Working as a forensic scientist isn't a very glamorous job. When the position had been offered to Kirie - somehow through Narumi Kiyotaka's doing, she suspects - she'd taken it immediately. Stable pay and regular hours were the only things she'd wanted then, and of course she already had the right degree and qualifications.

Fast-forward three years, though, and she's gone exactly nowhere in the department. Probably thanks, in part, to her big mouth.

"Asshole," she mutters to the scrap of fabric under her microscope, trying to steady it with one hand and find her tweezers with the other. It isn't like she minds doing the DNA extraction and comparison work. Or the "what the hell kind of plant did this come from" work. But all of it? Yeah, she didn't sign up to do all of it.

Just once, she thinks, just once she wants to get out of this damn dungeon of a basement office and go out in the field to do some real investigating -

"KIRIE-CHAN~"

"GAH!" Her tweezers go flying, the fabric exits the microscope, and she nearly damn well smashes her eye into the lens. She doesn't even have to look to know who's hollering her name like that at nine in the fucking morning on a Monday, because no one else would be that cheerful right now.

But she looks anyway, just in case he's in a bunny suit or something. Because that would give her a better excuse to hit him.

"What." It isn't even a question, the way she says it, even as she accepts a cup of coffee - black, because he knows by now - from him. "I'm busy."

Narumi Kiyotaka makes a series of tsking noises at her, his glossy brown hair shining under the harsh basement lighting as he shakes his head. "You should have told me, Kirie-chan."

"... told you what?"

"That you were dating a celebrity."

Kirie is used to Kiyotaka acting like an absolute moron, and thus, saying absolutely moronic things; the man has probably the highest IQ in Japan and yet dresses in animal costumes and speaks in riddles for fun. But at this remark she's actually dumbfounded. Not just regular "how can this grown adult be such an idiot" dumbfounded.

He sees the obviously confused look on her face and, with a sly smile, retrieves a rolled item from the back pocket of his pants. "Oho, so maybe it's news to you, too."

"I have no idea," she begins, putting the coffee down and spinning around in her chair to take the item he's passing over, "what you are talking about."

"That's why I brought this."

"What is…" Her words trail off as she unrolls what turns out to be a weekly gossip publication from one of the bigger names she recognizes - Monday, because they always publish on Monday, fitting - and right there on the cover is a photo of her and Eyes Rutherford getting into the back of his car at the back of the concert hall on Friday night.

She groans.

Kiyotaka sounds excited. "Look inside!"

"... there's more, isn't there."

"Lots!"

"I won't bother. I know where I was. Eating ramen." She groans again and tosses the tabloids to the side, ignoring the various stacks of papers and research folders it knocks askew. "Did they identify me?"

"You really don't want to read it?" He's pouting. "They jumped to some very interesting conclusions, especially about your age."

"Flattering, but no." She rubs her forehead. A headache is already coming on. "I should have figured this would happen…" After a moment she reaches for the cup of coffee, takes a tentative sip, and sighs. "Seriously, Kiyotaka - "

"No. They didn't identify you." His tone is stern now. And - with his next few words - hushed, in case someone were to come down the hall toward her office. "Also, I no longer have the resources I once did to research these things, as I'm sure you understand, but as far as any credible threats by Hunters are concerned…"

She glances up at him. "Nothing?"

He shrugs his shoulders ever-so-slightly. "I was not able to find any chatter about resumed activity. But once again - "

"Resources. I know. Maybe you shouldn't have pissed off Ayumu-kun's girlfriend so much." She spins around in her chair again, giving the tabloid on her desk a disgusted look as she sips at the steaming coffee. She'd called Kiyotaka on Saturday morning, remembering what Eyes had said about the threat on his life - not that she was all that concerned or anything - but she'd never once thought to mention to the detective how that topic came up.

Still, though, she thinks she can trust Kiyotaka to not behave like a complete fool about this entire thing. They both know what's at stake here - what's really important - and it's not a stupid rumor about her dating a Blade Child, of all things.

Although she is, she'll admit, just a little curious about how old that tabloid thinks she is.

"Speaking of Ayumu-kun…"

"I'll be going to the hospital over lunch today. Madoka as well." Kiyotaka's voice takes on the kind of compassionate tone it can only possess when this subject comes up. "There hasn't been much happening recently, but… the first surgery will be happening soon."

