Okay, now I have to clear up all that out of order stuff. Yeah. I'll do that now.

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Chrno was walking down the road, still unable to wipe the silly grin off his face. He had gotten permission quickly and easily from his superior to take this case as his own, and at the moment his foresight didn't extend past seeing Rosette for the first time in centuries.

He knew how stupid he was being, not even considering any of the problems that could arise from this meeting. All he knew, all he cared about, was that the face he would see was the face that had greeted him through his computer screen: the face of his Rosette, the girl that died prematurely in his arms, the same moment they were reunited. If he didn't know for a fact that he would see her soon, the sole thought would have left him crying again. He hadn't been one to cry at anything, until the sorrow he'd hid for centuries surfaced in her three-year-old face, only to have it torn away and hidden from him.

His fist tightened in anger, but the many ways the criminal hiding her was going to be punished was second in his list of priorities.

Rosette…

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"You're honestly sure that was a good idea?"

He spoke with all the enthusiasm of a dreary businessman, sipping his coffee almost robotically. "You never know what could happen. He seemed... really enthusiastic. I've never seen him like that, it's obviously a personal issue. You know we look down on letting people deal with things that affect them personally."

Another man, blond-haired, looking about twenty, paced the room.

"And who are you to stop him? He knows the system and procedures better than both of us combined. How many actual cases have you dealt with in your lifetime?"

The man frowned, setting the coffee mug on the table. "You have a point."

His statement was met with some silence, before the blond-haired man spoke again.

"It is odd though. The man has been nothing but professional for god knows how many years. Only something of real importance to him could make him abandon usual procedure."

"I agree. So, what should we do about it?"

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The principal of Riverside elementary and secondary school fixed Rosette with one of his worst glares. Every day he would see every possible form of problem with his students: from brutal beatings, racism, sexism and more all the way down to refusing to eat lunch and not sharing. But this, this was new. The look the blonde girl across the desk was giving him was almost as intimidating as his own.

She had no ID. Well, the equivalent of none. She had a battered card, white with the picture of a grinning three-year-old girl in the middle, and a single green stripe running diagonally down the middle. A child's face on a old-design card. Surely this wasn't her most recent ID card! You couldn't buy a pack of gum from the corner store with that kind of ID.

And she was still indignant about her teachers refusal to let her in on the ancient card. Without saying a word, he picked up his phone. This was government business.

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Short chapter, real short, but I've been stuck on this FOREVER! I need ideas, ideas, I'm having an idea competition. If you have an idea for the story, put it up, and I may use it. If I do, your name will be mentioned with much gratitude. If I don't, your name will probably still be mentioned with much gratitude for inspiring me, or just for being supportive. And if I get no reviews at all (which actually seems really likely), then I'll... possibly start a deeper plot. Possibly.