Chapter 16

Dusk Falls

Hours had passed since they left Tamura in the care of Akiyama and Sakura Clan agents. It was at the time that the terrorist attack had occurred, and the way back to LeBlanc was blocked by police. No wanting to make a scene of themselves, being yakuza types walking around near a yakuza-conspired terrorist attack, the group made their way back to Ryuji's small apartment on the opposite end of Kamurocho at his suggestion.

The group sat down in the middle of the small, one room apartment, watching the television intently as the news reported constantly on the attack. At the mention of one Sae Niijima, Makoto took it upon herself to start making some ramen on the stove, all her attention being focused on the water and noodles in front of her instead of on the television. She was not trying to be inconspicuous regarding her reasons, and everyone thusly let her be as she continued to prepare the food.

The news anchors had spent the last hour recycling much of the same information they had been since the attack. It seemed there was little new information to be gleaned from the events; all attackers had either slipped away out of the city or died in the battle. What little footage they were able to air on public television left all viewers across the city afraid, including the young yakuza and their friends crammed in the apartment.

Makoto finally looked back to the television, seeing a shot of a police officer being carried on a stretcher into an ambulance. He was bleeding profusely through the bandages wrapped around his midsection, and his body was completely limp. "It's always much worse in person," she remarked, drawing the attention of her new friends. She continued to speak with her eyes fixated on the news rather than meeting her friends' gazes. "My father always warned… me about that when we would see crime reports on the news." There was a pause in the middle of that statement. The nature of it was understood by all present. "It's always so much worse in prison," she brought her head back down, watching the water boil as her voice caught in her throat.

Makoto then felt a hand on her shoulder, soft and dainty, caring. It was Ann, smiling down at her, though the smile faded when she saw a stray tear fall down Makoto's cheek. "She got out okay," Ann whispered to her reassuringly. "We all saw it. She turned out fine."

Makoto nodded, then came another tear, which she wiped away with her hand. "It might have been close though," she said in a hoarse whisper that hurt her to speak, the words barely escaping her throat. "You only get so many," she said before her voice trailed off, her expression becoming more closed off. Ann looked away as well, at a complete and utter loss for a response.

The boys watched the scene unfold awkwardly, sympathy and sadness riddled on their faces as they did. The silence was broken by Makoto letting out a choked sob in her throat, and Yusuke then spoke up afterward. "Sakura has protected this city for decades," he said quietly, though with some genuine confidence. "He will continue to do so in these… troubled times, I assure you." He stood to his feet, catching Makoto's gaze as everyone looked at him. "And we will keep you safe as well," he told Makoto with a steely expression. "I can promise you that."

A half smile came to Makoto's face as she wiped away another tear. The young man spoke with such bluntness, though too with apparent conviction. They had known each other not twenty-four hours, and yet he was pledging himself and the others to her safety for but a single moment of weakness. She bowed her head to him, and intended to say with respect "Thank you," but it came out as little more than another choked whisper. Yusuke did not seem to mind though, for he bowed to her in turn respectfully.

Ryuji got to his feet as well and looked out his window toward the city, taking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. "Doesn't look too crazy from here," he said flatly. "Wouldn't even know what was happening if I was here all day and didn't watch the news. Yusuke's right though, Niijima. Sakura's not gonna take this shit laying down. He's gonna strike back, I'm telling ya. It'll be like fumigating a nest of rats in his house: quick and efficient."

"You seem to have a lot of faith in him," said Makoto. "How did you come to be in his service anyway?"

Ryuji blew out a puff of his cigarette into the evening breeze, then turned around and leaned against the windowsill, holding his cigarette up near his face. To Makoto and Ann, who had known him in high school, as he stood there slouched and contemplative in the light of the sun starting to set over the horizon, he looked more mature than ever they had seen him before. It was intimidating, but impressive. "Came here after Kamoshida fucked up my leg and got me kicked out of Shujin," he began, his explanation coming out matter of fact, nonchalant. "Knew a guy back in Shibuya who lived out here – was a street racer, if you can believe it. I'd seen him race a few times, and we were only a couple years apart, and managed to meet at one of his wins. We weren't great friends or anything, but I figured I might still be able to get some help from him.

