Author's Notes: (Sigh) All that build up to something that could potentially kill the character and have this chapter as a funeral scene just to screw with everyone's head and incite a mob, and very few people cuss me out for being mean to Souji. For shame, all. For shame. Ahh well. I'll do better next time.

Thank you to all for the excellent commentary. This marks probably the most review feedback I've had for any individual chapter to date, and definitely the most follows and faves. And damn but it's a good feeling. This chapter grossed 110 total reviews! So thanks for the responses and, as always, hope what's to follow meets your standards, and the twists remain, well, twisted. And this chapter has a few of those twists in them, so hope you all enjoy them.

As a side note, the age of majority in Japan is currently 20, and this chapter applies that fact later on.

Now go forth. Read, enjoy, comment or review in no particular order. Standard disclaimers apply. And after this you won't need your flashlights and umbrellas. At least not for a while.

Chapter 16

When it rains, it pours. Or so they said. Toyama Yoshiro, who up to that moment had thought the rain was the worst part of the day, wanted to know who 'they' were. Just so he could beat the hell out of them.

He was soaked the moment he dropped his umbrella, and couldn't be bothered to care. What he did care about was that Souji was clutching at his chest and trying to scramble away from him at the same time. Yoshiro had never seen anyone his age look so frightened and so angry at the same time.

"Senpai?" Rise whispered next to him, hand to her mouth. "What's wrong?!"

He should have felt worried. Should have freaked out or been at as much of a loss as Rise. But no. He felt calm, focused, and couldn't see the world around them. His world narrowed familiarly. Yes, he could do this. This he knew. "Rise," he warned, "stay away from him. Give him space." He didn't wonder whose voice that was, so assured and mature. He knew it was his, no matter how alien it still sounded. Instead he watched his friend break down right in front of them. And felt the adrenaline hit his bloodstream.

Souji's near-exhaustible supply of control had abandoned him. One hand was over his heart, shaking like Jell-O in an earthquake, and the other was held up between him and them defensively. His breathing was rapid, far too rapid to be healthy. And, even on his knees, he kept trying to get away from them. Pushing against the wall running along the sidewalk.

Yoshiro dropped into a squat, not getting any closer, and spoke in as comforting a voice as he could. "Souji, it's alright. It's me. You recognize me?"

He didn't answer. Just kept shuffling back and shivering violently.

"How're you feeling?" Yoshiro continued, keeping his voice as calm as possible. Like he would with a cornered dog. "You're clutching your chest. What's wrong?"

"I-it... hurts," Souji choked out. "Feels like I'm- Am I dying? Having a heart attack?!"

That wasn't helping. Yoshiro slid forward a little. "No, you're not having a heart attack."

"Chest hurts. Everything's moving, can't see straight. Where are you?"

Whether Souji couldn't actually see or was just panicked, it confirmed Yoshiro's suspicions. And they weren't pleasant. "I'm right here. I'm coming a little closer, okay?"

Any hint of vulnerability died swiftly under the aggressive snarl that snapped across Souji's face. He was still shaking, but crouched his legs under him. Like a cat about to spring. Yoshiro leaned back, wary of the fury he saw. "Okay, okay. I'll stay here. Just keep talking to me." Souji didn't say anything. He nearly lost his balance when he reached to the side, his hip, over his shoulder. Then reached for whatever it was again. And again. Yoshiro couldn't help the feeling that he was looking for a weapon. Over and over, he muttered 'Get away', sometimes switching languages to what Yoshiro assumed was Korean or Chinese. And some English.

Then, as fast as he found his temper, he doubled over in pain. Gasping and coughing and hacking. His entire body shook, faster and harder. The hand that moved around the most reached out. Imploring. Asking for help. Yoshiro stayed back for a moment, then decided to roll the dice. He slowly moved forward, made sure Souji wouldn't panic (more than he already was), and took the outstretched hand. Cold, bony fingers and wet leather clamped onto his hand like a steel trap.

He squeezed Souji's hand back, just as hard as he was being squeezed. And felt his bones creak under the pressure. But he didn't flinch. Souji held onto him like a pole in a flash flood, and wasn't letting go. "You're alright," Yoshiro continued calmly, moving closer and resting his other hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're fine. You're not going to die."

"Chest feels-" Gasp. "Hurts-"

"I know," Yoshiro responded, still placid and calm. "I know it feels bad. But you're going to be fine."

"I'm- I'll..." He slowed down a little, then started looking around slowly. "I'm... If I'm fine, what about Nanako? Where is she? Is she alright?"

"Nanako?" Megumi asked, looking to Rise, then back to Souji. "No, that wasn't the girl's name."

"Where's Nanako?" Souji demanded. "Is she safe?"

Rise was shivering under her umbrella, and it didn't seem to have to do with the cold. But she spoke anyway, as firmly as she could. "She's fine, Senpai. Nanako-chan's fine. You saved her."

"She's-" It sunk in, and he calmed down a little. "She's alright?"

"Yes, Senpai," Rise whispered. "She's okay now."

