Here comes a quick update for all you guys. Part of the reason, is that this chapter was already started when Chapter 4 was posted. So that is partly the reason for the quick update. I do want to mention that with this chapter, something very new will be occurring. I have started using some first-person perspective. Now it may sound odd (and maybe even dumb) to switch POVs like that, but give it a chance and let me know what you think. The story does start with third person. I'm really excited about this chapter so please leave a review if possible. Thank you very much and enjoy!

Chapter 5

3:30. Sakaki glanced at the time as she strolled past the clock in the hospital's lobby. The route to Chiyo's room had become like second nature to her. Sometimes she'd walk in, be distracted with something, and without even trying she'd end up in front of Chiyo's room. Today was a lot like that. The journals she carried under her arm felt heavy with the stories that she'd read. The way Osaka appeared and interacted with Chiyo, and how after Osaka's disappearance the journals stopped all together. What happened next? Sakaki wanted to know. And was it really all true? She couldn't tell.

Opening the door to Chiyo's room, Sakaki found her friend in the same state as always, gazing out the window from her bed. Only this time, Sakaki knew who Chiyo watched for. Taking a seat nearby, Sakaki placed the journals on the stand by the bed. "Chiyo," she calmly called.

"Hi Sakaki. How was work," Chiyo answered, her head still turned towards the window.

"Actually, I had the day off. I wanted to ask you something." Feeling a touch nervous, Sakaki waited for Chiyo's full attention. When finally Chiyo removed her gaze from the window, her eyes fell onto the journals that Sakaki had brought. She did not move to touch them, but she hurt just looking at them. "Chiyo, I'm sorry I . . ."

"No it's okay," Chiyo softly said, a shaking hand grabbing one of the journals. She flipped through a few of the pages and stopped only to read short segments. "I wonder where she is. When she's coming back?"

"Is Osaka alive?"

Before Chiyo could answer, a soft knock broke their conversation. Misagi-sensei stood in the entryway. Her young figure leaned against the trim as she said, "Sorry to interrupt you two, but Chiyo, you have another visitor."

Chiyo appeared at a loss for words. Sakaki, wondering if it could be her, said with just a hint of quiver, "It's okay. They can come in."

The twenty-something nurse nodded with an easy smile and ushered in an older woman wearing a polo shirt and jeans; who appeared to be about the same age as Sakaki, maybe younger. With the nurse gone, the woman stood in the doorway, eyeing Chiyo. She'd briefly glanced at Sakaki, but her eyes had found Chiyo shortly after. The woman appeared stunned by the state Chiyo was in. Sakaki couldn't blame her. When she'd first seen Chiyo come back from America that time, she'd known that her young friend would never be the same.

"Sorry for coming in like this," the woman spoke as her eyes stayed focused on Chiyo. "But I'd heard you were here . . . and I just had to see you."

Chiyo listened as she watched the girl sit across from her in a chair, close to Sakaki. Able to get a closer look at the woman, she reminded Sakaki of someone. Who, she couldn't put a finger on. When the woman finally noticed her stares, Sakaki apologized and said, "Do I know you? You just look very familiar."

A little embarrassed by the question, the woman weakly smiled and said, "Sorry. It's been so long I guess I just didn't think of it. It's me, Tomo. From high school?"

"Tomo?" Chiyo blurted out, much to the surprise of Sakaki. Her face suddenly beamed with excitement and for just a few seconds, Chiyo was back to normal. She excitedly rambled out dozens of questions, wanting to know everything about Tomo; her frail body shaking with emotion.

Taken aback, Tomo politely nodded to many of Chiyo's comments but eventually, Chiyo must've touched on a sensitive subject when she asked, "How's Yomi?"

Getting real quiet, Tomo's eyes fell to the floor and she whispered, "You didn't know? Yomi's dead."

"When did this happen," Sakaki asked, unable to believe that she hadn't heard anything about it. She read the papers daily and always listened to the news. Maybe it hadn't been released yet.

"Years ago. She died a long time ago."

Chiyo's enthusiasm quickly faded and she soon reverted back to her usual self. Her eyes fell to her bed and she forgot her voice.

"I'm so sorry Tomo," Sakaki apologized, placing a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "I never heard anything about it. How did it happen?"

"Well actually, that's kinda why I'm here." Tomo lifted her gaze and Chiyo did the same. "Chiyo, I'm not just here to see how you're doing. I'm here because I wanted to ask you something."

Chiyo nodded for Tomo to continue. With no easy way to say it, Tomo fumbled out her words. "I'm here because . . . Osaka had something to do with her death. Kagura's too."

Chiyo's head turned to the window, and for a moment, Sakaki thought she wouldn't say another word. Her frail body went stiff as she watched the window. In a soft voice, she said, "Sometimes, I wonder if it all wasn't just a bad dream. But now I know."

"You mean, you've seen her too?"

"Many times. When I was in college, and then after," she said, glancing at Sakaki.

"Then what about you? Have you seen her," Sakaki asked, unable to hold her curiosity. When Tomo nodded, Sakaki fell into a stupor. She didn't know how to react. Everything about this was wrong. Dead people don't just walk around with their "living" friends.

