Disclaimer: Random Court Man #1: Say it.

Me: (sigh) I don't own Beybalde.

Random Court Man #1: And?

Me: (sigh) Or the characters.

Random Court Man #1: AND?

Me: (sighs exasperatedly) And I'll stop making the T-shirts! Jeeze!
You legal guys are SO picky!

Author's Note: Well, here's the next chapter. I think this one is a little shorter, but I was disappointed in myself with the last chapter, so I decided to try and take things a little slower. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys! Happy Readings!

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How It Used To Be

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"Why didn't we hear?" "Someone should have heard." "I heard he was involved in that young girl's death too." "Poor boy." "Terrible what happened." "Such a nice young man." "Awful. And right outside our homes." "So young . . . he killed that man, you know. . . "

They whispered. Everyone whispered. Hushed little phrases danced like mischievous pixies around my head every time I passed people. My presence seemed to dictate the atmosphere and commanded the eyes of those around me. I always knew when they were speaking, for their voices would grow quiet, and they would stop talking completely. Their eyes would follow me, and suddenly I would catch the faintest whisper. A soft little word or two followed by an eager response, and then flowed a procession of whispers that would rise in volume, gallivanting into a sort of hiss.

I would merely keep walking, allowing them to believe that their secrets were still their own. I would go up to my apartment and sit numbly on one of the kitchen chairs, staring off into a vacant space, hoping that the coldness in that place would seem warm in comparison to reality. Sometimes, I feared I would find myself trapped within that nonexistent void, but mostly, I feared the fact that I didn't necessarily fear that fear. Sometimes . . . I thought I embraced it.

It was on one of those days that I heard a very light knocking on my door. The landowners had immediately changed the locks and given me new keys, but strangely, I hadn't locked it since that night. So, there it remained, open to the world. I would let them come.

"It's unlocked," I said, raising my voice only to a necessary point.

Hesitance acted as the first intruder but was followed swiftly by the door being lightly pushed to the side. I watched patiently as a familiar, slender frame made its way inside. I smiled a half smile that I didn't believe I had in me.

"Hello," I said softly.

Mou nodded and returned the smile, though hers seemed grim. "Hello."

I motioned for her to take a seat, and she did.

"Would you like something to drink, detective?" I asked, staring at her evenly.

"No, thank you."

I nodded slightly.

"Rei, we have a positive I.D. on the guy who attacked you."

"We both knew who it was, Mou," I replied matter-of-factly.

She shrugged. "Still, it was uncertain. The impact damaged his face."

My gaze stayed locked with hers, but there was no animosity, no friendliness, or discomfort. There was nothing but . . . nothing.

"We both know who it was," I repeated after a slight pause.

She nodded. "I suppose, but Lake is dead now. He can't come after you or anyone else again."

At her statement, I broke our stare and looked at my folded hands in my lap. "He's dead because I killed him."

"It was self-defense. None of this was your fault."

Something within me sort of snapped, and a chuckle breached my lips, floating into the stiff atmosphere. It seemed a discordant sound against the silence, and it was unsettling to both of us. Yet, something willed my tongue to form words that I did not permit the birth of. I listened to them as though they were not mine, for though I could not claim them, I saw their truth.

"ALL of this was MY fault," I said.

Mou shook her head. "No it--"

My head lifted sharply, eyes catching her gaze once more. That time, however, I could feel sparks. "I set myself up for everything that happened. I went to that damned club; I lost the keys to my apartment. Lost them when I KNEW someone might be after me!" My voice rose. "STUPIDITY caused EVERYTHING that happened and now . . ." My voice lowered once again. Those sparks began to diminish. "Now someone is dead, because I killed them. Whether it was accidental or in self-defense . . . it doesn't matter. I still took someone's life. I stole from someone what is no man's right to take. Everything . . . is my fault." I finished, voice having entered the realms of a whisper.

She was quiet for a time. We watched each other stoically.

"How are your wounds?" She asked abruptly.

I shrugged, an action that reminded me of their existence. I was very . . . "Sore. Uncomfortable. Irritating . . . but I'm healing."

She smiled slightly. "What'd the chiropractor say about your neck?"

