would take care of Dark by himself.

…Taking care of Daisuke, though, proved a whole different problem.

"Aah—Soushirei-dono!" Saehara greeted when he noticed a long black car pull up, out of which Satoshi stepped, still in his school clothes. Rare were the advance notice nights when he had a chance to head home and change clothes before arriving at the scene, so most of the force had grown accustomed to seeing a boy clad in a school uniform directing their movements. "We were worried you weren't going to make it—it's nearly the announced time."

"Thank you for your…concern, Saehara-san," the boy replied flatly, taking a new sheet of paper the detective had just handed him, "I take it this is the layout for tonight?"

"Yes sir—I faxed you the blueprint earlier today, and this is the force's status as of five minutes ago, I've just checked by radio that all are in their positions."

Running calculating eyes over the paper, he narrowed them and pointed to the shaft he'd noticed earlier, "Here—you have one unit guarding the Rainforest exhibit?"

"Yes—Sakaguchi and a rookie who signed on last week." Satoshi mentally slapped himself—their best hope, and Saehara had assigned a rookie and one of the laziest officers on the force?!

Shoving the page back, he snapped an order, "Call them off, have them back up the others on the lower pavilion level, I want every basement door guarded at all times."

Blinking the detective sputtered, "But—the Rainforest area, sir? I realize it's highly unlikely that that area could prove any help or hurt in this situation, but don't you think—"

Could the man be any more thick-headed? "I'm taking that patrol—have two backup units at the base of the stairwell on call should I need it." Dark had to walk through the exhibit to get to the main viewing area where the Kan no Ken was on display, it was an ideal opportunity to ambush the unsuspecting kaitou and rid him of his servant wings. With those gone, he only needed to worry about the thief himself.

Setting off at a run, he entered the museum, headed for the basement elevator which would carry him up to the ventilation shaft. 'Alright, Dark…I'm angry and I need a suitable distraction. Don't disappoint me.'

"Na, Daisuke—looking forward to a busy couple of months coming up?" the thief teased his host as he crested the fading night air currents, the Central Art Museum looming in the distance. "This cache is a big deal, you know. That so many of these works escaped the Cultural Revolution, all still intact and with the same collector… I mean, even you can appreciate that, can't you?" There was a feeble sound of agreement from his mind, and Dark pouted slightly, miffed by the lack of attention he was being paid that night.

"C'mon, Dai… It's not the end of the world. So the guy likes you, big deal. Not really surprising, you know—you're kinda cute, in that 'I'm really not as stupid as I look' way." His mind was filled with a red-flushed hue, and Dark smiled at finally getting a reaction from the boy, "I guess that tends to make guys like Hiwatari rethink their having to kill you, so take it as a blessing."

'That's not what I'm worried about, you should know.'

Dark shrugged, folding his wings more closely to his body as he moved to swoop in low and give the media a thrill before alighting on a lower roof in the back and slipping inside. "There's nothing you can do about it now, though, is there? So take a hint from me and stop worrying about him so much—jeez, you sound like you almost regret rejecting him…" There was a short pause as the thief straightened up and thought a moment, "…You're not regretting it are you? 'Cause lemme warn you now, unless you really fancy Krad popping out every time you two wanna play smoochie-face on the couch or whatever then y—"

'DARK!' His senses were now flooded with red, momentarily blinding him, and he hastily rubbed his eyes and shook his head to clear his vision. 'Jeez, don't even play like that!' Daisuke continued muttering something about his alter ego being worse than Satoshi's, but Dark paid him no attention, as he had more important things on his mind now—namely the Kan no Ken.

Easily cracking the lock on a skylight window that overshadowed a fifteen-foot drop to the tiled museum floor below, Dark slipped down after resealing With and ordering the pet to play lookout for any cops. The little creature flitted away into the darkness, and the thief continued on, eyes swiveling this way and that searching for signs of life.

Gaze flicking up to a sign hanging overhead, he read it and smiled, "Rainforest Exhibit, Special Attractions Exhibit, right." Well, at least he knew he was heading in the correct direction now. "I dunno what Emiko was worried about…really, construction in the Rainforest Exhibit—it's open, must be over with. Unless that construction involved hanging a big steel cage over the front door to catch me with, I'd say we're safe. Na, Daisuke?"

