Chapter Twelve — Of Black and White

Daisuke ran out of the house, slowing down when he made it to the sidewalk and throwing his head back to breathe, Wiz pouncing along behind him. Dark's transformation had been so abrupt that it had shocked Daisuke and, to be honest, it had been painful. He was breathless now, his body slightly aching all over. He rested his hands on his knees and sucked down mouthfuls of the night air, trying to still the pounding in his chest.

Why had The Mystic's Dream had made Dark so…afraid? But Dark was never afraid. He wasn't afraid of anything. Which made Daisuke only that much more curious about The Mystic. Why was the art so powerful and dreadful? Every Hikari creation that he had come up against had a strange history to it, and Dai intensely wanted to know this one.

He sighed.

But in order for this to happen, Daisuke could not let Satoshi have The Mystic's Dream.

Not yet.

Suddenly lights flooded the night and Dai had to throw his hands up to block his eyes. Headlights were shining down the street, soon accompanied by the purr of an engine. In a few moments a familiar black car came rolling to a stop in front of Daisuke, the tinted windows obscuring the passenger inside. But he already knew who was riding in the back.

"I wondered where you had gone to," Daisuke said as the door opened and Satoshi stepped out. He looked even worse than Daisuke felt and his shirt was torn in the back, just like his. A sure sign that Krad and Dark had both sailed the night. "When I came back both you and Harada-san were gone. Is she with you?"

"Not anymore," Satoshi answered, slamming the door closed and moving to stand next to him. "I brought her home."

Dai let out a long breath, relieved. "I'm glad. Now all I have to worry about is bringing Riku-san home." He looked up into Satoshi's face. "Are you okay?" He knew he didn't have to say anymore than that. Satoshi knew to what he was referring to and shrugged.

"I'm not dead." His face remained impassive. "So what happened?" He reached up a hand to habitually push his glasses up his nose, realized that he wasn't wearing any, and dropped it back down again. Dai rubbed his neck nervously.

"Towa found something, Hiwatari," he started. "We went all the way to the other side of town; to the cliff side where the Harada's live."

"What could Towa find there?"

Dai shrugged. "That's what I thought at first. I mean, there's nothing over there! But she did—she found something in the sea." He looked down. "It was a horn that appeared out of nowhere, hovering on top of the water."

He looked up in Satoshi's face and was surprised to see the same, calculating look that was apparent when he was trying to catch Dark. The wheels were turning in his head, falling back into his knowledge and far into the historical records of the Hikaris, trying to pull out information that could possibly tie to the horn. Daisuke watched all of this happen, and was fascinated.

Satoshi really was a prodigy.

"A horn?" he finally asked, his eyes staring down at the ground yet not seeing it. "Was there any markings or designs on it? Anything that could give us a time era, at least?"

"No, not at first."

Satoshi frowned. "What do you mean 'not at first'?"

"Exactly what I meant. I—er, Dark--, flew out to get it but it was just a plain, silver horn. But when we brought it back to Towa she said to blow on it, and when we did I think…I think…Hiwatari, I think it stole the moonlight."

Strong hands grasped Daisuke's shoulders and Satoshi was boring his icy glare into his face. "What did you say?" he breathed, leaning over him. Daisuke swallowed.

"The moonlight. When we blew it the moonlight was gone and the horn was suddenly glowing with carved on images, as if they'd been there the whole time." He gently grabbed Satoshi's wrist and loosed his grip, stepping back from him. "It was…very loud."

The taller boy stared. "That's not possible," he practically whispered. "It's not possible to steal the moonlight."

"Well, someone found a way because that's what the horn did."

Satoshi shook his head. "Impossible. That's too dangerous. Far too dangerous. It's practically reckless." Deep inside Daisuke wanted to say that the Hikari clan had a tendency to be reckless when they made anything, but he knew the situation would not appreciation the sardonic humor.

"I'm not making this up, Hiwatari. I'm just telling you what I saw, and what I saw was the moonlight disappear into a silver horn named Silence."

Hiwatari 's brow furrowed. "Silence?"

"That's what Towa said it was called."

Satoshi paused. "Let me see."

Dai cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"Let me see this horn."

Panic suddenly rose in Daisuke's throat. He couldn't possibly show Satoshi the horn, not yet. The Niwas had not had a chance to inspect it. With his grandfather and mother's skills and his father's knowledge, Daisuke was sure they would be able to uncover the mystery surrounding the horn and the Mystic's Dream; and most likely reveal a past even unknown to Hiwatari. But if he surrendered the horn to him now then he would have to surrender The Mystic and, in doing so, condemn the artworks to be destroyed instead of sealed, their seductive history destroyed with them.

Even though Daisuke wanted to help him, he could not let Satoshi know he had the Mystic.

Not yet.

It was a dangerous game, but an essential one.

"I don't have it anymore," he lied, not meeting his friend's eyes. "I…I mean Dark…dropped it back into the ocean afterward."

He could hear Dark was wailing and Daisuke mentally chastised himself. It was pathetic lie.

The disappointment and disbelief that came over Satoshi's face was so pronounced that Daisuke could not recall there ever being so much emotion expressed in those cold, blue features. The thought almost made him laugh. Keyword being 'almost'.

"He dropped it," Satoshi repeated, staring down at him. Dai nodded.

"Uh—yeah."

"Dark, the great Phantom Thief Dark, the legendary Phantom Thief Dark…dropped a precious artifact into the ocean." Satoshi gritted his teeth and exhaled through his nose. "How amazingly ironic," he whispered, shaking his head. Inside Daisuke could hear and feel Dark's nasty retort and shaking fists.

"I'm sorry, Hiwatari."

But he held up his hand. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault. Besides, it doesn't matter, I can still research on this horn later." He rubbed his eyes, a gesture that screamed fatigued and tiredness. Daisuke could relate. "We better finish this another time; it's getting late."

