"Rui-chan!"

Unprepared for Akane's arms to wind themselves around her neck, Rui stumbles back, narrowly avoiding bashing her head into the door that's just swung shut behind her. A smile creeps over her lips, though, as she squeezes Akane in a hug. She'd almost forgotten the effect Akane has on her when they're in such close proximity; already her shoulders are loosening, and the wrinkles that have been plaguing her forehead smooth out as Akane steps back, holding her by the arms to study her.

"Hi, Akane," she murmurs meekly.

Lips pressed into a thin line, Akane looks her over, head to toe. When she reaches Rui's eyes again she seems to have come to a decision, because she breaks into another radiant smile, green eyes vividly relieved even in the spotty lighting of the office.

"Welcome back, Rui-chan."

Her return to the office sparks no obvious enthusiasm from anyone apart from her fellow trainees and Akane herself (along with Sora, who drops by to deliver his fiancee's lunch, and nearly crushes Rui's ribcage in a hug of his own). She expected that. It's not as though her presence has any real impact on the goings on of the paper; she's yet to release her own article, and isn't even on track to do so now that her mentor's left the picture.

The only thing that surprises her is Harada.

Harada Takumi, for as long as Rui has known him (and from the stories Kaori used to share over dinner), is a man of few words, unless he's in a mood. Thankfully, the only person who can usually incite such a mood is Kaori, which means that - for the most part - Harada isn't an excitable man. Rui can't remember him ever praising her for her work, or anyone's work for that matter. He expects the best of his journalists and doesn't see why they should have their egos stroked for simply doing their jobs.

But the moment Harada sees Rui, standing in the midst of the other trainees, he stops cold. Rui immediately weaves through the throng of college students, ignoring their muffled protests, and steps past Harada into his office, beckoning for him to follow; she shuts the door behind him, her hands lingering on the frost-bitten handle a second too long before she turns around to face him.

"H-Harada-san, don't... don't cry!"

He rolls his eyes even as he's patting his pockets for a tissue. Rui hesitantly offers one from her messenger bag and he dabs at the damp spots trickling down his tan cheeks, all the while shooting her look that promises he really will sack her if she breathes a word of this to anyone. It's enough to make her laugh but she bites her tongue. It's only Harada's kindness that's kept her from losing her job; pushing his buttons isn't therefore isn't ideal.

"Sorry for that, Rui."

"You... you don't need to apologize, Harada-san! Um, Kaori... Ikehara-san, she doesn't fault anyone for crying. It's natural, ya know? Something everyone does. She says you're inhuman if you never cry..."

"Says the woman who refused to shed a tear over the death of her dog because it would make people perceive her as childish..."

"She's... quite a woman, isn't she, Harada-san?"

Harada's expression softens - which is just as ludicrous as his tears for her. He waves Rui forward, pulling out the seat facing his desk for her to sit. She almost refuses, recalling Shin's forceful treatment, but does as asked because this is Harada. Her boss, for one thing; completely separate from Nomura Shin, too. Harada moves aside a stack of papers that are indecipherable from where Rui sits so that he can hop up onto the desk. It's uncharacteristically informal of him, as Harada doesn't often present himself as an equal to his journalists. He's worked hard for his position and he makes it known, though she wouldn't call him a braggart even on his worst days.

For him to act casual in front of her...

Rui swallows thickly, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Harada-san, if it's... about Ikehara-san, I know it's late for me to be getting another mentor, but I don't--"

"That's not the issue, Rui."

"Then..."

"I received a call from Investigator Nomura the other day."

Her heart sinks.

"Did... did he say..."

What does she even want to ask? Did he say anything about her request for information about Kaori's whereabouts? Did he mention her at all? Does he suspect someone from the paper?

Was he an arrogant, self-absorbed jerk on the phone like he was to her?
"Routine questions about Kaori," Harada explains, seemingly oblivious to the breathy curse that tumbles from Rui's lips; she's far too high-strung over Kaori already, she can't handle the added stress of Shin calling into her workplace. "He did mention you were the one who contacted him about her, though... Rui. Look at me."