'I wouldn't get too cocky if I were you…Saehara's dad and the other cops are downstairs, but…we still haven't run into Hiwatari-kun yet…'

"Yeah…" Dark admitted, sauntering through the nearest door and crinkling his nose in disgust as he was hit with the humidity of the simulated Rainforest Environment. "Sometimes I think you give that guy too much credit, though—I mean, come on. I'm Dark—Dark! Three hundred years I've been robbing this family blind, and you think some scrawny little fourteen-year-old snobby brat with an unnatural fixation on redheads is gonna catch m—"

"I take offense to that 'snobby' remark, Dark…" a cold voice drawled from a catwalk above them, and—rather like a cat himself—Satoshi slipped silently to the ground, caught himself, and began sprinting forward.

The thief barely had time to register the arrival of his opponent before he was snapped out of his shock by the yelling in his mind. 'DARK! Come on! The rooftop!'

"No—the sword first!"

'We don't have TIME!'

"No time, my ass!" Stepping up his pace as he sprinted down the slick sidewalk back through the opposite door into the Special Attractions area, he noted distantly that Satoshi really seemed to be lax tonight—if he'd been thinking, he would've locked his door before pouncing and giving his location away.

A blade glittered underneath a skylight in a glass case, and wasting no time, the thief smashed it, slung it behind his back, and slid it into his pack, still sprinting. "Now we can go!" Hastily running the blueprint of the museum over in his mind, he turned down a corridor at the other end of the long Special Attractions room. The sound of footsteps pounding swiftly behind him put a bit more pep in his step, and he slung open a door marked "Emergency Exit Only", scaling a small flight of stairs to the rooftop.

Flinging a hand up into the air to signal his familiar, he shouted into the night as he raced for the far wall, "With! Come!"

…And he waited…and waited…and when he finally reached the ledge, with still no With, his stomach lurched uneasily. He was five stories up, and With was nowhere to be found. The nearest tree was only as tall as the third story, and was too far away to reach anyway. Helicopters hovered overhead, threatening him to try and make a run for it, and worst of all…Satoshi was standing at the door to the rooftop now, turning around and locking it with a key he slid into his pants pocket.

"…Going somewhere?" he queried innocently, and took a step forward, taking his time in traversing the distance between the two of them. "Now…what were you saying before I interrupted you? Something about a scrawny little fourteen-year-old snobby brat with an unnatural fixation on redheads not having a chance in hell of catching you…?"

The two faced each other, completely motionless, on the empty rooftop, the light filtering down from the fat, bright moon their only illumination. Dark was backed into a corner where two walls met, without even so much an escape route as a sheer drop—and Satoshi knew this well, for he had driven the thief here.

He'd taken this stance against the kaitou before—a stance where he knew he had Dark cornered and there was no way out, and yet he'd always been outsmarted somehow, or had neglected to account for those demon wings of the Niwas'. But tonight…tonight he'd taken care of With early on, back inside the museum itself.

Somehow…he felt a renewed strength surging through his veins, a heady rush that made his mind fire faster, heightened his awareness of the situation, and quickened his reflexes—in short, made him a more formidable opponent. And it was paying off, too. Careful planning and pinpoint precision and prediction had brought him this far. The question was, would it be worth it? Would he finally be able to fulfill the duty he was born for?

Dark was a few meters in front of him, back against the wall and arms at his sides in fists. He was relaxed, as usual, but completely on guard inside. He wasn't stupid by any means, knowing he was cornered, but when it came down to it, the two were evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat; any slight power shift could tip the scales one way or the other.

A stare-down commenced, neither speaking to the other, but each going over in his head each of the countless different paths the fight could lead down, calculating the potential outcomes. Satoshi was allowed to do this in blissful silence, for his part, but Dark…Dark had to put up with another voice yammering away in his mind, urging him to hurry up and—

'THINK of something, Dark! GET US OUTTA HERE! You're the thief here, so do your thing and SAVE US, before we get arrested!'

Dark flinched and growled back, 'Just—shut up! We're not gonna get arrested, alright? And I dunno what you're worried about, kid—not like he'd ever hurt you—wait a minute…'

At the mental tone shift, Daisuke calmed down slightly, waxing curious now, 'What? Wha—do you have a plan? WELL? Please, please tell me you have a feasible idea Dark!' The thief smiled knowingly, and Satoshi immediately perked up, eyes narrowing; when Dark smiled like that…it was never a good sign for him.

Before he could make a move to react to whatever plan might be forming inside the Niwa curse's mind, the tall lanky form shimmered and swayed before him, growing misty and translucent with an odd glow about it before slimming down to reveal his host: Daisuke. Satoshi's eyes widened back at the curious turn of events, and his breath hitched, caught in his throat.

So, Dark wanted to play that way…did he? He was that desperate?