It was past getting late and was now getting early.

"You should go home and rest," Daisuke suggested, jumping on the opportunity to usher Satoshi away. "And I need to sleep too." He tried to bite his lip and clam his voice down but it was futile. He knew he sounded to excited but he couldn't help the anxiety. And, just to his luck, Satoshi noticed.

"Something's wrong," he answered, frowning as he stared at Daisuke. "You seemed scared."

"I'm not scared."

"Yes, you are." He tore his blue gaze away from him and glanced at the house, back at him, and then back at the house. "There's something in there that's not right, I can feel it."

Daisuke felt his neck grow hot and he held his breath. He had the sudden thought about Krad's magic in Satoshi being able to sense the artwork. After all, Dark could sense Hikari magic. He waited, watching the taller boy's face, waiting for the look of realization--…

"Daisuke, did you find a glass piece like mine earlier?"

"A-what?"

"A glass piece. Did you find a piece like mine?"

"A glass piece?" Daisuke blinked, unsure of what he had heard. He had been certain that Satoshi was going to ask about the Mystic's Dream.

"I saw it in your room. Why didn't you tell me you had found one like mine?"

"Oh…uh, er…I'm sorry. I must have forgotten about it. I was a little disoriented today and when you and Riku-san and Harada-san showed up…I guess it just slipped my mind." He shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry."

"You just have to be careful." He spoke severely and with much fatigue, which made Daisuke feel extremely guilty. "I don't think you understand the severity of this situation. Anything—anything—that has to do with the Mystic is extremely dangerous. She uses everything she has and owns; that is why she is so powerful." He sighed. "The reason she leaves shards of her own glass around is so she can track people. They, in themselves, are her essence of false beauty, so they adopt a façade that is appealing to humans. She can find people that way."

"But why?" Dai asked. "Who is she looking for?"

The look Satoshi gave him seemed like a guarded and unsure one, so when he shook his head it wasn't at all a surprise. Maybe he didn't know. Or maybe he knew and did not deem it right to tell Daisuke just yet. "I can't say. But I do not want to take the time to find out, which is why my offer still holds." He extended a hand out to him, his other in the pocket of his trousers. Daisuke looked down at the proffered hand and then back up at its owner. "Will you help me, Niwa? Will you help me find the Mystic's Dream?"

With little hesitation, and with a heavy feeling in his gut, Daisuke shook Satoshi's hand and attempted to grin up at him. "Yes," he replied. "I—I'll help you, Hiwatari."

The look that Satoshi gave him was oddly piercing. "Thank you." He broke their handshake and turned back to the car, nodding to the dark, tinted windows. "I better go."

"Yeah," Dai repeated absently, his mind still brooding over the pseudo-promise he had made. "Wait, before you go." He searched the concrete at his feet and found Wiz curled up under his father's hedges, waiting patiently until Daisuke went back into the house. "Could you get the book on the coffee table, Wiz?" Daisuke asked. The little creature swiftly jumped up in response, bouncing up the walkway cheerfully. The two boys waited in silence for the little rabbit to come back. It was not an awkward silence, though. In fact, it was not silence at all.

It was just quiet. A comfortable quiet between comfortable friends.

"What is that?" Satoshi asked a few moments later, his eyes looking past Daisuke. Dai turned and saw Wiz struggling to drag the book over the threshold, his tiny strength thrown into the effort.

"The book that I wanted to show you," Dai said, hurrying over and relieving Wiz of his burden. "It's the book where my mother found The Mystic's Dream." He walked over to Satoshi and held the tome out to him. "You still want to look at it, don't you?"

"Yes. I would appreciate that." He took the book from him and tucked it under his arm, one foot stepping into the car. He hesitated. "Niwa. Thank you."

Dai tried to smile but found that the action was laden with guilt and lies. Instead he consented to wave good-bye to his friend as he slid into the back seat of the car. "See you Monday," Daisuke said. Hiwatari nodded once and then the car door slammed, the engine revved to life, and Satoshi's black car pulled away from the curb and headed up the street, taking with it the yellow of its headlights.

Daisuke let out a heavy sigh and glanced heavenward. The clouds parted. Still no moon. It was still trapped within the horn. Good thing Satoshi was tired then; he did not notice.

The red-haired boy turned to face his open front door, dreading entering and yet uncomfortable to remain outside. Had he done the right thing, not telling Hiwatari about the Mystic's Dream? Was he dabbling in something far beyond his abilities and that of his family?

Had the Niwa's finally met their match?

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and striding back towards the house. He just wouldn't look at the Mystic. He'd go in there, throw a sheet over it and stow it away with the other artworks until his family had gone back to normal and they could discuss its history at a better time.

That would be best.

That would definitely be best.

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Risa didn't want to help with the play.

She didn't want to make copies of papers or help build the set or organize all of the costumes. She just wanted to sit at her desk with her homework assignments and finish them before the last bell rang and school was out. It had already been such a huge trial to come to school at all on Monday morning, and to find out that the regular lessons were going to be put aside for an all day play rehearsal was even more disheartening. Couldn't they just sit at their desks and listen to mind-numbing lectures so she didn't have to think about anything?

"Do you at least want to help the other girls with Hiwatari's costume?" Saehara asked her. She looked up from her desktop and glared at him, her mouth set into a thin, annoyed line.

"No," was her only reply before she turned back to her notebook. Takeshi sighed dramatically at her lack of enthusiasm before sauntering off to commence with his role as director.

Risa bit her lip and tried to keep her concentration on her schoolwork, but her mind had already begun to wander and she couldn't help but sneak a glance over her shoulder to the corner of the room...at Satoshi's desk.

Which was still empty.

