Chapter Eleven--Two Troubled Souls
Emiko pulled her hood off, lowering the staff she was holding. Across the fire Daiki stopped chanting and did the same, frowning.
"What's wrong?" he asked his daughter. The look on her face was a familiar one; one he had seen many times when Emiko got wind of something that wasn't quite right.
"Did you feel it, Dad?" she asked. She looked around, as if the answer to her curiosity lay right in the same room. "Didn't you notice?"
"Notice what?"
She looked up, past the winding staircase to where the door to the living room remained closed. "There was a ripple in the signal. The soul of the art disappeared for a moment. It was so prominent." She looked back at her father. "Didn't you feel it?"
Daiki crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "Yes, I think I did feel a slight disturbance in the signal, but it's still there, strong as before. Just look at the fire." It was true. The flames dancing before them shone an absolute blue, flickering with light but no heat, just as they had been doing for a while now. They were dancing with the spirit of the artwork, symbolizing its living powers. "If the artwork had truly disappeared then this fire would be gone and we'd have no hope of tracking the thing down."
Emiko nodded at his logic but she remained suspicious, still staring upward at the doorway at the top of the winding staircase. "You're right, Dad. You're absolutely right." She dropped her staff onto the ground and gathered her robe in her hands, running for the stairwell and taking the steps two at a time.
"Emiko? Emiko, where are you going?" her father called after her. But she wasn't listening. Something had definitely gone wrong with the artwork, and she had a feeling that the problem was much closer to home
than she realized.
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The blaze of light dissipated. The night had darkened once again. The horns faded into the the subtle sounds of evening.
All was back to the way it should have been.
Dark slowly lowered his hand from his eyes, staring tentatively at the horn he still held. The blinding glow had dimmed, but the trumpet was still alive with its blue-white light; the engravings still pulsating
with the ambient glow.
It looked beautiful now.
Like art.
On the ground in front of him Kosuke lowered his own arms and Towa peeked her head out from behind his hair. They looked up at Dark, both staring avidly at the object clutched in his hand. Dark stared at it a moment longer before glancing over in Towa's direction. He was frowning.
"Thank you," he muttered to her, his voice deadpan and extremely irritated. "Thank you so very much for warning me. I suppose I'm sufficiently blind now; just what I've always wanted." He grimaced, eyes narrowing as he stared at her. Towa only rolled her eyes at him.
"You're completely fine. Stop whining."
"I'm not whining. People just like to be warned before something like that happens," he snapped. Dark lifted the horn to his face so he could inspect it carefully. "What did happen, anyway? What was that?" He looked up from the artwork and focused on Towa. Kosuke was waiting as well. The tiny bird sighed and flew upward, perching on Kosuke's head.
"What you're holding right now, Dark, is a very powerful piece of artwork created by the Hikaris. It's name is Silence." Dark glanced down at the trumpet again and snorted through his noise.
"Funny. It's not very silent, is it?"
"Dark."
The Phantom Thief looked up to come face to face with Towa; a human Towa who was staring up at him with solemn green eyes, her mouth set into a thin line of disapproval. He stepped back a little, surprised. He didn't even notice her transform; it had happened so fast. "You shouldn't mock the art, Phantom Thief. It's powers are far beyond anything you've ever seen. You should show a little more respect," she said. She held his gaze for a long time, her stare boring into his eyes. There was never a time before when Towa had stood up to him, speaking to him as if he were inferior to her. She treated him with respect all the time, just as any knowledgeable artwork would treat the infamous Phantom Thief of legend and myth. But now, the way she was treating him, wasn't like Towa at all.
Dark leaned away from her, unused to the tone in her voice. "That's a lot of praise for a piece of metal," he muttered.
As she continued to stare up at him Towa's eyes glazed over, her pupils disappearing as she stared at him. It was startling, the green in her eyes. "You mustn't speak lowly of Silence. In a world without Silence there is only her song, long and haunting. Nothing to suppress her desires. Nothing to stifle her needs." Towa reached out a hand and touched the horn. "Nothing...nothing...to keep her from...her...Hikari..." Her eyes grew wide, she let out a high gasping sound, and then Towa's legs buckled from under her and she fell back.
Dark's arm automatically shot out and her caught her around the waist. She weighed almost nothing.
