Pre-Chapter Notes:

- Trigger Warning: suicide, (mentions of) self-harm

- This chapter was a bitch. The end.

- I just took a look at the reviews and... oh, wow, I have eight of these things? That's, like, eight more than I thought I would get! Thanks for reviewing, everyone. It's appreciated.

Tired eyes stare at the crumpled note in her hands. "And this is supposed to be… what?"

Suwako looks up from her desk, if momentarily. "That's the note she left for her kid, Kana."

Kanako gives the sheet of paper a quick scan – it's not too long, and not very interesting either, but a deeper read into it might prove useful. "Alright. Found any information about this family's history yet?"

The blonde's forehead scrunches up, as it has been for quite a while. "Pretty weird. All we've got is that this woman's husband is a player, aight. Married to two ladies, he is."

"What, so there's Himekaidou, and the other…?"

"Haven't exactly gotten to the part yet. We're on it, though – I'll tell you once we've got our list."

"Sounds good." Kanako glances down at the paper once more – she's still not quite sure what to do with it. It's technically evidence, after all. Even so, she gives it a read-through – never hurts to be more prepared. The writing is sloppy, as if whoever wrote this had been in some sort of rush.

Hatate,

I'm telling you now – don't mourn for me. I'm not worth it. All I gotta say if you ever ask why is that your dad caught up to me. I'm pretty sure the police found out and are coming this very minute, which is why I'm doing this. Find out the truth for yourself, if you can handle it.

(Mom) Hilda

PS: Hey, police bitches – the house and everything in it is given to my kid. If I can call her that.

She idly notes the messy strike through 'mom'; now if she can just get a verbal testimony from that Hatate kid, it'd prove the theory of 'abusive mother'. But then there's always that damned Shameimaru always acting as some sort of speaker for her, and to be frank, Kanako's quite sick of it. Can't the brunette talk? If it's for the sake of this God-be-damned murder case, she'd damn well resort to questionable methods.

Mentally, she shakes her head. Murder case. The case had been closed years ago – but only now did little Sanae decide to open it up and investigate it herself. Stupid girl… Kanako casts a glance at the blonde by her desk briefly, wondering if she should bring it up. Suwako only knows that the case had suddenly been opened and that someone had found a more-than-likely suspect.

Ah, well. Sanae would tell her herself… probably. Kanako places the paper back on Suwako's desk and makes her way out of her office, bidding her goodbye. The blonde doesn't reply, but Kanako's all too used to it.

Now, she thinks, as she shrugs out of her jacket, it's time for a little investigation.

It happened all so suddenly. She hadn't even been able to react accordingly until Aya gasped, pulled her back out of sight from the… the body, and then dragged her back downstairs to the police. And Hatate had stayed numb the whole time, just barely managing to comprehend the scene that she had saw for all of two seconds.

It was all too much.

The police had marched up the stairs the moment Aya had stuttered something out – for once, Hatate hadn't been paying attention. Everything had been just dull background noise in her ears. It was so… so… she couldn't describe it.

Aya had shakily sat her down on the nearest chair, still wide-eyed. She still couldn't blink, or move, or do anything useful, all she could see was the creak, creak of the swinging, of the body, of her –

"Hata–"

The brunette's breath had hitched, her heart skipping a few beats, she remembers. 'Aya. Oh, God, Aya, what's she going to say– '

"Hatate, I… I'm, I'm so sorry, I just… I didn't–"

Numbly, Hatate shook her head. It's one of the hardest little movements she's ever made, but then again, everything had taken so much effort that she could barely tell the difference between everything. From the corner of her eye, she could see Aya going motionless, facing straight ahead.

A hand (rough and calloused and God, it's just what she needs) had reached out for hers. Hatate didn't refuse, but didn't react, either. Not because she hadn't wanted it – quite the opposite – but because she just couldn't bring herself to.

Their fingers intertwined, and at that moment, that very moment, Hatate had thought, since everyone's gone, what if I disappear, too? And she looked beside her, at the enigma named Aya Shameimaru, and decided she could afford to disappear a little later.

If only.

The body had been freaky, to say the least.