When she had first walked into the room that morning, Risa had done so with bated breath, hoping that her pounding heart couldn't be heard from the rest of her classmates. But her nervousness had all been for naught, because when she stepped in a second before the first bell her eyes had already done a massive sweep of the entire room and had come up with no Satoshi Hiwatari anywhere.

He had been late.

And now, with thirty minutes into the school day, he was close to becoming absent. Risa tried not to think about it but she couldn't help the enormous amount of disappointment welling inside of her. As much as she had been dreading seeing his face again she hadn't realize how much she had wanted to. The need to see him and hear him talk again almost overwhelmed her, and she gripped her pen harder, trying to concentrate on other things.

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He was late to school, yes.

But he had found a new link to the mystery of The Mystic's Dream: it was the existence of a journal that his early ancestors had kept, documenting their creations and the process in which they were made in the earliest stages of their life. After an entire Sunday of digging through archives and online libraries Satoshi had finally come across this tiny tidbit. He had been excited and anxious, but he first had to speak to Daisuke about it.

Because the journal was in a very secure place and his status as Chief Commander of Police wouldn't be enough to get him what he needed.

That meant, as much as Satoshi hated to admit it, that he needed the help of a very good thief.

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"Harada-san, before you glare at me again and tell me to go away I have to give you this," Takeshi said, thrusting a piece of paper in front of her nose. Risa glared down at it and then back at him.

"What is it?" she asked. He shook the paper at her and then dropped it on top of her notebook.

"A note from the art department. They said you left some of your things in the art room last Friday. If you want to pick them up you can go now." He rubbed his neck with both hands and watched her pick up the note and read over it. "Or you could actually help the rest of the class with the play that we're all supposed to be putting on for the festival," he added sarcastically. Risa ignored his offer and stood up, dropping her pen and pocketing the note.

"No, thank you," she said answered sweetly, brushing past him. "I'd rather not."

"Where are you going, Risa?"

Risa turned and saw her sister sitting at the back of the classroom, pouring over the dress they had both made together for Freedert. She felt a small stab of guilt for not helping, but her heart, or her hands, were in the mood.

"I have a note from the art room. I'll just be a minute."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?" Riku was already setting down her needle and getting up, but Risa stopped her with a shake of her head.

"I'll be fine. I don't need an escort around the school."

She knew her sister had been worried about her all weekend. In truth, they had both been extremely disoriented all of Sunday. Risa had cried herself to sleep the night before and had woken up in the clothes Daisuke's mother had lent her, her arms holding tightly onto her pillow. She had found Riku laid out on the sofa in the living room, and when she asked how she'd gotten there Riku couldn't find an answer. Both of them had been confused and drained all day, but Risa could not hide her chaotic feelings from her sister very well. Riku definitely knew something was wrong with her twin, and the only escape Risa could think of was to keep her distance from her older sister until she could deal with her feelings herself.

"Okay then. Don't wander about," Riku offered.

"I won't," she assured her, and then turned to slip quietly from the bustling room, her eyes involuntarily stealing a glance at Satoshi's empty seat.

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He climbed Azumano Middle School's stairs, one hand rubbing his forehead and the other holding tightly onto his books. He had a headache from staying up so late and his shoulder had a knot in it from Saturday night, when Krad had appeared and his body had to bear the weight of those beastly wings. He vaguely thought of Daisuke and wondered why he never showed the effects of Dark's magic, which led him to think of Riku and if she ever got home that night…which led him to think of Risa and if she had been all right…

…which led him to shaking his head and getting the image of her out of his mind. He had decided that it was very, very dangerous to think or speak about Risa. He had noted, with much dismay, denial and disappointment at Krad's silent elation, that his heart had a tendency to pound harder when he thought of Risa Harada. A pounding heart could lead to horrible things with white wings, and Satoshi was desperate to keep those things confined.

He dropped his hand with a sigh and jogged up to the fourth floor landing, offhandedly taking out his cell phone and switching it to vibrate to give himself something to do. He would just have to keep his distance with the younger Harada.

Which, in truth, couldn't be that hard, right? They weren't even really friends…

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The Horn of Silence lay underneath a canvas covering in the Niwa household, still shimmering and glowing as it had been since Saturday night. Since the horn had appeared the sky had been without a moon for two nights, an anomaly in its usual monthly cycle, as the ever inventive weather men and newswomen liked to put it. Since the episode on Saturday night the Niwa family had kept The Mystic's Dream and Silence in the living room next to the window, a large, canvas sheet laid over both. They had discovered the hard way that if they tried to put either artwork in the tower basement with the other Niwa treasures the life of those artworks reacted chaotically. They had been disturbed by the presence of Silence and had been thrown into mayhem and confusion by The Mystic's Dream.

After Emiko, Kosuke and Daiki had subdued the artworks the family had decided to keep both pieces in a separate room. The only one who had been tentative with this decision had been Towa, but after much convincing and bland acceptance she had agreed, and they had shrouded the two sculptures in the corner of the living room.

But now, in the promising sunshine of a new day, while Towa was vacuuming the downstairs hallway, Daiki was reading the newspaper outside, Kosuke was gardening in the front yard and Emiko was at the store, a corner of the canvas that had been threatening to slip finally succeeded, and the small edge of the Horn of Silence was exposed to the shining light.

Instantly the glowing engravings on the horn dissolved into faerie dust, glittering and shimmering and floating about until they faded away, like stars during the oncoming dawn. Soon, Silence had reverted to its original, plain, silver state, and, next to it, The Mystic's Dream remained veiled, silent, and maliciously awaiting her rebirth by moonlight once more…

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Risa slid the classroom door closed behind her and sighed heavily, leaning against it to gather her wits. Like a schoolgirl, she thought condescendingly about herself. Like a stupid, lovestruck schoolgirl. You're no better than those silly fan club girls who leave pink love notes in his desk during lunch. That's how you were with Dark…

Risa looked up and moved towards the window, leaning against the frame and staring down onto the lacrosse field. There had been so many times that she had sat in the stands and watched Riku during her games, and, these past months, she had done so with Daisuke, both of them cheering her on. Risa had always thought it sweet that Daisuke came to her sister's games, but she had never really envied it. It was such a small concept, watching your girlfriend's games. When she had been in love with Dark she had never wanted him to do anything like that.