I grimaced at the memory. "He whacked me pretty good, which was painful, and explained to me that I should avoid making sudden movements like breathing sharply, turning my head sharply, and apparently I can't fall down the stairs for ATLEAST another three weeks, which, I'll be honest with ya, was news that absolutely ruined my plans for the weekend," I said sarcastically.

Mou chuckled. "At least you haven't lost your charm."

Her words brought a genuine smile to my lips.

"Listen, Rei. Lake was all we had in the investigation of the girl's death. Since he's gone, you're pretty much home free. I don't think you need to worry too much anymore. Maybe, you can get your life back to normal soon."

I nodded. "That would be great."

"Yeah . . . well listen. I'm off. I've got some paper work to fill out and a family to get home to. Maybe I'll see you around."

Mou stood and walked to the door. I stayed where I was, watching her graceful movements.

"Bye," I said.

She smiled before disappearing, closing the door behind her.

My spirits had been lifted a little, though I still had the sense of nagging depression clasping to the periphery of my mind. Everything had been my fault.

I climbed to my feet and padded quietly into my room. It was no longer my safe haven, for I had destroyed its peaceful sanctity by allowing him to invade it. A humorless smile tugged at the corners of my lips as my eyes passed over the window. It had been fixed almost immediately, and the spindly cracks that had crawled up the walls where I had made impact so many times were no longer present. No one who didn't know what had happened would ever be able to tell that something had. No one would know that a man had died on the street below.

I made my way to the bathroom sink and turned on the water, letting it pour from the spout until I saw hot steam rising upward. I let my hands slid under the water, wincing as the heat bit at my skin. Despite the pain, it felt good. Didn't those hands deserve punishment? They had stolen; taken what was not theirs. And anyway, it felt different, the water. It was hot, sending flaming tendrils of pain to wrap tightly around my hands and up my wrists.

I watched as the skin began to tint red. The hot water was a contrast to what the rain had been like that night. It had been cold, dribbling on to me and bringing with it threads of empty shivers that tied knots all over my body.

I slowly lifted my head and found myself faced with my reflection. I stared. That face looking at me was . . . me.

Slowly, I pulled my hands from the water and lifted them upward so that my warm fingertips could gently caress my cheeks. I had taken pride in that face before, but at that moment I was squinting slightly in an attempt to find out why. What was so glorious about it?

My fingers ran over smooth tan skin that blanketed high, defined cheekbones. There was a pair of full, pale lips and an easily sloping jaw and nose. Framing the heart shaped face was a black, silky mass of glossy hair; its dark color greatly accentuated slightly slanted eyes that were a shocking color of amber-gold.

And so I stared and could find nothing worth looking at. What was there in physical appearance? Radiance on the outside said nothing in regards to what a person was like on the inside. Perhaps that was why I could never keep a relationship. Suppose my physical radiance distracted from the dimness inside of me. Maybe I was simply a shallow person. I did have a tendency to use people.

I remembered back to that night. In my mind I watched Lake fall from the window, as I had done a million times since it had happened. I recalled staring at his unmoving form for sometime before easing myself away from the window. As if in a daze I had walked from my apartment and taken the elevator down stairs to the lobby. I hadn't spared a glance to the young doorman. I'd merely walked outside into the pouring rain and down the street a bit, that man's body constantly in my view.

When I had reached him, I'd eased myself downward so that I had been kneeling right next to him. He had been laying face down, blood pouring from an unseen wound in his head. His arms, despite the fall, seemed as though they had been placed with care into their positions at his side, but his legs had looked mangled, as though they had been twisted around one another and then thrown randomly in separate directions. My eyes had watched as the blood stained water carried on down the street and into the sewers.

I remembered reaching outward toward the red stream, as if trying to prevent it from going, but the water had passed over my hands, swiveling expertly through my fingers. When I had lifted them, wet and dripping from the water, they had been tinted red.

My ears had picked up on sirens off in the distance, yet I had paid them no heed. I'd merely allowed myself to fall backwards from my kneeling position and tucked my knees up under my chin, simply waiting for them to come, or maybe even for him to turn over and stare up at me with a bloody face. I hadn't known. I'd just . . . sat there, cold, wet, and waiting.