As though that were the only thing keeping him upright, he slumped back against the wall, rain streaking down his face like tears as he looked up wistfully. "That... that's good."

He didn't know how long they were there, separated from the world. Minutes or hours, it stretched out forever. Megumi could handle these situations. They weren't new. But Yoshiro was impressed by the steel in Rise's spine. Not that he thought she was weak or a ditzy airhead, but she stood her ground in the face of everything that had happened without hesitating. And he knew it personally: that was rare.

Their little pocket of privacy was interrupted by the arrival of a man in an emergency services uniform, covered in pockets and pouches and a red and white rain slicker. He turned to each of them and bowed swiftly in greeting. "Hello. I'm Kato Shogo, Kofu General Hospital. Is he alright?" The EMT asked, bending down and opening his trauma kit.

"He may have a few bruises from hitting the pavement earlier," Yoshiro reported calmly. Finally; help had arrived. "And he's suffering an acute panic attack. He said his chest hurts, and he's been breathing hard and shaking the entire time. He hasn't tried to stand up yet."

Kato-san looked impressed while he glanced through his kit. "You sound like you have experience with panic attacks."

Images flashed before Yoshiro's eyes before he could stop them. Someone else in the same state. More intense than Souji, and less heroic. Larger. Stronger. Booze and shattered glass. Rocks and broken bones and no blood left. "Yeah," he muttered. "Something like that."

"Well it's a good thing you were here," Kato-san continued, holding two fingers under Souji's chin, looking for a pulse. "It's rare to see anyone with a level head in these situations. Especially someone so young. Does he have any ID?"

Yoshiro blinked at the question. He hadn't thought of that. Rise had, however, and handed Kato a set of plastic cards, Souji's worn but well-made wallet in her hands.

Kato glanced at the insurance card before passing it off to another EMT in passing. He checked his watch, timing Souji's heart rate, and frowned after a minute. "Seta-kun, my name is Kato Shogo. I'm an EMT, and I'm here to help you. Can you tell me what happened?"

Souji stared between Kato and Yoshiro, past them and the sidewalk and road beyond. Every now and again he'd mutter something under his breath, something about Nanako, whoever that was, but never spoke up when Kato asked him to repeat himself.

Kato turned to Yoshiro, eyes troubled. "You said he hit the pavement before. What happened? Witnesses of the crash said he dove into traffic to save a little girl's life."

"That's pretty much what happened," Yoshiro replied. "I didn't see her until he was already running, and that van came pretty close to running them both over before it stopped. He came back to the sidewalk after that, and then he snapped."

"Meaning that was the cause of this," Kato mused to himself. "Which do you think it was? The girl or the vehicle?"

"I don't know," Yoshiro admitted, looking to Rise and Megumi questioningly.

"It would have been both, I think," Rise told them quietly. "Senpai has... bad memories of something like that happening before."

"A girl and a van together? Could you clarify?" Kato inquired, taking notes on a waterproof handheld.

The starlet, huddled under her umbrella, shook her head. "It's not my place to say."

It might have been that he caught on to their conversation, or perhaps the terror had finally run its course enough for him to regain some control. Either way, Souji began taking deeper breaths and wiped at his face. Silver eyes, bloodshot from the pressure and exertion of the episode, sharpened a little and looked to Kato questioningly. The EMT took that as his cue. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Souji cleared his throat a few times and finally croaked "Y.. yes. I can hear you."

"Then you know your name and birthday, right?"

"I... I'm Seta Souji... and..."

"How old are you, Seta-kun?"

"I'm... eighteen. As of April."

Kato nodded and took a few more notes. "Can you walk?"

Souji shuffled his feet, then bent his legs and started pushing himself up. Not waiting to see the result, Yoshiro pulled Souji's arm over his shoulder and stabilized him, planting his feet firmly against the pavement and helping him up. Souji glanced over, uncomprehending for a moment, then looked back to the EMT. "It seems so."

"Good. We have to take care of some of the other patients, and your friend seems to have a handle on things." Kato looked to Yoshiro with a sober nod. "Let us know the second something happens, but try to let him get it out of his system. We'll be nearby if you need us."

Yoshiro nodded before turning towards the nearby park, going slowly for his friend's sake and pushing past the onlookers. Megumi and Rise followed, backpacks and book bags and umbrellas in hand. But Yoshiro didn't notice them. What was blaring in his head, over and over, was Souji's age and the way he said it.

What the hell happened to make a healthy, stable teenager break down and suffer a full-fledged panic attack?

They entered the park and made their way to the gazebo just off the paved walkway. Without a word, each of them took a seat around the table and kept a close eye on Souji, who hadn't said a word since. In the distance the emergency personnel were still working and tow trucks arrived to clear the wrecks. Orders were given and carried out. Questions were shouted from the crowd. But it all fell short of the group.

The sirens finally died down and the gazebo was home to a different sort of silence. Souji's shoulders were still trembling, sometimes so much that he seemed about ready to slide off the bench or crash into the table. But he didn't say anything. Just held his face in his hands and stared at the table surface, obscured by his gloves.