Turned out he raced for the Clan, and Iwai was his go-between. They'd take a cut of the races, and he would get better cars and mechanics. Simple shit. When my leg healed up, he even taught me how to race a bit, both for speed and drifting. I missed going as fast as I could on the track team, pushing my body to the limit; this was a good way to emulate it. Spent a lot of time on the track with him, learning everything I could. This guy and me got pretty close, until he took a tumble in his car and the fucking engine exploded as he rolled over."

"Holy shit," Makoto remarked.

"What happened?" asked Akira.

"Someone paid off one of our guys to fuck with the gas line on the engine, even screwed up the suspension right before the race. The car was a bomb on wheels. Suspension gave out, he lost control, rolled into a ditch and the car went up in flames. His body was charred by the time the firefighters got to it. I went to Iwai about it, and he brought me to Sakura; first time I ever actually met the old man. I told him what happened, and he said he'd help me investigate if I swore to join the Clan. Apparently, they liked my work on the track, and I sure as hell wasn't going back home anymore. I took him up on it without a second thought, and Iwai and I tracked down the guy who got my friend killed. We kneecapped him with baseball bats, then went to the sleazy manager of another racer who was trying to fix the races in his driver's favor. We burned down his office up the highway, made him restart from nothing. His driver quit, and I ended up spending a lot more time with the Clan than the racetrack. Haven't been to a race in about six months now, honestly."

"You never told me you were a racer," said Akira.

"Well, I only actually participated in a few races before I got pulled into collections. Honestly, it depresses me to think about, since God knows if I'll ever get behind the wheel again. That, and the fact that my friend was killed. Racing just ain't a very fun topic for me anymore."

"If it's that important to you," added Ann, "and I can tell it is, then you'll find a way back into it, Ryuji. You've always been persistent when you really want to, if nothing else." She gave a light smile his way. "I've always found that admirable about you."

Ryuji could not help a smile appearing on his face as well, but also did nothing to fight it. "I could say the same of you, but thanks. Really." Ryuji looked back out the window toward the city, in the general direction of LeBlanc. "If you guys wanna get headin' back, the way should be clear by now. I mean, not that I'd kick you out of my place or anything, but it's a bit cramped for six people to stay the night."

"We should get back then," said Makoto resolutely. Her sorrow over her sister seemed to have vanished, but no one believed that was the case. "We're going to have a busy day tomorrow, best get some sleep while we can."

"I agree," added Yusuke. "I think I will be taking up lodging at LeBlanc as well tonight. My home is well out of our way, and as such would be a waste to go home only to come back in first thing tomorrow."

"Like Sojiro is gonna say no to you," said Akira as he got to his feet. "Let's get going and hit the hay then, yeah? I'll bet we're all pretty tired.

"Don't have to tell me twice," said Ann.

They gathered their things, with Ryuji stowing a small circular metal tin in his inside coat pocket. They hailed two taxis, with Ryuji, Mishima and Yusuke taking up the first, leaving Akira with Ann and Makoto in the second. For whatever reason, Makoto deigned to sit with Ann, who was happy to oblige. Akira did not refuse the opportunity to sit with them.

He had a window seat, with Makoto at the other end and Ann in between. The taxi driver was quiet the whole way, not asking any questions other than what was necessary. Even now, hours after the attack, the roads were still congested most of the way back into Kamurocho proper. The trip was slow going, giving the young adults plenty of time to think about the recent events of their lives.

Akira and Ann consistently looked Makoto's way to check on her. Her eyes always looked out the window, lazily shifting focus between the pedestrians, the brightly lit restaurants and nightlife establishments, and the cars passing by. Her chin rested on her hand as she looked out, listening to the soft jazz playing on the radio. None of them wanted to hear the news that night, and the cabby never turned the dial to such a station.

They all quietly nursed bruises and scratched they had gotten from the day's fight. Akira rubbed his chest where Hayashi had punched him, Ann massaged her right shoulder and arm, and Makoto would occasionally rub her left thigh and her neck. All in all, they were only a bit beat up, far better than they could have been, and that was something Akira felt he had taken for granted until this moment. He shook out his hand, still feeling a dull soreness throb under his knuckles, but then stopped when he felt Ann lean against him. Her head did not rest on his shoulder, but her body weight did rest against him as she rubbed Makoto's back in silence, who closed her eyes contentedly at her touch. Their expressions were sad, tired, but there was a soft comfort found in such a moment, just letting each other's body rest for a brief stint against each other. They leaned on each other, supported by their strength as they had earlier that day, and Akira suspected they would do so for a while now.