Inside his memory flashed a scene from months ago, when their whirlwind game of cat and mouse had begun…before the Niwa boy became so comfortable around him, before he started talking to him so freely, without worry, without fear…

"I need to have a little chat with you, High Commander…" Dark had drawled in that swaggering voice of his, a lopsided grin plastered on his face, knowing Satoshi would take the bait, "Let's have a bet…"

"…A bet?" And, ever the fair player, Satoshi had taken that bait.

"Yes—tomorrow, if I can steal Yufilia's Night Scene…then you absolutely can't lay a finger…on him."

Cocky, wasn't he? "And what if…you don't steal it?"

This hadn't deterred the thief in the least, back then—as if it was a potentiality he needn't even address, "Then…feel free to do whatever you want."

Satoshi had lost the bet, of course—he didn't remember if he'd tried his best or not—maybe he'd just, deep down, been looking for some escape route, something to hide behind so he wouldn't have to fight at full strength, exploiting all opportunities. And even worse was his humiliating slip from the roof, saved from an early—well, earlier—death by the phantom thief himself.

Dark's words had saved his host from being arrested for any of the thief's nightly jaunts. And Satoshi, even up to now, had kept to his word, not harassing Daisuke—much—outside of Dark himself.

Well, apparently tonight the kaitou had decided to test just how strong Satoshi's words were—how would he fight, with his prize so near, simply locked behind a mental barrier, buried under a layer of flesh? He'd banked on the fact that the Hikari boy, true to his word, wouldn't hurt, or arrest, or even detain Daisuke, that he'd just let the two go back home, consider the night over, and save it for another time.

Satoshi stared across the rooftop at the flustered Niwa boy, only noticing now how truly scared he looked—a mixture of shock, anxiety, trepidation, and concern swirling on his delicate features, face flushed red from physical exertion. Suffice to say, this was not a plan he'd call brilliant on Dark's part, and it was more than a little uncomfortable for him.

Daisuke could still recall the scene, from a mere few days prior, when he'd run up to the Hikari boy—the only person in the entire school he could speak to about this. He'd been so happy, all smiles, radiating cheer, and eager to spill the fact that Riku had voiced her feelings to him directly, finally. Surely Hiwatari-kun would be ecstatic to find that his friend was moving on and living a life outside of his curse—no, in spite of his curse, rather. Surely Hiwatari-kun would understand how important this was to him, to be liked for himself, and not for the thief inside.

He had not expected…to be confessed to.

He'd just been told by Riku that she'd liked him…and then Hiwatari-kun…said it too. The boy had looked down with that ever-serious expression, even when Daisuke had told him he had to be joking, that there was no way he was serious…even when he'd known he was serious.

There was no way he could reciprocate those feelings, he knew it—Hiwatari-kun was Hiwatari-kun…they were enemies, Daisuke acknowledged that; they were boys, he acknowledged that too. He cared too much for Riku to hurt her like that, when he loved her so much—and he cared for Hiwatari-kun just as much, he did! Just…not in the same way…

"I'm sorry, but…I just can't think of you like that, Hiwatari-kun…I like Riku-san…"

Now, he felt the familiar blue eyes watching him more often—and wondered silently if this was because Satoshi watched him more, or if he was just more aware of it now. Either way, it made him quite uncomfortable. Before he'd just chalked it up to the Hikari clan's obsession with catching Dark, but now…now it's no longer simply because he was host to the kaitou, but betrayed a deeper, more emotional meaning buried in the boy's heart.

Those eyes were watching him even now, running up and down his form as he tried to determine what he should do now, and Daisuke shivered, more from the cold gaze than the cold air.

Would he stick to the bet? Would he give up his prey when it had strayed so close, already within his grasp? Let the Niwa bird fly free one more, only to be cornered again, and released a second time thanks to Dark's underhanded tricks like this? Playing with people's emotions…it was exactly something he should have expected from the thief—and certainly not something he'd be beneath repeating in the future should he need to, this Satoshi was sure of. Once a weak spot was found—it was fair game to exploit.

Damn that Dark! He didn't want to arrest Daisuke—even now! The Niwa boy was guilty of nothing save the bad luck to have been born in the Niwa line to begin with, and for being so—so—nice. It was his fault Satoshi was even having this mental dilemma right now. But outside of that, in the context of this night's thievery, Niwa Daisuke was not at fault. It was Dark and Dark alone that he would punish.

As the silent moments ticked by, dragging the night on, Daisuke's anxiety got the better of him, and he was the first to speak, addressing now the problem which was plaguing the both of them: "So…what do we do now?…Are we…supposed to fight, like you and Dark do?"

Satoshi only laughed roughly in reply, with a whispered retort, "You wouldn't survive if we did."

Well? Would he stand by the bet or wouldn't he? Would he too sink to Dark's level?

