It was very bright out when I woke up. The sun shone through my curtains and illuminated my entire room. When I opened my eyes, I was seeing double for a few moments. My head was spinning and I was still drowned in vertigo. When I looked at my clock, I saw that it was nearing three in the afternoon. I had a bit of a double-take when I realized this. I'd never slept in this late before, or this heavily, for that matter. I noticed that I hadn't even moved in my sleep, I had been so tired, and I hadn't dreamt at all, yet I had felt some amount of time pass; it had been a time devoid of thoughts or sound, or even movement. The only thing I had noticed was the slow beating of my heart, which had droned on through the hours of the night and through the day. I couldn't believe I had slept this heavily, but perhaps it was because I needed the rest so badly.

Come to think of it, I would have slept even later, were it not for one factor... I had woken up to the enraged, painful growls that reverberated in my stomach and the gnawing hunger that made my insides feel like a vaccuum. I was starving, more hungry than I had ever been in my life. It was only natural, I guessed, seeing as I had been trapped in that strange world for quite some time. I crawled out of bed despite the dizziness that wavered me, and rubbed my eyes with a yawn. I then noticed my mirror, which was still cracked from the night I was kidnapped.

It pained me to remember that night, but when I looked into the same mirror, now, I saw a different person. I no longer saw the scowling, grimacing boy who was unhappy with his life. Now, I saw a modest young woman who was beginning to feel at ease. It was strange, looking at myself, and seeing the same reflection I always saw in the same mirror, yet seeing a different person stare back at me. My hair, however, was a mess of bedhead. Smiling, I tried straightening it out a bit before turning as I usually did to grab my hat. However, I stopped, and decided I'd go without wearing my hat for the day.

I changed out of the clothes I had been wearing for the past few days, and dressed myself in a simple white dress shirt and blue plaid pants. I decided to take the binding off my chest and not wear it for today, either. After getting dressed, I went downstairs and crossed the parlor to the kitchen. Yakushiji-san wasn't at his desk at the moment, so I guessed he had probably stepped out for a bit. Perfect, I thought to myself as I opened the refrigerator.

We always seemed to be fairly stocked with food because of my grandfather's wealth, and the fact that he usually goes shopping once or even twice a week on his way home from work, and if not, Yakushiji gladly picks things up for us sometimes, since our secretaries have always been somewhat like family to us. I peered into the refrigerator for something I could simply heat up without having to do any actual cooking... I had never really cooked before, since my grandfather loved to do the cooking, and I didn't have much of an interest in it. A box of Chinese takeout caught my eye. There was some fried rice from Aiya in the box, so I took it out from the refrigerator and dumped the entire thing into a bowl to heat up.

As the rice was heating up in the microwave, I leaned against the counter, wincing every time my stomach growled. It seemed like the few minutes I waited were the longest in my life, and I started to salivate ravenously, feeling an almost primal sense of pure hunger.

Detective Shirogane waits, with a passionate gleam in her livid blue eyes, concealed in the broad-leafed bush of the untamed jungle. Her prey grazes lazily, unaware of her steel watch on the small, defenseless creature. She came here on a rather unexpected vacation, to recuperate and build strength for her next ordeal, and now, she is hungry. She waits and watches, a panther in her own eyes, until just the right moment, when her prey turns its back to her... A mistake for the poor creature, but luck for the detective... As she watches in suspense, growing more and more impatient, it turns... Slowly... Slowly... Until... Finally...

Beeeeeeeeeep.

I shook my head and found myself back in reality. My face reddened with embarrassment. I had let my imagination go wild again, and I was humiliated with myself. However, I laughed it off to myself, and felt more embarrassed than angry, as I opened the microwave and pulled out the bowl of fried rice.

Without hesitation, I grabbed a pair of chopsticks and started eating hastily. The fried rice tasted amazing, despite being leftovers from Aiya. I held the bowl to my mouth and shoveled in the rice with the chopsticks, gulping down a few mouthfuls without even chewing. I had never been so hungry, and eating was the best and most satisfyingn feeling in the world right now. I downed half the bowl in only a minute, nearly choking several times in the process. Then, I was startled by footsteps, and Yakushiji poked his head into the kitchen. He bore a confused yet entertained look on his face.

