Haruko tapped her fingers on her desk as she stared at her little ornamental clock. It was five minutes til one, and Ayami hadn't answered her text yet.

The girl had sent her a message that morning, warning her that she might be late to her session; her father wanted to meet for lunch. Her abusive, yakuza thug of a father.

Haruko heaved a heavy sigh, wishing that Michio would be coming home from his conference tonight rather than Wednesday; being alone in the house for too long always left her feeling morose, even with the distraction of work.

She couldn't make her clients' choices for them; if Ayami wanted to reestablish a relationship with her father, then who was Haruko to stop her? All she could do was provide guidance.

Though she didn't like that she hadn't heard from Ayami even once since the start of their scheduled time. It worried her, despite there being no specific reason to be worried. But what could she do? It wasn't like she could call the police, not without any evidence that something was actually wrong.

The thought flitted through her mind that she might ask Hei for his advice on the situation, being with the police as he was. But she dismissed it; he had his own burdens to deal with right now.

Was it too much to ask that her clients had their emotional crises at different times?

Well, yes, it probably was.

Haruko glanced at the clock again; Hei's session would start in a minute. Despite that she'd given him her personal cell number, she hadn't heard from him all week. It wasn't surprising, reticent as he was. And he had Misaki to lean on for support - then again, he hadn't told his girlfriend about his panic attacks. Haruko made a mental note to bring that up today.

She thought again of the way his posture had changed after he'd left her office, of the casual smile and friendly ease with which he'd chatted with her receptionist. It had been such a stark contrast to his behavior during their sessions, as if he'd been putting on a mask - or rather, as if he wore a mask every day, and took it off when he walked into her office in order to be honest about his emotions.

And last week had been especially emotional for him. Part of her worried that, despite his previous punctuality, Hei would be a no show today as well. It happened more often than not with her clients - as soon as she broached a difficult topic, they would start avoiding their sessions. First Ayami, then Hei; maybe she should -

A soft knock sounded on the door: one o'clock, right on time. Haruko smiled to herself. She shouldn't have worried. Taking a steadying breath, she filed her concerns for Ayami away; then she went to the door and ushered Hei in.

He walked slightly hunched, as usual, though there was an uncharacteristic apprehension on his face.

"Tea?" she asked as he took his customary seat in the armchair.

"Um, yes please."

It was a small victory, but Haruko would take it. She poured out two cups of tea; handing one to her client, she took her own seat and settled her yellow legal pad on her knee.

"How was your week?" she asked, hoping to calm his nerves. Maybe someday she wouldn't have to ask - he would volunteer the information on his own - but for now she didn't mind continuing to give him that nudge.

"Alright, I guess."

No small talk this week, it seemed. Time to jump right in, then. "Tell me about the assignment I gave you last week."

"Oh. I have my notebook…"

"Not the notebook," Haruko said gently as he reached into his jacket pocket. "The other assignment."

Hei froze. "I - I couldn't."

"Couldn't what?" She hadn't expected him to be able to get through an entire conversation, even imaginary; would have been shocked if he'd managed it. Still, simply attempting to formulate an explanation to his family would be a helpful exercise.

"I couldn't even pick up the phone."

Haruko raised an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you to actually call, just to imagine it."

"I know." He ran a weary hand over his eyes. "Even pretending to pick up the phone - I couldn't. Couldn't even think about doing it. I had to stop."

Not even that much? "What stopped you?" she asked. "What did you think that made you say, I can't do this?"

Hei took a long, shaky sip of tea. Haruko waited.

"I just…I could see him, so clearly, answering the phone. He always frowned when people called, like they were intentionally disturbing him."

"Did you worry that you would disturb your grandfather by calling?"

"No. It was - I could see him picking up the phone ten years ago, after - after it happened, and desperately hoping that it was me, or Xing, or - or even our mother. For weeks; maybe months. How much pain he must have gone through, because of me," Hei finished quietly.

That pain…Haruko blinked to clear away an unexpected tear. Why were her sessions with this particular client dredging up those old feelings?

His needs were what were important right now, this burden of blame that he had placed on himself despite that he had only played a small part in the tragedy that had befallen his family. They would have to work on that feeling.

"And how would he feel to pick up the phone and finally hear your voice on the other end?" she asked, her voice thankfully still steady.

At that question, the emotion drained from his voice. "I'm dead. He wouldn't recognize my voice, and he wouldn't believe it even if he did. If he - if he's even still alive."

Hei took a sip of tea, his apparent calm betrayed by the slight shake of his hand. Haruko considered him for a long moment. At last she said, "Let's think about a hypothetical situation. Someone you love is in an accident, and you're told that they've died. Misaki, perhaps."

