ANNOUNCEMENT: Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy with school and other things, and I was away all last weekend at Anime Boston. Summer's coming up, so hopefully I can get some more writing done! This isn't much, but I wanted to get something up for you guys this weekend. ^^ More to come soon!

-Purple

I was startled awake by the sound of the front door creaking open, and was in a daze for a few moments, not even remembering that I had dozed off while watching TV in the parlor. I was so out of it that I barely even knew where I was, or who I was, for that matter. I started to come back to my senses when I remembered tucking the photo of me and my parents safe inside my desk before coming back downstairs to finish eating and watch some television. I didn't usually watch television, but seeing as there wasn't much to do around here when I wasn't doing homework or working on case files, I decided to give it a try and watch a reality crime show I had heard a few students at school gossip about. ...It was very inaccurate in comparison to actual crime and investigation.

When I regained my senses, I noticed that my grandfather had been the one to open the door. He was home from work. He turned to me with a smile on his face, and then came over and ruffled my hair. "Hey, Naoto," he said softly, "Feeling any better?"

"Somewhat," I said, stretching out my arms.

"I talked to the principal of your school," he said, "And I thought you'd like to know that you can take all the time off that you need, as long as you do your best to catch up afterwards."

"Thank you, Grampa," I said, stretching.

My grandfather nodded, and then his smile fell a little. He leaned toward me, and in a quiet voice, he said, "So... Do you remember... You know... Anything?"

I looked into his eyes. These eyes, as I now noticed, were the same Shirogane eyes Yakushiji had told me about, which I, as well as my father, possessed. They were the same blue-grey, though notably brighter than my own, and had the same slightly drooping eyelids. I wondered why I had not noticed this before; after all, I did see myself in the mirror every morning, as well as my grandfather. I sat up on the couch, and tried to sound as honest as I could. "No, I don't." I sighed. "I'm sorry, Grampa. I don't remember a single thing." My eyes darted around the room as I tried to think up an explanation. "I answered the door, I was thrown into some sort of bag, and... The next thing I knew, I woke up on the floor of Junes." I sounded as truthful as I possibly could."A group of teenagers found me."

"Teenagers...?"

My forehead began to sweat under my dark blue bangs. "A few... Friends of mine."

My grandfather suddenly stared at me, his mouth agape, before his face lit up in a brilliant smile. "Friends? Naoto-kun, you made friends?"

My face reddened. Part of me regretted saying that. "Uhh, yes, well, I-" Before I could continue, his arms were around me and I was being strangled by the shoulder that was driven into my throat.

"I'm so happy for you, Naoto," Grampa said, hugging me tightly, "I can't remember the last time you made new friends. Oh, you'd always have your nose in those books and wouldn't bother with the others... You've always been so antisocial... This is great!"

"A-antisocial!?" I sputtered, when he finally released his grip on me, chuckling heartily.

"I always knew you'd come around," he beamed.

"Yes, well," I said, straightening out my hair awkwardly, "They kind of... Came on to me. I didn't care for them all that much, initially... However, they were just so... Relentless..."

"Relentless or not," my grandfather said, "This is great, Naoto-kun! You should go out with them some time, or we could even have them over here-"

"T-that's enough!" I said, blushing heavily. I couldn't have my grandfather impose on them right away, or get too excited... If they ended up not liking me, and rejecting me just as other students always had, I wouldn't want to get his hopes up. "I mean... N-not yet. I... I don't fully trust them... They're a bit of a... Rambunctious bunch, I guess..."

My grandfather's face fell a bit. "You're not with the wrong crowd, are you...?"

My reddened face soon paled. "N-no! That's not what I meant...! They're a good group of friends, I can promise you that much..." I swallowed hard, and hastily changed the subject. "Anyway... I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Grampa," I spoke up, "What can you tell me about my parents?"

His smile quickly faded to a frown as he stared at me, a look of dread appearing on his face. "Oh," he said, "Well... I guessed that you would end up asking, eventually..."

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just.." He sighed. "It's hard for me to talk about them, sometimes..." his voice trembled.

"You don't have to, then," I said, somewhat disappointed.