He could feel Ann's body heat through their jackets, and he nearly fell asleep before they got to the hotel. So too did Ann and Makoto nearly fall to slumber before the cab stopped. The jazz was quiet, the sun had just set, and there was the slightest hint of peace to be felt for the first time in a while…

Akira pulled his friends aside to a corner of the lobby before going up the elevator. They sat down around a coffee table before Akira spoke quietly. "I don't want any of you to talk about whatever happened me today."

"What do you mean?" asked Ryuji. "This is big, man! He might know something about it!"

"And that's why I want no one to talk about it ever," said the young man. "Sojiro wants me to be his hero; at least, I think. Well, what I want is to get out of here as quick as possible and go home. If he knows about this, then it will probably make that much harder to do. Who knows what he'll try if he knows I've got some kind of talent? If anything, I'll ask my mom about it when I get home. Until then, not a word to anyone about anything. Got it?" There was hesitation before they all nodded. "Okay, good. I appreciate it, guys."

"Akira?" asked Ann. "Are you really sure about this? What if he can help you with this? Maybe help you get new powers or something, I don't know. But anything he can give you might end up saving your life."

"A life spent in his service isn't a life I want to live," he said sternly. "We're all going to make it out of this, including me. And I'm going to do it in a way that will leave me well shut of Kamurocho, the yakuza, all of this forever. I'm not going to let anything keep me here after this job is done."

Ryuji looked the slightest bit offended at that. His nose crinkled, his eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms. "A shame, really," he said.

"Don't give me that, Ryuji," Akira replied. "This doesn't have anything to do with you, you know that."

"I know, it's just… you've gotten pretty good at this stuff. It'll be a shame to see you go. You are a hero, after all, even if it's not the kind of hero the Boss wants you to be."

Akira nodded, looking to the floor. "Thanks, man." Guilt welled up in stomach, burning him from the inside.

"Don't mention it," Ryuji replied plainly.

Akira then stood to his feet, gingerly rubbing his chest. "I'm going to get the sample to Takemi. Come by the penthouse whenever you guys are washed up if you like, or just get some rest. Whichever floats your boat."

"Heard that," said Ryuji. "I'm going out for a smoke. Anyone wanna come with? I got the good stuff on me right now."

"What kind of good stuff?" asked Mishima.

"I'll show ya," said Ryuji with a smirk. "But we're doing it out back. God help me if I stink up Sakura's place with this."

Yusuke was next to speak. "I think I will go up to the penthouse and freshen up, maybe order some room service. Please call the room if you get puckish, everyone."

"I'm going to wash up too," said Ann. "I still smell like incense, and some sewage."

"I second that," Makoto added. "I'm just glad my nose got used to it, honestly."

Akira smelled his sleeve, then recoiled as his nose crinkled and his eyes narrowed. "Yeah, no kidding. I'll have to get a shower too. Sorry, Takemi," he said, then moved over to the reception desk. "Is Dr. Takemi in?" he asked the receptionist.

"Yes, sir, but she is currently busy," the man replied.

"This will only take a moment. What floor?"

"She may be with a patient, sir."

"And what floor is this patient on? This is important, and Sakura-san needs to hear about this too."

"Well, he is currently out what with the… incident earlier."

"Then Takemi needs to hear about this even more. And this may even have to do with the incident." Akira's expression grew more stern. "What floor?" he asked more slowly.

The receptionist rubbed his eyes with a sigh. "Floor twelve, right below the penthouse. Room 451."

"Thank you," Akira nodded as he turned on his heel toward the elevator, not giving the receptionist time to further delay him, which the man had been preparing to do.

The elevator climbed the floors until the bell dinged and the doors slid open. Immediately to Akira's left was the room "451", which he then knocked on the door of. There was no response for a moment, but then there was a rushed rustling on the other side of the door. It came closer, stopped for a moment, then the door opened and Takemi immediately stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. She appeared frazzled, almost nervous as she recognized the young man.

"What are you doing here!?" she questioned him fervently.

"Looking for you, geez," Akira replied, hoping he had not interrupted anything important. "I've got something you need to look into; a sample of some experimental drug that the Omi Alliance apparently possesses."

"And you could not have just waited for me to be done?"

