A/N: I apologize in advance for 1. this chapter, and 2. this chapter taking so darn long to be posted. The second can be explained by the first: I have been fighting with his chapter for the past month, trying to make it better, and, well... This is as good as it gets, and, quite frankly, I'm not sure I like it. At all. Which is why it's so freaking short. BUT it gets across what it needs to, so it'll do.

I promise you that next chapter will be better.

That being said, reviews last chapter... I FRIGGIN LOVE YOU PEOPLE. Enjoy a free Internet cookie with this chapter. (:

Disclaimer: Do I really need this? Yes? Fine. I'm still holding out to get the rights for Christmas, though.

Have fun playing Detective. And Good Luck! ;)

Chapter Four
Buried Beneath

The dawn came much earlier than Houtarou would have liked. Not only had his homework not been finished, but he had gotten very little sleep either, his mind consumed by his sister's words. As the sun rose higher into the sky, illuminating first his white ceiling then the walls, he wanted nothing more than to be able to fall asleep. Glancing at the clock, he saw that falling asleep now would actually be pointless – he had to get up for school in less than thirty minutes. He groaned, rolling onto his side. All he wanted to do was sleep, but, even if he still had time, his thoughts were restless, keeping his mind from letting him relax enough to do so.

Talking to his sister had to have been the worst mistake of his life. At least before, he could still fall asleep at night. Now, the mystery had yet to be solved and it was interfering with his sleep. True it gave him another piece of the puzzle, but that alone wasn't enough. There were still too many pieces missing, and the few he had only served to confuse him as he turned them around and around only to feel like he had been left with less than he had started with.

He still couldn't make heads or tails of anything. He couldn't wrap his head around what his sister had told him. He had tried to deny it – she only said that to get him off her back – but then he would realize she would have no reason to do that – or would she? Was his sister really that cruel? To turn the blame on him just to get him to stop asking about it? And what reason would she have to give an excuse like that if it weren't true? No – he knew she was telling the truth.

But then what did that mean for him? If they truly moved because of him… He couldn't fathom why that would be. He was still missing something important – something he felt he should know, maybe buried in his memories – but he could not, for anything, figure out what it could be.

His alarm chose that moment to go off, making Houtarou wish even more that he could just fall asleep. He pushed himself up with a groan, turning off the alarm, and rubbing his eyes that burned from lack of sleep. At least it was Saturday so he would only have to keep from falling asleep for half the day – not that he thought he was capable of falling asleep with his mind as jumbled as it was.

He finally coaxed himself to stand up despite his exhaustion and immediately sat back down, head resting on one hand while the other steadied him against the bed, trying to get the world to stop spinning. Taking a few deep breathes, he waited until the floor wasn't tilting under him anymore before standing up more slowly, one hand tightly gripping the headboard of his bed.

A knock sounded on his door, prompting him to glance at the clock: He was going to be late if he didn't hurry.

"Little brother, you up yet? You're going to be late for school."

As he moved towards the door to prove to his sister that he was, indeed, out of bed, he had it decided for him that he wasn't going to school that day when he almost fell flat on his face. He groaned, flopping back down onto his bed, forearm falling over his eyes.

"Houtarou?"

He only groaned again, not wishing to waste the energy to respond. The door opened; soft footfalls followed on the hardwood floor; a hand pushed his arm over and rested on his brow. He could hear the frown in her voice when she spoke again.

"You don't feel warm at all…"

He finally picked his feet back up off the floor and rolled over to face the wall. "Didn't sleep well," he muttered. "Don't feel well…" And it's your fault…

"Hmmm." He could feel Tomoe's eyes staring at his back. "Okay. I'll tell Dad, then…"

Houtarou wasn't about to protest – it saved him from falling down the stairs, after all, which was most likely what would have happened. He could feel her gaze linger on him for a moment longer before exiting the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, and heading back down to the main floor. Her voice drifted up to him and, a moment later, there was another knock on the door followed shortly by someone sitting down next to him on the bed.

"Houtarou? What's wrong?"

Straight to the point, like always. "Just don't feel very well," he muttered. "Got really dizzy when I stood up; head kinda hurts…"

"Tomoe said you told her you didn't sleep well last night." Houtarou nodded. "That's probably why." His father sighed. "Well, I guess it's all right if you miss today since it's only a half day, anyway. Get some sleep."

Houtarou nodded again though he knew he probably wouldn't get much. There were just too many things going on in his head – if he could just make those thoughts stop long enough to fall asleep for a few hours, maybe he could actually find some answers. As it was, he could hardly think straight, much less solve his puzzle.

He felt the bed rise as he father stood up, but before he left the room, he spoke again. "Houtarou, is there anything in particular that's been stressing you out lately? Something that's been keeping you awake at night?"