She looks over her shoulder with raised eyebrows. "It's only May. I thought you said fall - "

"Things… changed." She can see he's trying not to cringe. Trying very hard. "Ayumu's very determined, also… when he wants to be."

"... ah." She turns back, looking at her reflection in the murky drink. "Well, I can't make it this time. But tell him I said hello."

"Of course." Kirie hears faint footsteps in the hall - likely someone coming to check on some DNA report - and behind her, Kiyotaka sighs almost imperceptibly. "Well, then. We'll talk again soon."

"Sure." She tucks the tabloid under a stack of folders before raising a hand in a wave. "Bye."

She wonders, as he leaves, how long she can keep avoiding going to that hospital.

Kirie has a complicated relationship with smoking. She likes to tell people she's given it up, but at the slightest sign of stress she buys a pack of cigarettes. Sometimes two.

Lollipops just don't cut it anymore.

Today is one of those days. On her lunch break she digs out her half-empty pack from the Tuesday before - the "I can't believe that asshole actually raised my rent again" pack - and finds a secluded spot behind the building, away from the detectives she usually smokes (and sometimes drinks, when she's in the mood) with. She waits until she's halfway through a cigarette and completely calmed down before reaching for her cell phone.

She's almost given up when Eyes answers, sounding out of breath. "Kirie. Is everything - "

"I'm fine. Geez, were you running a marathon or something?"

"... no."

"Ugh. Alright, look." She wrinkles up her nose, trying to sort out the best way to deliver this awful, ridiculous, stupid news. "Apparently some gossip magazine got a photo - "

"Yes, Monday. I am aware of it." He pauses. "Are you concerned…?"

"Oh. Um. No. I mean - " She blinks a few times. "... I guess it makes sense that you would know. You probably have some like, email news alert on your name or something."

"A publicist."

"Or - that. Right."

"If the publication is bothering you, I can pursue - "

"No, it's not like that. They didn't know who I was or anything. I just wanted to make sure you knew they were spreading some stupid rumor." She takes a moment to enjoy her cigarette, even though her stress level is declining rapidly. Might as well finish the damn thing. "And I mean, I didn't want being seen with me to get you in some sort of trouble."

He chuckles softly. "You are not the first woman I am rumored to be involved with."

"... thanks, I guess?"

"I mean to say that there is no harm done to my reputation, and no need for you to worry. My only concern would be for your safety, but it seems that you remain unidentified, and so things will stay quiet for you." The line goes silent for a few seconds before he continues. "How did you come across this news?"

"It's a long story. And my break's almost over, so I'll have to tell you some other time." She leans heavily against the brick of the building, scratching an itch through the fabric of her shirt. "Thanks again for the concert and dinner and everything."

"It was my pleasure."

"Yeah. Okay, so… bye." She hangs up, abruptly, realizing how awkwardly the conversation has been ended, but this isn't something she wants to get into the habit of doing - talking to Eyes Rutherford, that is.

Once, twice, maybe even three times a year in cafes and tiny restaurants is enough. They're all caught up now. And she has no desire to let him think he's seen past any kind of facade into some secret wanting for a better life -

Can you say that you are truly living as you wish?

She takes one final drag on her cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under the heel of her boot. No, she has no desire to let him think that at all.

When she steps off the train at seven that evening, she can see the crowd in front of her apartment building all the way from the station. Her first thought is that there was some kind of accident, so she walks a little faster than usual to get there. Just in case she can help.

This turns out to be a mistake.

"That's her!"

"Tsuchiya Kirie-san! Is it true you're involved with Eyes Rutherford?"

"When did you start seeing each other?"

"How could you do this?!"

"Give back Eyes-san to us! Don't let him retire!"

It takes five full seconds for the situation to sink in, and a few seconds more for the words she's hearing to start making sense. She thinks she must look like an idiot, standing there with her bag over her shoulder, open-mouthed, looking at all these damn people -

"Fuck," she curses out loud, not caring if anyone hears her. They figured out who she was.

So much for anonymity.