"If it was anything really serious, there would have been an ambulance on the way, at the very least, and you wouldn't have answered the door. The receptionist didn't seem too concerned, so I figured it would be fine. And Sojiro isn't here, so you're the only person I can give this too." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small bag of RZ-412, holding it in front of his face. "No, I haven't tried, and my friends haven't either, but our informant told us this shit is really bad. Like, Omi members killing anyone who knows about it, bad. But you're in the heart of Sakura territory, under his direct protection. You're the only person we've got that can see what it actually is."

He held out his hand, offering the sample to Takemi. She seemed suspicious of what Akira had just said, but took the sample anyway and put it into the breast pocket of her leather jacket. She sighed before saying, "Fine, I'll look at it. If you do me a quick favor."

Great, another errand. "What do you need?"

"I need you to walk with me back into this room."

Akira took pause at that. "What?"

"I'm going to open this door, you're going to walk inside with me. That's all."

Akira chuckled to himself awkwardly at the implication. "I'm, uh, not entirely sure what you mean, Doc."

"Whatever you're thinking about, it's not that, so don't get excited. Just come on." She opened the door and stepped inside, waiting pensively for Akira to follow. He stepped into the dark hotel room, noticing it was a small villa, additionally noticing that the whole thing was, to put it bluntly, a fucking mess. Takemi may not have exactly been the premier vision of traditional womanly decorum and fashion, but she was far from unkempt in her rocker look and personality. Given this, Akira had little idea as to what exactly he was walking into.

The room was too messy to have been that of a regular guest staying for a couple nights, unless said guest was on a serious bender. The lights were also out, and Takemi did not attempt to turn them on, making Akira feel even more uneasy. "Talk about sketchy," he remarked aloud.

"Hush," Takemi snapped back. "Just be quiet."

"You're not making this seem any better, you know."

"Trust me, I'm not enjoying this any more than you are." Takemi rounded a corner and came upon a bedroom door. She knocked on it and received no response. She knocked again, and said, "It's me. Can you please unlock the door?"

The hell is going on?

The lock of the doorknob clicked and Takemi motioned to Akira to stay put. He did, and she entered the bedroom. There were whispers from behind the door, and Akira leaned his ear against it to hear better, but the words were too muffled to make out much of anything. Suddenly, the doorknob clicked again, and Akira nearly tripped over himself trying to get back to a less conspicuous posture and position.

Takemi stood in the doorway, looking strangely more sad than anything. With a pleading tone and gaze, she asked Akira, "Will you please stay here for a few minutes? I'd like you to meet someone."

"What do you mean?"

"Just please say yes, Akira."

Akira paused, looking at the room around him. He had only spoken to Takemi a couple times in total, but there was an unmistakable and pleading seriousness in her delivery that made him feel inclined to at least see what she needed help with. "Then yes," he said.

Takemi nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, turning her head back to the door. She opened it, and said, "You can come out. He's a friend."

Akira peered into the dark bedroom, seeing the blue light of a television dimly illuminating a floor, bed and desk that were somehow even more cluttered than the main area of the villa. Then a small black shape shifted its way into the doorway slowly. The person did not even meet Akira's shoulders, and even with a very oversized sweater covering their torso and baggy sweats on their legs, he could tell that this person was not only small in height, but in every other stature as well.

As the person came closer, her was able to tell that it was a teen girl before she hid behind Takemi, not unlike a small child cowering behind her mother in the presence of a stranger. "It's alright," Takemi assured her. "He's a friend of mine, remember? You can talk to him." The girl shook her head no behind Takemi's back, and the doctor then tried to hide her sigh of frustration.

Akira could hardly make heads or tails of the situation he was currently in, but whatever was happening, some part of his protective, empathetic instincts prompted him to speak before he truly realized what he was saying. "It's okay," he said in a lighter, breathy tone. "I'm her friend, really. I'm Akira," he touched his chest lightly, as if any kind of sudden or harsh movement, even not touching her, would scare her off. "What's your name?"

The girl shifted her weight behind Takemi, pushing her face into the doctor's back. "Come on," said Takemi, "you're a big girl. You can tell him your name. He's not going to hurt you."