After she'd successfully put Hatate back to sleep in her bed, Aya had quietly made her way to the brunette's mother's room. The body was still there for investigation – and it hadn't been very long since the police had started looking through it, after all. She took the liberty of scouring the area and trying not to throw up at the sight of the still, limp corpse.

The motionless chest had been disconcerting. The face, stuck in that everlasting blank, empty expression – now that had been downright terrifying. Aya kept her eyes as low as possible to avoid glancing up and staring at something she didn't want to see.

The police officers were all inspecting things like drawers and closets, but Aya was only rather interested in exactly why Mrs. Himekaidou had decided to do something like… like that. She had a daughter (a lovely one) to take care of, and a husband to love – or, wait, did she?

Aya had never actually seen another male in the household aside from the police officers. No Mr. Himekaidou for this one, it looked. She supposed she was similar to the Himekaidou family in that aspect – no father, supposedly disappeared in the middle of a business trip, according to dear old mother. She didn't want to question it now, but…

No, no. Focus on the task at hand, not on memories long gone.

She checks around the tables first, see if there's anything suspicious in them, but evidently not, as they're all stripped bare by the officers. And though she's gone unnoticed by most of the police in the room due to the similarity in outfits, one of them had immediately noticed her when she moved closer to the body. She had a rather unusual hairstyle, but not bad.

"Excuse me – do you have business with this woman?" She cocked her head a little, and Aya noticed that she looked barely older than twenty. If she squinted, she could see a shiny little nametag there – Kagiyama.

Aya nodded quickly. "I'm her daughter's friend." If she could say she was her 'best' friend, that would certainly add to her argument, but she couldn't exactly be sure about Hatate's relationships. "And, I… she told me she wanted to know what was happening, so I went here to take a look."

Kagiyama, or whatever her first name is, smiles. "I'm sorry, but only family is allowed. Leave as soon as you can before anyone notices you're a little out of place. I'll pretend I didn't see you." With that, she pointedly averts her gaze and pretends to empty out an already-empty drawer. Aya spares a little simper, before glancing at the body (God, it's horrid, why did this have to happen, and to Hatate of all people) and scampering back out.

"I have news," Suwako drones. "You know, I don't think I like working on this murder case."

"Yeah, neither do I," Kanako replies, snark lining her voice like poison. Then she actually hears Suwako's first statement, and her head swivels with alarming speed towards her partner. "Wait, news? You're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious." The blonde squints at her computer screen, then redirects her attention at the files next to her keyboard. "Lessee. Himekaidou's husband, he was married to this nice lady first and had a kid with her. Then he went on a business trip to America from Japan, met Himekaidou there, fell in love and got married… again. Had a kid, again. Then when the time came around to leave, he…" She trails off, before she shakes her head and sighs. "Yeah, that's all I've got. This Google search is seriously leading nowhere."

"A business trip to America," Kanako murmurs. "If Himekaidou's in here, in Japan now, then did she move here with her kid or something after that guy did… whatever?"

"Looks like it." Suwako takes a long sip from her coffee. "Anyway, I can't find a whole lotta records about this guy, but it looks like he's…" Her voice trails off. Then she squints at her screen, as if all the answers to the universe is there. "Hey, Kana…"

Kanako perks up. "Mhm? Something wrong?" She scoots over with her swivel chair to peek over Suwako's shoulder, but the blonde looks back at her partner with wide eyes.

"Kana, that other kid with Himekaidou…"

"Shameimaru?" Kanako arches an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"Does she have a dad?" Suwako asks, eyes the size of saucers.

Kanako shrugs. "Well, I wouldn't know–"

"No, this is important, come on, Kanako!" Suwako persists. Kanako backs away slightly – the blonde's never been this way before, so why would it happen now? Unless…

Oh, no. "Suwako, the guy's last name, it can't be–"

Crimson eyes find their way onto the computer screen. A man's face, and a name: Soichiro Shameimaru.

When Hatate wakes up, it's all just a blur of colors at first.

Her thoughts are muddled, her head numb, eyes blank – she can't think of anything. Hell, she can't even feel frustration, or anger, or sadness, or whatever it is she's supposed to be feeling. Her mother just… just killed herself. A shuddering breath runs through her curled-up body; it's the first reaction at what's happened since she woke up.