She raises her eyes to accommodate the request, blue eyes against Harada's gold.

"Ghouls?"

"She... I know Ikehara-san went to the Closed Ward, Harada-san! You know her! You know she'd do something that stupid all on her own!"

He says nothing. Just stares her down until she's lowered her head again, hands curled around the fabric of her jeans. She shouldn't have raised her voice; if nothing else, she doesn't want to attract the attention of the senior journalists stationed near Harada's office.

It's silent for a moment. The ticking of the clock above Harada's door is loud in her ears, though she suspects the rushing of her blood will soon overtake it. Her breathing's calmed down at least, to the point where she hopes Harada won't be able to hear it. She won't be the first to speak; she can't do it, not with him staring at her, not after her outburst. But at the same time, the last thing she wants is to have Harada lecture her - she respects him too much not to listen to him, but to have someone talk her out of investigating what really happened to Kaori is too much for her to take.

Rui's not fine. She might never be fine. But her only chance to return to her normal life is to find closure with Kaori - whatever that entails, and however long it takes.

"...You're right."

Rui's head snaps up, her eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. The lines around Harada's eyes seem to have deepened, and were those gray streaks in his ebony hair that prominent?

He smiles but it's a lonely smile, devoid of its customary warmth. Rui's chest seizes with pain, both for herself and for Harada.

"Kaori is just that stupid. Why do you think I didn't want her going in the first place?"

Oh.

It occurs to her then that despite all their fighting, despite the harsh exchange of words, despite Kaori's flighty resentment of Harada, of which she spoke often, usually over a bowl of cheap ramen - they care about one another. Perhaps more deeply than Rui would have guessed.

"I won't turn you away from looking for Kaori. I hope you find her, Rui - and I pray you're wrong about the ghouls."

_______________________________________

Crisp winter air teases through Rui's hair, disturbing the sloppy knot she'd tied it into earlier; she brushes aside the few strands that escape their hold, tucking them securely behind her ear. She squints through the breeze, ignoring the pinprick tears that gather at the corner of her eyes. The clock situated in the center of the park reads half past six.

Her trip to the office really hadn't been the homecoming she'd made it out to be. Really, she'd only gone to assure her few friends that she hadn't followed Kaori's lead and disappeared without a trace. Rui's not one to give out her phone number to anyone who doesn't strictly need it, which basically only encompasses Harada, Akane, and Kaori when it comes to work. So, aside from Akane's word, her fellow trainees hadn't had any signs of life from Rui for... God knew how long.

The days tend to blur together for her, so much so that she can't honestly recall how long it's been since she last set foot in work before today. She had been keeping track but... what's the point? Without Kaori, there's nothing to keep her focused there, nothing to tether her. Akane is important to her, precious even, but she's no Kaori. There's a dark void in the office without Kaori's presence to fill it, and Rui for one can't stand it.

Sighing, her eyes drawn to the smoky remnants of her breath, Rui nurses a styrofoam cup in her hands. She hasn't slept more than three, four hours at a time in the last few days, and while she doesn't adore coffee it is useful in keeping her relatively aware of the world around her. It's probably contributing to her sleeplessness, but she's gotten herself caught up in a vicious cycle, and she can't exactly see a way out of it besides letting herself collapse one day.

It's not an enjoyable prospect, to be honest.

Wispy sunlight struggles to break through the gray, rolling cloud layer currently hovering above the city, dappling the ground with leopard spots of warmth. Clusters of birds gather there, along with those people who decided today was just lovely for a stroll; they stand there now, some of them hand-in-hand, others shrunken into themselves to preserve their body heat, trapped for lack of a better alternative. They can't, don't want to go home. Rui can understand that.