The girl very slowly peeked over Takemi's shoulder, and Akira caught his first glimpse of those two large eyes of hers. They were bloodshot and twitchy, and all around the eyes was dark, evident even without any of the lights on. He could barely make out a gauntness to her cheeks, and he was left not knowing what to think about what he was seeing, save that that empathetic sadness in his instincts rose even more. "Futaba," the girl whispered, barely audible. Her voice was high-pitched and scratchy.

"Good job," Takemi complimented her sweetly.

"It's good to meet you, Futaba," said Akira with a smile. "Is this your apartment?" Futaba nodded slowly. "What are you watching on the TV, Futaba?"

Her fingers clenched onto Takemi's shoulders tighter for a moment, then relaxed before she muttered, "Anime."

"Anime? You like anime?" She nodded again. "Well, I like anime too." He gave her a smile, and she looked away, but seemingly not entirely out of fear. The lessons about caring for others, especially in moments of weakness, that his mother had taught him all his life were ringing in his ears as he looked at Futaba's eyes. He had yet to even see the girl in her entirety, but he knew something about this was not right, that much was obvious, and Takemi had brought him here to help in some way. He was granted an opportunity to help someone in need, and he was going to take it. "Maybe you and I should watch some anime together sometime? I'm always looking for new stuff to get into," he smiled wider.

Futaba then stepped back to the doorway, but Takemi did not move out of the way to expose her. In the dark, Akira saw a glimpse of her face, confirming that she was indeed very gaunt looking and obviously malnourished. But he could not deny that even with the thinness of her cheeks and darkness of her eyes, she was a very pretty young thing. To his surprise, she nodded yes after a moment. "Maybe," she muttered.

Takemi felt like she would burst with happiness, but reduced her reaction to a shallow nod. "That would be very good for you, Futaba," she said. "Now, get some rest. Call me if you need anything."

"It was nice meeting you, Futaba," said Akira. "I hope we can watch some anime together sometime soon."

Futaba hid behind the door, her fingers trembling as she held the frame. She made a sort of quick humming noise in her throat, then whispered, "Night."

"Goodnight, Futaba," said Takemi. The bedroom door closed, and she led Akira back into the hall without a word.

"What. The hell. Was that?" Akira pressed after closing the door behind him.

Takemi rubbed her eyes with a long, exasperated sigh. "That, Akira, was what I wanted your help with."

"I gathered that. But who was that girl? And what was wrong with her?"

Takemi crossed her arms, shaking her head. "That girl is Futaba… Sakura," she admitted slowly. "She's Sojiro's granddaughter."

"She's what?! His granddaughter?"

"Keep it quiet, for God's sake!" Takemi chided him. "Yes, she's his granddaughter. She's lived here for years now, and, well, you saw her living conditions."

"She's the granddaughter of a yakuza boss and she lives like that?"

"Yes. Because said boss allows it."

"But why!?"

Takemi looked prepped to slap the young man, but her frustration subsided just long enough for her to stay her hand. "Patient confidentiality," she said. "I can't tell you."

"Of fucking course," Akira crossed his arms.

"It's complicated, Akira! I already risked so much just doing that, and I'm not going to risk any more for myself, you, or Futaba. What I needed you to do was give her some human interaction that wasn't me. And honestly, thank you for offering to watch anime with her. Good work."

"So she's a shut-in or something?"

"More or less. And I am being a good doctor and trying to treat her condition, hopefully cure it. That's where you come in. If you ever get the opportunity to be there for her in any way, I want you to take it. It means a lot to me and Sojiro, even if he would never admit it. You're my prescription for her from now on, and I pray it will actually work."

"You're just throwing me into doing counseling for this?"

"No, I'm asking you to be a friend to a girl in need whom I very much care about. I'll help any way I can, of course, but she needs something much more than she's getting right now, than she's gotten in years. You, and your friends, if you think it would work, could be just that."

Akira leaned against the wall, staring thoughtfully at the ground. "Maybe Sojiro will tell me what's going on."

"No."

"And why not!?"

"Akira!" Takemi snapped. "I need you to promise me something right now." She put her hands on his shoulders, the anger in her eyes immediately melting to the same pleading sadness he had seen a moment before. "Promise me that you will keep this from Sakura. I will handle this myself. Promise me you'll let me. Promise me right now."

Akira was stunned at her insistence and desperation for a moment. He thought of Futaba then, of her frail, terrified form, and knew Takemi must be doing this with some good reason. He relinquished his frustration with a sigh. "I promise."

