At the end of this chapter, there's a scene in which a certain someone plays La Campanella, by Liszt. It's a gorgeous piece, and I recommend listening to it, especially while reading this. Same goes for Pachabel's Canon in D. For Pachabel's Canon, go for the one in violin, with a piano accompaniment.

Thanks to Shibataea for editing this, and happy New Year's Eve (or New Year's, depending on where you are)!

Yuushi had his eyes downcast, head cradled in his arms when Choutaro entered. The younger boy smiled warmly at him. "Are you alright, Oshitari-san?" he asked, bending down to examine his face closely. He placed the back of his hand against Yuushi's forehead. "I don't think you have a fever . . . maybe you shouldn't be working," he fretted. "You should tell your boss—no, I'll tell him if it's too much trouble for you—no, of course it's too much trouble for someone who's ill—I'll go immediately; don't you move. Oh, and would you like some water as well? Ah, I don't have any with me, but I'll go and fetch some . . . perhaps I should get the water and give it to you before I speak to your boss . . ."

Yuushi shook his head, grateful for Choutaro's concern, but a bit annoyed all the same. The earlier events of that day had been enough to put him into an unpleasant mood, and even he could hear the strain in his voice as he replied, "I'm fine, Ohtori. Have a seat."

"You don't look fine, Oshitari-san. Tell me what happened. Please?" He hesitated before adding, "Shishido-san is outside, so if you'd rather tell him . . ."

"Aren't you being a bit too persistent?" Yuushi asked, and shook his head again. "It's nothing. Gakuto was here earlier, and the interrogation didn't go very well."

The surprise on Choutaro's face was evident. "Oh, I see. But you needn't worry," he assured eagerly. "Mukahi-san throws fits like that. Surely it'll be over soon."

"He wasn't angry; he just seemed dismayed."

Choutaro frowned. "Well, that's a different matter. But he'll get over it soon, I believe. Maybe he was just in a bad mood to begin with."

He wasn't, Yuushi wanted to say, but didn't see the point in dragging the conversation out any further.

"I think it's the room," Choutaro continued. "It's dreary. Maybe that was what put Mukahi-san down."

"What is wrong with this room?" Yuushi demanded, exasperated. "It's a perfectly fine room."

"It's the mood," the designer explained. "You see, the plants never go there; they're always at least a foot away from the window. It provides a lighter tone. Also, the blinds don't go very well with the rest of the room. It's too modern, and it contrasts with the feel of the rest of your office. Besides, it makes your office look a bit like a jail cell. What else? Oh! Your desk shouldn't face the wall; like that; it's too restricting. You have such a roomy office; why not place it somewhere near the center?"

Yuushi held up a hand, looking defeated. "Alright. Someday, Ohtori, you may remodel the office for me."

Choutaro beamed. "Can I, really?"

Yuushi had to smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course. But we really must start on the interrogations now."

"Ah, I'm sorry, Oshitari-san," he said apologetically.

"It's fine. Now, where were you on the day of the reunion?"

"With Shishido-san," he replied. "We were having coffee—see, whenever we have to remodel a home, or when he's commissioned for something, we discuss it over coffee—and then we realized the reunion was that day, and we had to rush." He sounded sheepish. "It was my fault; Shishido-san is always so busy with work, and he usually depends on me to remind him. So we arrived late, I'm afraid."

"Earlier than me," Yuushi commented.

"Yes, Shishido-san told me. He was the first to greet you, wasn't he?" He smiled affectionately. "He's missed everybody."

"Let's move on, then. What did you do at the reunion, exactly?"

Choutaro's eyes darkened and Yuushi noticed an anxiety in them that hadn't been there before. Or perhaps he'd just been too tired to notice.

"I mostly stuck to Shishido-san, but then he found you, so I went to speak with a few other members of Hyotei. There was Kabaji-kun, and Taki-san, and M-Mukahi-san, and Hiyoshi-kun . . . And then Shishido-san suggested we talk to a few members of the other teams, so we did. Mostly Seigaku, though. Kikumaru-san seemed quite upset by something. We spoke to RikkaiDai, too; yes, Niou-san as well. He was—he was leisured, when I saw him. I left abruptly; I really wasn't feeling well. I think it might have been the sushi—maybe it was done poorly or something. . ." he rambled.

Yuushi arched an eyebrow. "And then?" he prompted.

