A.N.: I did a few editing in some past chapters after I realized the timeline was quite fucked up. Nothing major. Just changed the number figures in mentioned years. Also, Kise's age during his first rejection.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own KnB.

"－is finally dropped, so there's no need－Oi, are you listening?"

"Eh, huh?" Furihata asked dumbly.

Susa stared at him hard then sighed as if giving up. "As I was saying, the topic about the businessman who sells internal organs－Yoshimura is the name, if not mistaken－was already dropped. He was already surrendered to the police. They said he the man lost it and won't speak a word anymore, just staring into space almost not blinking. Well, a criminal who couldn't sing is not worth writing about anymore; wouldn't open more subjects. There are more columns that deserved to be put up than wasting the newspaper space about some traumatized criminal. Still, it was quite a loss. We could have learned about black market business. That would definitely stir the people, and benefit the authorities." The taller man crossed his arms. "Or at least tell about his captor or whoever surrendered him."

Furihata gulped at the last statement.

"You suddenly looked pale," the journalist noted.

"I-It's nothing..."

"Right." Susa raised an eyebrow, leaning back against his seat. "You're out of yourself since last week."

"...You know it's normal for me, Susa-san."

"That may be true. Still cannot get over dead bodies, eh?"

Furihata flinched slightly at the way it was brought up. "I guess."

"Maybe it's experience that can numb you to those... stuffs." Susa shrugged.

Furihata walked away from the former's desk when he began to be bombarded with phone calls. Looking over to the area, it was always as busy as it has been. Journalists bustling here and there rushing to meet their deadlines, contracting with the publishing department, or some entertaining calls of their own. The same scenario everyday. He was already used to it.

If not for the gnawing pit on his stomach at the moment.

The past few days had been dreadful for him. He could always feel eyes following him everywhere. Perhaps it might have been his imagination since he knew himself being much of a paranoid. But who could blame him? Those pictures were still haunting him, making him restless and lose sleep. He had been internally debating whether to delete them or not. Simply 'forgetting' what he had witnessed was definitely out of the options. It seemed like he would have to suffer memory loss before he could get it out of his mind.

It then boils down to keeping the photos. He touched the camera dangling on his neck. It felt heavy. He couldn't even bring himself to look at them once again. There was an easy way out of it actually－he surrender them to the authorities, or have them posted up. He got a good view of the man who was about to kill the criminal after all. Furihata has no idea, but maybe that redhead was a fellow of Yoshimura, trying to silence him before he could spill the beans.

The brunet felt bad for thinking that somehow the man deserve it. Before when he learned of the identity of the man who was supposed to be murder victim, the guilt was tenfold than it was right then, and he was more than resolved to give information regarding his captor. Then the news suddenly came up the following day, and that was when he learned everything. He was surprised to find out that Yoshimura was surrendered.

Unscathed.

Furihata don't know. Maybe he thought the criminal would be handed bleeding rivers?

Or already dried out of blood?

Badly mutilated?

With a lost limb?

Or worse, a cold corpse.

He shuddered. Yoshimura might be a criminal, but the fact that he's human still remains. He has his own rights, and no other can bring judgment upon him by taking his life.

At least what Furihata believes.

"Ah, that young man passing? Hmm, he's often here so his face is somewhat familiar. Ah! Yes, yes. I remember some elders calling him 'Furihata-kun' or something. He's quite liked among those seniors who hang around the picnic area," the guard, who was in front of the surveillance monitor, said. "Since this place is not really popular to youngsters, elders are the ones mostly here. But then this Furihata-kun mingles with them well, he stand's out among them."

Akashi mentally noted the name. He was yet to confirm it as the security officer of the area wasn't exactly sure－Akashi noticed－if he was correct. "By any chance, Mr. Officer, is this man a photographer?"

"When he's not hanging around with the seniors, he often stations himself here." He pointed an elevated spot seen by one of the angles shown in the monitor. "Then takes pictures of the sunset or any kind of scenery. Though, they say he do that only after his work as a photographer for a newspaper company." He shifted slightly, as if to whisper something. "Especially after shooting cases of gruesome events." The man sighed. "Must be difficult to be in that field."

Akashi was silent and unblinking at the screen where a footage of a brown-haired man taking random shots right an hour before perhaps when the redhead was captured about to murder Yoshimura with that very camera shown.