"Silly Guide," he muttered under his breath, although there was no sign of the usual humor in his voice. He stared down at Towa with a look of almost complete contempt. Kosuke stood up, staring down at the little
maid who lived in his house.
"Poor thing," he said kindly, reaching out his hands to relieve Dark of his duty. The thief did so with no complaint, surrendering the unconcious girl over to the man. "That artwork must be extremely powerful to do something like this to her. Such odd behavior."
"It's not just the artwork."
Daisuke's father lifted his gaze to Dark, curiosity mixed with hidden knowledge etched onto his features. "Really? Why would you say that?"
Dark huffed. "The Towa No Shirube can find anything because she can sense anything and everything. And in order to sense things she must know those things. Finding artwork is easy for her because she just seeks out their energy or spirit and then tracks them down using her powers. Nothing complicated other than closing her eyes and pinpointing where the specific energy is coming from. But with this thing..." He held up the trumpet. "Not only did she have a hard time latching onto its power, she actually left and went to get the thing herself. Now, why would she do that, I wonder? She knows how the game is played: she finds the art and I steal the art. Why go after the thing herself? Especially when the object was such a burden on her form?" Dark shook his head, the solemnity in his voice reflected dangerously in his eyes. "I don't like this one bit," he told Kosuke. "Something else is terribly wrong."
Kosuke looked down at Towa for a moment and nodded, understanding Dark's logic. He hoisted the tiny girl into his arms and glanced over his shoulder, out towards the ocean where the horn had first been spotted. There was nothing but darkness out there now.
"I'm curious, though," he said. He turned back to the Phantom Thief.
"Back home, when Towa first started screaming and speaking, she mentioned a girl and yet here we have ourselves a horn." He frowned. "Doesn't it seem as if we're missing something?"
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Emiko opened the glass door leading to the backyard and stepped out into the night. Save for the single porch light everything outside was dark. The stars suddenly filled the sky but their shining twinkles only helped to emphasize the fact that there was definitely something missing from the sky.
She looked up, her hands clasped in front of her nervously.
Above there was no moon.
"Emiko?"
Emiko turned around and saw her father standing in the doorway, leaning against the door frame and staring into the backyard. She pointed upward.
"Dad," she said, her voice small and curious. "There's no moon."
"Emiko," Daiki said, almost ignoring her words. He pointed past her, to something lying in the grass. "Emiko, dear, what is that?"
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Risa could feel herself floating, her mind being rocked to sleep by the most beautiful song in the world. Who was it that could sing so wonderfully? Yes, it was a sad song, but it was soothing and clear, resonating inside her chest, inside her heart. It made her think of tears and moonlight and the feel of cold water on a hot day and the magnificent fragrance of night air and fresh cotton.
In her dream she could see Dark just as the first time she saw him. Flying and mysterious; handsome and feline; so breathtaking and beautiful. She remembered how she fell in love with him because of his daring and dashing charm. She had always admired his talent for thievery and wondered how someone could be so wonderfully good at it.
She dreamt of Dark carrying her in his arms, flying her across the sky. Like a night in shining armor, whisking the princess away to happily ever after. That was her Dark. That was her Phantom Thief
Dark.
That was why she loved him so dearly.
All the while the song continued to play in her head.
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Risa breathed in deeply, her face burying deep into soft cotton and the lingering smell of sea salt. She felt her head spinning and the soothing vibration of a car engine encasing her. Risa could still hear
the song, but it was fading now, melting into a background of automobiles and breathing.
She opened her eyes.
Everything was dark and calm save the occasional flash of deep, yellow light. Risa let her eyes adjust to the night and, soon, she could make out the leather interior, black masked, closed encasement of a car's
back seat, with the passing street lights flashing in through the windows. She lifted her head the slightest bit and looked around. The car was an unfamiliar surprise.
Am I still dreaming? she asked herself. She pushed her hair away from her face, the soft, curling strands brushing against her skin and tickling her nose. Maybe not, she guessed. She breathed in deeply and
looked around.
There was a sound from beside her. A long, sleepy inhale. A long, sleepy exhale. She turned her head, her eyelids drooping.
It was Satoshi Hiwatari. Sitting in the seat beside her. Sleeping with his arms crossed and his head leaning against the window.
Risa frowned.
What in the world was she doing riding in a car with Satoshi Hiwatari?
Maybe I am still dreaming.
