Luckily Shinjuku managed to get her to his place without any real mishaps. He had given her a breathalyzer (which he always carried), and, as he'd suspected, she wasn't that intoxicated—she'd just overdone it as a first-time drinker. He'd also performed a few basic tests—checked her eyes, heart rate, etc.—looked over her clothes, and asked some judiciously-worded questions, all of which convinced him that she'd been neither drugged nor victimized in any way. Her story made sense: he'd spotted her shortly after he entered the club, so she must indeed have arrived early. Given the time it would have taken for her to order and drink her cocktails and for the alcohol to take effect, she couldn't have been stretched out for more than half an hour. Still, he knew that was enough time to invite trouble, and he was grateful to have found her when he did.

He did not want to think about what might have happened to her if he hadn't.

"I'll be watching over you."

He swore silently. Fine job he'd done of watching over her so far.

After standing over her to make sure she downed the liter of coconut water and smidgen of umeboshi he'd insisted on, he'd given her an oversized t-shirt to change into and left her sound asleep in his bed. He then sat dejectedly on his living room couch—no point in stretching out, he was too upset to sleep—and ruminated on the whole thing.

Why, Michi, why? It's not like you at all. What were you looking for? You're no thrill-seeker and you're no idiot. You knew the risks—what drove you to take them?

He simply couldn't shake the feeling that it was all his fault.

If I'd only… he began, twisting and turning the night's events in his mind as if he could unravel them by sheer willpower. I should have… What if I… Maybe I could… Suddenly he was startled out of his broodings by a knock on the door.

It was Tocho.

"Hajime saw your light on and gave me a call," he explained as he hugged his second-in-command. "He guessed something was wrong."

Shinjuku slumped wearily against his leader's strong shoulders and poured out the whole story. "I should have been watching her. No, I should have done more than watch her—I should have talked to her—no, I should have listened to whatever she had to say—"

"Easy now, that's more than enough to start with," said Tocho gently. "You've had a long day. Why don't we sit down first. Then you can tell me the rest."

Shinjuku laughed. "Hai, bosu." He made a mental note to thank his little brother.

Tocho's presence in times of trouble always had a reassuring effect on the blond station, and he already felt calmer as he spoke his fears aloud. "It's not just that I feel guilty for not guarding her more carefully," he explained. "It's that I'm afraid I'm responsible for the whole thing. I'm a bad influence. She never used to hang out in Shinjuku until she met me. And…" his voice trailed off.

"…And?" prompted Tocho softly.

Shinjuku closed his eyes and exhaled. "I know—I know—there's something the matter with her. I know that girl. She's too much like me. She's independent and arrogant and flippant and headstrong…and sensitive and intelligent. That's a dangerous combination. It wasn't just some childish prank she pulled tonight. The girl's got a good head on her shoulders. That's what worries me," he murmured. "It was almost as if she was trying to find trouble. And I don't know why."

"No, you don't at the moment, so it'll be a rough night for you. But you'll find out in the morning—I'm sure of it. That child trusts you like she trusts no one else. Believe me, you'll be able to help her." Tocho smiled. "You really love her, don't you?"

"I do. If I didn't know better I'd swear she was my little sister. She's got the Shinjuku blood in her veins." He grinned. "Remember when she threw her purse in my face?"

"How could I forget! I only wish my camera phone had been poised and ready."

Shinjuku groaned. "Don't worry. I have a strong feeling there'll be a repeat performance in the morning."