She was content with just knowing that he might appear on the news sometime during the evening.

But now…

Now Risa imagined herself in Riku's spot, running across that field and turning her head to search the crowd for the head of her supportive, older sister and a bright blue one sitting next to her…

"Geez, Risa, could you possibly think of anything else?" she said out loud, scolding herself. She turned away from the window in a huff and started down the hallway, towards the staircase. "Sometimes I think Riku is right," she mumbled. "You are immature." She walked slowly through the corridor, fiddling with the extra hair tie she had slipped onto her wrist that morning. As she walked Risa glanced up at her reflection in the windows and stared at herself. How many hours in the day did she primp herself in front of a mirror so that she'd look like the epitome of beauty if ever Dark came to call?

Which, of course, he never did…

How much time did she spend on her hair and her face and her clothes? Time ill-spent. Time, she now realized, wasted. In lazy indignation she tugged the band from her wrist and gathered her silky locks behind her head, hurriedly binding it into a messy ponytail. Why had she always insisted in wearing her hair down? It got in her face all the time, obscuring her vision when she bent over to write something and blowing into her eyes on a windy day. It was such a hassle when she left it down, being so long. So why had she insisted upon it?

Because she had thought it was prettier down.

Now, she understood, that hair didn't matter.

Risa wasn't paying attention and lightly bumped into someone coming up the staircase. A tall, distracted and very real someone with bright blue hair and a cell phone in his hand. She looked up into the familiar blue eyes and immediately felt the blood rush to her face, heating her disappointment at the beginning of the day and thawing her cold anger.

She stepped back, nervous. What was she supposed to do?

"I'm sorry, Harada-san. I didn't see you," he said, staring down at her. Did he know he was so tall? She had to tilt her head back just to face him properly.

"It's…it's okay," she said in a dark monotone, averting her eyes so that she wouldn't have to look at him. Now, when she was in the actual presence of Satoshi Hiwatari, she felt that her feelings were plastered clearly across her face for everyone to scrutinize.

And she felt ashamed of them.

So she needed to hide them.

"Where are you going?" he asked conversationally, his tone polite as he pocketed his phone. Risa was immediately distracted by his long fingered hands; hands, she could vaguely remember, tracing something in red ink with beautiful fluidity. The thought puzzled her just as much as it enraged her.

"The art room. I was sent there." She spoke her words in a clipped way, almost rude. But she had to push him way, throw him off the scent of her raging heart. "You're late."

"Yeah. I got…side-tracked." He said it nonchalantly, as if there wasn't a group of obsessed middle school fan girls crying their heart out over his absence. The thought of those fan club girls instantly brought up a significant jealousy in Risa. "Why? Are we working on the play today?"

Why was he talking to her? Why was he trying to be polite now? Couldn't he tell that she didn't want him anywhere near her? Couldn't he see it on her face and hear it in her voice? "Yeah. They're all in there. You better go." And with that, amazingly, she brushed past him and hurried down the staircase, trying to fight the urge to look back.

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Satoshi did not expect anything less from her. His thoughts towards Risa Harada might have been altered over the weekend, but he couldn't expect her to feel any differently. Granted he needed to keep his distance, but somehow, seeing her again, he had felt almost obligated to show at least a little politeness, if not compassion.

The feeling puzzled him.

He had never before felt compelled to speak to people.

He had never before felt as if he cared for someone.

"So, now you care for her, Satoshi-dono?"

Satoshi felt his eyes narrow in hatred and pushed forward, his long strides taking him to his classroom down the hall. "Don't talk, Krad," he mumbled under his breath. "Just don't talk." Inside his head he could hear the deep rumble of amused laughter.

Satoshi reached his classroom and slid the door open quietly, hoping that the chaos within would mask his tardy entrance and he would be able to slip silently into his seat without people making such a big fuss. But, then again, he had a terrible talent for drawing much more attention than he wanted, and the minute he stepped into the bustling classroom he heard his name squealed out and everyone had turned and had pounced on him as one.

"Hiwatari-san, where have you been?"

"We have the whole day to work on the play, Hiwatari-san. Isn't that great?"

"Hiwatari-kun, did the jacket fit you last time you tried it on? I want to make sure it's perfect."

"Why are you so late?"

"Have you seen Niwa-san's costume? The Harada twins have been working on it all weekend--,"

"—because you weren't here, so we'll have to back track to scene--,"

"—a great job with Dark's wings!"

Satoshi stepped back slightly and leaned away, trying to avoid all the objects and questions that were being thrown into his face. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply, trying to gather the strength he would need to calmly deal with every single demand shoved in his face, just as he'd always done in the past.

"I'm sorry I was late. I overslept." For some strange, unknown reason this small tidbit of information caused many of the girls in the room to look at each other and giggle. Satoshi ignored it and edged through the crowd, striding to his desk and depositing his things on its empty surface. Behind him his classmates had thankfully decided that their jobs were more important than him and had slowly dispersed back to their work. From the front of the room Saehara was yelling for Daisuke and him to rehearse the first act.

"Rough night?" someone asked him. Satoshi looked up and saw Daisuke sitting on the floor behind his desk, his back leaning against the wall and his legs bent in front of him. He had the same lazy, lopsided grin on his face and his casual demeanor was a refreshing relief from the noisy greeting of his peers.

"They always are." Satoshi turned back to his books and shuffled through them, trying to find his script.