…Never.

"Hiwa…tari-kun…I—"

Clenching his fists tightly by his sides, Satoshi stared down at his feet. "Just—leave Niwa—leave now. Your servant wings are waiting—just take them and fly away and leave me alone." This was the final straw, a climax that had been building up for a while now: he knew Dark could simply try this again—he could try it in any situation, knowing Satoshi wouldn't fight Daisuke. It was his Achilles heel, and that thief wouldn't be above taking advantage of it. "You…Dark…I'm done with this—all of it." Turning on his heel, he marched away, "I quit this."

Daisuke quickly straightened up, brows knit in concern as confusion spread across his face, "…'quit'? But, you—Hiwatari-kun, how can you—"

The Hikari boy stopped in his tracks and threw back a cold glare. "Do you want to be arrested?!" He suspected it was hardly that, though—that Niwa boy seemed to have a knack for breaking through his masks, knowing well when something wasn't right, and could tell clearly that there was some other reason he was being let go. This, however, didn't excuse the question, and he blew up at the boy, "I said leave, now! I'm sending Saehara and his unit up here in five minutes—if you're not gone by then, it's your own damn fault!"

He dashed down the stairs, leaving the redhead gaping behind him, and swiftly descended the stairs back to the museum's ground level, then, true to his word, ordered the detective and a few backup men to search the building from basement to rooftop for any clues as to Dark's whereabouts and what could be done in the future to prevent him from escaping again. When the men had headed out, he decided to retire for the night and flagged down a taxi—trudging wearily up to his apartment, papers tucked underneath one arm in a manila file.

Flinging the folder haphazardly onto the coffee table, he wandered slowly into the kitchen, not even bothering to turn on any lights. He frowned as he opened a cabinet door, noting that he had virtually nothing to eat in his almost-bare cupboards. Mundanely he took out a small pot and set some water on to boil for a meager supper of ramen.

Leaving the stove, he wandered back into the living room, and a thought suddenly hit him as he leaned onto the back of the couch, staring into the darkness of his apartment: Not once, that whole night, even up through his confrontation with the two inhabitants of Niwa Daisuke's body…not once had Krad made an attempt on either of their lives, not even attempted to manifest…

No…even more, he hadn't even said a word of taunting for hours, since early that day, when he'd reminded Satoshi that his hand was becoming infected and that he needed to rebind it.

Almost immediately regretting splitting the comforting silence inside his mind, Satoshi could fight the unease settling on his heart no longer, and slightly worried that his alter ego had been unusually quiet all this time, he called out weakly, "…Krad?" He felt something light and tenuous stir behind his eyelids, and knew then that he'd roused the sleeper. His lips pursed into a thin line—well, what had he been expecting? For Krad to be gone? No, hardly—it wasn't that, he knew better, it was just…strange.

'Not worried, were we, Satoshi-sama?'

"Of—of course not!" he barked back quickly, voice echoing loudly in the empty apartment—he never worried about neighbors, though; Hiwatari Kei had more than anticipated the antipathy this Hikari child he was adopting had towards his curse. The walls were quite thick, specially ordered that way so the two could yell without attracting unwanted attention.

He knew, now, that Krad had been reading his train of thought this whole time, since he'd neglected to do anything to barricade himself from the blonde's prying eyes. "All I—"

'So…in the end, you let him go, I see…' Krad had obviously witnessed the entire rooftop fiasco, and yet for some reason he'd allowed it to ensue without trying to disrupt it with his presence—a rare thing indeed. 'You had not the strength…to call upon me for aid…'

Satoshi's virtually automatic response shot back in a rough coughing laugh, "Help? You?!—You would have killed them if I'd asked you for help…"

The voice was soft in return, not rising to his harsh words, 'I would do anything for you should you ask me, don't you realize…?' A pause. 'No, of course you don't… You refuse to accept that I require nothing from you in return…just as you don't seem to realize that boy, that Niwa boy you watch so often…that he will die eventually. Whether by your hand, or mine, or some physical illness, or even under the yoke of old age…all beautiful things must die, must end…

'But art…art lives on…'

Satoshi ignored him still, tossing the papers he'd picked up to begin leafing through back onto the table, and turned to walk back into the kitchen to check his water, turning the burner up to a higher setting in the cold apartment. After a second thought, though, he wondered if he should even waste his time cooking the noodles; he wasn't that hungry anyway. Turning off the burner now, he carried the pot over to the sink to drain it.