Out of habit, she runs her hand through her hair, and belatedly notices it's untied and flowing loosely off her shoulders. Combing her long, brown hair has never been a favorite pastime of the brunette's, but it's certainly something to kill time with. Shakily pushing herself off her bed, she heads over to her study table, where she remembers the last place her comb had been was next to the finished articles. It's not there when she looks for it, so she abruptly gives up and settles down on the chair.

Mother is dead.

A low sound escapes her lips. It's the closest thing to a sob she can manage right now. She's all alone in her room – without Aya or even the police officers – and, oh, she's sure, she's so sure that Aya had been scared off by her mother ('s body) that she's going to refuse knowing Hatate altogether. She's going to kick her off the club, she knows it, pretends she doesn't know she exists–

Knock. Knock. "Hatate? Are you okay?"

Her breath hitches. Her eyelids flutter shut. "Why do you come back?" she screams – God, this is the loudest I've ever spoken in such a long time, why am I doing this to Aya? Why am I doing this to myself? Why do I have to subject her to my voice each and every time? "Why do you keep coming back and – and caring? I'm not – I'm not worthy. You're too nice. It hurts. It hurts. Don't you know that? It hurts a lot! Why does it hurt?!"

The brunette curls up into a ball and breathes in deeply, trying to stabilize her shaking frame, but God is it hard. Why do I have to feel? Why do I have to be subjected to this kind of torture, this loathing? It hurts, it hurts…

"I'm sorry, Hatate," a soft voice calls from outside, muffled by the door. She lifts her head, brown eyes gleaming with tears. "I'm sorry I care for you and want you to be… to be okay. It hurts for me, too, you know? You're one of my… my best friends, if that's okay, and I don't want you to be like this. You… don't deserve it. You've been nothing but horribly nice, and… and you were the only other person to join the Newspaper Club… and that means a lot to me. I guess it's just because I don't want to see you be hurt that I have to be hurt, too."

Then the heavy silence continues, broken only occasionally by long, soft whines from the shivering wreck that is Hatate Himekaidou. She faintly hears the door click open, a pair of arms wrap around her body, and a chin resting on her shoulder. A whisper;

"I'm sorry. I'll hold you for as long as it takes, okay?"

The brunette doesn't respond. She buries her head deeper into her chest, tears spilling down without her meaning to, and she eventually falls asleep.

What if I disappear, too…?

Kanako barges in the house for about the third time in the past week.

Hina is the one looking over the place of death today, accompanied by two sisters who are in charge of clearing out everything else that hadn't already been cleared the other day. The Himekaidou kid is still sulking in her bedroom, though it's not like Kanako can blame her. Even if her mother had been kind of a bitch, from what Kanako had read.

"Is that Shameimaru kid still here?" she barks, to which both the Aki sisters jump at. Pansies.

Hina coughs. "She left for school, ma'am. Today is Monday, remember?"

Fuck. She'd thought today's Sunday. Well, whatever. "Get her for me, will you? She studies in that rich-ass school just five minutes from here. Make it fast!"

Hina bows obediently and instructs the two sisters to guard over the area while she's gone, then exits the room. Kanako gives a long, exasperated sigh and heads back out to the living room and takes a seat by the dining table. A quick glance at it shows that it's actually filled with dust – looks like none of the inhabitants had used the table until recently, evident by the small patch of cleanness just near where she sits.

Just proves how much this family loves each other, she thinks grumpily.

It takes about twenty minutes for Aya and Hina to return to the house. By that time, Kanako's nearly melting in her seat out of both boredom, anticipation, and irritation, so when she sees the front door opening and a nervous reporter peering in, she stands up fast enough for her chair to clatter to the floor. She doesn't bother fixing it.

"You!" She points at Aya, who looks extremely unsure about the situation. "We have a discussion to discuss. Kagiyama, back to your station, keep those sisters under control." Her eyes follow Hina gracefully make her way back up to the room, and when she hears a door click shut, she turns to look over at the sweating reporter. "Now, it's time for an interrogation."

"W-What's this about?" Aya stammers. Ooh, nervous little chick, is she. It'll only make this more fun, Kanako supposes.