She sat up, albeit lazily, and stared at him. He looked even more tired than she ever remembered seeing him and his glasses were gone. His shirt hung onto him in a strange fashion; as if it had been
stretched and distorted. It folded several times over his lean frame.
Risa cocked her head to one side, thinking. What was Satoshi Hiwatari doing in her dream? Why were they riding in a car together? Why did this dream seem to be much more realistic than her other dreams?
She was such a superstitious girl and very much into Tarot and dream interpretation, but this particular mental conjuring alluded her in significance. She'd never had a dream about Satoshi before.
Risa leaned forward a little bit. It was odd, having this boy here, but since he was she couldn't help the curiosity beginning to build inside of her.
Satoshi Hiwatari was admired by girls and boys alike. The girls were in love with him; in love with his good looks, in love with his intelligence, in love with his mystery and in love with his perfection. The boys envied him; envied him for his power, envied him for his influence, envied him for his talents and envied him for his perfection. Everyone was in awe of him. Everyone was entranced by him.
But why?
Why Satoshi so much more than others?
Was it really his looks? Risa, gazing at him with soft eyes, reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. She had always wondered if it was as soft as it looked. To her surprise, it was. It was such an odd
shade of blue, but it suited him. It fit his personality.
She had to admit, since it was only a dream, that Satoshi was breathtakingly beautiful. His face was still young and very attractive, but it seemed different from the other boys: older, matured. Adult. Not cute. Handsome. Very, very handsome. She leaned closer to him and brushed the hair from his eyes. Eyes that
were closed, yes, but she knew that when they were opened they revealed a gaze of darkest sapphire. Eyes that could penetrate. Eyes that could see what others could barely hope to glance. Eyes…different from Dark.
Was it his personality? He seemed so cold all this time that she'd known him. Well, that was until she found out the truth of his private lifestyle. Maybe Satoshi was so isolated because the majority of his
life consisted of lonely independence. Maybe he was cold because Satoshi didn't know how to be warm. Risa took a delicate hold onto his arms and separated them, laying her head against his chest. She could
hear his heartbeat.
No, he wasn't cold. Satoshi was very, very warm. Maybe he didn't know it? Or could it have been his unavailability? His mystery?
But not like Dark's mystery…
How many girls had confessed their love for him and yet he had shone not even the slightest interest in them? So many love letters, so many secret admirers, and he'd barely give them the time of day. He would just sit at the back of the classroom, reading his books the entire lesson and then getting everything flawlessly right during the tests. He'd sit alone on the school rooftop, eating his lunch, or else he'd be disappearing the moment the last bell rang, his cellphone already to his ear.
Everyone saw Satoshi, yet no one knew him.
Risa looked up at him. What was it like, she wondered, to know the real Satoshi? What was he like? What did it feel like?
She wondered what it would be like in reality, but she supposed it couldn't hurt to find out what it was like in dreamland. Risa sat up and leaned over him, her lips unintentionally smiling. Usually she and
Riku shared their dreams with one another, but Risa vowed never to let this dream slip into her words. She'd be horrified if anyone ever found out that Risa was actually interested in the cool, quiet Satoshi Hiwatari.
She tilted his head towards her only the slightest bit. She didn't want him to wake up. Risa took her time to thoroughly appreciate the rarity, and ridiculousness, of the situation. Look, all of you fan club girls...I get to do what every last one of you dreams of...
Risa leaned in close, took a second to actually enjoy the closeness of their faces, and then closed her eyes and touched her lips to his.
The softest, sweetest kiss.
Night wind and cotton. The freshness of the ocean breeze and the warmth of skin against skin. Sweet and sensational. Sleepy and quiet. Unexpected, unbelievable, very, very familiar...and yet...
...very...very...real...
Risa's eyes snapped open and she pulled away, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. She scrambled backward on the seat, putting as much distance between her and the still sleeping Satoshi.
The still sleeping, oblivious, incredibly and utterly real Satoshi.
"I-it...wasn't a dream..."
The car suddenly began to slow down and there was the tiniest jolt as it slid to a halt. Risa barely even noticed for her eyes were still glued onto the boy next to her, horror filling her face and her heart
pounding painfully in her chest.
She had just kissed Satoshi Hiwatari.
She had just kissed Satoshi Hiwatari.