"…Then you heard me before. I'm not doing this anymore." He tilted the pan over, steam rising up in plumes of mist as the water swirled down the drain. "I quit this… I'm tired…tired of trying…"

Krad lapsed into astral form now, sensing a conversation ahead that would be facilitated by this, and stood with his arms folded neatly across his chest, eyeing the boy knowingly from the doorway. 'But Satoshi-sama,' he reminded, 'You cannot simply quit being a Hikari, you know. You can quit being a police commander, you can quit being a junior high student again, you may even—if you wish—quit being that Hiwatari's son… But just as you can never quit being adored by me, so can you not stop being that which you were born.'

For once, Satoshi didn't snap back some scathing reply for Krad to shut up, and actually took the bait, knowing full well he was being drawn into an argument of which Krad was clearly in charge. "And is that what you think as well? Are you satisfied with your fate, Krad?" He turned and faced the blonde, eyes flashing, "Don't you ever get tired of it? All day, every day, thinking about this feud? This pointless…pointless feuding, generation after generation, you and Dark at each other's throats simply trying to obliterate one another?! Isn't it—doesn't it ever get…" He struggled for words, but soon fell silent, eyes closing in defeat.

Had he looked up again, he would have seen Krad—backlit by the rising moon streaming in from the skylight above and bathing him in a soft silvery light, making him appear more celestial and spectral than before. His face, though was entirely hidden in shadows, not even the familiar ghost of a smirk on his lips, and his arms hung limp at his sides. Daring a glance up at the unusual silence, Satoshi found himself able to focus only on the eyes…the gold gleaming embers piercing though his skull, inside and out…no, not piercing, but rather gripping, and holding—chaining him in place.

Suddenly, though, without warning, the image blipped and faded out, like an image from an old television screen, and just before totally slipping from his astral form, the boy was able to catch a single word falling from the lips of his curse:

'…Lonely?'

Satoshi made short work to inform the police department of his resignation from his post as commander in charge of the anti-Dark forces, but this didn't seem to expedite his complete removal from office in the least.

"You see, sir—ah, I mean Hiwatari-san," Saehara informed him in his office, plopping down a bulging manila folder of paperwork on the desk in front of him and hesitantly reverting to a slightly less formal method of addressing the boy, "When your father signed you on to work those months ago, it wasn't as simple as it might seem. For one thing, you're technically underage, still a minor, even with your impressive educational background. And for another thing, you had no prior law enforcement experience whatsoever. I can't even image what strings he must have had to pull, or what kind of wheeling and dealing went on behind the scenes.

"The point is, it took that much to get you in—and it's going to take just as much paperwork to get you officially out. Now," Saehara leaned forward over his desk and stared seriously at the youth across from him, who didn't bat an eye in response, "Tell me, are you really serious about wanting to go through with this resignation? Are you really quitting the force? Because, if it's just a conflict of interests from your schoolwork, you'll pardon me, but…to me, this assignment is more important than indulging in studies you've already completed. It just seems a lot to go through—not that I don't think you're more than capable of handling the wor—"

"Saehara-san," Satoshi interrupted coolly, eyes fixated on the man who'd slipped into idle babble without knowing it, "I assure you I am serious about resigning. So there's no need to shamelessly cajole me anymore; I'm not your superior officer now." The detective bit his lip, aware he'd been found out. "In fact," the Hikari boy leaned back in his chair and set his gaze to staring out the window just behind Saehara, focusing on a group of elementary-age children crossing the street, "I'd rather…you just speak to me like a normal child my age…like you'd speak to your own son even. I wouldn't mind it, if people treated me like anyone else…"

"I hate to break it to you, Hiwatari-san," Saehara sighed, standing in place as he moved to let the boy out of the office to get started on the resignation paperwork he'd just been handed, "But ever since you walked through the double doors of this station, you've not once been viewed as 'normal' by anyone here. Not, at least, by fourteen-year-old standards."

Nodding his head in reluctant agreement, Satoshi stood as well and accepted the packet of papers from the detective, giving a short bow of thanks. The door was pulled open to release him into the buzzing main office of the station, and he made a beeline for the front doors, when Saehara's voice called out to him.

"Hiwatari-san!" He turned, curiosity painted on his features. "Come by on Thursday, noon—we'll have an official send-off party. The whole station." At this announcement, every other head in earshot turned to Saehara as well, with the same expression Satoshi had. "Yeah—you heard me, bunch of lazy bums. Bring something good, or I'll send any slackers off to pull security guard duty at the art festival downtown! Now back to work!"

Smiling weakly as the brown head snapped back into the office it had just peeped out from, Satoshi continued on towards the front doors. Yes, the Azumano Police Department would definitely be in fine hands when he left. Assuming Saehara started coming up with feasible plans to capture Dark.