"That's what I only know about him. May I ask, young Sir, why are you interested?"

With a convincing expression in place, Akashi replied, "He accidentally got something he shouldn't have."

It only took Akashi two days to know the basic information about the man. It was easy to get right into the business quickly, given the man was working for a newspaper was already a big deal. But then three days already passed since the incident and Akashi's face still hasn't made it to the wanted list.

Curious as to why, he decided to watch Furihata's movements for the meantime.

On the first day, he began trailing the brunet heading to a flower shop in the morning. Akashi was at the cafe in front of the shop, showing mild interest as customers flew in and out of the establishments he was facing. It occurred to him that Furihata was taking a part time job aside his occupation. No, probably being a photographer was also a part time.

As if sensing eyes on him, the brunet looked towards the place Akashi formerly positioned himself. Seeing no one, Furihata shook his head.

When Akashi's target went out of the shop, the redhead noticed him bringing a few stems of daffodils with him. Following his way, Akashi was faintly surprised when Furihata bent down to an electric post in a street corner to place the flowers there, and then praying silently for a soul.

After a few hours, Furihata then began heading to his next destination, a bakery, where he was serving as a cashier for a good five hours. When he emerged, he was carrying a brown paper bag which obviously contained breads.

A small, almost run-down house a few walks before Furihata's own simple apartment was where he stopped to knock.

"Good evening, Maika-san," the brown-haired man greeted politely.

"Same to you, Furihata-kun," a middle-aged woman said, looking kindly to him. "Would you like to come in?"

"Ah, no need, Maika-san. I'm just here to give you this," he handed her the paper bag he was carrying. "These are for you and the kids."

"Oh." She gasped. "This, this is too much! I-I can't."

He pushed back to her the bag when she started to return it. "It's alright, Maika-san," he assured her. "They were the ones left earlier so they were given to me for free."

"Still, there are too many. You could have them yourself!"

"Well, I'm not a huge eater." He chuckled. "Besides, there are many of you there as well. Also, Mido and Ken are nearing puberty. I tend to eat a lot that age!"

After excusing himself, Furihata finally decided to go up to his apartment. Akashi memorized the door number, for it might be useful in the future.

The same routine happened on the following few days, but of different part time jobs for every other day. He found out that Furihata's schedule as a photographer was only for three times a week, and then most of his days were spent on his other jobs.

And of almost a week surveying him, Akashi must say Furihata never missed his act of... generosity. Helping a disabled or an elder cross the street; bringing fruits over a widowed grandma next to his apartment; or even giving up his umbrella for a kid who didn't have one and couldn't went home because of the heavy rain. Akashi remembered well how the brunet insisted the kid it was fine anyway, and that his house was 'just a few meters away'. The 'just a few meters away' of his was in reality three streets away.

At the back of his mind, Akashi was mildly impressed.

And at the same time, finding it difficult to eliminate the man.

Furihata leaned his back at the counter heavily, panting slightly. He had been feeling sluggish since morning. That, and top with a headache and a temperature higher than normal.

"You look bad, Furihata," his co-worker pointed. "Better go home now, don't you think?"

The brunet was on his night shift in a convenience store. It was only past ten in the evening; he usually ends at twelve midnight. Also, there would be a salary deduction if the required eight hours were not met.

He doesn't need that right now.

The monthly payment for the apartment was already one month late. Just his luck the land lady was kind enough to allow him an extension. He was planning to pay for the previous and current rent in one go once he has his hands on his next payroll.

He shook his head, straightening himself. The slight sudden movement made his vision swirl for a moment. "I'm fine. Thank you for worrying." He offered a small smile. "I'll drink medicine once I get home."

"If you say so..."

Thankfully, the remaining time went in a blur, but Furihata felt like he was getting worse every passing minute.

On his way home, he progressed to breaking out into cold sweat, his throat parched, and his eyesight dimming at the sides. Not to mention, his knees were as if in the verge of giving up.

I think I pushed myself too much today, he mused, wanting nothing than to throw himself in his bed right at the very moment.

He allowed a small smile when he could finally see his apartment a few distance away. Furihata was about to make a run for it when all of a sudden, his body became too heavy for him to carry.