They were silent. Megumi looked like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Rise seemed torn between comforting her friend and waiting to see if he'd break down again, a hand hovering over his shoulder, twitching open and closed over and over. And Yoshiro just watched while the adrenaline thinned and his blood cooled. What could he say? Souji had never looked so... beaten. When he'd gotten in Yuhara's face, when he smart-talked on the court, when he came to class bruised yet without a hair out of place, he exuded an aura of control and confidence that was impossible to fake. He never puffed up or pushed through people; his strength was a quiet thing, and seemed utterly unshakable. But now he was soaked clean through, shivering and hunched in, and his clothes looked six sizes too large.

Finally, without a sound, Souji reached a shaking hand to his bag and pulled out his cell phone, nearly dropping it twice on the return trip. He snapped it open clumsily and began stabbing at the buttons, cursing when he hit the wrong ones and started over more than once. After the second time, Rise reached over to take it. "C'mon Senpai," she told him quietly, "Let me give you a hand."

"Thanks," he replied hoarsely, "but I've got it."

"I'm sure I can dial a number for you."

"No thanks." There was no firmness to his voice now. No quiet smile . No dry wit. There was just... nothing. And it felt wrong. Seta Souji didn't falter or crack. He didn't show his weaknesses without knowing they were there. He was discipline and focus, he was intellect and strength. He was never, ever vulnerable.

But then, Yoshiro thought, the Seta Souji he knew didn't suffer from massive panic attacks after acts of near-suicidal heroism either.

Finally Souji got the number right and held the phone to his ear, face buried in his free hand again. The time between rings stretched out, and Yoshiro didn't know what to do with his hands, or where to look. Megumi was in the same state, and yet Rise had an odd look on her face that he couldn't interpret. Was that pity? Curiosity? Understanding?

"Hey Nanako," Souji rasped suddenly, evidently connecting the call. "Hm? No, I'm fine. Just a bit under the weather." He took too deep a breath and coughed suddenly, the sound too sharp and raw to be an act. "It's been raining her for a while. Guess I caught something... Yeah, I will. That sounds good right about now. Were you busy? ...No, not really. Just checking in."

Yoshiro would never have called himself sentimental. He didn't offer either shoulder to his sisters when they were having problems with their boyfriends. He rarely had much to say after watching girl movies. And his favorite form of personal therapy involved sweat, body odour, and yelling at his team mates, either for encouragement or to smarten them up. He'd disappointed Megumi every anniversary, birthday, White Day and Valentine's Day that they'd celebrated together because he'd never been able to figure out which cards and gifts were poetic and which were just sappy. No, Toyama Yoshiro was not a 'feelings' sort of guy.

Instead he'd gladly punch out the assholes who made his sisters cry. He'd carry the groceries in for his mother every time he could, especially when the elevator was broken. He'd always suggest the movies he and Megumi saw on their anniversaries and watch them right to the end of the credits, no matter how girly the title was. And he'd forego basketball practice to do it every time that the chance came up. Actions were much easier than feelings.

And yet Souji's expression at that moment was almost heartbreaking, even to him. A tremulous, watery smile that was both happy and on the edge of tears. Glassy, red-rimmed eyes that stared so far beyond what was around him that he seemed to see nothing at all. Even his hair, normally that trademark lustrous silver, seemed closer to a frail and aged grey, brittle and weak. He looked like he was hanging onto what little control remained by his fingertips. And slipping. It was a personal torment so naked that it was hard for Yoshiro to keep looking at his friend.

"Oh yeah?" Souji continued, uncaring or unaware of his audience. "He said that, huh? Good, that's good. I'm glad you're taking time away together... Yeah, I know, I wish I could've been there too... No, I just couldn't get the time off school. But I'll be coming back in a few months, once I'm done here, and I'll be around for a while after that, so I promise we'll hit the beach next summer... Yep, that's a promise... Oh, okay. Well, take care... I will. And Nanako? I love you. You know that, right? ...Yeah, I will. See you later." He snapped the phone shut, clasped it between his hands, and didn't say a word.

"Senpai?" Rise whispered, resting her hand on his shoulder and leaning forward. "How's Nanako-chan?"

He didn't answer, but hunched forward, pulled himself inward as his shoulders started to tremble. A quiet series of heavy, shaking breaths choked their way out, and while Yoshiro couldn't see any tears, there was no doubt in his mind that was what Souji was doing.

He couldn't watch this anymore. "Hey," he said finally. "Get it together. Your girl's alright, isn't she? Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

Megumi and Rise glared at him from across the table, but Souji's compressed sobs were mixed in with rough chuckles for a moment before the wracks lessened, then stopped altogether. He sniffed sharply, clearing his nose, and wiped at his face before staring back down at the table.

"Before I moved here," he began in a flat voice, but with more control than he'd had on the phone, "I lived in Inaba, a small town west of Kyoto in the Tottori prefecture. With my uncle, who's a police detective, and my cousin, Nanako, for a year. Met some great people there, learned a lot, but I must have bad timing because there was a series of kidnappings and murders that started a little while after I got there. I got involved with the case because of my uncle and worked with him to get to the bottom of the murders." He took a deep, fortifying breath, and looked a little stronger for it. But his voice was still tone-dead. "The culprit used a local businessman as a cat's paw, almost got the guy arrested, but we went further and... well, started catching up to the real murderer. But it made us a target. Nanako was kidnapped to make a point. And she ended up in a car accident when the murderer's truck crashed, trying to get away from the cops."