Interrupting Sakaki's thoughts, Chiyo asked, "Will you tell us what happened? I want to know . . . I want to know what she's done."

"It's kind of a long story . . ."

"We got time," Sakaki interrupted, wanting to hear everything there was.

Tomo looked at them both and eventually gave in, "Alright. Let's see. I might as well start with getting my first job at Keishicho, back in November of 2006. . ."

Keishicho. Wow! I couldn't believe I'd actually make it here. The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Just standing outside of headquarters turned my knees to jello. "I wonder when I'll get my own squad car, the Mazda RX-8," I said, admiring those beautiful beasts in the parking lot. It was too good to be true. And without Yomi's help through college, I probably wouldn't have passed my first year. We attended different colleges sure, but through the magic of email and instant messaging, I managed to scrape up some help with various classes.

I relied on her too much during college, and annoyed the hell out of her. There were times I think she truly hated me, considering some of the emails that she'd sent. Oh well, all in good fun. But this, this was a huge step for me. I don't think even my parents believed I'd make it this far. After living with them all through college, I finally struck a break with the police academy where I had to live on campus. But now, with nearly empty pockets, I'd have to move back in. Except . . .

RING. RING.

My cell phone going off, I snatched it out of my pocket and answered. "Tomo! Where the hell are you? Why aren't you at my apartment?"

"S-Sorry Yomi. I forgot," I apologized into the phone, "I'm at Keishicho right now."

"You don't start today, do you," she asked apologetically.

"No, I just wanted a closer look," I said, "I'll be right over . . . And I won't forget your belly burners." CLICK. Didn't really want to hear what she'd say to that. I guess I've teased Yomi a bit too much. She's become very sensitive to the weight issue. And I should be nicer. After all, Yomi had managed to strike a deal with her landlord. I'd get the vacant apartment across from hers free until I received my first paycheck. And the best part, it was within walking distance of Keishicho.

Taking one final look at the towering giant of a building, I walked the five or six blocks to Yomi's apartment. It'd be third floor; no biggie. I knocked on Yomi's door and when it opened, I ducked just in time to dodge one of her trademark fists. "You're lucky this time Tomo."

"I know. I gotta stop doing that," I said, walking into her apartment. Small living room, small kitchen, small everything. But, it was better than buying a house. My things lay in boxes next to her door. Seven or eight of them; I'd be moving in today.

"Tomo, I told you I have work today. At this rate, I won't be able to help you very much."

"Don't worry. You'll just have to treat me later." That cheered her up a bit. With all honesty, I kind of wanted to unpack by myself. I wanted some time to adjust; and though it annoyed Yomi (like everything else I did), she'd get over it.

"You know, you sound like Yukari when you say that." I just shrugged. It was more of a joke anyway. Exasperated, I heard Yomi say, "So, what are you gonna do on your final days off?"

"I don't know. Maybe look over some of the things from the academy. Make sure I have the basics down . . . I might even go down a day early and get a tour. Have you seen that building? It's huge!"

As Yomi picked up one of my boxes, she said, "That's impressive Tomo. You're really serious about this cop thing aren't you?"

Grabbing a box, I realized how serious I'd gotten with law enforcement. Yeah the Interpol idea seemed kinda far out for me, but being a cop certainly was doable. "Well, I'm not a kid anymore. This is my life. And I wanna do something with it."

*** 2 Days Later ***

"And this Takino-san, is where you'll be spending most of your time," Chief finished, showcasing my desk already drowning in paperwork. Somewhere in there supposedly was a desktop computer and printer. "Those are just a few forms and releases that you'll need to fill out on your first day," Chief said, leeringly. Gulping, I got the uncomfortable notion that I'd better get used to that face.

"O-Okay? What about the computer?"

"Oh that. Well you'll be able to search the police database for information: fingerprints, news archives, and old police reports. Anything restricted or classified will require my authorization to view." Clapping his hands together, Chief concluded, "Thus concludes the tour of Keishicho." And slapping a hand on my shoulder, Chief laughed and said, "I have to admit, I am impressed. Not many people stop to say hello before they start here. Keep your chin up, and your eyes open, and you'll do fine."

Leaving Keishicho, I gawked at the Mazdas in the parking lot. Chief said it'd be at least two years before I'd get one. The majority of my first couple years sounded like paperwork, ride-alongs, and gradually being exposed to everything that would go on.

"And the first two years were pretty boring. I think the most dangerous call I responded to with a senior officer was a domestic dispute involving a kitchen knife, a baseball bat, and lots of alcohol." Pulling out an old picture from her purse, Tomo handed it to Sakaki and Chiyo.

Sakaki grabbed it and held it so both of them could see. It was a picture of Tomo; must've been taken shortly after she joined Keishicho. Full uniform, Japan's flag in the background; she looked so proud. Sakaki stared in awe, wishing she could've seen Tomo in the uniform. She looks good in it.

"What about Yomi," Sakaki eventually asked.

"Well, she never did get out of that restaurant job. Yomi earned enough to pay her bills sure, but college had actually been kind of disappointing for her. I guess she didn't know what else to do."