There was a knock on the black divider between the back seat and the front seat. Risa jumped involuntarily and squeaked. She clutched her chest, breathing deeply. Anymore surprises and she wouldn't be
certain if her poor heart could take it.
"Sir? Hiwatari-dono, we're here. Harada mansion."
Risa frowned. Harada mansion? She turned to look out her window and, sure enough, her home stood waiting outside. The white columns guarding the door and the bright porch light never looked so welcoming to her as they did in that very moment.
"Sir?" There was a sliding sound and the black divider lowered itself, sinking into the car itself and revealing an old man's face looking around from the front seat. "Satoshi-dono...oh. Miss, you're
awake." He smiled. Risa just stared. "I'm guessing that this estate belongs to you and the Commander here was trying to bring you home."
Risa had started to nod but then stopped herself midway. Her brow furrowed as she questioned the man with her eyes. "Commander?" she asked. The man only smiled kindly and nodded.
"Well, for a Commander I have to say he's not being very professional right now. I honestly feel sympathy for this boy; he works extremely hard. I could wake him and he could properly walk you to your door--,"
"No! No," Risa interrupted, throwing out her hand to stop him.
"Really, there's no need. I can get in by myself, thank you."
"Are you sure? He'll be awful disappointed when he finds out I let him sleep through this."
Risa felt a hot flush creep up her neck. She tried to steal a glance at Hiwatari but found that the minute her eyes began to travel that way her heart would speed up in reaction and soon her breathing would go out on her. She aborted the mission.
"No, really. I'm fine. I'm fine. I can make it on my own."
The man thought for a moment, probably debating whether or not he should still wake his master, but then he gratefully conceded to Risa and opened his door to walk around the car and open her own.
"Thank you," she said, looking up at him and slipping out. He bowed to her, smiling.
"I wish you well."
"Um..." Risa glanced back towards the darkened interior of the car and then back at the chauffeur.
"Could you--could you just tell him 'thank you' from me?"
Goodness, she was pathetic. She hadn't even mentioned his name and she was getting butterfly's in her stomach just by referring to him.
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
"I promise, miss." He bowed to her once again, closed the door, and rounded about the car once more and slipped in. Risa quickly hurried to the dial pad beside the iron gate and punched in the security
number, the back of her neck tingling the entire time. Not that he was watching her, or anything...I mean, he was asleep...right?
She pushed 'enter' and the iron gates fell into motion, slowly creaking open.
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Dark touched down onto cement, his wings flapping once to settle his nimble frame down slowly. In his arms he carefully cradled the unconscious Riku, her head lolling over his arm. He took a rare moment
to look at her, really look at her, and he found that she really was beautiful.
She wasn't just pretty. She wasn't just cute. She was a beautiful girl. Strong in her opinions. Understanding of Daisuke's shyness. Powerful in her will. Independent. Radiant. She understood things
that most girls her age couldn't; and she was very faithful to Daisuke, sticking to his side even if she didn't know the truth of everything. She was a beautiful girl.
"You picked a winner here, Daisuke," Dark muttered, actually grinning.
Inside of him the tired, little boy tried to ask Dark what he was talking about, but the Phantom Thief refused to repeat his words. "It actually could have been mistaken to be a compliment in favor to your judgement, and we don't want you to get a big head now do we?"
"Talking to Daisuke again, are we?" Kosuke trotted up to the thief, cradling a bundle all his own. Towa, back in her bird form, was carried delicately in Kosuke's hands, her head tucked comfortably under
her wings. "Are you two fighting again?"
"Yes."
Kosuke smiled. "Good to know you're both doing well." He brushed past the thief and reached for the front door.
"What do you mean by that?" Dark asked skeptically, but Kosuke just shrugged.
"Nothing really. I was just a little worried. After what happened to Towa being around the horn, I was starting to worry that maybe it would affect you in a similar way."
Dark scoffed. "Why would it? She's obviously seen it before and most likely had issues with it. I would too if every time you blew the damn thing it made such a dramatic event."
"True, but there are still many mysteries surrounding that piece of art. I would stay very careful around that horn." He pushed open the door and entered the house, leaving Dark outside to hold Riku. The
Phantom Thief glanced down at his side where Silence hung loosely from his belt. It was still faintly glowing; the silver and blue engravings shimmering in the darkness.
Dark looked up.