Megumi, who'd turned pale at the last details, shakily asked "Was she alright?"

Rise looked about to say something, but was cut off. "No," Souji replied, his face as gloomy as a graveyard gargoyle. "She died in the hospital." Megumi cringed when she heard him, and Yoshiro felt a little sick. "The thing is, they resuscitated her. Brought her back. Most of us called it a miracle, and I have no idea how it happened." He let out a heavy breath, eyes closed against the memories. "But I was the one who put her there. The killer sent warnings to me, and I kept them to myself. Never told my uncle." He held up a hand, thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart. "Because I was this close to catching him."

"That's not fair, Senpai," Rise objected. "You were locked up. There was nothing you could do. And none of us caught it either."

"You were there too, Rise-san?" Megumi asked quietly.

"I met Senpai and the others in Inaba. I have family there."

"It doesn't matter, Rise," Souji replied grimly. "Nanako was my responsibility, not yours. I got involved in the investigation before you and the others, and I passed the warnings off."

"So what now?" Yoshiro asked. "You can't change the past, and you deserve better than to wallow in guilt when things go sideways. I mean, you did a good thing today. Doesn't that count for something? Sounds like your cousin forgives you."

"Nanako doesn't remember the accident clearly," Souji replied with a cold, level stare. The unease hit Yoshiro as he saw, personally, why Souji had the reputation of being a glacier at school, but the effect lessened when that face, practically his trademark, showed that was getting back to his old self. "She doesn't hold grudges or focus on the past. She's far more forgiving than I am, and a lot stronger. She can let all that go like it was a bad dream. But every time it rains, every car accident I see, all I can think about is how she paid for my stupidity."

"Then remember something else next time," Megumi insisted, leaning forward to catch his stare and not giving an inch. "That little girl today? You saved her. Not us, not the cops, and not her parents. You're the one who ran into traffic and got her out of the way. Without you, she wouldn't be standing right now." Souji said nothing. Just stared. But there were cracks in his level stare, a thoughtful look coming across his eyes. Megumi picked up on it and continued. "And no matter how much you hate yourself for the past or how little you might think you did today, it was enough to save her, wasn't it?"

Souji was the first to look away, a familiar gleam slowly emerging through the cracks in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to leave them and their refusal to let him wallow in his guilt behind. But he stayed. He was listening, or so Yoshiro hoped. Tapping his finger on the table. "Maybe…" Then he shook his head before looking at each of them in turn. "Regardless. Thanks. All of you. I appreciate you sticking around."

"That's what friends do for each other," Megumi replied, saying it before the others could.

"Ah," Kato-san, the EMT from before, called as he turned the corner. "There you are, Seta-kun. How are you feeling?"

Megumi leaned back as they all turned to face the newcomer, though not without a few sideways glances to Souji, who seemed almost back to normal. Any further heart-to-hearts would have to wait.

"Better, sir," was the smooth reply.

"Headache? Chest pain? How're your extremities? Any trembling or loss of feeling?"

Souji's face cracked a little and spread into a small smile. "I've had the same headache for days, but my chest is feeling a little better."

"Have you tried walking? How's your balance?"

"Not sure, sir."

"Fair enough. We need to take some tests at the hospital, and we're leaving soon. Give unassisted walking a try, alright?"

"Yes sir."

Kato-san snorted good-naturedly. "Enough with the 'sir', Seta-kun. No need to make me feel any older."

Souji chuckled quietly. "I understand."

"We'd like to come with him, Kato-san," Yoshiro put in before the EMT could leave.

He received an appraising stare in response. "Are you family? Are you injured yourselves?"

"No. We're his friends. And I'd feel better if I knew he was feeling better when he's released."

"That's not necessary," Souji protested from his seat.

"He's going to a hospital," Kato-san told them. "He'll be getting medical attention. He's not going to leave without us thinking he'll be alright."

Yoshiro shook his head. "Still. I'd like to be there."

"As would I," Megumi put in, not forcefully but also not about to back down from the issue.

"Really," Souji objected, "that's not necessary. They're going to run their tests, prescribe bed rest, and take up the rest of the day with questions and waiting times. No need for everyone to get stuck there."

"Not a chance, Senpai," Rise piped up with a determined set to her brow. "You need to let us help you sometimes."

"I don't want to-"

"It's not an imposition," she almost snapped. "We're in this together, aren't we?"

Kato chuckled as he checked his trauma kit, trying to look like he hadn't heard Souji get a dressing down from a young lady nearly a foot shorter than he was. "If you're entertaining advice, Seta-kun, I suggest you just go with it. Women like that are impossible to sway."

"It was worth a try," Souji replied dryly. "No reason for everyone else to have a bad day, right?

The EMT shook his head. "It's not about having a bad day, or about being a problem for others. It's about being friends. And you have some good ones."