That wasn't likely to happen soon.

The next evening, Satoshi sat slumped on his living room couch and sighed loudly, crossing off another name on the long list Saehara had provided him in the packet of paperwork the previous afternoon. Convinced that he, more than anyone else down at the station, could suggest qualified candidates to take his place as head of the Anti-Dark force, the detective had asked him to look over the list and circle any names that jumped out at him based on the qualifications next to them.

Truthfully, there was only one person Satoshi felt could handle Dark—and that person wasn't anywhere on this list. Rather, he was being unusually quiet this evening, like every other evening so far since he'd quit, which at once calmed and worried the boy. Slumped back at the edge of the couch and sinking down into the cushions, he flipped forward a few pages, placed a mark next to a few names, then back, before setting the entire stack aside and picking up another.

While his hand hovered over the next set of papers, the air in front of him at the opposite end of the couch shimmered, not drawing his attention from his work, though. Krad phased into view as he was wont to do at times and simply sat across from his Tamer, facing forward with as blank an expression as he could muster.

"And what do you want now?" he spat almost on instinct. Truthfully, though, he was quite curious at what had prodded his curse to now break his silence—but as if he was going to let the blonde know this.

Krad shifted his eyes to the left to peer out of the corner of his eye at the boy seated beside him, and propped his chin up in his palms, with his elbows resting on his knees—a decidedly un-Krad-like pose which rendered him almost human. After a moment of silence save the scratching of a pen, he queried softly, '…Do you hate me, Satoshi-sama?'

Without even the faintest bit of hesitation, Satoshi quickly replied with an unmiffed "Yes," not once taking his eyes from his work as he circled and boxed several names on the page he was currently turned to.

The blonde's gaze returned forward slowly. '…Why?'

It was this question that made Satoshi stop his work, and he nearly dropped the carefully ordered stack he'd just arranged, which began slipping from his lap when he turned his attention from it.

Why, the curse asked? He wanted to know why his Tamer hated him with such passion? It had never bothered Krad before that he didn't care for him in even the most platonic of senses, so why should he start caring now? Satoshi's liking—or rather, simply not hating—him brought little advantage for the blonde.

He narrowed his cold blue eyes into a sharp glare, running his gaze up and down the figure in front of him, but eventually decided to indulge. "…For one thing, you have an unhealthy obsession with murdering that thief at all costs—compounded by the fact that you don't care who gets in your way in the process, whether it be Niwa, or the Haradas, or anyone… You have no value for human life other than—" There was a sharp pause as he took the time to phrase his words, and continued on in a softer voice, averting his eyes, "—other than my own…and even that you covet like it's some present that's been gifted to you that no one else may look at.

"You you you…that's all you see or care about in your heart—or whatever it is you have in your chest, if anything. Even I who am closest to you mean nothing to you…" He turned slowly back to his work and picked up his pen again, whispering half to himself, "…Nothing to anyone…"

Whether he heard this last addition or not didn't show up on Krad's features, and instead he simply turned to stare, face still blank. 'And what if…what if I changed that? If I…were different?…Would you not hate me then?'

As before, Satoshi kept at his paperwork, shooting back, "There is precious little you could do that would make me not hate you."

The blonde seemed adamant, still. 'But…can even I not change? If it were for…for what you considered the better?'

"The better?" The response this time came off as a harsh laugh at the ludicrousness of the suggestion, "Well then, perhaps you might scale the ladder of hatred I've placed you upon from 'I would kill you if I could touch you' to 'If you touch me I will kill you.' See? At least then I'd give you the grace of a conditional." Krad didn't respond, and when he looked up, the face was stern, "There's no way for you to accomplish such a phenomenal transformation as to make me feel anything beyond abstract pity for you—pity that it took a fourteen-year-old child to hate you enough to make you want to change…"

Still the blonde would provide no response, and began to fade away, but just before he lost form entirely, a single phrase remained behind, ringing in Satoshi's ears as he tried to get back to work, unsettled:

'Then…that is enough for now…'

The rest of the week was spent cleaning out the already-austere office Satoshi had occupied, as well as getting started on the mountain of paperwork awaiting his signature and personal information, soon to be filed away and forgotten in the Land of the Legal Eagles. Krad's unusual silence, punctuated only every now and then, usually for reasons unrelated to Dark in any way, only served to heighten the unreal-ness of the week—and his strange mid-week question of whether or not Satoshi hated him unnerved the boy even now. It was as if he was actually going to let his host go through with his decision, undeterred.