"Here you go, Niwa!" Both boys looked up in time to see a flowing blonde wig fly through the air towards Daisuke's face. With a quick ease, as if he wasn't even trying, Daisuke snatched the wig from the air and held it in front of his face. From across the room Riku smiled sweetly at him and then turned back to the dress she was still fussing over.

"Thanks," Dai called back lightly. Satoshi continued to stare at her.

"How is she?" he asked. Daisuke kept his eyes on the older Harada, shrugging lightly.

"She's fine. My dad brought her home Saturday night and made sure she was safe. I don't think she remembers much of that day. She can remember a little about going to the beach, meeting with you, and coming to my house, but anything after that is gone. I think we're still safe."

Satoshi took deep note of that tidbit: we're. As if they were not two opposites, not enemies, not black and white. Instead, he said it as if they were together. Like friends.

"She's fine otherwise?" he asked. The redhead nodded.

"I was worried at first, but she seems to be herself." He turned his head to look at him. "Did you run into Harada-san on your way here?"

Satoshi felt a sudden wave of panic at the mention Risa. "Yes, actually, I did. But she was in a hurry, I think. I barely spoke to her." He looked down at him from the corner of his glasses. "How is she?" he asked, trying to sound disinterested.

"She's seems okay, too. She didn't say or ask anything about Saturday."

"Good," Satoshi replied. He remembered tracing the Lunar Crest in front of her and even using her as part of the small ceremony. She had taken the action lightly at the moment, but he did not want any memory of it to resurface. "Let's keep it that way."

"Niwa! Hiwatari! Can we start this thing some time today?" Saehara whined from the front of the classroom. Daisuke offered him a wave and pushed himself to his feet. Satoshi resolved to say nothing.

"Duty calls," Dai said playfully, passing through the desks with Satoshi. "You know, Hiwatari, I never would have thought that you would be doing something like this."

"What do you mean?"

"You like to keep to yourself. Performing in front of a big crowd of people doesn't exactly fit under that category."

Satoshi ignored the wailing Takeshi as he passed him and stood in front of the blackboard, in the position that he had been placed. "They voted on me." And he left it at that, thinking that his answer was perfectly legitimate and blatantly apparent.

"Right," was all Daisuke could say in reply.

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Risa stepped into the empty classroom, her anger having diminished somewhat on the journey. She didn't know whether she should have congratulated herself on her performance or mentally kicked herself, so she had let the subject die to be dealt with later.

Quietly, and with a tiny sense of intrusion, Risa crossed the room and over to the easel she had using last week, already noticing her brush case sitting on the floor where she had left it. She bent down to pick it up but felt it was a pointless gesture. She wasn't a very good artist anyway.

Risa looked up from her case and awarded herself a thorough gaze of the room. She had never come here after their class hours to work on any projects; she was usually always done at the end of class. So she felt like an intruder into this place, a place where she didn't belong. She knew Daisuke came in here often and that Riku had watched him as he worked on all different kinds of paintings. She had to admit, he wasn't the greatest painter she had ever seen but he was much better than he gave himself credit for.

Smiling, she made her way across the room to Daisuke's easel, staring at the empty frame. She could imagine all the times her and Riku had poured over his shoulder, taking joy in making him uncomfortable and self-conscious about his work. Riku had always been kinder.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the easel next to Niwa's. It had never registered to her before that Satoshi worked right next to Daisuke, painting his pictures side by side. For a moment she had an image of him drawing something beautifully on a floor somewhere, but Risa had never watched Satoshi paint or draw. The teacher had always praised his work and showed it off to the class, but she had never paid attention.

She never did pay much attention.

Risa sighed, strode away from the easel, and left the classroom.

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"You're a bad actor," Takeshi droned, staring with narrow eyes at Daisuke. The poor boy looked hurt and stared down at his script, trying to find his spot.

"I'm trying, I'm trying! It's not easy playing a girl."

"I play a girl," Takeshi shot back, but his rebuttal was hollow and raised a silent reply. He sighed theatrically and dropped his script on the floor, rubbing his eyes. "Okay Daisuke, just take it from the beginning of the scene."

"Again? But we're halfway through."

"Yes, but you don't give the part the feeling that it needs! Dark is supposed to be distant and troubled, so Hiwatari is doing fine. You're supposed to be shocked and emotional! I want emotion!"

Daisuke sighed and rolled his eyes, trying to suppress his embarrassment, and flipped back to the beginning of the scene. At least the rest of the class wasn't watching too avidly. Everyone was coming in and out of the classroom, some of them gone to the empty room down the hall to work on the set. Everyone had a job to do.

Daisuke glanced over at Satoshi who was leafing through his own booklet, leaning against the blackboard lazily.

"Take it from your line, Hiwatari," Takeshi said offhandedly, waving to them as he plopped down behind a desk. Satoshi stood up straight and stared down at the page, his face calm and unfazed.

"Freedert," he said, not looking at Daisuke. "I have to tell you the truth."

"No, Dark. You don't have to. I don't want to hear it." Daisuke spoke in a short staccato, reciting his lines because, in truth, he had not memorized them yet. This was supposed to be the scene when Dark confessed his feelings to Freedert, although Freedert was supposed to think that he had no feelings for her at all. It was an emotional point in the storyline.

Daisuke wished they could just skip over it.

"I can't keep this secret anymore. It's destroying me inside." Satoshi took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt. "Just listen. For me." He replaced them on his face and crossed his arms, waiting.

"You're supposed to grab Freedert's hand, Hiwatari," Saehara growled, his patience waning. "So grab his hand."

With only the slightest hesitation Satoshi stepped forward and held out his hand, waiting. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Daisuke let him take his and continue on with his lines. The heat filled his face slowly as Hiwatari recited.

"If I mean anything to you," he went on, "you will let me speak."