I almost squealed in surprise. "Yakushiji-san!" I said quickly through a huge mouthful of food.

"I expected you would be hungry," Yakushiji chuckled.

I swallowed the enormous mouthful. "I didn't know you were here..."

"I was in your grandfather's study," Yakushiji said, motioning down the hallway, "I was getting some paper to print out information for one of his clients, when I noticed something in there I had never seen before. Do you want to come see?"

He bore a smile, yet his eyes drooped with sadness. I didn't know what he was up to, but I nodded, placing the bowl of fried rice on the counter and walking cautiously with him down the hallway. We made our way into my grandfather's study.

It was smaller than the one he had in our previous house... But it could have just been my sense of perception, because I had been a lot smaller back then. The walls were lined with bookshelves, just as his previous study had been, which were filled with the same old detective novels I had always read as a child. His desk was big and woodcarved, boasting a simple computer and desklamp, as well as stacks of papers which were slightly unkempt. He was a bit less organized than I was, but he still always kept his area tidy.

An armchair sat in the middle of the room, next to a modest fireplace. This armchair wasn't the same armchair I would read in as a child; we had since replaced it. However, many things remained the same, and I had always been uncomfortable about coming in here after spending so much time with these things when I was younger. The most bittersweet memories were of my grandfather reading these same detective novels to me as I sat on his lap, wide-eyed, with a deadly imagination that always teleported me to the scene of the crime.

"As you may know," Yakushiji said, "I was a good friend of your grandfather's years before I became his secretary, and even before I went into the secretary business." He smiled nostalgically as he opened the big, lower drawer of my grandfather's desk. "It's only coincidince that we met up again. I met him when we were both rookies in the service, in another time, and another place... We had some marvellous adventures, your granfather and I..." He began looking through the drawer.

I was surprised. "I knew you had been friends with Grampa," I said, "But I didn't know you had been so close."

"Do you remember when you met me, Naoto?" Yakushiji asked.

I nodded slowly. "I was nine... It wasn't long after Ms. Nomura left."

"Do you remember what you showed me, that first day?" Yakushiki reminisced.

I tried to remember. "I... Showed you those childish detective gadgets I had made... As well as some silly pictures I had drawn..." I chuckled bashfully to myself.

"Oh, they weren't silly to you back then," said Yakushiji, pulling out a small shoe box from the drawer and placing it on Grampa's desk. "These amazing things you made were your life. They were your ambition. Do you remember these...?" He removed the lid from the box. Inside, there were all sorts of familiar things. Old drawings of mine, usually crude scribbles and sketches resembling me in classic detective clothing, holding a magnifying glass with evil perpetrators tied up beside me, lined the bottom of the box. Resting on top of these, unused for many years, were various detective gadgets I had made as a child. I had loved to build things such as these, and whenever I had told someone I had made them, they would stand their with their mouths agape and initially refuse to believe me.

There were pens with tiny video cameras and voice recorders built into them, as well as audio bugs, a pocket knife with many unusual yet useful tools, and many others... However, one thing caught my attention most. I reached into the shoe box and pulled out a detective badge I had created long ago. I would wear this around whenever I played detective, running around like a fool and solving my petty mysteries. It was fake as fake could be, but it had meant so much to me when I was younger...

"Of course I remember them," I replied, exhaling with a sense of bitter nostalgia, "I made these. All of them."

"You showed me some of these things when your grandfather first introduced me to you," Yakushiji said, "I remember looking over them in awe, unable to believe that a child of your age could possibly fabricate something like this. You were quite the detective prodigy, Naoto-sama... You always have been."

I sighed as I stared down at the badge in my hand.