Choutaro flushed and wrung his hands a bit. "I went to the restroom. And then I came back."

He seemed oddly uncomfortable, but Yuushi couldn't bring himself to press for further information. "Alright, then. And when exactly was this?"

"Exactly two o'clock; I remember checking my watch," he admitted.

"That was the estimated time of Niou's murder," Yuushi pointed out. Choutaro visibly flinched. "Are you certain you didn't see anything, anybody?"

"Nothing," Choutaro said shakily. "Really, I didn't see anything. I'm sorry."

"Do you know if anyone else was away from the party around then? Did you hear anything, at least? The restrooms were directly below the main room, and fairly isolated. You must have heard something."

"I heard footsteps," he replied slowly. "And I thought I heard someone talking, but it was too low for me to make anything out."

"I see," Yuushi murmured. He continued with the routine questions ("Did you know Niou? No? Well, what was your impression of him?"), and Choutaro answered them obligingly ("His death was tragic, he was wonderfully talented, I wish I knew him."), seeming all too relieved to get the whole time situation out of the way. Yuushi, however, wasn't nearly as calmed.

"I heard footsteps. And I thought I heard someone talking, but it was too low for me to make anything out."

You shouldn't trust everything a detective says, Yuushi mused. Choutaro, Choutaro. The rooms were soundproof.

---

"Shishido," Yuushi greeted. "Have a seat."

Shishido stared him down for at least two minutes before sitting. He remained silent and folded his arms, not blinking.

Yuushi frowned. "You're awfully hostile. Is something the matter?"

"Choutaro was upset when he left," Shishido said at last. "Did you say something?"

"Just routine work," he replied, disconcerted but not surprised. Shishido noted this, and frowned as well. "I hope I didn't upset him—and if I did, it certainly wasn't intentional."

The architect's expression seemed weary as he said, "I know you wouldn't do it on purpose or anything. He's just been emotional about this whole thing, and I . . . don't know why." His voice was tight, and eyes narrowed slightly. "It's been a pretty difficult time for him, what with the family drama and all."

"Family drama?" Yuushi echoed.

"I think it's over with now, but it was something with his inheritance, with him keeping mixed company. Something like that." He was deliberately casual, but his eyes gave away a hint of distress.

"But it's over with now."

He sighed. "I guess it is. I don't know. It's unfair of me to ask." He gave Yuushi a look.

Yuushi smirked despite himself. "I won't pry. But it's good to see that you two are still such close friends."

Shishido relaxed a bit at this sudden change of topic. "Well, sure we are. We work together, after all. Geometry and design's always been pretty interesting, and Choutaro could have done anything. He didn't actually need to get a job to begin with. But I'm not complaining; it's great to have him around. He's pretty good at what he does, too."

"He is," Yuushi agreed. "He offered to remodel my office."

In one quick glance, Shishido surveyed the room and nodded. "I can see what he means. It's a gloomy room."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" he asked, honestly confused. "I've been using this office for at least a year now. It's never affected me before."

"Hey, some people can get used to anything," Shishido said, shrugging. "Especially you. If you can adapt to Gakuto's crazy tennis style, I don't know what you can't do."

"You would think so," Yuushi murmured, and pulled off his glasses. He reached for the little cloth sitting by the lamp and began to wipe them. "Perhaps we ought to start with the questions."

Shishido shrugged again. "Shoot."

"Where were you on the day of the reunion?"

"Coffee with Choutaro. Then we went to the reunion as planned. Nothing happened," he said firmly. "We didn't see any people on the way there—that is, anyone we knew. When we got there, I don't remember, but it was just socializing, talking. Hyotei, Seigaku, and RikkaiDai alike. I remember talking to you, though, because you arrived even later than Choutaro and I did."

"Thanks," Yuushi said dryly.

"Anyway, then Choutaro said he was going to lo—to the restroom, and I saw a few people, so we split up for a few seconds." He hesitated, then added, "I left the party for a few moments. I thought I saw someone walking upstairs, and I wanted to know what he was doing, so I followed, but after a few minutes I lost him, and I went back down."

"It was an honest but foolish sentiment."

"Thanks," Shishido mimicked. "Satisfied?"

"Who was the person you were looking for? To follow him for a few minutes, you must have at least seen the back of his head."