She sits perched on the edge of a bench, legs crossed for comfort more than convenience. Her apartment is as uninviting as the CCG building she can see in the distance - cold glass and steel against a background of gunmetal clouds, an unwavering sentinel overlooking the city it so gallantly protects. Kaori wouldn't like the fanciful description Rui gives the building in her head; too pretentious, too impersonal, she'd say. But she'd laugh as she scolds her, nose wrinkling, hands settled on her hips, because she likes Rui's style, the way her mind works, and she likes it even more that Rui can never communicate her more elegant thoughts the way she wants to when it's not on paper, or typed into a computer.

"Stupid," she mutters to herself, muffling the derisive word by taking a sip of her coffee.

She brings this torture on herself. She can see that as plainly as anyone else. Logically speaking, whatever's befallen Kaori isn't her fault. Even if she had mentioned that text, there's no guarantee that something could have been done about it. It's as hard to pin down Kaori on any given day as it to catch the wind; she's not always one to respond to messages, or to let people know where she's gone. Rui's hunch that she took off for the Closed Ward would have held as much credit then as it does now; that is to say, none at all. She's still surprised (beyond belief, if she's being honest with herself) that Shin agreed to look into Kaori's disappearance on Rui's word alone.

But guilt's a funny thing. It doesn't have to be logical to tie your insides into knots, to sneak into your head and make itself known by screaming with all the fury of a banshee each and every time you've finally managed to forget it. If you have any reason, any reason at all, no matter how inconsequential or absurd, to feel as though you're responsible for the misfortune of others, then guilt will eat you alive without remorse.

Somewhat ironic, isn't it? Rui muses bitterly, swigging down another mouthful of coffee, uncaring towards the shrieking protest her tongue offers up as a result. It's too hot but she can't bring herself to care much.

Harada's words replay over and over in her head. The look in his eyes, the memory of tears on his cheeks - it's all too much for her. For someone like Harada to break down over Kaori... maybe Rui needs to face facts. See things as they really are, just this once.

Rui suddenly fidgets, moving her coffee to her opposite hand to fish out the buzzing phone in her pocket. She doesn't recognize the number flashing across the screen, but the extension... that seems familiar, somehow. Maneuvering the phone between her ear and shoulder, she murmurs a quiet hello, fumbling to keep her coffee from spilling scalding drops onto her unprotected wrist.

"Kitamura-san?"

Rui straightens instantly, wincing as the coffee finally makes blistering contact with her pale skin.

"Amon-san?"

"Yes. You gave us your contact information the last time we spoke."

"Oh, that... I know, but usually it's Nomura-san who calls."

"Ah... yes. That's true. However, he's not in at the moment. That's... actually the reason I'm calling."

"Is... is Nomura-san alright?"

She can't say she'd be all that devastated to hear that Shin got mixed up in something unpleasant, but if something serious happened... How her guilt would double in its ruthlessness.

"He's alright, Kitamura-san. Rest assured. At least, he was when we spoke earlier."

Rui hopes quite desperately that Amon can't hear her relieved puff of breath on the other side of the line.

"That's good. Then... is there something I can help you with, Amon-san?"

"Nomura-san's gone to investigate the Closed Ward."

Her coffee falls, splattering in a hot starburst across the ground; brown streams trickle down the stone pathway, snaking underneath Rui's leather boots. She doesn't notice.

"He..."

"He didn't want me to tell you, but I only thought it was right. Ikehara-san is your friend; you deserve to know what's going on with her case, even though it might not strictly be protocal."

"He shouldn't have gone..."

"Kitamura-san? Is everything--"

"Just... tell Nomura-san to be careful, okay, Amon-san?"

She hangs up before he can answer.

Rui slumps on the bench, tilting back her head to stare at the veiled sky. God. She doesn't want to cry, not again. But why does her heart race this terribly, knowing Shin's following in Kaori's footsteps? If it's ghouls, is that's really Kaori's fate... and even if Shin is a trained investigator...

Her heart is screaming at her that no one should ever return to that ward. Even to retrieve the dead. 

I'm sorry this story's been so slow in the beginning... gotta get those relationships established early, ya know? The action'll start to pick up real soon, though, don't you worry about it! So I hope ya stick around till then!