When the police had arrived, unbridled chaos seemed to ensue. People from the building had poured into the streets, clad in their nightgowns and pajamas and unlaced tennis shoes, because God forbid that their fuzzy slippers become damp. I hadn't looked at them very much, only seeing a few of them out of the corner of my eye. Their faces had varied from horrified, shocked, curious, and stoic.

All the while the police had been bustling around, reminding me of cockroaches when a light had been turned on, but it had not been very bright. It had been loud. Sirens had blared, and voices, so many voices, spoke at once. I'd done nothing, for my eyes had seemed pasted to the man, the one lying dead on the coarse, cold concrete.

I'd heard footsteps draw closer to me. "Who are you?" A commanding voice had asked.

I hadn't looked at him. "Rei Kon," I'd said quiet and evenly.

"What happened here?"

Slowly, I had turned my head, tilting it upward slightly, ignoring the pain that shot through my neck. I'd stared at the owner of the voice and replied simply, "I killed him."

Then, I had resumed my position staring at the dead body.

What happened after that was fairly predictable. I was taken to the station, and Mou was contacted. Apparently, my earlier, unfinished call to the police had given them enough reason to come and check things out, or at least, that was how it had been explained to me.

Afterwards, they began questioning me. I told them about everything that had happened, but it felt as though my mind was working slowly. My words came out jumbled and clumsy, I had stuttered, and constantly lost track of what I'd been saying.

When they finished, Mou told me that I couldn't go back home due to the police work being done, and she'd said that she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of leaving me alone anyway. She had called Max and explained the situation. Naturally, my blonde friend had rushed to the station. The first thing he'd done when he saw me was to envelope me in a great hug. I'd returned it limply.

He'd taken me to his apartment and set me up with some bedding. I'd climbed under the covers and fallen asleep immediately, dreading what consciousness would bring the next morning.

Despite my wishing, the sun had risen the next day, bringing with it bold headlines in the paper, several phone calls from Tyson, Kenny, and even Kai asking if I was okay. Doctor appointments were made, as the day had also brought along a healthy dose of pain. It had been that very morning that I had looked in the mirror, seen a bruised face, and wondered silently where my pride had scurried off too.

I hadn't been able to look at myself positively since that morning. So as I stared at my own bathroom mirror, turning the memories over in my head, something happened. I felt an unidentifiable wave of emotion wash over my body.

I jerked my hands away from my face in disgust and quickly shut off the still running water. What exactly was I doing for myself just standing in my bathroom and feeling sorry? Of course I was upset that I had killed Lake, but . . . but.

I couldn't come up with an excuse. I had KILLED Lake. I had TAKEN someone's life. Murder in self-defense was still murder.

Suddenly, my brief wind of confidence died, and once again I was a human . . . not even a human . . . a HALF human standing in a bathroom contemplating my reflection. Pitiful.

"Pitiful."

I gasped and whipped around, wincing at the pain that shot through my neck. The doctor's warning played through my head in a bout of irony that I didn't find at all humorous.

I stared wide-eyed at the one who'd had enough guts to say the very word that I had been thinking.

"K- Kai?" I asked, as if there was anyone else that I knew with mahogany eyes and bluish, unruly hair.

He raised an etched eyebrow upward, a condescending look on his sharp features. It was a look that reminded me why I didn't like him very much sometimes.

"Tell me, are all neko-jins absent minded?" He asked suddenly.

I blinked. "Excuse me?" I asked.

Obviously, I was plagued by depression, but Kai never failed to draw anger from me.

"Your door was unlocked, Rei," He answered seriously.

I shrugged. "Oh."

I looked away from him as I breezed past him, exiting the bathroom and my bedroom. I made my way to the kitchen, though I wasn't sure why. I felt uncomfortable for some reason. I wasn't sure what to do with myself with Kai there, so I merely took a seat at the table and sat staring downward at my folded hands.

Naturally, Kai followed me. He stood directly across from me, arms folded over his chest. I could feel his eyes boring into me, stripping me of my skin, my bones, of everything, and he looked straight into my soul. At least, that was how it felt. I began to fidget absently. Why was it that he had to make everything so damn uncomfortable?