"I'm a police officer investigating this murder case. Now, your father," Kanako practically spits. Her patience had taken a toll earlier, and she's in no status to be calm right now. Suwako's depending on her, after all. "What is his name, and is he present right now?"

"Soichiro Shameimaru." Aya gulps. "And… no, he disappeared when he went on a business trip, my mom said."

"And who is your mother?"

Aya takes a deep breath and exhales, doing this slowly all the while, only making the twitch in Kanako's eye more prominent. "Makiko Shameimaru. Why are you asking–"

"Don't question a police officer, kid. And don't forget that I'm still a little pissed at you for that shitty article you wrote." Kanako's eyes narrow. Aya winces; good. She needs to learn how to write without invading so much of one's privacy, after all. "You said your dad – ahem, father disappeared on a business trip. Where was that?"

"… America."

"Don't hesitate when talking to me, either." The officer sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Okay. So. Soichiro Shameimaru went on a business trip to America and disappeared. Do you have any idea what he did there, who he was acquainted with, and how long he was supposed to be there?"

Aya pauses, a look of confusion passing through her features. Great, so she doesn't know. Just as Kanako is about to blow a fuse and ask her to bring her to her mother, her mouth opens. "He was supposed to help out in the local newspaper publishing place in Chicago, if I'm not wrong. I don't know who he was with, but he was supposed to be there for about two months before he was to come back."

A pause. Great. "Alright, kid, I'm gonna need you to bring your friend out of her sulking. I've got questions to ask her, and I'm not in the mood for waiting."

Aya blinks. "Hatatan – er, Hatate? But she's–"

"Bring. Her. Now." Kanako grits her teeth. She could get out vital information from that kid, and she needs it now. If she lets it go, she may never get another chance at this again. "I don't care how you do it, but you get her out right this instant. This is important."

The reporter's face morphs into a scowl, but she forces a strained nod and gets up to walk over to where Hatate's room is. Kanako sighs and bends down to fix the chair back up to sit on it. This is going to be a slightly longer visit than she intended, it looks.

God, Aya never thought it would be so nerve-wracking to enter the room of her best friend.

Apparently, the woman who had told her off just a few days ago turned out to be a police officer investigating the murder case of Hatate's mother. What a coincidence, she thinks bitterly, that she's also a massive jerk. Who would willingly drag a teenager whose mother had just committed suicide? Clearly the person just a floor below her.

With a sigh, she raps her knuckles against the door lightly. No going around it now – it is a murder case, after all, and Hatate deserves to know the truth as to why her mother had gone and offed herself, if anything. She doesn't hear Hatate this time, so Aya hazards a "I'm coming in", and slowly opens the door.

Hatate is by her desk, head on the table as she dozes and hand halfheartedly clutching a pencil. There are several many sheets of paper on the table and the surrounding area, and the trash can next to her is practically overflowing with crumpled balls of paper. There's a distinct scent, too, like dried blood, but...

The reporter spies what looks like a stained boxcutter not too far away from the trash can surrounded by small splotches of blood. She looks back up at Hatate's arms, which are now covered in elbow-length gloves with curious dark stains on it. That can't be good.

Though she knows she shouldn't be doing this, Aya heads over and glances down at the papers on Hatate's desk. By the looks of it, she had been writing and writing until she'd fallen asleep, but the subject of her writing doesn't look to be articles…

The reporter eases a paper out from under her head. It's covered in large, messy lines that strike through and cover the words, but Aya deciphers it with ease. Bonuses from being a reporter who all too frequently writes messily as well.

once uPON A TIme

there was a Box

and it always rained

around the Box.

so the boX

was pierced thru

by a teardrop

and the box cried

at the hole in it s heart

Another paper, a little cleaner but horrifically crumpled and torn at the edge, read,

at times she would wonder

if all this is truly worth the trouble she goes through.

she remembers the cries and the screams during the night

when she is all alone and only the monsters are there to keep her company.

she remembers the shine of sweat when she wakes up at night

wailing at the creatures in her head.

and she remembers the sins she so sweetly committed

when no one was around to watch but everyone.

at times she would wonder

if anyone ever really cares.