Not that Satoshi minded the peace of simulated-solitude in his mind—it just made him more…on edge. Expecting at any moment that the curse would take over his body and kill Niwa in the dead of night, having successfully lulled his Tamer into a false sense of security. Thursday, though, eventually came, without any attack, and he had not forgotten Saehara's promise of a going-away party held in his honor.

Truthfully, he and the elder detective had never really been close—no, had never even been particularly friendly to one another. It was a commander-subordinate relationship, and it was obvious it rubbed Saehara the wrong way to have to submit to a wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn who was less than half his own age. It was the equivalent of handing his son, Takeshi, the position of editor of the city newspaper! Ludicrous!

But, it hadn't been Saehara's decision in the first place—an obvious act of nepotism on Hiwatari Kei's part, or so the detective saw it. Satoshi himself knew that he'd simply been placed in the position which most facilitated his operations against the kaitou that had been pestering his clan for the past three centuries. If Dark had instead rooted through neighborhood trashcans by night, Satoshi probably would have found himself head of the Refuse Department, stinking of rubbish. Well, at least art didn't smell.

The secretary at the front cheerily directed him towards a room at the rear of the building when he passed through the double doors into the warm main lobby of the station, cheeks flushing lightly against his pale skin from the nip outside. He found his way to the "party room" easily enough, and by now all the participants were enjoying themselves and didn't even notice the arrival of the small child the festivities were in honor of.

"Soushirei-dono!" a young woman in a tight-fitting most-assuredly-non-regulation-uniform squeaked as he brushed past her, her face tinged a light pink—Satoshi doubted, though, that the blush was brought about by embarrassment so much as intoxication. The moment he'd stepped through the door the scent of cheap alcohol had assaulted his nose, and he wrinkled it in disgust.

The outburst, though, was enough to draw most attentions to his arrival, and it didn't take long for Saehara to elbow his way to the front and order everyone to make room for the boy—as well as to get rid of the spiked punch an eager first-year officer had supplied for the occasion. "Sorry for all this Hiwatari-san. You give them the slightest bit of slack and they'll take it as far as they can."

Shrugging his shoulders, the Hikari boy waved it off, "It's human nature, I suppose…to exploit opportunities whenever they arise."

Eyeing the youth strangely, Saehara tried his best to shake off the strange aura exuded by him. Why did he always have to be so damn serious? It was unnerving, how mature and…beyond-his-years…Hiwatari-san could act at times. "Ah—if you'd like, I made sure they kept out one of the untainted punch bowls," he gestured to a far corner, near which a group of four or five older officers was gathered, "Feel free to have some. This is supposed to be your send-off, after all."

Excusing himself, Satoshi did as was suggested, but mostly for the purpose of pleasing Saehara. He had gone through all this trouble, putting together the little party, that it would have seemed rude to hold back here. Grabbing a plastic cup from the table, he scooped some of the red liquid into it, idly listening to the background chatter from the group of older officers.

It was casual office banter, from what he could hear—snarky comments typical of older men, usually in reference to one of the more shapely female officers ranking below them, and Satoshi's lip curled in disgust as he topped off the punch, filling it again and turning around.

One of the group, a balding man by the name of Sakaguchi with the stereotypical donut-belly characteristic of desk-working officers, caught sight of him as he turned around with his cup and called out to him, "So, you're really retiring, eh? Soushirei-dono?" This man had also apparently taken a sip from the earlier spiked bowl, as well as his comrades. The way he spoke the elevating title almost made Satoshi feel as if he had mud thrown in his face, dirtying the honorific.

"Looks like it," he admitted, pasting on a thick smile and shrugging, slipping easily into their pre-determined view of him. These underlings knew nothing of Satoshi or his motivations and such as commander in charge of capturing Dark—unlike Saehara—and so they retained in their minds a preconceived image of him: uppity snobby rich boy who didn't know what real police work was. But what did he care? He had Hikari blinders on to the world, and Dark was all he saw. Besides, he was done with all this anyway.

"He's got more important things to do than play around with kaitous I'll bet," another man to his right piped up, "You're only young once, you know—kids need to enjoy it while they can. Go to school, hang around with friends, go on dates—"

"I had a girlfriend in middle school!" Sakaguchi interrupted his friend, waving around his cup to draw all attentions in the group back to himself, "She was the first person I ever went on a real date with too—went to the movies and then the bowling alley." He spoke the final words in an awed voice, as if it was the most amazing feat accomplished in history, pasting on a drunken smirk before collapsing into giggles. His companions mostly rolled their eyes at him, and the second man who'd been interrupted turned his remarks back to the Hikari boy.

