Author's Note: When I first read Charles and Ari's terrifying Adachi Pairing stories a few days ago I was amazed at how brilliant they were. I also thought, this looks really fun and I want to join in!

So I present to you, my own terrifying pairing. Tohru Adachi and Yumi Ozawa. It's a little different to everything else I have written before this, i'll admit. It's written in the future, from the perspective of Adachi and Yumi's child. Yeah, that's a bit weird isn't it but lets see how it goes. I apologise in advance!

A Fairytale

By Palladion.x

My mother was an excellent storyteller. She claimed she was 'just an actress' and that it was authors who did all the hard work, but I always knew she was so much more. Beautiful words floated around in her mind, coming together to form the intricate details that enthralled me so much as a child. She has never been just an actress to me, but the inspiration behind everything I did, the reason why I too want to be an actress. My father was also a storyteller, but one of a different nature. It was his stories of monsters and killing and hidden worlds inside the TV that meant I never got to meet him, my mother had said.

They met when my mother was just a high school student. She said she entered into a brief, yet whirlwind romance with a rookie detective on the police force. I didn't believe her at first. I laughed at the absurdity of it, things like that only happen in fiction don't they? However the more I imagined her as a young girl, her love of drama and stories, the more I accepted the idea that she, more than anyone else would fall for an older man. I could picture her getting swept away with it all and not caring what society would think.

When I first asked my mother why she would even fall for someone usually so out reach, so distant to her own world. She then regaled the story of their first encounter to me, as I once again sat at her feet, ready to listen to the story about to unfold.

It was an average day in Inaba, a cloudy sky overhead, and one Yumi Ozawa was standing at the river bank, rehearsing for her upcoming play: A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"...I must go seek some dewdrops here, and hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone: our queen and all our elves come here anon." Yumi sighs, throwing down her script, unhappy with the way the lines are coming out. She lets her mind wander for a moment, thinking about how incredible it would be to escape, just for a moment into a world of magic and dreams.

"Would you though?" A loud voice followed by an equally loud laugh snaps Yumi out of her thoughts and she swiftly turns around coming face-to-face with a vaguely familiar man. Isn't that the detective that was at school the other day? Adachi-san, I think his name was.

"Would I what?" Yumi asks, puzzled.

"If you had the chance, would you want to go... to a different world?" Adachi repeats, his eyes focusing everywhere but on her face.

A faint blush creeps up to the tips of Yumi's ears when she realises she must have been thinking out loud again. A small laugh escapes her lips as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"But other worlds don't exist Adachi-san."

Adachi gives her a sceptical look at the mention of his name, before letting out another chuckle.

"No, I guess they don't do they." He said before turning and wandering back to the road. "Keep practising." He shouts back at her. "You're pretty good." He smiles and walks off heading in the direction of the shopping district.

It takes Yumi a few minutes to realise she's blushing again, before she looks back at her script and focuses once more, putting all the emotion she can muster into her lines.

Meetings like this continued for a while she had told me, in secret of course. They got to know each other and sometimes, he would even read lines with her. She said she got carried away with the idea of love and gave him everything. Only as it turns out, he wasn't the man she, or anyone thought he was. There was a string of murders around the same time, turns out he was behind all of them. Curing his own boredom apparently, by weaving stories into each body, each victim just another piece of an overwhelming plot.

I'm only just learning this now though of course. The stories of my father I heard when I was much younger were very different. Stories of the hard-working cop who fought for justice, the man that loved kids and art. The man that chatted with the elderly and looked after his friends. That is the man I imagine when I think of my father and that is what I will continue to see, because honestly I think there is a fine line between fiction and reality sometimes.