Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: Comments and critique appreciated.

Inui sat in front of his computer at the police station, the colours on the computer screen, white, blue and grey in different shades reflecting off his glasses, shifting positions every time his finger clicked on the mouse, and another picture of a young man, between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five, with light brown hair, and a mole, or possibly a tattoo under his right eye appeared on the screen. There were a lot of young men with light brown hair, some with a tattoo under their right eye, but none with a mole, and none of them was the man he had now seen twice, in the proximity of Echizen Ryoma.

He had intended to tell Oishi he had seen the young man they saw yesterday following them today, but when Oishi had been so obviously distressed by thoughts of their days in school, he hadn't had the heart to shock him any further. So instead he had returned to the police station to look through mug shots, hoping that maybe the man he had seen had a criminal record.

There seemed to be an endless amount of young men that had light brown hair in Tokyo, and he thought there would be even more once he would expand his search to cover all of Japan. He wished he'd know more, had seen more of the man so he could narrow the search. He had a feeling that the man was the key to this whole thing, that if he could only find him, he could protect Echizen Ryoma and solve the murders no one but him seemed to think had even occurred.

But there had been two murders, and possibly more, Inui was sure of it. There had been multiple disappearances in the area in which Echizen Ryoma had been attacked, and he knew they were connected. Too many similarities for them to be just coincidences.

Inui did not believe in coincidences. He believed in numbers and statistics, and there was something odd about the statistics of those disappearances. They did not resemble the statistics of any other disappearance Inui had investigated.

All of the people that had disappeared had been people that had no reason to run, and no enemies that would have resorted to kidnapping or murder. They had almost all gone missing after dark, none during the day, and not one body had ever been found. And the area they had disappeared from was a peaceful neighbourhood where there weren't many crimes committed, and even those were mostly just feuds between neighbours, and a few burglaries. Hardly any homicides or violent crimes.

Inui glanced at the computer screen once more, and at the young man's photograph filling one third of the screen. There was almost nothing in the young man that resembled the man Inui had seen, other than the light brown hair and a tear tattoo in the corner of his right eye. His face was too angular, and chin too long. Inui wondered would he even recognize the man from a photograph. After all he had only seen the man twice, and both times from a distance.

He closed the computer, deciding to try an alternate way of finding the man. From what he had seen, the man wore expensive clothing and carried himself in an arrogant manner that suggested he was born into wealth. That he was seen around Echizen Ryoma suggested he was involved with the boy and the incident in some way. Those things together told Inui of a criminal who could buy himself, if not freedom, than at least a cop, or perhaps two.

And Inui knew just the cop to call about that.

Inui picked up his briefcase and with a brief nod to the detectives still working beside their desks, Yagyuu and Akutsu, left the police station and headed for the parking lot.

He waited until he was sitting inside his car before he made the phone call.

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Akutsu crushed his cigarette on an ashtray and picked up the phone that was silently vibrating on top of a pile of papers he hadn't bothered to read through. "Yeah," he answered.

"I need you to find someone for me," Inui said as a greeting.

The only reason Akutsu didn't hang up on Inui, was that they were both friends with Kawamura. And Kawamura fed Akutsu. One mention from Inui that Akutsu had not 'behaved' and his free sushi might be in danger.

"Sure, what's the bastard's name?" Akutsu asked, and pulled a piece of paper from the pile on his desk, turned it over and took a pen from a mug that had an image of a cute little pink kitty with a yellow ribbon painted on it. Only one person had ever laughed at the mug.

"I do not know," Inui said. "I have only seen him a few times."

"Then how do you expect me to find him?" Akutsu asked, but made another question right after it before Inui had time to respond to the first one. "What does he look like?"

While writing down the details Inui told him, Akutsu kept his other eye on Yagyuu who most clearly wasn't paying any attention to Akutsu, and was most definitely not trying to listen in on the conversation. God forbid the fucking Gentleman would try to do something like eavesdrop, or spy. Not Yagyuu, the cop who lived by the fucking rule book.

When Inui was done, Akutsu hung up on him without saying goodbye, or before Inui could thank him. He didn't want to hear it.

Everyone always called him when they wanted to know something they thought only a corrupt cop would know. They all called him, but never talked to him in the office because they didn't want to be labelled as corrupt by being seen with him.

The fucked up thing was, Akutsu was squeaky clean. He'd never taken a bribe, or looked the other way, or lost some evidence by accident.

He had a reputation for a bad cop, but none of the perks. And the guy that had the reputation as a good cop reaped the benefits from both.

He fucking hated Yagyuu.

Akutsu stuck his hand in his pocket to get another cigarette and cursed when he found out he had none left. Stealing another glance at Yagyuu Akutsu stuck the paper he'd written down the details Inui had told him on his desk drawer, locked it and pocketed the key and after throwing the empty cigarette pack to the trash can, left the room.