she remembers the voices that trip her up and refuse to help

and when her tears turn into swords against her.

she remembers when the light and the dark cross paths

and sneer together at her with crooked teeth .

she remembers the cross at the end of the street

filled with her bones and blood that had long since washed away.

and she remembers how the snowflakes fell, slowly and gently,

only to pierce right through her and make her shriek.

but the one thing she remembers the most

is how beautiful the sun is, always shining their light on her

even though she is just the moon, the one who little care for

and she sees that the sun is the only one who keeps her there

who keeps her alive and breathing

and, at the same time, dead.

she remembers – she knows that the only thing she will ever be good for

is to die.

"Oh, Hatate," Aya sighs, setting the paper down and stroking the brunette's long hair. She didn't seem to have tied it back in their normal twintails, so Aya admires how she looks like while she can – long and straight and just about shining in the dimly-lit room. And she's never thought it before, no, she's always thought Hatate's cute and kind of pretty but now Aya sees that she's plain beautiful right now, with two dozen crumpled and non-crumpled papers surrounding her and eyebags weighing down her face.

Aya momentarily forgets everything – just for a very short, very quick moment – and focuses on the person that she is so very lucky to have met. She doesn't even know why she's so happy with Hatate, because at first sight, she's everything a normal person would hate – never talks (quite literally), sickly, always anxious, and with a nervous streak. But Aya isn't a normal person, and something just makes her gravitate towards the brunette; be it her appearance or her personality, or just because she feels so sorry for Hatate, she likes her so very much and that's all that matters to her.

'Her hair is soft,' the reporter thinks to herself, and almost sets about looking for a comb when she remembers Kanako – damned woman. She hates to wake the brunette up, but it's rather important at the moment, especially since the police officer seems to be in a rather irate mood. "Hata? Hatatan? Wake up…"

The brunette mumbles something unintelligible and shifts slightly, eyes still closed. Aya smiles lightly – 'God help me she's too cute for this' – and moves to shake her awake a little, when Hatate's peaceful face suddenly scrunches up.

The reporter takes a step back. "H-Hata–"

"No," Hatate hisses. Her voice is dry and throaty, but most of all, it's scared. Her brow furrows and she bites down on her lower lip hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. Aya is now very much terrified, if that isn't quite obvious. "No, no, come back, come back…"

Then the brunette jumps, as if shocked by electricity, and that's when she starts screaming. Quick as a flash, Aya's at Hatate's side once more, wrapping her arms around her and whispering it's okay I'm here it's okay Hata, c'mon, wake up, until the brunette's eyes jolt open and the screams come to an abrupt stop.

Aya sighs and lays her chin atop Hatate's head. Her hand rubs the brunette's back soothingly, dragging her fingers through her smooth hair calmingly until Hatate's muscles relax. "It's alright," the reporter murmurs, completely forgetting about the (now very impatient) police officer downstairs. "It's alright. Don't worry. I'll… I'll stay with you. I'll protect you." She allows a little smile to creep onto her face. "I promised you I'd protect you, didn't I? I won't break that promise."

She feels small, shaky hands grip her midsection like it's Hatate's lifeline, and the front of her blouse getting damp. Aya presses her lips against the brunette's forehead and doesn't move for another few moments.

Right now, she's comfortable, and Hatate is okay. Everything is fine.

If you're confused with the order of events, here's part of the timeline:

September 21 [Sunday]

-Hatate Scene 1 (initial confusion and surprise)

-KanaSuwa Scene 1 (the note)

-Kanako investigates the body and the place of death. (not written, but implied by the end of KanaSuwa Scene 1)

-When Kanako leaves, Aya Scene 1 (looking around the body). Hina is introduced.

-Hatate Scene 2 (the part with the Hobbit reference)

September 22 [Monday]

-Hatate stays home from school.

-KanaSuwa Scene 2 (Soichiro Shameimaru)

-Aki Sisters are introduced, Kanako interrogates Aya.

-Aya Scene 2 (the last and longest one)

Next part: More interrogations, ahoy. And maybe we can put this mystery behind us already, even though it's not really much of a mystery because it's Goddamn obvious by this point.

Slacker, 1/19/15