I sighed. Maybe I was just feeling vulnerable, irritable. It was possible. After all, just a few days ago I had found jumping behind a bush and getting laid by the guy to be a peachy activity. It was me; it simply had to be.

Clearing my throat slightly, I stood up and attempted look like he wasn't causing me discomfort.

"Um, do . . . you want something . . . to drink?" I asked unsteadily.

Kai did nothing. He merely stared at me with those eyes and that face . . . but he had a nice face. It was strong. He was strong, stronger than I. Kai had a certain air about him that commanded authority and even respect. He was talented and endlessly fascinating.

Briefly, an image of the night I had seen him in the club flashed in my mind. I recalled his eyes that night and how they had looked so satiated with lust, fire, and that undeniable passion that seemed to encompass my senses . . . and my senses were very sensitive. . .

"No," He said suddenly.

I jumped slightly, as I had been much too enamored with my own thoughts to have any idea of what he was talking about.

"Uhm, what?" I asked, my voice oddly shaky.

He regarded me with the same stony expression, yet it seemed as though there was slight curiosity within it somewhere.

"No, I don't want anything to drink." He said slowly.

I had the feeling that he thought my IQ had dropped in the past five minutes.

I nodded numbly. "Oh, okay."

Silence. There was always silence when it came to Kai, but I wasn't in the mood for that awkward silence, nor was I in the mood to tarry patiently for him to break it.

"Kai," I started. "What are you doing here?"

I could count the number of times he came to ANYONE'S place of residence.

Kai's crossed arms fell to his sides as he sat down in the chair opposite the one I had been sitting in. He placed his elbows on the tabletop and said nothing. He only stared at me, and eventually I figured out that he was waiting for me to sit down as well. I sighed as I did so and looked at him expectantly once the task was carried out.

"Max was," Kai started but then paused.

He glanced away from me for a moment and then looked me straight in the eyes. I watched steadily, curiously as his reddish orbs searched around my own. What odd behavior. He seemed almost nervous.

His mouth opened slightly as if he was going to continue, but he closed it quite quickly.

Kai never spoke very much, so when he DID say something, it simply had to be good. Perhaps that was one reason why everyone listened to him. So, it was quite uncharacteristic of him to be stumbling over his words at that moment.

I waited as patiently as possible for him to continue. My eyes observed him as his tongue quickly breached his lips and lapped at the lower one. I watched his throat form that gentle, pulsating wave as he swallowed and took note of the rise and fall of his well-toned chest.

Suddenly, I was reminded of WHY I had so enjoyed the activity of jumping behind the bushes with him. Being with Kai was different than being with other people, because Kai was . . . talented, so to speak. Sex with him always took my mind off of . . . well, everything and anything. With him, I was able to let myself focus on the pleasurable pain and the sweating, moaning, and gentle and rough caresses. It was a simple task that didn't require a bunch of stressful thinking. My mind could simply float in a vast sea of sensations, while my body did what IT was best at.

Suddenly, I saw his lips moving, and I was forced to tear myself away from those sultry, entertaining thoughts.

"Max was concerned about you, and he called me to come check on you." Kai said. He added then, "I was around the neighborhood."

Gently, I shook my head still trying to free it of my previous thoughts.

"Concerned? Why?" I questioned.

He hesitated again. ". . . Because, Rei, Mariah tried to call you, and you didn't pick up, so she called Max."

I tensed up. Mariah? She had called? Why did I NOT like where this conversation was going? I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing and stared at him.

"Why didn't you pick up the phone, Rei?" Kai asked, tilting his head, his voice sounding a little softer than usual. It gave him a certain child like appearance that would have given me the urge to pinch his 'wittwe cheeky weekies' if, of course, his wasn't acting so weird.

I thought about his question. Why hadn't I answered? Oh yes, I remembered. "I was in the bathroom, I . . . I guess I didn't hear it." I said cautiously.

He sighed. "I wish you had," he replied.

That really shook me up. Bordering pleadingly I asked, "Kai, what's wrong?"

"Rei . . . Kevin and Gary are dead."

I froze. All I could hear was shattering glass . . . and it sounded so familiar.