"Tsuchiya - "

"No comment," she declares, and begins to push her way through the crowd toward the front door, which she's never before been so thankful for having keycard protection. "Also move."

"Is it true you're dating - "

"No comment for any of you," she says, louder this time, and elbows a cameraman in the stomach. He stumbles and falls backward, and there's a rumble of concern in the crowd, complete with a few gasps of anguish from female fans. But the distraction is enough to get her to the door, and she slips safely inside with everything but her good mood intact.

She barely has time to put down her bag, open a window, and light a cigarette when there's a loud pounding on her apartment door. She returns to the entranceway and opens the door to see - who else? - but her landlord, a stout, balding man who is currently sweating and red in the face. "Tsuchiya," he begins, "I will not stand for this - this kind of distraction in front of my property!"

"I'm not happy about it either." She cocks an eyebrow at him. "So call the cops. What do you expect me to do? They'll go away soon enough."

"This is your doing!"

"I didn't - "

"And I did contact the police," he continues, with a stamp of one foot, "but they told me those people are on public property, because my property only begins after the sidewalk and the street, and so there is nothing that can be done! They can stay here as long as they want!"

She sighs. "So what do you want me to do about it? Chase them away with a broom?"

"Just - go somewhere else for now!"

"Somewhere else? Seriously?" She wags her cigarette at him. "How do you expect me to afford a "somewhere else" when you just raised my rent again?"

He grimaces. "I knew you were a troublemaker. I should have never agreed to rent to you."

"Well, too bad. You did."

"Go away or I'll call the police on you, Tsuchiya!" he declares, and turns to go storming off down the hallway.

She smirks. "I am the police, Sano-san!" she calls after him, but if he hears he doesn't give any indication. His balding head disappears around a corner, and she shuts her door hard - and locks it - before retreating back into her living room with a loud sigh.

A quick glance out the window confirms that yes, the crowd is still there, although they don't seem to know where she is. And they're noisy, too, which makes her feel a little guilty - not for her landlord, god no, but for people like her neighbor two doors down, a single mother with twin boys not even a year old, and…

She thinks it over for a few minutes, finishes her cigarette, and then - reluctantly - calls Eyes Rutherford. Twice in one day, must be a record.

It only takes her a few minutes to summarize the situation to him before she gets to the important question: "So, then, what do you do when you're being stalked by the media?"

"Ah." He sounds thoughtful. "I have normally been escorted by bodyguards or my manager, and so…"

"Not helpful."

"Hm." On the other end of the line, he's silent - thinking - until she hears what might be the scraping of a chair against a floor. "Perhaps the best thing to do is to remove you from the situation, after all."

"... meaning what?"

"My driver can meet you at your apartment. Can you pack a bag, please?"

"Wh - wait, what?"

"Please send me a message with the address. I will have him contact you with an approximate pickup time."

"Raza-kun, hold on, what are you - "

The line goes dead.

Kirie stares at the phone in her hand for a full minute before cursing at Eyes Rutherford in every language she knows. And then she starts packing a bag, because the bastard didn't give her any choice in the matter.

Eyes' driver, a tanned, middle-aged gentleman who insists Kirie doesn't have to call him "Yamada-san" (his first name, he shares, is Michael; he, like Eyes, is fluent in both English and Japanese) turns out to be easy to get along with. He calms her nerves from the moment she slides into the back of the car, keeping the screen down to make light conversation about how long he's been driving for Eyes (five years), his family (a wife, who works as a physician, and a three-year-old daughter), and the weather (very warm for mid-May).

The drive is long and traffic is uncooperative, and it's a while before Kirie even thinks to ask: "By the way, where are we going?"

"Ah, Rutherford-san didn't tell you?" The driver looks over his shoulder with a sunny smile. "We're almost there now. He asked me to take you to his loft. It's one of the safest places you can be, right now."

"His… what?"

"I'm sure you'll like it," he says, and turns around to focus his attention on driving. "It's very nice."

True to his word, after only a few more blocks the car pulls up to an iron gate in front of a tall building; a keycard is waved and the gates swing open, allowing entrance to a below-ground garage. The driver doesn't park, only comes to a stop in front of an elevator door, and turns again in his seat to address her. "I'll leave you here, if that's alright?"