Just then the door to the classroom slid open and one of the student girls who helped in the front office came in, interrupting the scene. The three boys were the only ones who looked up as she entered.

"Oh, um, is Niwa Daisuke here?" she asked, reading the name off an envelope. Daisuke raised his free hand.

"That's me," he said. The girl looked at him, noticed a boy was holding his hand, noticed that the boy was Satoshi Hiwatari, and giggled, her face blushing a deep red. Daisuke followed her gaze and panicked, pulling his hand free and backing away. Satoshi didn't seem to notice and dropped his arm to his side, resolving to lean against the blackboard once more.

"I have a message for you," the girl said, holding out the envelope. Daisuke took it and stared down at his name.

"Who sent this?" he asked, turning it over and tearing it open. She shrugged, her attention already distracted by Satoshi. She was watching him carefully, a smile on her face at the good fortune that she had been sent to his classroom. He ignored her and took out his cell phone.

Daisuke shrugged and pulled out the little slip of paper from the envelope. He immediately recognized his mother's swirling cursive and looping signature E.N. at the end:

Dai,

The horn is gone. We have a situation at the art museum downtown; a situation that needs a certain, special thief. Towa will be waiting for you at the museum.

You must go. Now.

E.N.

-------------------------

Daisuke Niwa suddenly crumpled the paper he had been reading and looked up abruptly, turning to the girl who had brought him the envelope. Satoshi glanced up and watched him. He looked distressed.

"Um, I have to go," he said curtly, looking at the girl, then Takeshi and then himself. Satoshi stood up straighter, knowing by the fists curled at Niwa's sides that something was terribly wrong.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. Daisuke met his eyes and Satoshi saw panic there and watched as he tried to mask it over with indifference.

"Everything's fine," he said, already backing up to his desk. "I just—there's a family emergency at home and I have to go—now…." He snatched up his bag and coat and began weaving through his classmates and desks. "I'm sorry--,"

"Sorry? Sorry!" Saehara was furious. "Sorry isn't going to cut it, Niwa! We have a rehearsal to do? I still haven't finished blocking this scene!"

"I know, and I hate to leave--." But he didn't look as if he hated it. "But this is important." He saw the last row of desks and, with and easy grace, leapt over the row and landed catlike beside the girl next to the door. Once again Satoshi wondered how none of their classmates had never noticed that Niwa had the makings of a master thief.

"Niwa," he said, stepping forward. He still hadn't had a chance to talk to him about the journal he had uncovered. "Are you sure--,"

"It's fine," he answered sincerely, attempting a comforting smile at Satoshi and backing out of the classroom. "Really, it is. We'll talk later."

But Saehara was still livid. "So what am I supposed to do now? Cancel the rehearsal!"

"Just get someone to read the part for me," Daisuke suggest, waving at him. "I'll see you later!"

"Niwa? Niwa! Who am I going to get to read the role? Everyone's busy!" But Daisuke had already gone, the love struck office girl trailing in his wake. Takeshi stared at the empty doorway, his mouth hanging open in dramatic outrage. Satoshi had never seen him look so flabbergasted. "Daisuke didn't listen to me," he said quietly, brow furrowed in confusion. Then his eyes narrowed and gritted his teeth. "I'm going to kill him." He spun around and glared at Satoshi. Satoshi just stared back, not exactly knowing what to do. "What am I supposed to do now?" he asked him. Satoshi shrugged, not really caring either way.

"We could stop," he suggested, half serious and half sarcastic. Takeshi almost exploded.

"We can't just stop; we don't have time for that anymore! We're going to have to keep going," he added theatrically. Satoshi raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. His face was getting red.

"Niwa said to get someone to read the part," he reminded him. Takeshi threw up his hands hopelessly.

"But where are we going to find someone who isn't already doing anything?"

Risa walked in the door, leaning her head back a little and staring down the hallway. "Why is Niwa leaving?" she asked no one in particular. Takeshi spun his head around and stared at her, a new light brightening his eyes. Satoshi saw the happiness on his face, saw Risa Harada walk into the room, and knew that, no matter how many times he wished it, his life would never cease to be a conveniently twisted movie. "Isn't he supposed to be in rehearsal?"

"Saehara, I think we should just cancel it for today--,"

"Harada-san!" Takeshi rushed at Risa and grabbed her by the shoulders. The poor girl, surprised, blinked confusedly and leaned away from him.

"Saehara-san," she answered back. Satoshi watched them with bated breath, hoping that what was about to happen wasn't going to happen. Already he could feel the heat rising on his neck. He thought he saw Risa's eyes flick momentarily over him, but then she was looking at Takeshi again. "What?"

"You're not doing anything," he said excitedly, smiling like a maniac. Risa shrugged and shook her head.

"Yes, I know."

"You can read for Niwa's part!"

Satoshi bowed his head and walked to the other side of the room, panic rising. Why was he getting so nervous?

"Read for Niwa?" she asked offhandedly. But then she seemed to get the gist of what he was asking and then repeated, much more quietly, "you mean, read in Niwa's place? As in, stand in for him?"

Takeshi nodded, replacing her case of brushes with his own script and pulling her to the center of the room. Satoshi could hear the commotion behind him and closed his eyes. Why? Why now?

"I can at least block Hiwatari's part, and you can fill Niwa in on what he has to do."

"Saehara-san, I'm not really that good of an actress--,"

"Are you kidding me? You love to act!"

"Yeah, well, I still have some homework that I need to--,"

"You're the only one in the class who isn't working on the play."

"Because I--,"

"Just stand in for Niwa! I'm sure Hiwatari here won't mind, will you, Hiwatari?" There was a nudge on Satoshi's back and he glanced around at Takeshi's winking face and Risa's bright red one. Her eyes were averted and she looked highly uncomfortable. She probably would have wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment. "Will you, Hiwatari?" the boy prompted. Satoshi hesitated, and then tried to shrug listlessly.