"Tomo," Chiyo suddenly blurted, catching the attention of Sakaki and Tomo, "What about Osaka?"

Taking the picture back, Tomo covered her mouth with the end of a fist and stared into space for a few moments. When she finally spoke, she slowly said, "Something happened. I did something stupid. My first two years had gone so well that in 2009, I had the privilege of carrying a firearm." Tomo's voice quivered as she continued, "June 2, 2009; I'll never forget it. My shift was close to ending. I had just made a quick stop at a gas station for something to eat . . .

"What to get? What to get," I repeated to myself, searching the shelves for a quick snack. With most of the day patrolling, I never had a chance to eat. Normally, I'd just wait till my shift to end before stopping, but today the stomach won. I snatched up a couple of candy bars and passing the DVD rental section, I stopped to browse the titles. A couple good ones, I wondered if Yomi'd be interested in a movie night. "Battlefield Baseball, that sounds good," I smirked, grabbing the box. But, how would it look for an officer to walk up to a cash register with candy and a movie? "Eh who cares," I shrugged, "I get off in an hour anyway."

A loud crash broke the silence and from behind the shelves, I heard panicked voices. "What's going on here? H-Hey, don't point that thing at me!"

"Empty the register! Let's go!"

"J-Just don't shoot!"

Shit! Robbery! And from the sounds of it, an armed one at that. I'd never dealt with one head on before. Think Tomo think! Be in the moment. I repeated Chief's words to myself. Something Chief reminded everyone everyday was the importance of keeping your head in an emergency.

Adrenaline rushing over me, I knelt down out of sight and thought to myself. I knew the approximate location of the cash register. With it right next to the door, the criminal would make a quick exit. I'd have to surprise him. Using my radio was out of the question, he'd hear it.

Praying the cashier wouldn't give me away; I drew my gun and crept past shelves of magazines, newspapers, drinks, and all sorts of grocery items. Nearing the front of the store, I lifted my body to stand, and peaking past the shelves, I watched the criminal. He wore a brown leather coat, thick mane of black hair, and he was shaking. Must be his first robbery. He's nervous. We'd seen a small increase in robberies lately due to the hard economy.

People needed money, and unfortunately, some turned to stealing; which ironically almost never works. I'd say "get a job," but these people have probably been trying that for months.

"You," the man shouted at me, "out where I can see you! And get those hands up!"

I obeyed, slowly moving into sight, hands held behind my head. As the man stuffed handfuls of cash into his jacket, I tried reasoning with him. "Sir, don't do this. Even if you get away, the odds of a clean get-away are not good. It'd be better if you just . . ."

"Shut up!"

Shutting up, I considered drawing my gun; which apparently he hadn't noticed. He was too focused on the money in his pockets and the in the register. But I couldn't draw my weapon, not yet. With the robber's gun still aimed, if I were to make any sudden movements, he might shoot me or clerk. So I bided my time. Of course, being a gas station, that didn't take long at all. The cash register now empty, the man glanced once at the clerk, and twice at me. Lowering the gun he ran for the door. That's when I made my move.

Drawing my gun and taking aim, I commanded, "Stop where you are!"

But he ignored me. Out the door he went, and around the corner he disappeared. I couldn't let him get away. Not like this. Sprinting out of the store, I spun into the direction I'd last seen him. No one at first, but then a little ways down the alley, a man in a brown coat could be seen. I took aim and yelled, "Don't move!"

The man took one look at me and started to run. "Shit! Why can't you give up?" I snatched the radio off my belt as I chased him and relayed the situation to H.Q. "Stop," I shouted again but the guy didn't get it. "Stop or I'll shoot!" The thought honestly frightened me. Sure I'd shot before at the firing range, but never had I been in a situation where I need to shoot another human.

Still, the man continued on foot. No choice. I warned him. I stopped in my tracks. Lined up my target with the barrel; just as I'd been shown. Fingers squeezed the trigger. BOOM! Gun fired. Light smoke from the barrel. Man in brown coat went down.

I seen him fall and prayed he'd survived. At that distance, it was kind of hard to tell. At the very least, he convulsed. Gun still on the man, I ran over to his position.

Blood pumped from his chest. My heart sank. It'd been a fatal shot. "No, I didn't mean to . . ." I whispered as I looked at him to comfort. And then I noticed. Who was this? Not the robber from the gas station. My whole body trembled as I picked up the young boy's head and lifted him onto my lap. I pressed my hand to the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding. He only coughed up more blood, his eyes jittering back and forth from shock.

A boy of fourteen, maybe fifteen sat in my arms, dying. "Who are you," I screamed through the tears, "Why were you running? I wasn't after you. I didn't want to shoot you." Why'd he have to be here? Why'd he have to run? Then the boy reached into his jacket and extracted a small Ziploc bag of white powder. Drugs? Is that why he was running?

With his eyes losing focus, the boy muttered, "S-S-so-rry . . ." And his body fell limp in my arms. Right there, my stomach somersaulted. I wanted to throw up. Holding the still boy close, I started to cry. And in the distance, sirens.