Nowaki stared absently at the wall as his hands were jostled behind his back, and the clanking sound of handcuffs rung in his ears. Emiko stood in front of him, halfheartedly pointing her gun at him.

"You are hereby placed und'a arrest for murder. You have the right to remain silent," Emiko said lowly, frowning. Nowaki's eyes slid to her. He shrugged.

"I was going to kill him, anyway. Sorry, Hiroshi-san. I just couldn't help it," Nowaki said quietly. Emiko averted her eyes.

"We realized that after we sent'ya in. O' course'ya wouldn't obey us- you're Kusama Nowaki, after all," Emiko said. "I'm sorry we got'ya into this mess."

Nowaki sighed and looked down at Nagasaki's lifeless body.

"I don't feel like a murderer, Hiroshi-san. I feel like a defender. I might have saved countless lives today- I mean, Nagasaki's weapon was the ability to get into someone's head. If he had been put in jail, I know he would've gotten out somehow. So I'm glad. I feel no regret. I rescued people, and my family."

Emiko sighed.

"I guess if'ya feel fulfillment, then it ain't that much of a problem. I'll… I'll see what I can do. The most I can promise ya is ten years in prison. I might be able'ta get it down'ta eight, but don't get your hopes up."

Nowaki nodded.

"That's fine."

Nowaki was led out of the room by Emiko as the two men who had come in with her stayed behind to clean up. They were silent as they reached the edge of the alley. They were about to walk out as they heard voices. Emiko slapped her hand over Nowaki's mouth and pressed them both against the wall. They went completely silent, and the voices got louder. A second later, Shinobu and Hiroki were strolling past the alley. Nowaki's eyes widened.

Suddenly, the reality of his situation dawned on him. He was going to prison. Prison. He had just killed a man. He could have been infected with AIDS after swallowing so much of Nagasaki's blood. He wouldn't see or hear Hiroki and Fuyumi again for years. Even after being released from prison, if he had AIDS, he could never make love to his fiancé again, much less have another baby.

And he would die alone.

Nowaki sobbed. He thrashed against Emiko's grip, trying and failing to scream through Emiko's hand.

"MMMM!" he shrieked, tears gushing down his face, leaving streaks in the dirt and blood on his face. Emiko squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, pressing her forehead against Nowaki's chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, almost inaudibly. "I'm so sorry."

Nowaki screamed and screamed, but Hiroki couldn't hear him. When he disappeared from view, Nowaki's screeching faded into hysterical sobbing, and he slumped against the wall he was pressed up against. Slowly, ever so slowly, Emiko's hand slid away from his mouth. Nowaki tipped his head back and wailed in agony, jerking his arms in a vain attempt to snap the handcuffs. Emiko reached up to cup Nowaki's face in her hands. She frantically wiped away his tears as they came.

"It's okay. It's alright. I'm sorry."


Nowaki looked down at Emiko as she knelt before him on the floor of the jet and wrapped his fingers up in finger splints. Nowaki had straightened his fingers out so they could begin the healing process, but he had felt no pain from the snapping and popping sound of realigning his fingers. His entire body was numb, and he suspected it would be for years to follow.

"There. That should do it," Emiko said when she had finished. She got to her feet. Nowaki stared dully at his wrapped up fingers. After a few minutes of prolonged silence, Emiko put her hand on Nowaki's shoulder. "Come on, Kusama. Let's get'ya washed up."

Nowaki allowed Emiko to help him to his feet and take him towards the back of the jet, where there was a small bathroom. They crowded into it, and Emiko helped Nowaki out of his trench coat, bullet proof vest, and turtleneck. With a comfortingly cool hand on the back of his neck, Emiko eased Nowaki down and bent him over the sink. She turned on the faucet and felt the water until it was lukewarm. Gently, she splashed water into Nowaki's face, and he spluttered, blinking it out of his eyes. He watched the dirty, bloody water wash down the drain, and he started to weep once more.