"No, no," Grampa said, "You should be able to hear about your parents. I had always figured that you would want to know more eventually, when you were ready."

I choked down a lump in my throat, and nodded.

"Well, then," my grandfather said, sitting beside me. His eyes shifted to the side, and with a smile, he leaned over and picked up an old, battered, hard-cover copy of The Face by Seicho Matsumoto. "Do you remember this book?"

I nodded, smiling. "There's no way I wouldn't remember. You read it to me all the time when I was a child." I took the book from him and held it in my hands, flipping through some of the pages. "And then I started reading it on my own. I've read it probably five or six times, altogether. It was one of my favorites."

"Well," my grandfather said, "When your father was a child, the same age you had been, I would read that same book to him.

I stared at him, wide-eyes, and then stared back down at the book.

"See that rip in the front page?" he said, pointing to the front page of the book, which I opened up to, "He did that." He laughed heartily. "The little tyke; I told him not to be so rough, but he insisted on turning the pages himself!"

"I never would have realized..."

"You and him were so alike, Grampa smiled, reminiscent. "I'd read the same books to him as I would to you, and he'd always be so eager to find out what would happen in the end. Niether of you could go about doing another thing without solving the mystery first." He chuckled, and then grimaced in bitter nostalgia. "However, there was one thing I came to notice in you which I had not expected-yet another behavior you shared with him."

"...What was it?" I asked, swallowing hard.

He was silent for a few moments, before answering. "After a while, you'd be able to solve the crime before the characters in the story."

I looked at him. He took the novella from me and stared down at it, and I could tell that he was trying his hardest not to cry. Please don't cry, I thought to myself, a burning feeling stinging at the base of my throat. I wouldn't be able to take it, either... I had never seen my grandfather cry before, or I at least hadn't seen him cry since I was too young to remember. It hurt just to think about it; I'd always seen my grandfather as a very strong man, especially having been through World War II, being sent to examine the remains of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and to consult with furious American soldiers; the grueling experiences of his life as a notorious detective, and, of course, the trauma of losing his only son, my father. Through all of this, he had remained strong, yet here he was, choking back tears over mear memories. I had always looked up to him, wanted to be like him, even, yet here he was, his face reddening, and his eyes glazed over. I grew angry inside, thinking why do you cry? You're supposed to be an adult! You're supposed to be strong! I thought you were strong! Why can't you be STRONG!?

Then, it hit me. As my own eyes began to water, I understood. He had been strong. He had been stronger than I could have ever hoped to be. He had been strong for me. I hadnt seen him cry for all these years, because he had been concealing his true feelings so that I didn't suffer, so that I would feel everything was alright. He was strong so that I could be strong, and I understood. I understood completely.

"And... Your eyes," he continued, his voice shaking as he struggled to keep back the tears, "Whenever I see those eyes of yours, they bring me right back to those times, decades ago, when he'd look up at me with those same eyes... Those-"

"Shirogane eyes."

He looked down at me, surprised, and amazed.

I nodded briefly. "I know."

Grampa's eyes, his own, tired, experienced Shirogane eyes, which had seen so much, began to water as he quickly turned away, refusing o show me his tormented face.

We were both silent for a long while, and a tightness grew in my chest. Before long, I felt obligated to do something. Tugging lightly at my grandfather's clothing, I opened my mouth, letting words of consolation flow out of me.

"It's alright," I said softly, "It's okay..."

Suddenly, before I could say anything else, he turned back to me ant wrapped his arms around me, crying his heart out. I soon found myself doing the same, digging my face into his shoulder, and sobbing uncontrollably. I never took any time to think about it, but I really missed my parents, even though I remembered very little of them. Sure, I had become exceptionally close to my grandfather, as well as our secretaries from over the years, but I had been missing the most vital relationships of my life ever since the accident that killed them, and no grandfather or secretart could have ever even hoped to replace them.

"He was a very good detective," my grandfather sniffed, pulling out of the hug, "A fascinating man, he was..."

"Grampa..."

"He didn't want to be a detective, at first... Well, that, or he just refused to follow my wishes..."