"You continued to make these," said Yakushiji-san, "I remember watching you spend hours putting everything into place, and creating some amazing gizmo, like you were on some sort of assembly line... So absorbed in your work, and so efficient..." He smiled. "It made you so happy, too..." He frowned as I turned my head to the box again, lifting up the crude drawings that covered the bottom. Underneath the sheets of white paper, I saw something else. It was a small photo, and in the lower right-hand corner, the date was printed in tiny orange letters: 3-27-01. This photo was taken on my sixth birthday. However, that wasn't the first thing I had noticed.

I stood there, my mouth slightly open, staring down at the photo I held in my hand, the photo that featured three figures which were all two familiar to me. In the center, I saw my own face, draped with medium-length dark blue hair, with radiant eyes of the brightest blue-grey that could still be called blue-grey. I was happy, happy as could be. It was my sixth birthday, with nothing at all to worry about... Because I did not know what was to happen in less than a year. On either side of me... My parents stood, smiling brightly into the camera. I stared at the picture for a very long time. I hadn't seen any image of my parents in many years. I had refused to look at pictures of them, because I had refused to accept any kind of emotion toward the incident. There was no point in crying, I had always thought... Crying wouldn't ever change the fact that they were gone.

"When your grandfather told me about your parents," Yakushiji said sullenly, "I was devastated. I had met them a few times before, and they were the nicest people, Naoto-sama..."

My eyes began to water, and a lump rose in my throat. I didn't take my eyes off the images of my parents.

Yakushiji continued. "Your grandfather always told me about them... Your father, especially. You share a lot of your father's same traits..." He smiled painfully. "Your grandfather would always tell me how much he was like you. He was always trying to rush things. But you have one major difference."

I looked up at Yakushiji. "What do you mean?"

Yakushiji sighed. "Well... Let's see... How do I put this...? He was a very... Independent man. Didn't want to be told what to do." He chuckled solemnly. "Much like you, in some ways. However... He wasn't too fond of following the Shirogane name, per se."

I was surprised. "What...?"

"Your father didn't like being tied down by the family name. Your grandfather had a very tough time with him at first... He told me it was to the point where he was almost forcing your father to become a detective, like himself."

"That doesn't sound like Grampa at all," I said.

"Yes, well," Yakushiji scratched the back of his neck. "Your grandfather is a very different person now than he was back then. He himself was a lot like you, with a passion to keep up the Shirogane name and do anything it takes in order to achieve that dream." He sighed. "But he learned a lot from your father. At times, it was almost like your father was wiser than your grandfather himself. At least, that's what he told me." He grinned.

"What ever happened to my father, then?" I asked, "Did he not like being a detective...?"

"Oh, no," Yakushiji said, "It wasn't so much that your father hated being a detective. It was more that he hated to be told what to do. He was a very reckless man, your grandfather told me... It wasn't because he was a bad person; it was purely because he loved to rebel and would have done anything to show your grandfather that he couldn't be tamed." He chuckled. "But then, it got too far at one point... He was out drinking one time, and thought it would be amusing in his drunkenness to light a fire in the dumpster out behind the bar. However, he neglected to make the connection that a dumpster behind a bar just might have alcohol in it. He tossed in a match, the dumpster went up in flames, and soon the next few buildings over were engulfed in a small fire."

"My father did this...!?" I exclaimed.

Yakushiji laughed. "Your grandfather always laughed whenever he told me this story. It may have been serious at the moment, but looking back on it, it's funny as hell, considering how out of it he had been. Anyway, your father knew he was in huge trouble and flew the coop. He didn't think he had left any evidence on the scene, and he went weeks without anyone giving him any funny looks, so he thought he had gotten away with it. Well, a few weeks after the incident, a fine-looking young lady rings his doorbell with a warrant for his arrest. Now, you could have imagined the look on his face, after he thought for sure he had evaded the police. He was taken to the station and charged with arson, and then taken in to questioning by the woman who had arrested him... But then he suddenly turned the tables and started questioning her.

"He was beyond impressed by how she managed to track him down even though he was sure he hadn't left any sort of trail, and she began to go through her procedures and tell him how she was able to find him as a suspect. He was fascinated by how much a detective like herself could do, even when given so little to begin with, and he was fascinated with her, as well. She was very independent for a woman, especially in a male-dominated career track, and she was incredibly smart, as well. Your grandfather was called up, and though he was furious, he helped your father pay off the fine he had been issued. Your father didn't care about his anger, though. He was in love.