He flinched visibly at his girlfriend's name. Even hypotheticals were going to be difficult here, Haruko realized. Nevertheless, she continued, "For ten years, you live believing that Misaki has passed away. Then one day, you answer the phone, and it's her voice on the other end. What do you do - assume it's some sort of trick, hang up the phone, and forget about it?"

"No," he said sharply.

"No? So what do you do?"

His eyes narrowed. "I do whatever I have to do to find her again."

"And you think your grandfather would somehow act differently? When it's his own grandson?"

Hei exhaled heavily and buried his face in his hands. After a moment, he lifted his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "No," he said at last. "He wouldn't - he wouldn't give up so easily."

"Then what is it that's holding you back?"

He took a long sip of tea before setting the empty cup down on the table. "I'm not the same person I was when I left home," he said, staring into the dregs at the bottom of the cup.

"None of us are the same as we were ten years ago," Haruko pointed out. "And why should we be? People change."

"He'd be disappointed."

"Disappointed that you've changed? You were only a child when you left home."

"Disappointed in how I've changed. What I've done."

They were coming back around to where they'd started six weeks ago: his shame at others discovering that he'd worked for people who had turned out to be criminals. How he'd gotten involved with them in the first place she still didn't know, though she suspected that it had something to do with his sister.

"You've told Misaki about your past," Haruko said. "And she's accepted you. You were worried about your co-workers finding out; now they know, and unless you aren't telling me everything, they've accepted you as well. Why should your grandfather reject you? You have a good job with the police, a loving and stable relationship - wouldn't he be proud of you?"

But Hei shook his head slowly. "He was proud of me when I refused to fight or hurt other people."

"And now you hurt people?" Haruko asked, disbelieving. "Is that what you're saying?"

His voice was barely audible when he answered. "I've hurt a lot of people."

Haruko folded her arms in her lap, considering. She had difficulty believing that he had ever been as terrible a person as he seemed to think, though it was quite clear that he genuinely believed it of himself. Arguing - however logically - over this opinion might only result in him digging his heels in even further, set him at odds with her. Instead, she elected to give him the benefit of the doubt and accept his version of his character for now.

"Even if you have," she told him, "part of loving other people is accepting their flaws and forgiving their mistakes. I think parents - and grandparents - may understand this more than most."

Hei's expression clouded. "I don't think my mother would have forgiven Bai for what she did. She called her a monster; then she died."

Haruko felt all the weight of that statement. She gentled her voice as much as she could and said, "Are you afraid your mother wouldn't forgive you for choosing to help your sister?"

The long, empty silence was her only answer; but it was answer enough.

At last Hei looked up, his eyes full of grief. "I -" Abruptly his gaze flicked away from hers to focus on something behind her; then his eyes returned to her face, and his expression closed off. "I forgot. I have another appointment; I need to head out early, I'm sorry." He stood, back straight, and smiled apologetically.

Haruko frowned. "Hei, I really don't think this is a good time to leave."

His smile stiffened at the use of his name. "It's police business - I'll be late if I don't go now."

"Wait -" she began, but he was already walking out of the office.

Haruko sat blinking at the sudden departure. Hei's method of coping by avoidance was nothing new, but thus far every emotional challenge she'd given him had been met with silence or frustration. Running out like that - that was strange. Even stranger was that smile. It was the same falsely cheery smile that he'd given the receptionist on his way out last week.

He'd been so open with her this afternoon - what had prompted the sudden change? There was no one to put a mask on for here. She turned, but there was nothing behind her but her desk, the big office window, and an open view of the gray November sky.