"What about you, Hiwatari-san?" He looked up from his drink, a bit startled at being addressed. "You got someone you like?" The officer winked slyly, "Someone you're gonna be spending a lot more time with now, huh? I'll bet ya do…"

Indulging one last time, Satoshi didn't lose his cool head, and instead conceded, "Kind of…" and brushed off the comments. This was enough, apparently, and the group turned back to focusing on its own members, now diving into old stories of first-loves and other such nonsense Satoshi didn't care to listen to. He quietly withdrew off to the side and out into the hallway to take a breather in the restroom, away from the hubbub.

"Not your thing, is it?" a familiar voice called from behind him as he wandered down the hall to wash up in the bathroom. "Parties, I mean. You never struck me as the most social of people—though most high-level commanders seldom are." Saehara was leaned against a wall just outside the main party area, and Satoshi slowed to a halt and turned his head, regarding the detective.

"Please don't think me unappreciative of your efforts, Saehara-san. But it really wouldn't have mattered to me either way, whether I left with or without some kind of farewell. Fanfare is…not something I'm accustomed to."

"I know—it's obvious enough, even from your work. I was always the one who gave the press any statements on Dark's whereabouts or the chances of capture on the evening of a notice, even though you were in charge of the operations. You were always in and out of that office you were provided as quickly as possible, never staying for any kind of recount of one of that thief's jobs afterwards with the department. I always chalked it up to your having classes to attend to, but…I'm not so sure that's the case."

Pushing his glasses up and turning to face the elder man fully, Satoshi smiled almost deviously, "It's amazing, Saehara-san: You're quite adept at psychologically assessing people, but quit inept at assessing situations, particularly in regard to capturing Dark." The man frown slightly, face tinging a bit pink. "Was there something you needed me for? If it's all the same to you, I'm going to return home and continue working on the paperwork I've got to turn in for this resignation."

"Actually," Saehara continued, pushing himself up from his post leaning against the wall, stepping nearer the boy, "I did have something I wished to ask before you left."

"Proceed then."

Crossing his arms, he did just that. "Why are you really quitting the force?"

Satoshi blinked once, twice, three times in succession. "…Excuse me?" He blinked again, still registering the question. "My…real reason?"

"Yes—real reason. Implying that your excuse that you simply wish to focus more time on your life outside of the police is a lie. Or rather, an effort to divert attention from your true reason behind leaving."

"Then that implication would be wrong, Saehara-san. This post is leading me nowhere, and there are many other aspects of childhood, as you heard from the group earlier, that I would like to indulge in—"

"So you're saying you're bored with chasing Dark, is that it? That he's frustrating you?"

Satoshi flushed and clenched a fist, "I—I said nothing of the sort!"

"Then why?" the detective pressed further, "I already told you how much it took to get you on the force—let alone get you in the position you held. Yeah, I'll admit I thought it was just favoritism from your father, but…I dunno, there's always seemed to be some kind of…private feud or something between you and Dark." The flush in Satoshi's face darkened, and he averted his eyes.

"That thief," he continued, "I'm smart enough to know he's not normal—despite what some of the officers under me might imply." His attempt at humor was lost on the teen, and he continued, frowning, "Flying in and out with those damned wings of his as if he'd been flitting around for ages, and I don't even want to know how he pulled some of those jobs he did—it's almost like he's not even human…But still—he's got to be something important for them to pull in someone like you to command the case. And all I want to know is why you'd abandon all this. What's happened that's making you run away—"

"I am not running away," Satoshi was quick to snap, and Saehara jerked back involuntarily at the sharp remark, rendering the boy almost instantly remorseful for his tone. "I'm not running away. I just—have other things I want to focus on, things that are more important than chasing phantom thieves."

Saehara raised an eyebrow, "…Something more important than upholding the law and trying to bring a felon to justice?"

Satoshi almost laughed at his typical good-guy naïveté. Thinking that things were as simple as black and white in this case when it couldn't be any further from the truth. "I wouldn't be too sure, Saehara-san, that Dark is going to simply be allowed to roam free just because I'm leaving the force."

Saehara's other eyebrow joined the first in rising up, "Oh?" He almost laughed, adding jokingly, "You're not turning vigilante on us, are you?"

"Hardly," Satoshi rebutted, "But…greater forces than you or I will, I'm sure, still be on guard to be sure that he doesn't run wild…"

The detective shook his head, "…I can never get a straight answer from you, can I?"

With a wan smile, Satoshi turned on his heel and headed for the front lobby, throwing back, "Maybe I'll tell you when you're a bit older."

Author's Notes: As promised, here's your weekly update! Thanks as always to my betas, Lara and Emi, and my partners-in-crime, Penchy and Jocy. Next update: in one week!