"After that, he would continuously make trips to the police station, asking them if they needed any help around the office, seeing as he was in training to become a detective at the time, anyway, however lax he was with such training. He became known around the station, especially by the woman who had arrested him, who began to feel something toward him, as well. Your grandfather noticed that he had also begun to take training more seriously, and when he finished as a fully-fledged detective, it was one of the happiest days of his life. He had made becoming a detective an ambition, not only because he had met a pretty girl, and not only because he had developed an interest in becoming a detective, but because he was ready, Naoto-sama.

"Sure, he had been physically and mentally able to take on this occupation much earlier on in life, but it was now and only now that he was finally ready to become a man and to let go of his childish ways. Your grandfather had forced him to do his own bidding, and not to proceed at his own pace and enjoy the beauty of his days while he was still young. Instead, your father had taken this into his own hands, and though he had been irresponsible at times, he taught your grandfather a great lesson. Your grandfather had no power over what your father did with his life. Only he had the power to do what he felt was right for him in his own heart, and his childhood was just as valuable as his adulthood, if not more valuable. It was then that your grandfather came to be the man you know today." Yakushiji frowned and looked downward. "I think the reason he is so supportive of your own childhood is because he desires a second chance to do over what he had messed up on with your father."

I continued to stare at the photo, a tear dripping from my eye and landing in the center of it. "I never knew any of that."

Yakushiji sighed sorrowfully. "Maybe it's because your grandfather is too pained to tell you any of that out loud. He always tells me how much you remind him of your father..." He looked up at me. "You have his eyes, he always says."

I looked up as well. "His eyes?"

He nodded. "The Shirogane eyes, a notable trait of your family. He always tells me that your father's eyes were a very dull blue-grey, much like your own... But when he realized his dream of being a detective, despite not wanting to do what his father expected of him, his eyes lit up in a remarkable blue. Your eyes were once like that, as well..." He glanced at the photo I held in my hand. Indeed, they were remarkably bright, compared to the color of my eyes currently.

"Your eyes have become rather dull, over the years, I assume," he continued.

"Yes," I said, "I don't have control over the color of my eyes... It happens to many people, actually..."

Yakushiji nodded slowly. "Yes... Of course..." He looked into the shoe box full of old creations of mine. "Do you remember how much fun you had creating these...?"

"I guess," I replied.

He looked at me hopefully. "What if you made another...?"

I looked at him, my face paling slightly, and I took a step back. "...I'm not very interested in such creations anymore."

A look of disappointment appeared on his face. "Not even one? If necessary, I could go out and get you whatever you needed-"

"No," I cut him off, and we were both silent for a few moments. I sighed. "I'm sorry, Yakushiji-san, but I am a real detective, now. There's no need for me to partake in such childish notions..." I stopped myself, remembering the things my Shadow had said, and how I had hoped to accept my inner child. I apologized to myself... I was still not ready to take actions such as this...

"No, don't be sorry," said Yakushiji, smiling disappointedly, "It's quite alright, I assure you... I understand." He slipped the lid back over the shoe box and then returned the box to the drawer. "I'm the one who should be sorry for wasting your time."

"It's okay," I said, gripping the photo by my side, "I mean... It wasn't a waste. Trust me... It was a pleasure to hear about my father..."

Yakushiji nodded, smiling. "It's more than a pleasure to have told you."

I turned and began to walk out of the room, but then I stopped. "But, there's one thing you've neglected to tell me, though I believe I can already guess the answer."

"Yes?" he said.

"I never leave a mystery unsolved," I said, "So tell me... Who was that woman who had arrested my dad?"

Yakushiji grinned. "I had a feeling you would ask that, but why do you need to ask me?"

"A good detective never closes a case without a confirmed answer."

He chuckled softly. "You are quite the detective, but you already know who it was."