"Of course not."

But inside, he did.

He really, really did.

-----------------------

Risa could feel her entire body screaming with adrenaline. How had she gotten here? How was it that she was standing at the front of the classroom with a script in her hands, staring down at Daisuke's lines as she stood in as Freedert to Satoshi Hiwatari's Dark?

How ironic was this situation?

"Do I—what am I supposed to do?" she asked quietly. She glanced sidelong at Satoshi and saw him look anywhere but at her. The idea made her want to crumble up and hide.

"You don't have to do anything but recite Freedert's line and stand there and look pretty," Takeshi said nonchalantly. Risa blushed scarlet but Saehara continued to stare at her. "In which case this doesn't help," and he reached up, took hold of her hair tie, and tore it out of her hair, letting her long, brown tresses to fall freely around her face.

"Saehara!" She swatted him away, indignant. "You could have just asked!" But the boy only shrugged and returned to his seat. Risa suddenly felt boldly exposed with her hair down and she couldn't bring herself to look at Satoshi. Not that it mattered anyway; he obviously had absolutely no interest in her.

"Okay, let's take it where we left off. Hiwatari, hold Harada-san's hand."

Risa could have sworn she felt her stomach drop. There was a pause that felt as if it lasted eons and then Risa felt Satoshi's large, long-fingered hand take her own tiny one. Her heart skipped one, two, three beats.

"Any day now, Hiwatari," Takeshi whined. Risa glanced up from the floor. Satoshi was staring avidly at his script, completely immersed in the writing, his hand gently holding hers.

"If I mean anything to you, you will let me speak," he said, his familiar, detached baritone rumbling in her skin. Risa tried to push her nervousness and anxiety aside and stared down at her own script, finding Freedert's lines and reading them out loud.

"Dark," she said, her voice awfully quiet. "You mean everything to me." How cruel, Risa thought. She was reciting Freedert's own words as her own, speaking them to Satoshi Hiwatari while he was playing Dark. She unconsciously moved her fingers and felt Satoshi's hold tighten the slightest bit. Her heart jumped to her throat.

Such a cruel, cruel irony.

-----------------------

Satoshi did not know which was worse. Standing here, pretending to be Phantom Thief Dark, or standing here and pretending to be Phantom Thief Dark to Risa Harada.

"Freedert, for years I have flown the night skies, stealing art wherever I may," he said, gritting his teeth against the thought. How many times had Dark slipped between his grasp, claiming yet another piece of Hikari creation? "But I never let anything distract me for too long. I never let myself go wayward." Go wayward? Satoshi frowned at the wording. Saehara had absolutely no future as a literate writer. "But then…then I met you."

"Now this is where you drop to one knee and press Freedert's lovely hand to your heart," Takeshi injected, his face cracked in a maniacal grin. Both Satoshi and Risa glanced sideways at him.

"Press her hand?" Risa squeaked.

"To my chest," Satoshi confirmed, staring at him. Takeshi nodded. "You do know that this is going to be Niwa's hand and not Harada-san's," he confirmed, glaring hard at the boy. Takeshi only nodded.

"I know. Now do it." And he sat back in his seat and waited. With a heavy sigh, (mostly because his knee had been hurting since Saturday), Satoshi lowered himself slowly to one knee and tilted his head back to get a better look at Risa. She wasn't looking at him but at the blackboard. He noticed that her hair had grown longer since the last time he'd noticed. It was far past her shoulders now. "Harada-san, you should be looking deep into his eyes."

Risa turned to glare pointedly at Takeshi. "No," she growled. "And don't you dare make me."

"She doesn't have to," Satoshi offered, shrugging at their director. Risa glanced sideways at him but he didn't want to see the appreciation on her face. For some reason it bothered him that she didn't at least want to look into his eyes.

Not that he cared.

"Yes she does. This is why I wanted Niwa here; I want to explore the full effect of my directing so I can know if my work will move the audience to tears." He was looking off into the distance, his eyes starry and glazed over. Satoshi felt awkward.

"Saehara-san, really." Risa dropped her voice and leaned close to him, or as close as she could get without pulling her hand away from his. "Don't as me to do that."

"I'm not," he responded to her, pushing her back to her spot. "I'm telling you." He pointed at Satoshi. "Now look."

--------------

She didn't want to look because she was afraid.

Afraid that staring into his bright, blue eyes would break her resolve and she'd burst into the same tears she had shed on Saturday night. The tears that said she was completely smitten with him and she was no better than his wailing fan club girls.

She was afraid that if she looked into his eyes and heard him say the words that Dark was supposed to say to Freedert…she might take it and make it her own. She might hear something that wasn't meant for her. She would hear him say 'I love you' but he wouldn't be talking to her.

She didn't want to look because his eyes were too blue. Sapphire blue. Azure blue. Sky blue. Royal blue. Every blue.

But apart from that…

He was brilliant.

And gallant.

And honorable.

And chivalrous, for God's sake.

Risa was absolutely, head over heels, heart in her stomach, mind drawing a blank and weak in the knees in like with him.

In serious like with him.

She felt like crying again.

--------------

This situation wasn't helping anything at all. It was taking all of Satoshi's strength to suppress his rapidly beating heart and shaking nerves. How had it become so hard for him? Usually, when yet another mysterious girl approached him with a letter and flowers and confessions of love, Satoshi was able to uphold the ordeal with a cool calmness. Mainly because he knew deep down that those girls were completely superficial; that, if anything, they had fallen in love with his exterior rather than his interior. And, to be honest, his interior was one chaotic mess.