The world was spinning around him when the brunet collapsed on the spot. The street ground was cold and rough, though he wondered why he couldn't help but succumb to sleepiness.

But not without seeing a brief flash of red.

The next day Furihata came to his senses, it was past noon.

He sprang up his bed, reaching for his phone, hastily typing a number. "Hello? Susa-san?!" Furihata almost yelled the moment the other line was picked up. "I'm so sorry! I know I'm several hours late already, but I promise to be there in twenty minutes!"

"Woah, wait, calm down!" Susa matched his volume. "And what are you saying? You texted me earlier this morning and said you couldn't make it. Didn't you get my reply? You have the day off."

"Huh?"

"Don't 'Huh?' me. You're the one who messaged me at that goddamned hour." There was a click of the tongue that followed. "Well, you seem lively enough already. You fine now?"

"...I think."

"Good. Now don't let the day go to waste. Take the opportunity to rest. See you around."

Furihata stared down on his phone, not believing it for a minute. He went to the message folder and indeed, there was a conversation between him and Susa he did not remember having.

The time of the message read 1:03 AM.

1:03 AM... My shift ends at midnight. It's a thirty-minute walk from there to here.

The memory of him losing consciousness before making it to his apartment flooded his mind.

"What?!"

Furihata frantically searched for his backpack he always bring at work.

Wallet... Money still here... Check.

Identification card... Check.

Credit card... Check.

The brunet was confused for a moment and decided to check for his other belongings. He panicked a little when his camera wasn't in its usual place, but found it nonetheless in a different drawer.

Okay, if there is nothing missing, who, why, and how I was brought to my own bed?

Now that he had somehow calmed down, Furihata could see his reflection in the mirror. Under his unkempt bangs was a strip of Cool Fever stuck. He was also changed to cotton shirt and loose shorts. The blanket he threw on the floor the moment he woke up was a thick one he didn't remember getting out to use. There was also a small basin of water at the foot of the bed with white towels soaked.

The brunet suddenly felt guilty for suspecting someone of theft when perhaps the person's sole intention was to help him.

How stupid of me.

Looking around, the place was still the same. As if the person who helped him knew their way around.

Wait... Maybe it was obaa-chan next door!

He thought it should explain everything. She new his door number and had been to his place for a couple of times before.

But she couldn't have carried me here, though. Oh, she must have asked for help.

Right when he was about to knock on her door, the old woman emerged just in time, smiling when she saw him.

"Good afternoon, obaa-chan."

"Good afternoon to you too, Furihata-kun. Ara, feeling well now?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah."

"Next time, don't push yourself too much. It's bad for your health. You're still young."

Furihata scratched his head shyly, feeling embarrassed and grateful at the same time for the concern. "I'll be careful next time. Too bad, I learned it the hard way." He laughed lightly. "Ah, by the way, thank you for taking care of me last night. If it wasn't because of you, I don't think I'll be feeling this well." He bowed politely.

"Oh my, I don't think I'm the one you should be thanking." Her eyes crinkled in amusement. "It was your friend who assured me he would take care of everything."

Furihata frowned. "Friend?"

"Yes, I went out exactly when he passed by my door carrying you."

"I thought..."

"He said you overworked yourself that was why you passed out on your way. Hmm, I don't know his name, but I've never seen him before as well."

The brown-haired man's interest was piqued even more. "Can you describe what he looks like?"

"About this height." The old woman gestured with her arm. "I must say taller than you. He was wearing all black and－oh, how can I forget! He looks very rich and is quite a handsome lad as well."

By now, Furihata was more confused. He doesn't even remember befriending someone having the vague details said to him, or somebody rich for that matter. "Um, any distinguishable features?" he asked meekly.

"Oh, I don't know. It might be my failing eyesight, but his eyes... they seemed to be of different colors."

The moment she stated it, he felt chills he never－no, it wasn't that he never felt it before.

It was more like he had experienced it once and at that certain incident only.

Where he had unknowingly seen something he shouldn't have.

B-But it could have been a coincidence, right?

Right.

"Does..." he paused to gulp. "Does he have a red hair?"

She smiled in affirmation. "It seems like you know who I was talking about."

Furihata felt his remaining fever get doused by a cold bucket of water.

TBC