"I didn't see his face," Shishido insisted. "And the stairs were pretty dark, so I didn't see much. But the back of his head . . ." He paused, and something changed in his voice when he said, "I think it was Niou. He was in a white suit, so it must have been Niou. And his hair had a silver tint."

Shishido's pupils didn't dilate, but somehow, it didn't seem like the whole truth. Regardless, Yuushi didn't press the matter. "Thank you. What time would you say this was?"

"Two-ish?" he offered. "I don't know. It was halfway into the reunion, I think. So that's two-ish."

"It adds up," Yuushi agreed. "Would you say you knew Niou personally?"

He snorted. "No. I played tennis against him in high school ages ago, but I never had a conversation with him, if that's what you mean. Unless you count the party. But I thought he was a pretty crafty sort of guy, if you want to know. The type who could get away with anything. The murderer must have been pretty brave, pretty cunning," he said meaningfully.

"I suppose," Yuushi said slowly.

Shishido nodded resolutely, and the interrogation came to a conclusion.

---

"Oh boy this is so much fun I can't wait to tell my brother and sister back home I've never been involved in a criminal investigation before and now I'm friends with a real detective and there was actually a real murder and I'm being interrogated!" Jiroh rambled, bouncing in his seat.

Yuushi cast a hopeful glance toward the door. It was too much to expect Hiyoshi to walk in with coffee and aspirin—the man wasn't psychic. But there was no harm in wishing. "It's good to see you're awake, Jiroh," he replied at last, massaging his temple. "How have you been?"

"I've been great!" Jiroh said enthusiastically. "The guy I'm interning for is really nice and he lets me sleep whenever I want, and he gives me two hour breaks so I can go out and buy Pocky and call Atobe and Gakuto and everybody!"

"You and Gakuto are still in touch?" he asked in surprise. "Even while he was in Europe?"

"Of course! Gakuto doesn't mind the long distance calling and neither do I, it's tons of fun and now that he's back in Japan we can hang out again!" he cheered. "Your office is so cool. It's really drab and dark and gloomy and dreary and morbid and depressing but it looks like it's straight out of one of those black and white detective movies and that makes it cool."

"That's wonderful, Jiroh," Yuushi tried, deciding to ignore the second half of Jiroh's speech. "Now, if we could get on with the interrogations . . ."

"This is so exciting!"

"Where were you on the day of the reunion?"

"I was working, and studying for my midterms, and then I realized I had a reunion to go to, so I panicked. But when I told everyone, the guy I'm interning for is really nice—he let his daughter drive me to the hotel! She's super nice and really pretty and she helps me with the work sometimes and—"

"And what did you do at the party?"

"Oh, mostly just looking for people. I was super excited, because everybody looked super old and it was all super fancy and everything was just splendiferous. I was talking to a bunch of people—I remember talking to Marui and Fuji, because they're so cool and I wanted to know if they still played tennis even though they didn't. I know Fuji-kun told me he was working as a psychiatrist—he's already so well-known, aren't you just so happy for him? Marui-kun didn't tell me what he was working as, but Yukimura Seiichi—who's also super cool!—told me Marui-kun is studying science and he's an intern at this amazing lab! And Yukimura-kun said he's studying botany in addition to playing tennis and that's just so great!"

"And then?" Yuushi prompted.

"I pretty much just talked to them the whole time, but then I found other cool people and they were all just really cool—I talked to everyone from Hyotei, definitely, but it doesn't really matter because I keep in touch with them anyway. I don't think I'd ever been so awake in my whole life!" He paused for breath. "Well, except now because this is really exciting and so I have to be awake because if I slept through this I'd be sad because this is just so exciting."

He looked like he was about to start raving again, so Yuushi gestured subtly for him to continue.

"Oh, right! Okay, so then I started looking for people I hadn't spoken to yet but I couldn't find anyone so I just kind of walked around aimlessly and then I saw Atobe and I was so excited and happy and I was going to talk to him but then he looked sad so I didn't and he announced the murder and I was sad for the rest of the day. I don't remember anything else, though because I think I fell asleep."

No surprise there. Yuushi nodded to him. "It's fine. That was all I wanted to know. Were you acquainted with Niou previously?"

Jiroh paused. "I didn't know him, but he was pretty good friends with Misa-chan, who's the daughter of the guy I'm interning for who lets me go out for Pocky and who therefore is really really really nice!"

"You know, you haven't once used the person's name. That is, who you're interning for."