So why was holding Risa's hand to his heart so hard for him to endure? She was just another superficial girl, right? I mean, honestly, Risa Harada was at the forefront of the mob of fan girls that plagued Dark's nightly excursions. She had fallen for him the moment she saw him on television, just like every other girl. She loved his suave, debonair, (and grotesque), charm. They all loved his charm. He was a ladies' man.

And Risa was Dark's first lady.

But, then again…

Was it because Risa didn't fall over him that made her seem different? She had never once left him a love letter or had gawked at him during class or intercepted him after school or during lunch. She had left him in almost complete peace, both her and her sister. It was refreshing.

She had even been there the day Niwa and Riku and burst into his apartment. In fact, she had been the one to help patch him up. Granted the encounter was highly uncomfortable and a little strange, but she had been there in his bedroom and it hadn't seemed wrong.

And then her reaction on Saturday…

She had been so calm when they had been in Daisuke's room, moments away from being attacked by a dangerous artwork. She had complied with his wishes and even participated in his magical ritual, and all the while not screaming or wailing or running away. She had accepted it.

She had accepted him.

And that had to be the reason for his nerves.

Right?

------------------------

Daisuke flashed his card at the operator and grabbed on to a handrail, waiting for the rest of the passengers to board so the trolley could be on its way. He took the moment to breathe deeply and lean his forehead against the cold metal of the pole, his jacket and schoolbag dangling from his hand. He chanced a glance at his watch and sighed. It would take him at least twenty minutes to get downtown, and he didn't want to waste any energy transforming into Dark and flying down there.

He wasn't sure what it was that would be waiting for him.

--------------------------

There was a loud crash from the hallway followed by a hollow 'boom' and several screams. Everyone in the classroom stopped what they were doing and fell silent, frowning at the doorway. Takeshi jumped to his feet and hurried over, leaning out the door and searching for the cause of the commotion.

"What happened?"

"What was that, Saehara-san?"

"Did somebody get hurt?"

"Oh no," Takeshi sighed, rolling his eyes and pulling back into the room. "The set broke when they were trying to bring it out of the classroom. Come on, we're going to need everyone to help drag this thing out of the hallway before the professors start yelling at us. Grab your jackets, were heading outside and it's kind of windy." He beckoned his fellow classmates to follow and almost everyone set done their jobs with a grumble and headed out, snatching up sweaters and coats as they went. Satoshi started to rise to his feet but felt the bruised nerve in his knee spasm with a strange numbness. He felt it buckle under the weight.

"Ah--,"

"Be careful…!" Risa sprang forward and grasped him around the waist, supporting him enough so he could stand on his own. When he was steady on his feet she stepped back, her hands lingering behind, worried that he might collapse. "Are you okay?" she asked, genuinely concerned. He only nodded.

"Perfectly fine. Just a momentary lapse," he mumbled. He stepped away from her and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You have nothing to apologize for." She rubbed her neck nervously and stepped farther away. "Um—we better go help them," and she backed up to her desk. "You should put something on, you know. It's a little colder today than it has been these couple of weeks."

"I'm fine," Satoshi shrugged, actually pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. "I don't get cold easily."

"Oh. Okay." She reached into her school bag and pulled out the familiar white jacket, slipping it on with practiced ease. Satoshi watched, fascinated, as the long sleeves spilled over her hands and the hemline hung past her hips.

"You still have that men's jacket," he heard himself say. She looked up at him while she adjusted the collar and stared. For a while she looked confused and then she suddenly remembered what they were talking about and touched the lapel.

"Oh! You mean this? Y-yeah, I still have it." She seemed uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as Satoshi felt. It was strange, seeing his clothing on Risa Harada. It made his stomach twist in a strange, almost sickening, way.

"Oh."

She pulled her hair free from the collar and pointed to the door. "We better go help," she said. He nodded, turning his back to her.

"Yeah, we should." And they did.

----------------------

A long, long time ago The Mystic's Dream stood in a room with Krad, the white half of the Black Wings. They stood facing each other in the dead of night, the full ambiance of the moon spilling in through the glass windows. She was standing in all of her beautiful glory, her hair hanging down to her knees and her blue, prism eyes dancing. Krad stood in the black shirt and trousers that his tamer had been wearing, his signature cross lying on the ground in front of him. They stared at each other.

"I will find you again," the Mystic said, her voice trailing in the air. Krad frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. Usually the sinister creature was seen as a laughing sadist or else a sneering monster. He was neither tonight. He was simply frowning.

"I do not doubt that you will," he answered. "But I do predict that it will be a long, long time from now." He flexed his wings and they reached up for the ceiling. She titled her head to the side, watching them move.

"You are…beautiful…". She took a step forward…and then another step…and then another…. Krad did not move but watched her approach. She came right up to him, looking up to his face. She was breathtaking.

Krad was a full head taller and he watched in frozen fascination as she placed her palms flat against his chest and rose to her toes, her face inches from his. He kept his features impassive. His chest remained cold and unfeeling. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why me?" he asked. She reached up and touched his cheek, her eyes staring as their skin made contact. "Why not Dark?"

"Because." Every word she spoke was like a song. "Hikaris are not stained black." She passed her fingers over his brow, leaving behind a cold, freezing touch. Krad knew what she was doing, despised it, loathed and abhorred it, ever sought it, yet could not stop it. The Mystic placed her hand on the nape of his neck. "They are tainted white."

And the kiss she gave to Krad, the only kiss he had ever received, was something he would never…ever…forget…

Author's Note: Well, there you go everyone. I hope you like this chapter even though it took a long time for me to post it. ) Anyway, some future updates: Everything will start coming together soon and we'll delve into the Mystic's Dream even more, not to mention uncovering the creation of Silence and getting a little more complicated with our favorite Hikari and Harada. For tidbits, fanfiction updates and excerpt cookies from upcoming chapters, go to my livejournal at Hope you guys liked this chapter! Read, review and eat your veggies.