Takemi nodded, letting go of the young man. Her shoulders fell, and she wrapped her arms around her midsection. "Thank you, Akira."

"Don't mention it…"

"Now, I need you to go get some rest, okay? Don't talk about this to any of your friends for now. When Sojiro gets back, I'll handle this myself. I'll make sure you don't get caught in the crossfire either, promise."

"Are you sure?" Akira asked. "This is sounding really serious. Do you think he'll hurt you?"

"Not a chance in hell; I'm too valuable for him to hurt. Just let me take care of this, okay?"

Akira nodded. "Okay."

The doctor motioned for him to take the elevator first, and that was the last she saw of him that night. It was another two anxious hours before Sojiro returned to LeBlanc, and she had the receptionist tell him to meet her in one of the offices when he did. She only got past the most basic explanation of what had happened when Sojiro's infamous icy glare manifested on his face.

"You did what?" he asked her from across the office room with a sneer.

"Exactly what you pay me too. You want me to be her doctor, to help her, to medicate her. Well, that's exactly what I'm fucking doing right now, Sojiro. You didn't see her when the news broke; she was goddamn manic, bordering on a danger to herself because she was so afraid of what was going to happen to herself and you!"

"And that's why you're here, Takemi!"

"To drug her and keep her sedated to the point she doesn't interfere with your work!?" Takemi walked up to the man, rage burning in her eyes as it did in his.

"TO HELP MY GRANDDAUGHTER WHEN I CAN'T!"

Takemi slapped him across the face hard as she could, which was only enough to leave a red mark on his cheek and barely get a reaction out of him, save for the shock that turned to indignity. "I have cared for her ever since I got here. She has been my patient, in MY CARE since I lost my medical license. I am sorry that I am not a psychiatrist and I can't just magic her trauma away, but I will not allow myself to just keep her filling her with drugs to make her sleep every time there's trouble in this godforsaken city! I want to genuinely help her, and I think she needs genuine human connection, with someone her own age!"

"We are at war, Takemi!"

"AND SHE DOES NOT NEED TO BE PUNISHED FOR IT!" Sojiro, for the first time since she had known him, took a step back. "Punish me, throw me in bed with you, I don't care! Because I know you're not going to take my finger or cast me aside, I'm too important to you and your granddaughter for that. You think she's going to see anyone else other than me? No, and that's the problem. Futaba can't live her life locked away forever. She needs to experience other people, the world at large! Don't – for the love of God, don't! – punish her for your wars and your mistakes anymore than you already have."

Sojiro slammed his fist against the wall he was leaning against, and Takemi did not budge. "You are treading on some very thin ice here," Sojiro glowered at her. "Everything I have ever done for her was to keep her safe."

"But not to keep her happy."

"How dare you?"

"I'm not her mother!" Takemi shouted before Sojiro could continue. There was a pause in their verbal battle, and the doctor felt she may have just gotten the upper hand. "I'm sorry, Sojiro, but I cannot and never will be her mother. But you can at least be her fucking parental figure and do what's best for her. I implore you, Sojiro Sakura," Takemi met his gaze dead on, "let her at least choose to let someone into her life or not. This will help her, I swear to you."

Sojiro's furious expression seemed to wane by the slightest margin. "While we are at war, Takemi?"

"Especially while you are at war. This isn't my battle, and it isn't hers either. Let someone else lift her up as well, if you're not willing to." Takemi turned on her heel and walked to the doorway. She stopped, slouched over as if completely exhausted, and turned back to the Boss. "She needs you, Sojiro. But she needs other people too. Those kids are a pretty good start." The anger on the doctor's face that had mingled with sadness the entire argument then waned entirely toward the latter. "Maybe then she'll get a good night's sleep." Takemi walked out. The door closed, and Sojiro was alone.

His fist clenched, and it began to shake in anger. His nostrils flared, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth. Even the old man's vision became blurry and red. One would think he was preparing to kill the doctor for such egregious and unfathomable insubordination, complete and absolute betrayal. But in truth, this was not the case. It was not the image of the doctor that completely filled his mind.

"Wakaba…" he muttered, nearly snarling. "Yayoi, I swear to you both, it will not happen again."

[Reviews are always welcome. Thank you to all my viewers, commenters, and raters. You make this whole project worthwhile.]