"Senpai's used to looking after everyone else," Rise told him sweetly, her features shifting in a flash.

"That would do it," Kato nodded before turning back toward the street. "But come on. Traffic's cleared up a little, so we're heading out. And Saito-san's gotten in touch with your father, Seta-kun, so he'll be there to cover the paperwork if you want."

Souji snapped taut as a piano string, staring at the EMT with a look that said 'Are you serious?' like he's yelled it. Yoshiro thought Rise changed moods fast; Souji nearly put her to shame. And yet his expression wasn't anything Yoshiro could describe. "My father?" Souji asked, his voice cool and smooth with a current of tension underneath it.

Oblivious, Kato turned back and kept speaking like he hadn't noticed Souji's face change. "Yes, he was listed as your emergency contact on your health care information. Saito-san tried getting through to him as soon as you stabilized, and it sounds like everything's been hammered out, or will be soon enough."

"That's not necessary." Souji's voice was different, Yoshiro noticed with a sinking feeling. Deliberately detached, cool on the edge of being chilly. He felt his mind become still, prepared for another panic episode should whatever was going through Souji's head aggravate his ragged psyche.

Kato finally caught on that there was something odd about his patient's demeanour, and turned around fully. "He's your father, Seta-kun," the EMT responded with a trace of a rebuke in his voice. "It's not like this will be an imposition to him. This was a serious situation, and you are under age."

"It's not about me," Souji denied quickly. "Not entirely, anyway. I just don't want him contacted."

Yoshiro's mind locked into fifth gear and crashed into him with insight. Of all the topics Souji talked about, everything he had experienced and clearly knew, his family was one thing he never brought up, and either deflected or ignored when someone asked it of him. He'd even been honest about having a girlfriend when asked. Sort of. He was a private person, obviously, and he'd never offer that information, but he always addressed topics when they came up. This was different, and it set Yoshiro's hackles up.

Kato's eyes narrowed. "Is there a problem with him being at the hospital?"

Souji shook his head. "Not a problem, per se. I just don't want him there."

"Your face is bruised," Kato noted, his own voice taking on a chilly edge. "Is that why you're reacting this way?"

"No," Souji told him flatly. "I got these from a fight with some school mates the other night. My father doesn't hit me; I'd send him through a wall if he tried. He just doesn't need to be there."

Kato stared hard at Souji, and finally crossed his arms. "Why? Does he work in the government? Is he a diplomat involved with high-stakes negotiations so he can't come to see his son?"

"He's in corporate finance," Souji replied smoothly. "So's my mother. They're both lifers."

That set Kato back a little. "You're serious." Souji gave a sober nod. Kato frowned, then shook his head and raised his hands helplessly. "Not a lot I can do about it now. Saito used to work domestic calls and deal with a lot of child abuse cases. I hate to say it, but he might become a bit... insistent with your father if he gets stubborn."

Souji sighed and brought a hand, now rock steady, to his forehead. Then shook his head. "Nothing helping it now," he replied finally. "Maybe he'll get stuck in traffic."

Kato chuckled, then turned and led them from the park. Yoshiro caught up to his friend and whispered "Is he really that bad?"

"I didn't get my charming personality by fluke." Souji gave a half-hearted smirk before it fell from his face, leaving a pensive frown behind. "He's a corporate man, through and through. I swear he has cash flows instead of veins and stock values coded into his DNA. And he hates having family life interfere with work."

"I see," Yoshiro ventured.

"No you don't," Souji shot back, not unkindly. "But that's alright. I don't want anyone's sympathy; it's just not a happy topic for me. And there's still the chance he won't show up, right?"

And there had been hope of that.

The ride to the hospital, the battery of tests the doctors conducted and the measurements they took (delayed by Souji's adamant refusal to take off his gloves, arm wraps or shirt, which raised a few eyebrows) had all come and gone without interruption or comment about his father. At times Souji tensed or looked sharply toward the door at approaching footsteps, but it was a false alarm every time. Any chance of a setback into a panic attack, or even fretting and somber indifference, was smothered by Rise and the others keeping him company, sharing stories, doing homework, and talking about whatever non-Inaba topics they could. And it soothed him in a way he hadn't felt outside of Inaba or Rise's company, brought him back to normal faster than expected. When the nurse said, almost two hours later, that his test results were clean enough for the doctors to release him, and his father still hadn't arrived, everyone began packing up to leave. Souji let a smile of relief cross his face when the door opened one more time.

They thought it was Kato-san or Souji's doctor coming to wish him well. They were wrong.

Yuuma Seta stood at the doorway, his cold glare sucking the heat out of the room. Souji growled in exasperation under his breath, muttering 'Too much to hope for' while the others didn't seem to know what to do. Indeed, his eyes flicked over to his son, prone on the hospital bed, then skimmed over Yoshiro and Megumi, barely registering them at all, and landed on Rise, who was sitting near her Senpai.

"Are you responsible for this fiasco, you little tramp?" he demanded sharply. "Where are your reporters and paparazzi?"