Still no moon.
"You probably had something to do with that," he muttered to the horn, bitterness in his tone. He adjusted Riku in his arms and strode forward, slipping into the house and kicking the door closed behind
him. For some strange, unknown reason, the horn called Silence irked the hell out of him.
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Satoshi opened his eyes, sat up. The darkness of the night still played with his vision but it didn't hide the fact that there was definitely a lesser atmosphere in the back seat of his car.
He reached up and pressed the button above his head, the black divider lowering to reveal the front seat and the silent driver as he cruised the vehicle along the lamp lit streets.
"Where's Harada-san?" he asked immediately. The driver jumped in surprise, glancing in the rearview mirror and the slightly frazzled yet still extremely composed Commander Chief of Police.
"Sorry I didn't wake you sir, but we dropped the young lady at her house about ten minutes ago. She insisted that I not disturb you." He started to frown. "Was I...did I act wrongly?" he asked.
Satoshi took a moment to comprehend what the man was saying before he could answer him. He shook his head, trying to relay his response into words. "Uh...yes. No. No; if that's what she wanted then...that's perfectly fine." He sat back rubbing his stiff neck. "Did she make it inside all right?"
The driver nodded. "Safe and sound."
"Good." Satoshi leaned his head back and thought for a moment. "Head for Daisuke Niwa's house. Immediately."
"But sir...it's already so late and I think you need rest--,"
"Just do it." And Satoshi kicked out with his long leg and hit the button once more, replacing the divider between driver and passenger. He sighed heavily in his new isolation, running a hand through his
head. He was very much relieved that Risa was gone and now safe inside her own house; she would have been a burden to deal with when she woke up.
He'd have to end up explaining quite a lot of things.
But, for some reason, he couldn't help but feel just a little awkward about it all. Maybe he should have been more of a gentleman and stayed awake until he brought her home? But he could barely keep his eyes
open...and Krad was giving him hell with the aches and pains.
Satoshi pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his face.
Why was he so hot? Why was the blood rushing to his face?
He ran a self-conscious hand across his brow and replaced his glasses.
And why was there the lingering tingle of a kiss on his lips?
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Silence was created by the Hikaris in their desperate attempt to stifle the beauty and horror which they created. It was a means of escape. A cover up for the mistake they had unleashed.
The only way to quay the suffocating grasp of The Mystic's Dream.
Made in a ceremony involving the Lunar Crest...shaped in moonlight...played during the full moon...embedded with sinister powers that of which only the Hikaris would dare attempt...
The horn of Silence was meant to steal the moonlight.
Steal the moonlight and strap its beams into its very design, encasing it there, plunging the world into darkness.
...stifle the magic of The Mystic...strip away the source from which she draws her powers...make her weak and vulnerable and lock her away into her prison long before the sun rises...
Stop her.
The only way to stop her.
The weapon against a song...
...is Silence...
----------------------------------------------------
And yet, no one knew the truth, did they? No one could understand the reason behind the Mystic's desires and her violence and her tirade of magic. No one knew why she acted as she did...why her search was
forever incomplete...why she longed for the white wings and amber eyes...
They would not take the time to try and understand the purpose to her
trials.
Why did The Mystic sing?
Why does The Mystic dance?
Why does something as beautifully dangerous as her long for something far beyond her reach? Why does The Mystic search for the same blood that placed in her captivity in the first place?
She would wonder to herself.
She did it all for the same reason that humans place themselves into their own swirling typhoons of misery.
They did it...
She did it...
We all do it...
For love.
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"Is that--is that supposed to be The Mystic's Dream?"
Emiko continued to stare solemnly at the crystal statue, her eyes blank, but she nodded her head slightly. "Yes," she whispered, as if she were afraid it could hear her. For almost an hour since they had
found the statue outside their house, Emiko and her father had been entranced by it...staring at it as it sat absolutely motionless on the kitchen table.
Even Kosuke, after entering the house, had gone silent once he saw it, admiring its beauty in quiet respect. Only Dark seemed untouched by the artwork.
"That's what I was supposed to steal the other night?" he asked, talking a little bit louder than he probably needed to. Then again, he was resorting to anything that could shake the Niwa family from their
somber stillness. He did not like that they were so entranced by it. "There doesn't seem to be anything special about--,"
But then yes...yes, there was something special about it. He could feel it now, emanating from the statue in the smallest waves. It was like an icy wind creeping over his skin, chilling him like no winter
night could chill the flesh. He shivered, staring at the artwork with a newfound look of fearful curiosity.