"I know," I said, wiping my soaked eyelids on my sleeve. "Yakushiji-san told me about that, and how he eventually accepted his role as a detective."

Grampa nodded. "He became a well-known detective, just as I had, as well as you, and the generations before us. He made the fourth generation of Shirogane detectives, my father-your great grandfather-and his father, your great-great grandfather, being the first and second. However, he hadn't always wanted to be a detective. Yes, he became interested in the law enforcement business early on in life, seeing as my father and I both ate, slept, and breathed criminal justice and investigation, but when he entered his teenage years, he began to reject his life as a detective in training, as you've heard." He sighed. "The way I treated him... So hung up on honor toward the family, and my duty of carrying on the detective bloodline..."

"You regret it..." I said, "Don't you...?"

He was silent. After looking down at me, he looked away, staring sullenly at the front door. A long, silent moment slowly passed, filled only with the solitary ticking of the clock sitting on the mantlepiece above the fireplace. He scratched the back of his head. "Yes," he finally said, "I do regret it." He looked shamefully down at the floor. "I suspect Mr. Yakushiji informed you about that, as well."

I nodded.

Grampa sighed. "Naoto-kun..." his voice was soft. "Naoto-kun, Yakushiji and I... We both encourage you to embrace your childhood, while it lasts, for the sake of your father."

"...What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that... I missed my chance with your father. I didn't support his ideals; I only supported my own. I forced him to be like my own father and I, as well as my grandfather, when I should have supported his choice to stray from becoming a detective."

"But he did choose to become a detective, in the end," I said. My grandfather looked at me with a remorseful expression. I continued. "In fact, if you hadn't forced that aspiration on him in the first place, he probablt wouldn't have rebelled, and most likely would not have met my mother. Grampa, the past is just that-past-and were it not for your actions, however unjust they may have been, I may not have ever existed." I delicately moved my hand over his hand, which was resting on the couch, and and reassuringly interlocked my fingers with his. "Everything that happens has meaning behind it. We cannot dwell on the past... We can only move on from it."

My grandfather smiled down at me. "You're absolutely right, Naoto-kun." he ruffled my hair. "And, yes, he did decide to follow in our predecessors' footsteps in the end. I don't think he ever completely gave up on his childhood dream. It was just my imposing nature that turned him in the opposite direction... He had always loved the idea of freedom, and hated the idea of inherited occupation. He wanted to run his own life, and in the end, he did... I think your mother reminded him of what it really meant to be a detective.

"You see... She would always go around saying 'the truth will set you free,' and other things sch as that. In fact, I remember when you were just a little runt, running around on those newly-mastered legs, and getting into just about everything. One day, I was visiting your first home while your father was out on a long-term case across the country, and you had gotten into a whole container of chocolate syrup..." He laughed. "I remember how much you loved it back then. Your mother found you with your face covered in chocolate, the container hidden under the rug... And you denied everything! I remember your mother leaning down to you, a disappointed look on her face... And what she said was, 'Naoto-chan, I want to know the truth.' And then, you questioned why she was always talking about the truth, and why she always wanted the truth so much. What was so special about the truth? Well, she said, 'Listen here, Naoto, and listen well. If you live in a world shrouded in lies, your world becomes dark and uncertain. However, if you live in a world cleared by the truth, you will always, always know the way.'" He grinned, and then leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "Your mother was such a wise, brave woman. I'm so glad she was the one to marry your father. She did set him straight, after all."

I grinned, thinking to myself. I had remembered that quote of my mother, deep down. It was partially because of her that the truth was my only needed reward, as well. Perhaps it was something I had inherited from her.

"Well," my grandfather said, standing up, "That's all I'll go into for now... I'm getting painfully nostalgic just assessing all of this." He smiled weakly. "You can get back to resting, if you want."

I stretched. "I feel fine, for now."

He nodded. "Oh, I went shopping earlier. I'm going to cook you up something nice for dinner. You must be starving."

"I am," I chuckled, blushing. The fried rice I had eaten earlier stil wasn't nearly enough to satiate me.

"Good," Grampa smiled, "Then you are going to love it."