"I- What?!" Rise snapped, disbelief and indignation flashing in her eyes.

"Father," Souji snarled from the bed, pushing himself up. "Don't even start with that."

"You caused me enough humiliation last time you got involved with my son," Yuuma continued, not caring about Souji's response. "Remember your little stunt that got him on the cover of every gossip magazine and supermarket tabloid a few months ago?"

"That wasn't my fault!" Rise objected. "There was nothing I could do about how the media spun that! And is it wrong for me to spend time with my friend?!"

"So you're here for what? Because you need the attention?"

"I'm here because I want to be here, Seta-san," she responded fiercely, face flushed and eyes narrow.

"So you can reap the royalties from the media when he gets involved with you again? You're nothing but trouble for us, girl."

"Excuse me?!" Rise snapped, her voice an octave higher than usual and almost flying out of her chair. "Who do you think you are to say that?! Senpai and I are friends! What's wrong with that?!"

Yoshiro and Megumi were about to come to her aid in the face to the stony-faced exec when a frigid voice shivered its way across the room. "Rise, could you and the others give us a minute in private?" Souji's eyes were harder than the steel beams making up the hospital's skeleton. His voice was low, even, and yet sounded even more dangerous because of it.

Rise spun to him, her eyes flashing. "You're going to let him say that?! C'mon Senpai, where's-"

"I'll address that," Souji assured her, his eyes not leaving his father's. "But this is a personal matter, and it's been a long time coming. So could I meet you guys outside?"

They might have objected, or they might not have. Father and son stared across the empty space of the room, cut off from the rest of the world. Finally, there were footsteps tapping and clicking toward the door, then the sound of the door closing behind them. It was the bull's red flag.

"I told you to stay away from that girl," Yuuma stated sternly. "She caused us enough grief last time, or don't you remember?"

"I remember many things you've said over the years," Souji responded, no more cordial or pleasant. "And if I'd followed them, I'd probably be suicidal by now."

"Don't be smart with me, Souji. I told you to stay away from that little tramp, but here she is. Did the press follow her to the accident? Will I see you on the front page again? And what about the emergency officer who called me? Do you know what he said?"

Souji shook his head, both frustration and anger playing across his pale features. "That's it? I had a panic attack in the middle of the sidewalk, and all you can talk about is how it affects you? Are you even listening to yourself? I didn't expect them to call you – I'd forgotten I even had you as an emergency contact, and gods know I wouldn't have asked them to call you out of sentimentality or because I thought you'd care. Like I told you before: Rise's a friend. She's here because she actually wants to be, and don't you ever talk to her or about her like that again."

Yuuma's eyes twitched a little at that, but his face remained stoic and detached. "Don't be melodramatic, Souji; you didn't have a panic attack."

There was a pause. Then a low, cold growl creeping from between clenched teeth. "And you know that how? Did you see my charts? Does corporate backstabbing make you an MD? You weren't there. If I had to guess, I'd say you were in a business meeting and had to be threatened with child abuse and being labelled a negligent parent to be bothered to come here at all. But my heart felt like it was going to punch a hole in my chest, I had tunnel vision, and it felt like the whole world was caving in around me." The next words came out in a fierce, angry hiss: "I know damn well what I had, because I was there. And I'm sorry it inconvenienced you so much to visit your kid in the hospital."

"It's not an inconvenience," Yuuma stated simply, surprising some of the fight out of Souji. Instead of getting angry, the elder Seta was growing calmer with every word they exchanged. Calm enough to slip out of his business coat and drape it on the instrument table nearby. "The meeting was going nowhere anyway. The chairman actually looked pleased that I was... addressing a family matter."

Souji stared at his father before shaking his head. "So even that was good for work," he replied flatly. "I'm glad."

"It was," Yuuma admitted without a hint of shame, "but, as you said, that should be a secondary concern right now. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," was Souji's curt response after a disbelieving snort. He turned to the side and reached for his jacket. "I'm fine. You've made your appearance and can leave now. I don't expect anything else from you."

"You're certain?" Yuuma continued, undaunted by his son's stiffening frame and smouldering eyes. "Then the doctors have looked you over?" Souji rested a hand on the bed, muscles tensing and eyes narrowing into a glare that could have punched through the hospital walls. His only other response was a sharp nod, and his father continued unabated. "Take things easy then, maybe do some studying. It wouldn't do to subject yourself to more histrionics and risk a relapse. And ask the doctor if he thinks this is a hereditary condition."

"Yes, I'll ask him." Souji hissed. "And I'm fine. Now kindly leave."