Jiroh smiled sheepishly. "I kind of forgot."

Yuushi laughed incredulously. "After a year of interning?"

"Yeah, basically. I'm not good with names," he complained. "But the house is really big and it's cool and there are so many papers—"

"What was your impression of Niou?"

"I thought he was okay. He seemed like a lot of fun and he took Misa-chan out sometimes and—"

The interrogation ended fairly quickly—or, it would have ended fairly quickly had Jiroh not taken five minutes to answer each question. They spent the majority of the interrogation talking, and unfortunately, the only conclusion Yuushi came to was that Jiroh knew nothing.

---

"How are you?" Yuushi asked, hoping for an answer.

Kabaji didn't offer him one, instead nodding his head.

Yuushi sighed. This would be a pointless interrogation, indeed.

---

"Ore-sama refuses to be interrogated, and shall simply provide you with his honorable and worship-worthy answers instead," Atobe said as he came in, arms folded and chin up.

"Very well," Yuushi agreed, a tad exhausted. "What honorable and worship-worthy answers shall you provide me with?"

Atobe waited as a servant hurried in, dusted off the seats, and handed him a glass of champagne. Atobe took it obligingly and sat down, dismissing the servant. Somehow, Yuushi wasn't surprised in the least. "Naturally, I was the first to arrive. I wanted to make a dramatic entrance, being the host of such an amazing gathering, and went behind the scenes to make some last minute reviews. I watched the servants set up the hotel, but . . ."

"But you were mostly just sitting around and drinking champagne," Yuushi said flatly.

"Well, yes," Atobe admitted. "I shall not succumb to something as crude as manual labor. I was reading over a few contracts when the party finally started. I spoke a few words as the party began, and then I left to go back to the contracts, and to deal with the paparazzi. They're like hounds," he added condescendingly. "In any case, it was around one-thirty or so when I heard a loud popping sound. I was on the thirty-first floor, in the backroom."

Yuushi couldn't resist a smirk at that, and Atobe added, very offended, "It is not as crude as it sounds. It is, in fact, much more extravagant than the main hotel rooms. Anyway, I assumed something crashed and fell, and I was about to find someone to investigate, so I went downstairs. I passed by the main room."

Atobe paused—either for dramatic effect, or because he genuinely didn't know what to say. Yuushi suspected it was the former. "I saw Niou in there, and I was about to tell him he wasn't supposed to be there when I noticed the gun. I went to find Kabaji, who was overseeing the servants' work, and had him confirm Niou's death." He drew a shaky breath. "And then we announced it. You, Hiyoshi, and Yagyuu came in to investigate, and that was that."

"Did you know Niou personally?"

"No," Atobe said thoughtfully. "We have spoken a few times, but I wouldn't go so far as to call us friends. However, as we were both celebrities and very talented men, ore-sama was acquainted with him."

"And what sort of person did you find him to be?"

"It is difficult to say," he replied. "My insight can only see so far, but he was the type of person to wear a mask. He was fond and loyal to those close to him, but there were many, many people who thought they were close to him. He didn't necessarily see them that way, and ore-sama believes he exploited that. He would have made a fine businessman."

---

"That's everyone," Hiyoshi said after Atobe left. "You're free from interrogations. For now, anyway. You get to go to the fun part now."

"Investigating isn't that much fun," Yuushi replied, sighing. "It's not about the clues or the fingerprints and footprints, although it'd be far more exciting if it were. I suppose I'll have to look through Niou's house, or do a few background checks. It's so strange; we know these people, and yet one of these people . . ."

Hiyoshi shrugged. "People change. I mean, Shishido-san doesn't try to bite people's heads off anymore, Kirihara doesn't beat people up anymore, Inui-san doesn't scare people off with his freaky drinks and do that weird glinting glasses trick anymore. You get the idea."

"It's an unfortunate occurrence." He stood and gathered his belongings. "It's late. We should get going."

"You deserve some rest," Hiyoshi said sincerely. "It must have been a tough two weeks. Can you believe it's already the end of December?"

"It's a new year tomorrow," Yuushi added. "It was generous of the school to give us time off."

"They owed it to us, what with all the tests we've been getting," Hiyoshi commented. "What are you doing to do for New Year's Eve, anyway? Not stay home all night, I hope?"

"Probably," Yuushi admitted.