"Oh - yeah, sure." She unlatches her seatbelt, grabbing for her purse and the overnight bag she'd haphazardly packed. "How do I… get in?"

"Here you are." He passes her a keycard on a silver ring, identical to the one he'd waved at the gates. "You'll need to use this in the elevator. Rutherford-san's loft is on the fiftieth floor, at the very top."

"Ah. Thanks."

"I'm sure he can explain more to you, or the attendants at the desk can - it's a very big building, with a lot of people living here, and a lot of visitors - " He smiles. " - but if you exit the building and come back in again, you'll need that card. And you'll also need it to gain access to any of the elevators, or to unlock the door to Rutherford-san's loft. If you lose it, or you're visiting later, you'll need to contact him so an attendant can let you in."

"... that sounds complicated."

"It's a very secure system." He nods. "Will you need any help with your bags, Tsuchiya-san?"

"No, I'm fine. I - er - thanks for the ride, and…" She opens the door, hesitating. "I feel like I should give you a tip, but…"

He laughs loudly. "No, no, please, I would refuse. I am happy to help. And any time you need me, please feel welcome to call. Any friend of Rutherford-san's is a friend of mine."

"... thanks. Really." She returns the smile. "Even if Raza-kun's just paying you to say that."

He laughs again. "Have a good evening, Tsuchiya-san. Please take care."

"You too," she responds, climbing out of the car and shutting the door. She watches him drive away before she presses the button to call the elevator, wondering just what in the hell she's gotten herself into.

The doors slide open with a soft bing and she steps inside, dragging her bags behind her. "Fiftieth floor," she mutters, "going up."

"Holy shit."

Eyes, luckily, seems to be used to Kirie's unique way of starting conversations by now. He must have also expected her to be stunned, upon seeing his loft for the first time, judging by how gracefully he takes her bags from her hands. "I trust your ride was pleasant?" he asks.

"When the hell did you buy this place?" she asks, not bothering to answer his question. "The last time I asked, you were still…"

"Renting," he finishes for her. "Yes. A few months ago I began to think about a hiatus, and with that, finding a more permanent home. This particular loft had just gone on the market, and was already mostly furnished by its previous owner, which reduced the amount of work necessary to move in." He gestures to the left side of the large, open room they are standing in - a living area - which has floor to ceiling glass panes wrapping around one corner, and what looks to be a patio outside. "Except, of course, for the modifications necessary to bring in a piano."

"... of course," she echoes him, glancing at the polished white grand piano sitting in the middle of the living space, a white shag rug beneath it. "Of course you took down a wall to bring a piano in. On the fiftieth floor. With a crane, probably."

He smiles as if he's delighted. "Indeed."

"Well, I shouldn't say anything. You're rich, you can do anything you want." She looks around again, still wide-eyed. "This place is seriously… amazing. And expensive."

"Hmm."

"But why am I here?"

"Ah. Yes." He nods. "Yamada-san may have mentioned it, but the security here is very good. No one is able to enter or gain access to the building without permission from a resident, or one of the cards that you have been given."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Okay, and…?"

"Follow me, please." He turns, and, with one of her bags in each hand, leads her across the large, open concept room, through a kitchen and dining area, to a back wall with two doors. When he opens the left door and turns on a light, she's treated to the sight of a relatively bare room - an American style bed with a mattress and boxspring covered by a white down comforter, a white armoire, a matching dresser, and a television on top. "I have never had a use for this room," he says, stepping inside to place her bags gently on the bed, "although I considered it useful for future visits, perhaps from Rio."

"Oh… I get it."

"You are welcome to stay here until the current situation ends, and you feel comfortable returning to your own apartment." He gestures to the room as she joins him inside. "I realize there is not much here, but if you find you need anything, I will be happy to provide it. Also, there is an attached bathroom - " He points to a closed door near the back corner. " - so you will have privacy."

She sighs, folding her arms across her chest. "This is nice of you and all, but this isn't going to help with the rumor that we're dating."

"Nothing would, at the moment," he responds.

"... yeah. You're probably right." She wrinkles up her nose. "I still don't know how they found out who I was. Maybe one of my idiot coworkers snitched…"

"Regardless, if this will make your situation more bearable, I am happy to be able to help." He turns to leave the room. "I was preparing to make dinner when you called. If you haven't eaten yet, I would be happy to cook for you."