The elder Seta reached out to rest a hand on his son's shoulder. "And it wouldn't do to repeat these interruptions to my own schedule, never mind your mother's. We'll have to update your contact information. Still, if you aren't feeling well, I'll understand if you want to take some time off school for your health. So long as your grades don't suffer, of cou-"

It happened in a flash. Souji shirked away from the appendage on his shoulder and whipped around, slapping it away with one hand and pointing a finger accusingly with the other. "Don't!" he snapped sharply. His face was flushed, contorted and furious. "Don't talk to me like you give a shit about me! Don't you dare try and smooth this over with some fucking pithy apology!" The outburst surprised them both – it shocked Yuuma into momentary silence, and Souji out of what was looking like the beginning of a murder frenzy. Taking a few calming breaths, the younger Seta continued, his eyes twisting and swirling like a hurricane. "I know very well what my place in this family is, Father. It's all I've known since I was born, and neither you or Mother have made it feel any different. You're the ones who make the money, I'm the one who carries on the family name. I may as well have been brought up in a test tube for all the interaction I have with you two." His voice was still angry, but the words were raw, torn bloody and ragged from where he'd been storing them for years. "But now you act like you actually care about me outside of work, and I don't need that. Mother's been acting different lately, and I don't care. I'm past wanting anything from either of you."

Yuuma had been quiet the entire time, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes. But when he spoke, he was a Seta again, completely calm and collected. "We are your parents, Souji. Rebel against it all you want, but nothing's going to change that."

"And a few years ago, I might have agreed with you," Souji replied. "But not now. Now I know that there's more to a 'family' than blood. You and Mother may have conceived me, but that's it. I don't need your interference; I don't want you in my life anymore. You can live at work and pretend to be the caring and responsible head of a household, but leave me out of it."

"Are you disowning us then?" Yuuma inquired. Souji had to give his father credit – this was the most in-control he'd ever seen the man. And, a smaller part of his mind chimed it, this was probably the longest discussion they'd ever had. "Giving up the Seta name because you don't like how things turned out?"

"No," was the response. "I am Seta Souji, and nothing's changing that. But your opinions of my friends? I don't care. Tell Mother that too – stay at work and leave me alone."

There was a long, heavy silence between them. Every stroke of the second hand of the clock in the corner sounded like a gunshot. Until, finally, Yuuma broke it. And that little something in his eye grew a fraction. Enough for Souji to recognize it – it was pride. "She said you'd changed," he murmured, intrigued. "She attributed it to you having a girlfriend you haven't told us about."

"Even if I did, it's none of your business," Souji snapped.

"The continuation of my name is my concern, Souji, whether you like it or not. And I have to say, you're stronger now than you were before." There was a strand of humour threaded with the new interest in his voice. "I don't think you would have spoken to me this way years ago."

"People grow up," Souji replied coldly. "It happens." There was something in the way his father was eyeing him that Souji didn't like. He felt like he was being assessed, categorized, and labelled for auction, a commodity to be bargained over. "What, aren't you going to ground me? Demand that I do as you say?"

"No. If it didn't work before, it won't work now. Have you decided where you're going to apply for university?"

Souji was struck back on his heels. He had to blink to collect his thoughts, and realized with horror that he was losing control of the argument. A lifetime of repressed rage suddenly missed the mark. And his father had never been this reasonable. Ever. "Not yet. Why, do you have friends who can get me into the places you think I should go?"

Yuuma started to look pleased with himself. "I know a few names and numbers, yes. And with your grades and what you've shown me today, you'd go far indeed."

Souji snorted. "I think that's the first compliment I've ever gotten from you."

"I've never said you were stupid, Souji. If anything, you're very intelligent and resourceful. You just let your feelings get in the way of what you could have if you applied yourself. And you're a little naive. And in need of better friends." The words were spoken with smooth and polished aplomb, so utterly shameless that Souji had to choke back the reactive 'go to Hell' on the edge of his tongue.

"Thanks so much for that," Souji retorted. "And I've been thinking of university, yes."

Yuuma glanced over his son appraisingly, then shrugged as though the entire discussion had left him with nary a care. "Do that. And keep me informed."

"Not likely."

Yuuma looked about to find a smiling retort of his own when his phone, hidden in his coat pocket and slipped past the posted 'Turn off all cellular devices' signs everywhere, began to ring. Souji glanced at it, closer to him than his father, then smirked and reached for it before his sire could react.

"Souji!" Yuuma snapped, his cool facade stripped away by the prospect of business being at hand. His next words were cut off by Souji holding it up warningly, his thumb over the 'talk' button. Yuuma snapped his mouth shut – he wouldn't be caught dead making a bad first impression with a client.

Souji connected the call and held it to his ear, his blood cooling, temper settling, with the power of their discussion moving back into his grasp. He turned his side to his father, his smirk growing into a small, cold smile. "Hello, this is Seta Yuuma's phone," he said smoothly in a voice and tone made for boardrooms and conference halls. His father twitched visibly at being called by name by his own son. "He's presently occupied, but I'm happy to assist you where I can. How can I help you?"

"Ah... yes, greetings to you there. This is phone of Chief Yuuma Seta, proper?"

Souji nearly yanked the phone away from his ear – he'd never heard such a grating and badly butchered version of his native language before. And his father was a manager, not a CEO. But that was a common issue with foreigners. The speaker's accent, or distinct lack of a proper one, and the songs playing on the radio in the background all gave him an idea. He felt his brain shift, neurons flicking switches and redirecting down routes he hadn't used in a while. Once he went over the words in his head he replied, in flawless English, "Yes, this is Mr. Yuuma Seta's phone, and he's right here. What did you need?"