How was he supposed to answer that? Of course there was something going on, but no one was willing to give him any concrete answers! He settled for nodding in response and, a moment later, felt the bed sink next to him again.

"Anything you want to talk about? It might help."

Houtarou felt like bursting out into laughter. Of course he wanted to talk about it! But if I told you what's bothering me, he thought wryly, would you still want to talk about it? I think not. He opened his mouth to respond before closing it again. Sighing, he decided it was worth a shot even if he already knew it would be in vain. "If you thought someone was keeping something important from you, and they refuse to talk to you or keep telling you any excuse to not give you a straight answer, what would you do?"

His father sighed, and Houtarou had an idea that he knew to what he was referring. The answer proved him correct. "There's nothing to tell, Houtarou."

"Yeah. Sure."

He could hear his father sigh again – probably running his hand through his hair, too. "Look, I have to get to work." Typical excuse. "But, please, take my word for it: You're better off not knowing what happened sixteen years ago. Let it go, Houtarou. It's better this way."

He laid awake for what felt like hours more after his father had left only to glance at the clock to discover only twenty minutes had passed. With a groan, he slowly sat back up again, slowly moved back onto his feet, hoping beyond all hope that he could make it to the bathroom before collapsing to the floor. He really needed to take a leak, and, if he were lucky, he might be able to find something in the medicine cabinet to help him fall asleep. Keeping one hand on the wall for balance, he didn't have a problem – and he was in luck. With how often his parents crossed time zones, sleep aids were practically a necessity so he wasn't particularly surprised – but he was grateful.

Why didn't I think of this sooner? he wondered as he knocked back a dose with some water.

He was sound asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow again.

With slowly returning consciousness, unwanted thoughts returned as well, chasing each other around in never-ending circles once again. He didn't want to wake up yet, but it seemed he didn't really have a choice in the matter – his system had already decided for him, and he wasn't pleased. He didn't want to wake up yet; he didn't want to think about what was going on. All he wanted to do was forget that anything had happened.

But that, unfortunately, wasn't an option.

A quiet knock sounded on his door. Eyes still closed, he grunted at a volume that he hoped would get across that he was awake but grudgingly so. It must have worked because he heard the door open and someone come in. When several seconds of silence passed, he grudgingly cracked one eye open to see what was going on. Standing above him, his sister was staring down at him intently.

"If there was nothing you wanted," he groaned, closing his eye, "then go away…"

"Your friend stopped by," she stated. "Yoshino-san was it? Brought by your make-up work."

"Oh." Silence. He sighed. "Again, if there was nothing you wanted…"

"What? You don't want the company of your beautiful sister?"

"No," he replied flatly, "I don't. Go away."

He could feel her staring at him for a moment longer before leaving, closing the door softly behind her. He sighed in relief – talking to her was the last thing he wanted after the last time. And yet he almost wished she would have stayed… At least then his mind had something else to focus on besides the obvious lies and half-truths he had, until recently, accepted as fact. He wasn't sure he knew what the truth was anymore when it came to his family. What was real and what was fake?

Sleepily opening his eyes, he sat up and glanced over at the folder on his desk – more homework that would more than likely go undone. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. He had never had better than average grades, and now he was falling behind. If he didn't find a way to start getting his course work done, everything would spiral even further out of control. This wasn't how he had envisioned finishing high school – but then again, he hadn't envisioned any of this either.

Rubbing the grit out of his eyes with the heel of his hand, he slipped out of bed and sat down at his desk. As he opened the folder, his phone buzzed next to him. Glancing at the screen, he somehow wasn't surprised at the sender.

Oreki! Just so you know, I claimed you as my partner for that history project since you were gone – we got a boring topic though…

He quickly tapped back his reply, asking the topic, before pretending to return to his homework while waiting for Yoshino to reply. It didn't take long for his phone to vibrate mercilessly. He quickly snatched it up off the surface of his desk, opening the message as he did so.

1973 oil crisis. Boring right? We couldn't have gotten a war or something fun like that…

Houtarou frowned, stating at the screen, seeing the response but neither reading it nor truly thinking about it. Setting his phone down, message still displayed on the screen, his mind wandered back to his all-allusive mystery but, more than that, the conversation with his friend from the day before. Something that happened that brought an odd reaction from his family before the move… Something he was missing… Something… But what? A... crisis of some kind? Something that somehow connected to some event that happened the year he was born…

He groaned. It was driving him insane! He needed someone to talk to… Someone who might have noticed something he hadn't – someone in Kamiyama. In other words, someone he wasn't allowed to talk to anymore.

"Screw this," he muttered, picking up his phone and dialing an all-too familiar number. The person on the other end picked up after the second ring. "Satoshi? It's me…"

~Requiem for Silence~