Well, it was strange, but it was far from the strangest thing a client had ever done. Haruko sighed, scooped up the teacups, and returned to her desk to write up her notes. This was turning out to be a thoroughly frustrating day.

~~~~o~~~~

"Hm." Haruko shifted her grip on her phone as she tipped some water into the bonsai ginkgo on her desk. "Maybe next time I'll take the week off and come with you."

Michio laughed, sending a ripple of loneliness through her. "And abandon your clients? You've been saying that for the past twenty-five years; I'll believe you when you actually do it. You're still at the office right now, aren't you."

Haruko smiled. "I'm leaving in a minute."

"I knew it," her husband said, and she was sure she could hear his own smile half a country away. "Well, I've got to go over my presentation now, honey. Go home and get some sleep; I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Good luck tomorrow," Haruko sighed. "I love you."

"Love you too - good night."

Haruko ended the call, turning to gaze out at the dark night beyond her window. She missed the moon on nights like this; the city lights and the false stars were too cold and distant to be of any comfort.

A light flashed as it abruptly streaked down towards earth. A star had fallen - a contractor had died, if the newspapers could be believed.

Haruko thought of Hei, and his sister. Was her star still there in the heavens? What had happened to his sister after they'd run away from home was a question that Haruko didn't yet feel comfortable asking. And with his unexpected departure in the middle of their session this afternoon, she was even more unsure how much he trusted her. Whether he would be back at all.

She sighed again, and gathered her coat and purse. Just when they'd started to make some real progress. Well, she would try giving him a call tomorrow, see if she could talk him into another session this week. She would call Ayami, too - the girl had finally replied to her texts, but the banality of the reply had left Haruko feeling worried.

For now, though, it was time to go home, maybe read a little before bed. Haruko shut off the lights to her office. The waiting area outside was already dark; Toya had gone home hours ago. But Haruko often stayed this late, especially when Michio was away, and had no trouble navigating to the corridor outside and the elevators beyond.

It was chilly inside the parking garage when the elevator doors dinged open. Haruko wrapped her wool coat tightly around herself and walked briskly down the center aisle, her skirt swishing around her ankles.

The garage was practically empty this time of night. There was only a single van, parked in the distant corner; long shadows stretched behind the concrete pillars that lined the aisles. The exit to the street and the train station was on the other side of an L-shaped bend in the garage structure. A gust of wind swirled up from that direction, scattering a pile of discarded paper flyers into a corner.

One of the overhead lights buzzed fitfully, then went out. Haruko picked up her pace, grateful that her soft-soled flats made no noise as she walked. Not that there was anyone with her in the garage to hear. But for some reason, she couldn't shake a distinctly uneasy feeling, like she was being watched.

She'd almost reached the corner that would take her to the path to the\ exit when something like a pebble being kicked echoed somewhere ahead of her. Haruko stopped dead in her tracks, her heart pounding. Was someone there? Feeling a bit silly but no less uneasy, she reached into her purse for her phone, straining to see into the shadows.

"Dr. Haruko?"

The voice came from behind her. She spun with a gasp, fumbled her phone, and dropped it with a clatter onto the ground.

A figure stepped out from behind a column and into the light of a fluorescent bulb.

"Hei?" she said in relieved surprise, pressing her hand to her thumping heart. "You startled me! What are you doing here so late?"

"Oh, sorry." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I was just on my way up to your office."

Haruko stooped to pick up her phone. "Did you need to talk? You could have called me."

Hei shrugged, his arms resting loosely at his sides. The posture seemed odd at first; then Haruko realized that he usually walked with his hands in his pockets whenever she saw him for their sessions.

"I left my phone somewhere; it seemed easier to just stop by. I, um, I wanted to apologize for this afternoon. That was rude of me."

"It's alright," Haruko said. Something else had caught her attention. His smile - it was the same slightly stiff, almost ingenuous smile that he'd worn when he'd left her office. "I was pushing you pretty hard; I could have backed off a little, given you some space to breathe."

"No; I shouldn't have walked out. Well, that's all I wanted to say, I guess. Um, is your car here?" he asked, gazing around at the obviously empty garage.

"I take the train," Haruko said carefully. Everything about his behavior was warning her that something was off, something was wrong - and yet she didn't feel threatened by him in the slightest. It made no sense.

"Oh. Well, I can walk you to the station. It's pretty late." He smiled again; the smile was friendly, but when his eyes met hers she got the distinct impression that he was trying to communicate something to her. She just didn't understand what.

Her heart was starting to pound again. Haruko slipped her phone back into her purse, grasping around until her hand closed on another item: the can of pepper spray that Michio had bought for her last year. She pulled it out as surreptitiously as she could manage.

"Sure," she said, turning so that he was still in her line of sight, the pepper spray held loosely at her side. "It's this way."

She'd taken two steps towards the turn in the garage lane when another figure stepped around the corner ahead of her.

"Dr. Uchiumi Haruko?" the stranger asked.

Haruko blinked. She didn't recognize this man at all. Tall, broad-shouldered, neatly dressed in a silver business suit; there was some kind of tattoo just visible beneath his crisp shirt collar, climbing the side of his neck. He must be the one who had kicked the pebble earlier, she realized. "Yes? Do I -"

Two things happened at once: the stranger reached beneath his jacket and whipped out a handgun; an eerie blue glow lit up around him.

Haruko stood frozen in confused disbelief. Then something heavy slammed into her back, pushing her to the hard concrete floor as a gunshot exploded through the air above her.