"Ahh, excellent!" the man on the other side stated with unconcealed relief in his native language. "Thank you, our interpreter has the day off, and my Japanese is rusty."

Yes. Rusty. And drinking the South China Sea through a straw in one sitting was a little unlikely. "No problem," Souji replied, smooth as caramel on ice cream. "Can I pass on your concern? ...Mmm hm... Yes, I remember that... Oh no... Yes, yes I understand. That makes sense... Of course, of course. One moment please." Souji handed the phone, receiver first, toward his father. "A Martin J. Anderson is on the phone," he reported in Japanese, catching the recognition in the man's eyes. "He says he worked with you when you were overseas. He needs a favour, preferably one that can be delivered yesterday. They crashed their business mainframe and their projection data, their portfolios, everything is in cyberspace, ending the universe as they know it."

Yuuma looked to the phone, then at his son with an uncharacteristic look of hesitance on his features. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of the call, or the reminder of his work in America. Perhaps it was that this was the furthest they'd ever taken a conversation, yelling or otherwise, and something might've clicked in that corporate databank he called a mind. Souji gave the equivalent of a mental snort. Of course not; his parents didn't work that way. And he hadn't been lying earlier – he didn't want them to. No, the concern was probably coming from thinking of ways to work a foreign project into everything else he was already juggling. Or how much he would be able to charge for emergency work.

He shook the phone a little and stretched his arm more, professional debonair smothered by flat apathy as thick as a blubber blanket. "Go on, Father. This is the easy part."

Whether that was the encouragement he needed or just good timing, Yuuma took the phone, a businessman again, and turned his back to his son, already addressing opportunities as usual.

Souji paid him the same favour. He grabbed his jacket, pulled the door open, and headed out to the hallway. He nodded to the nurse at the station and requested his release forms before turning to the others. Rise was pacing in short, tight circles, her face still dark with anger. Her lips were moving, evidently seething and swearing to herself from what his father had said. Nearby were Yoshiro and Megumi, perched on a nearby bench and holding hands and talking quietly. All three looked up as he approached and stood up to meet him at the desk.

They all looked about to talk. Souji beat them to it. "I'm really sorry about what he said to you, Rise. You're not the first of my friends he's been like that to."

"That's really your father?" she asked.

"I didn't have a choice in the matter," Souji answered with a half-smile that was part bitter sarcasm and part cold anger. "But yes, I'm afraid so. That's actually a little worse than usual. Most times he's too busy on the phone to even notice who's around him."

"You said he works in corporate finance?" Megumi asked, a troubled bend to her brow.

"Yep. Him and my mother. They make quite a team." Souji shook his head, trying to dispel the topic of his family. "But enough about them. Let's get out of here. I'll make it up to you all, having to put up with him."

"That's not necessary, Senpai," Rise objected almost automatically, glaring at the still-closed door Souji had come from.

"I insist," Souji replied firmly. "I feel like anyone who's been subjected to either of my parents deserves something for the experience. Wherever we go, it's on me."

"Are you feeling better?" Yoshiro asked, still guarded and sober.

Souji looked over with a half smile, one that he genuinely felt instead of hiding behind his usual mask. "Yep. All better." He caught Yoshiro's skeptical stare and chuckled. "Come on. The doctors released me, didn't they?"

"They're not you. You'd know if you were better or not, right?"

"He's got a point, Senpai," Rise mentioned, handing him his umbrella and apparently getting over her anger at his father. "Nothing like this has ever happened to you before. You gonna be alright?"

Souji shook his head at their over-protectiveness, but also smiled at their concern. "I feel much better now. Are we still up for ramen?"

They looked at him, then each other in a silent discussion, before Megumi nodded and pointed down the street. "It's this way. And I'm still hungry, since you're offering."

"Me too," Yoshiro put in, dropping the issue, or at least adjusting his priorities. "And we won't need our umbrellas this time; it's finally stopped raining."

Souji looked up into the sky, and noticed that he was right. It had echoed in his ears, in his mind for so long lately that he hadn't noticed. The clouds were cracking and broken, still grim and grey but finally moving on. It wasn't enough to show sunbeams like in paintings or cliché TV shows. There wasn't a fanfare on the wings of angels, or other patients of the hospital coming out to marvel at the sun after so long. No, if anything, it was still muggy and sticky. Souji was still half-soaked with his clothes clinging to him uncomfortably. Traffic still rushed and roared along the roads, uncaring of the accident only a few hours before. And an emergency vehicle siren could be heard in the distance, coming toward the hospital.

But whether it was cliché or not didn't matter. What weather front was coming next, how soon autumn would arrive, his problems with his father and what fallout awaited him later. None of it mattered.

Because the rain had finally stopped.

Author's Note, Post Script: I'm a little iffy on the row between Souji and Yuuma, but you've all seen a shouting match or two between them already, so it was time to shuffle the deck. And will Yuuma change his colours with Souji? Try another tactic? Well, you'll have to wait and see.

And for those wanting more of Yukiko, your requests haven't gone unnoticed. She'll be up in the next chapter.