Yagyuu waited till he was sure Akutsu was gone, then stood up from behind his desk and walked over to Akutsu's desk. He picked up Akutsu's phone, went through the phone log to see who Akutsu had spoken to, and a thin smile formed on his lips. Next he took out a duplicate of the key Akutsu had used and opened the drawer Akutsu was always so careful to lock and didn't have to search long. There was only one thing in the drawer that hadn't been there before.

When he was done reading the paper, and had locked the drawer again, he returned to his desk and called a number he had memorized, let it ring for two times and then hung up. By the time Akutsu returned with a pack of cigarettes Yagyuu's phone had beeped, informing him of a new message.

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Atobe walked along the streets of the now quiet city with no set destination in mind. He had left his hotel room knowing that despite Fuji's almost sedated state now, it would soon turn to hunger, and Fuji would turn to the closest source of blood, him. Hoping sleep would take away the hunger, Atobe had left. He had no desire to stay and listen to Fuji's silken voice plead for a little taste, a little fear in the back of his mind that if he stayed, he would let Fuji do anything he wanted.

Atobe had contemplated on calling room-service up for Fuji, but had dismissed the thought quickly. He had enough trouble with the police because of his involvement with Ryoma, a dead hotel employee was something he could not afford now.

The thought of Ryoma made Atobe frown, the fact that the boy had such an affect on him was displeasing, but he could not ignore the truth of it.

He had nearly killed Fuji, and argued with Sanada because of the boy. He had never before been so hostile in his arguments with Sanada. They had quarrelled before this, fought even, but there had always been a lack of any true hostility between them. But that had changed today, and Atobe was still surprised by his own violent reaction when Sanada had spoken of Ryoma, surprised by the strength of his emotions, of how deeply involved he was.

The boy was the first in centuries that he had felt anything for. Curiosity might have been the catalyst for it, his surprise that the boy could still live after losing so much blood, after his throat had been torn. Curiosity that had only grown stronger when the boy had followed him.

He had asked the boy to choose between himself and the woman, expecting the boy to be noble and sacrifice himself. Truthfully Atobe did not know what someone else would have answered given the same choice, he had never asked the question from someone else. Most would have no doubt chosen their own lives, and Atobe would have had no qualms killing them after that. He had meant to do so with the boy, but his answer to his second question, why he had come to Atobe and not ran or hidden, had made him not to want it, the boy's death.

He had first thought to play with the boy, then kill him. Now he found himself wanting the boy to live. And it confused him, that desire, because it contradicted with his hunger for the boy's blood. The blood he had taken from the boy last night was not enough to sate his hunger, but he could not bare the thought of the boy dead. He could even less bare the thought of Fuji touching the boy.

A movement at the edge of his vision caught Atobe's attention, and he was drawn to it because it was too swift to be caused by anything human. The scent of blood, cold and dead, lingered in the air.

He turned to look at the alley from where the scent came from, but saw nothing in the shadows. Slowly he stepped deeper into the darkness, and soon noticed the body on the ground, its back leaning against the wall, head slumped against the chest, long blond hair coloured pink by blood hiding the face.

Atobe knelt down next to the body and his eyes landed on the knife that had been struck deep into its chest. The blood stain on the shirt was still growing; it had not been long since the man had been killed. There were wounds on the man's neck, made by sharp canine teeth. Among them were shallow, long cuts that looked like they had been made by a sharp blade, perhaps with the one now sticking out of his chest. More cuts and bruises on the man's arms, some partially healed, others only a few hours old. Whoever it was that had done this to the man had taken their time.

It was an eerily familiar situation for him, to find a body in this condition. Everything about the wounds, even on the bite marks reeked with a familiarity that sent waves of disbelief through his mind. The shallow wounds that had no meaning other than to bleed the victim, cause pain and rouse terror.

Sanada's words returned to Atobe, the man's futile hope and constant dream of Yukimura's return. 'Sometimes I hear his voice when the sun rises, and I think…'

Annoyed with Sanada for making him even think of it, Atobe growled and shook his head. He had heard the pained screams when the sun rose, had felt the pain of its rays burning away Yukimura's skin, had seen the ashes - all that had remained of Yukimura. Nothing could have survived it. And yet he had searched, Sanada had searched, they all had. Had there been anything to find, they would have found it.

Atobe took hold of the knife embedded in the man's chest and pulled it free. It slid out easily, and when more blood spilled from the wound Atobe's nose scrunched up as the overwhelming stench of the dead man's blood assaulted him.

"Hey, everything alright there?" A man shouted from the end of the alley, and took a step forward. But when he saw Atobe kneeling next to the body, holding a knife, he stopped, shouted, "Shit!" and backed away.