He could feel it in the icy wind...the words that The Mystic's Dream was dying to say.
Was dying to sing.
My Hikari...my beautiful Hikari...my lovely...my dead...Hikari...
Dark felt his mind begin to race; he felt the pang of uncertainty that he had felt the other night, the same prickling feeling of being afraid. Of being utterly and terribly afraid. He grabbed at his head,
the fear inside of him making it pound with adrenaline. What was this thing and its hideous aura of cold and ice? Why was it doing this to him? Everything about it seemed so...wrong.
The way it looked to him. The way it felt to him. The way it seemed to thrive of a need to obtain and let perish in its frozen hands.
Dark backed up against the far wall and let his tied body slide down its solidity.
Whatever the answers to those questions were Dark knew in his heart that he truly did not want to know them.
Anything about The Mystic, he didn't want to know.
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She sat in the darkness of her room, her pink bed, usually bathed in moonlight, was now doused in darkness. She was leaning against her headboard, staring down at her lap. She had a fleeting worry about her
sister, but then she remembered that Riku was in the care of Daisuke, and Daisuke was someone who could always be trusted.
Risa tried closing her eyes to clear her mind but it only made it worse. Not only did she still see him, but now he was nothing more than a lithe shadow outside her window, now donning Dark's own
signature wings on his back.
She wanted to laugh at such a stupid notion.
Hiwatari with Dark's wings. How absurd.
And yet...
She opened her eyes again and tried to picture Dark in front of her. His black, unruly hair, his long fingers, the curve of his smirk, the angle of his posture, the lines of his face. She tried to imagine him
standing in her room, a newly stolen piece of artwork under his arm, his great wings barely fitting inside the room. She could do it perfectly now, conjuring the image of the Phantom Thief Dark with ease.
In her imagination he stood real as the night itself, staring at her with his twin eyes of amethyst.
She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
There, wasn't that it? Was that small skip of her heart the symbol that meant she was still in love with him? Wasn't she still blushing at the mere thought of him? Could she want nothing more than to see him fly through her wind only to whisk her away into a night of fantasy and magic?
Weren't these the perfect reasons? The reasons why she loved him?
The reasons that she loved him.
Her Dark. Her very own Phantom Thief. The only man she...
...could ever...
He was changing.
Black hair was lightening into blue. The face was no longer angular but simply lean. And handsome. So very handsome. The hands were becoming nimble, more accustomed to writing than to stealing. He stood straighter. The smirk more of a scowl, and yet the scowl more like a
look of serious content. The blue, blue, eyes.
She couldn't mistake it now. Her heart was pounding, she could feel her entire face flush red, her breathing was becoming shallow, every nerve in her body was on alert and the only thing she could think of
was kissing him.
And walking next to him.
And sitting next to him.
And talking with him.
And holding him.
And watching him.
And being with him.
And knowing that every time he was around...she always felt safe.
Safe in his scent, safe in his eyes, safe in his grasp, safe in his embrace.
Even safe in his sleeping kiss.
Risa Harada covered her face with his hands and the image of Satoshi Hiwatari dissolved from her mind, leaving her in her empty room with a stuttering heart and a trouble mind. She wanted to kick herself for
her fickle notions of love and her insane rational ideas of what it was.
Because she had no idea what love was. She had thought she loved Dark...but now...
Risa uncovered her face and looked down at her lap once again. Spread across her legs was the same, white jacket she had kept close to her all this time, its companion white feather tucked into the pocket.
She did not know where the white feather had come from.
But now...
...after knowing his scent and becoming so familiar with it...
...Risa knew that the jacket was not one left by Dark.
Dark wasn't the one who smelled of fresh nightfall and soft linen. Dark wasn't the one who had left her in his own clothing to shield her from the night. Dark wasn't the one she now held in her hands,
burying her face into the fabric of his presence.
It was Satoshi Hiwatari.
Satoshi Hiwatari that Risa wanted.
Satoshi Hiwatari that Risa yearned for.
And the fact that it was Satoshi Hiwatari and not Phantom Thief Dark made Risa want to cry...and cry...and cry...and cry...