"Shh…" Emiko soothed, rubbing Nowaki's bare back as he blubbered into the sink. He clutched the porcelain lip for dear life, afraid that, if he let go, he would crumble into pieces.

"Please… please God, don't send me there," Nowaki moaned, sniffling. "I need to take care of Hiro-san and Fuyumi. Please, please…"

Emiko remained silent, and only splashed another handful of water up into Nowaki's face in response. Nowaki shuddered and slumped against the sink, wishing he could drown and come back to life in Hiroki's arms. When Emiko finished and brought him back up, rivulets of water ran down his darkened face, dripping onto his chest. Emiko held him by the back of his head and reached up with a towel to dry his face and chest. She gently took his arm and led him out of the bathroom. She sat him down on one of the few couches that were in the jet.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked quietly. Nowaki glanced at her.

"How soon can someone get tested for HIV and AIDS?" he asked. Emiko blinked.

"Well… the fastest public method is through the RNA test, but that ain't accurate until about two weeks after possible infection. Why do'ya ask?"

"Nagasaki made me drink some of his blood- well, a lot actually. Is there any way I can vomit it out?"

Emiko frowned and shook her head.

"AIDS is transmitted through open wounds, not the mouth, but the mouth is the most susceptible to little cuts. It's very possible that'ya contracted the disease," Emiko said grimly. "We… we can give'ya a governmental test that detects it instantly."

Nowaki nodded.

"Yeah."

Emiko nodded and stood. She swept out of the room, and Nowaki lied down on the couch, curling up into a ball and holding himself. Emiko returned a moment later, wheeling a cart in front of her. On it was something that looked a lot like an ultra sound. Nowaki sat up slightly.

"Isn't that an ultra sound?" he asked. Emiko shook her head.

"Nope. Government HIV testin' device- nev'a released to the public. It'd be too expensive, and would put thousands o' people out o' their jobs," Emiko explained. "Lay on yo' back."

Nowaki rolled onto his back and let his arms rest at his sides as Emiko stuck pulse readers to his chest: two above his pectorals and two near the center of his chest just under the bottom of his rib cage. Emiko connected wires to them, and Nowaki watched as she grabbed a white metal panel with a handle on it. She pressed it to Nowaki's chest.

"You said that it was through the mouth?" she asked. Nowaki nodded, and she slid the panel up to his sternum, just below his neck. She switched on the machine, and there was a beeping sound as the picture developed. At first, all Nowaki could see was the black and white smudges of his x-rayed chest. A moment later, however, little red dots began spotting on the image, all clustered together in a little lump just below his throat. Emiko frowned.

"What are those?" Nowaki asked fearfully. Emiko glanced at him.

"All o' them are HIV cells," she murmured. Nowaki stared at her for a moment before letting his head flop back onto the couch cushion.

"Shit…" he cursed. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

"They ain't in the blood stream yet," she said. Nowaki's eyes snapped open. "If yo' lucky, they will pass into yo' stomach and get killed by the acid. That is, as long as there ain't any cuts in yo' esophagus. Don't… don't get yo' hopes up. Sorry, but simply eatin' food can put cuts on it."

"I'm scared," Nowaki whispered. Emiko looked at him sadly. She had Nowaki hold the metal panel in place as she stood. She rounded the machine, then helped Nowaki into a sitting position so she could sit down beside him. Allowing him to lay his head in her lap, she ran her hand soothingly though his hair.

"Don't be afraid. If'ya have AIDS, you may be entitled'ta a few years out o' prison," she said awkwardly. Nowaki chuckled humorlessly.

"That doesn't make it much better."

They sat together in tense silence, their eyes trained on the machine's screen. The HIV cells crept ever so slowly down Nowaki's throat. Nowaki followed it with the metal panel. Every so often he'd cry a little, get comforted by Emiko, and remain silent before the cycle repeated. Nowaki had never, never felt so tense in his entire life. So afraid, so much dread… he was so busy worrying that he didn't notice just how long it was taking.

An hour and a half later, the HIV cells, one by one, slipped into Nowaki's stomach.

And within moments, every red dot on the screen faded.