"That's…" She watches him go, and after a moment she follows, reminding herself to swallow her damn pride every once in a while. "That would be nice. Thanks."

"Of course."

"Hey, really though…" There's a large, marble-topped island in the middle of the (enormous, she thinks, at least compared to her own) kitchen, and she pulls out a barstool to sit down there. "I do… appreciate this. Really."

He is opening the door to a massive, stainless steel refrigerator, but she can still hear his response. "I understand."

"I shouldn't have to be here invading your personal space like this. My asshole landlord just raised my rent again, by a lot, and it's not like my salary could let me pay for a hotel anyway. But even with that, my neighbors…" She traces patterns and lines in the marble with one finger. "If that crowd had stayed there all night…"

"There is no need to worry, Kirie." He turns to nod at her, once, before placing an armful of food on a counter between the sink and oven. "I am not inconvenienced. It is very rare for me to have company."

"We'll see if you feel the same way after a few days of this."

She can't see his face, but she thinks he's smiling. He begins to open packages and bring out cooking supplies, and she waits a few minutes, watching him, before speaking again. "I thought you'd be annoyed, getting done with touring and having your alone time interrupted."

He glances over his shoulder. "Hm?"

"You weren't alone when you were on tour, I mean - you said there were bodyguards, and your manager, and I'm sure you had to deal with fans…"

"Ah." He looks away quickly. "That did not necessarily prevent me from experiencing feelings of solitude."

She watches him start to boil a pot of water, presumably for the package of some kind of pasta sitting on the counter, and she thinks about changing the topic to something else - asking what he's making, if he actually has experience cooking this kind of thing - but something in the air seems strange, now. And she isn't sure she can leave the subject alone.

"Hey, Raza-kun…"

"Yes?"

"You seem… different, now. But in some ways, you're the same." She twines her fingers together on top of the marble counter. "For all those things you said about doing what you want, and not being threatened by a Hunter… right now, it still seems like there's something weighing on you."

"It may always be that way," he responds, "regardless of my intentions."

"Because of being a Blade Child?" she asks.

"If that is the case," he says, looking over his shoulder again, "will you always be a Watcher?"

She frowns. "I don't consider myself a Watcher anymore. I haven't since it all ended."

"If that kind of decision was available to myself, I would gladly take it." He shakes his head slightly. "But I am not so lucky. Despite my best intentions, I will always feel some burden of my existence. There will always be a reminder, and I only wish to avoid…" He turns away to the counter with a frown. "... to avoid potentially harming others."

"The curse," she murmurs.

"I would prefer to believe that it has no hold on us, just as the others have come to do so." She sees tension in his shoulders, wonders if he is gripping the countertop with his hands where she can't see it. "But for the sake of those around me, I cannot risk their lives in exchange for happiness on my part."

"So everything you said about not living your life under the direction of other people…"

"That was not untrue." She hears him exhale. "But even as I wish to seek happiness, and make plans to follow my own path, I must do so… alone."

The kitchen falls silent again, save the soft sound of water bubbling on the range. After a few moments Eyes turns to face her, pushing his glasses up on his nose with one finger, clearing his throat softly. "I apologize. I should not have said as much as I did."

"You don't have to be sorry." She smiles a little. "And for the record, you're not alone right now. Even though I'm probably the worst company ever."

"At least this time I am not in the hospital."

"You have a point there." She grins now. "And let's keep it that way. If I start to bother you, feel free to kick me out. Sound like a plan?"

"Yes." He nods, returning to the stove. "But I doubt that there will be any issues."

"Let's hope not," she says, "because I really don't want to go back to my stupid apartment right now."

"Nor do I. It is much safer here."

"And there's better food. I hope."

At this he actually smiles, and Kirie feels a little better about things than she did just a few minutes before. "Yes," he says, "I can assure you - much better food."

"... wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Hmm."

"Are - did you just take a shot at my cooking? You've never even had anything I've made."

"Sometimes that is not necessary to know the outcome."

"Asshole," she mutters, and he smiles again, and although she wants to be mad it is good, sort of, to see him smiling. So she'll give him a free pass. This time.