Atobe glanced back at the knife he held, then at the body, and at the man again. He opened his mouth but found he had nothing to say. The man would have to die, and that simple fact suddenly sickened Atobe and rooted him to his spot. He could have reached the man in a second, killed him instantly, before he even had the chance to take in another breath. But Atobe couldn't move, did not want to stand from his spot by the body because it would mean he had taken yet another life, for no purpose other than to silence him. He did not even have the excuse of feeding. He would have to kill the man because he had been careless enough to let himself be seen in front of a dead body with a knife in his hand.

A sleek shadow dropped down behind the man, slender fingers covered his mouth and twisted his head back, and a hungry mouth was buried in the man's neck. His death was quick and silent, too fast for any fear to show on his face, for any words to be uttered.

Atobe stood up, his hold on the knife so tight it was almost painful. He flung it through the air towards the shadow that caught it and grinned, a flash of crimson flashing across the surface of the black eyes.

"Look at that," Atobe said with a sneer. "Fits you like a glove."

The grin dropped from Kirihara's face, and he growled. He narrowed his eyes and pointed at Atobe with the hilt of the knife and snarled. "I had nothing to do with that. Just thought I'd do you a favour, since you looked petrified. Guess I shouldn't have expected anything so simple like gratitude from you."

"Are you telling me this isn't the type of thing you would do?" Atobe gestured back towards the body. "Someone's been feeding off him for days, carved marks on him, if not with that knife, then with some other blade. We both know who liked to play like that."

Kirihara looked shocked, but Atobe was not willing to believe the shock as genuine. In an instant Kirihara had abandoned his victim and appeared next to Atobe so he could look at the body. "You're right," Kirihara said. "This is something I might do just to fuck with your head. But I didn't."

"Who then? Yanagi? Sanada would not do this." Atobe decided to at least pretend that he believed Kirihara. Maybe that would result in him saying something he had not intended to say.

"It wasn't either of us, Atobe," Kirihara said, glaring at him. "We came here today. Yanagi's been with me the whole time after we met Sanada, and even before that. He wouldn't have been able to slip away from me to do this."

"Then who?" Atobe asked, moved from Kirihara's side and let his gaze wander on the roofs of the buildings on both their sides. If what Kirihara had said was the truth, then the person that had left the body was probably still around, waiting to see his reaction.

"How the hell should I know all your enemies!" Kirihara snapped, but then continued in a contemplative tone, tapping his chin with the knife's hilt. "It's pretty freaky, though. Like one of those copycat killers. I bet whoever did this is pretty pissed at you for killing Yukimura, enough to want to spook you with a victim that looks like it was killed by him."

"I did not kill Yukimura!" Atobe yelled, and Kirihara's head snapped up to look at him.

"Oh come on," Kirihara grinned. "Don't even try to tell me you fucking wept for him, or that you hadn't been planning what happened for weeks, maybe even for years. You killed him alright. You might not have inflected any physical harm on him, but you killed him."

"I didn't know he would react the way he did," Atobe hissed and turned away, some regret sounding in his voice.

"Like hell you didn't," Kirihara's voice lowered, and the grin left his face. "You knew what Sanada meant to him, what hearing words like that coming from Sanada's mouth would do to him."

"Yes I wanted him to suffer, to be in pain! But I did not think he would kill himself!" Atobe screamed, turning back to face Kirihara. "I cannot be at fault for his weaknesses!"

"Careful," Kirihara whispered with a malicious glint in his dark eyes. "You don't want to degrade him too much in front of me."

Atobe snorted. "And what makes you think you can threaten me?" he asked, a mocking smirk on his lips. "You still haven't grown strong enough to challenge me."

Kirihara growled, his fingers tightening around the knife's handle, eyes narrowing, and he crouched, preparing to jump at Atobe, who stood where he was, head thrown back, smirking. And then jumped. Atobe's face went completely blank, and he stared at his pants pocket that had begun vibrating.

"What the…?" Kirihara commented, his eyes glued to the front of Atobe's pants. "That's not normal, even for a living human."

"It's my phone, you idiot!" Atobe snapped, and pulled out a small, red phone from his pocket.

"I knew that," Kirihara quickly said, and Atobe snorted. "Why do you need a phone, anyway?" he asked.

"It became necessary a few years ago," Atobe said. "How can you exist without one?"

"Not like I know anyone with a phone," Kirihara mumbled. "But I suppose I could get one, if you tell me your phone number?"

"No."

"You could at least pretend to think about it," Kirihara said with a little pout.

"Alright," Atobe was silent for a few moments. "No. Are you satisfied now?"

Kirihara's eyes narrowed and he looked down, his eyes landing on the bodies. "We should probably do something about these before someone else stumbles here."

"I agree," Atobe said, his attention shifting back to his phone. A few moments later he pocketed the phone and turned contemplative eyes to Kirihara. He turned his head to the side, and looked silently at Kirihara who began to fidget under the gaze. "Come on. You can carry them."

Before Kirihara could even start to form a protest in his head, Atobe was already walking away. "Fucking asshole," Kirihara muttered, and kicked one of the bodies.