Hiyoshi frowned at him. "You've been awfully gloomy as of late. I think it's the office." Just when Yuushi was about to interrupt, Hiyoshi added, "There's this instrument store—it's called Tokyo Classical, near the bus to Kanagawa—and it's pretty sophisticated. You might want to visit; don't you play the violin? They usually have performances in the evening, so maybe you could perform too. Classical music isn't my thing, but . . ."

"That's a good idea. I'll visit, then." It'd been a long time since he'd last played the violin or the piano, but from what Hiyoshi told him, the performances were impromptu, and with him having received years of lessons and being labeled a prodigy—well. He doubted it'd do too much to affect his playing. He'd always been a fast learner.

Hiyoshi noted this and smiled. "Break tradition for once. I've got to go; happy New Year, Oshitari-san."

"And you," he said amiably.

---

Hiyoshi was right; the music store was classy. They had beautifully crafted violins on display, and Yuushi contemplated buying one. The texture faintly resembled Stradivarius violins, actually. Stradivarius violins were old, aged, but he recalled playing one at a young age, and recalled the unmatched beauty of the sound it produced. He'd always wanted one, but supposed there was no point in buying one anymore.

There was soft classical music coming from inside, the gentle sound of a piano played astonishingly accurately. He identified it as La Campanella by Liszt.

He entered. The inside of the store was even more striking than the outside; it was large, with three floors, balconies, and well preserved instruments in labeled glass cases. There were bookshelves stacked with folders, each containing classical sheet music. The floors were covered in a navy blue carpet, and the lights and lamps were old fashioned but beautiful. The store was dimly lit, but offered an ethereal quality. Instruments lined the walls opposite the bookshelves—there were cellos, violins, trumpets, flutes, clarinets, oboes, bassoons, violas, even several pianos. He paused for a moment beside a violin and let his fingers brush the case, then moved on to find the source of the music.

There was a grand piano in the center of the room, and a crowd of people surrounded it. The piano was a glossy white, with a small glass vase placed atop it, holding one red and one white rose. The figure playing it seemed small compared to the piano. Close up, the music was even more beautiful, each note carefully played, with nimble fingers and accurate hands.

This pianist was incredibly gifted—was it Ohtori, perhaps? It made Yuushi think twice about performing: The standards must have been very high. You're just as gifted, he told himself, and then chuckled for inadvertently sounding like Atobe.

He pushed through the growing crowd. The person sitting at the piano was short, was petite, had a crown of wine colored hair and small, pale hands.

Gakuto? When did he . . .?

The music was getting louder, the notes coming down more rapidly and more strongly, but each was carefully played, and every note, even the subtler ones, came through. Yuushi could feel himself gaping; this couldn't have been Gakuto.

How could his hands even reach that far?

But Gakuto played the piano like he'd been born to, like he was meant for it. The music came to a close, and applause erupted from the audience. Gakuto gave a sheepish bow, then gave a astonished start when he saw Yuushi, applauding calmly with everyone else.

Gakuto tilted his head to one side, seemed to contemplate something, then settled for saying, "Hey." He was wearing a suit—a black tuxedo, and dress shoes. He must come here often, Yuushi realized, and felt proud of him, as if the redhead were his own.

"Play a piece with me," Yuushi said, and took a random violin from a stand. "Pachabel's Canon. Do you know it?"

"Of course," Gakuto said, sounding offended. In a matter of seconds, his irritation gave way to amusement as he added, "Do you?"

"Of course," Yuushi replied, matching his offended tone.

Gakuto gave a small smile, and without another word, began the introduction. Yuushi followed moments later, the movements fluid.

It sounded different—the violin with the piano. He used to play without an accompanist, except in the rare instances it was mandated. Perhaps he'd gotten used to the sound of the violin without any other instruments, but even as he played, he could hear Gakuto's gentle music, always there, consistently resonating throughout the room.

The harsh words they exchanged previously were forgotten—if only temporarily. Yuushi didn't need to see the strings of the violin anymore; years of lessons came flowing back to him, and he could remember each note, each rhythm, each rest, each beat.

The music picked up its pace, then slowed, and Yuushi couldn't help but be amazed that he still remembered how to play.

He didn't know why Gakuto was there, why he'd decided to go, why he'd decided to play, but decided it was a perfect way to spend New Year's Eve.

Somewhere, steps or blocks or miles away, the clock struck midnight.