Youji Kudou smoothed his suit down slightly; giving his reflection in the mirror a quick wink as the elevator doors opened and he stepped out onto the business floor. A brief question to the front desk and the blonde man was heading right, knocking on office 1701. The door opened to reveal a tall, black haired, bespectacled American.

“Kudou-San,” he said smoothly, no trace of an accent, “have a seat.”

“Crawford-san” he returned, bowing slightly before taking the offered chair. “How may I be of service?”

“Your reputation,” he answered, pausing a moment before adding, “As a detective,” as clarification, “has always been extremely reliable.” He pulled a manila folder out from a drawer in his desk and handed it to the other man. “I want you to find her.” He stated.

Youji flipped the file open, scanning the contents. Aya Fujimya, recently turned sixteen, parents killed in an explosion the day of, both she and her brother gone missing immediately after. He had heard about this. The Fujimiya’s had been competitors of Crawford’s business and there had been suspicions about whether or not the older brother had been found. “Okay…” he said wryly, “I might be interested”

Crawford smirked, “But?” questioned before answering it himself, “Payment?”
At the nod he received he wrote two numbers down. “Second is bonus if the girl is retrieved.” Emerald eyes widened unconsciously. Well, he thought that would make living life easy for a few years.

“One more thing,” he said, already standing up, knowing this man kept busy, “Why are you trying to find her?” and the look he received he elaborated, “The girl’s been through hell already, I just making sure someone looks out for her interests.”

“Protecting the damsel in distress, Kudou-San?” he asked, with a smile that made Youji wonder just how much the man knew about his past. “Her father’s company and mine were competitors, but we were friendly competitors, and as respect to such an experienced businessman, I would like to make certain his children are safe.”

Children? Youji thought, then why save just one? Unless you already have the brother… He kept his mouth shut, leaving the office pondering that bit of a slip on Crawford’s part. This case could be interesting…

He headed out of the building, thanking the doorman as he walked by, ideas about the case still on his mind, the folder inside him jacket. The young detective stopped for a moment, pulling at a cigarette and lighting it as he glanced back up at the top of the building he had just exited. A flash of red caught his eye and he looked up again, studying what seemed to be a thin man with cherry red hair, staring out from where he stood on the balcony, almost looking at Youji himself. As the blonde watched, someone opened the door and an arm pulled him back inside. An arm covered in a white suit, one that looked a lot like the cream coloured Armani suit Crawford had been wearing. Why did that red hair snag him so? He didn’t know anyone with that coloured hair…he sighed, took another drag from his cigarette and continued walking.

He slipped into his seven, throwing the file on the other seat, revving the engine unnecessarily in his preoccupation. Parking in his usual spot, he headed up to his apartment. Even now, it seemed so empty…no female voice; no familiar scent…he shook his head, thinking about Asuka was pointless, better to focus on this case. He straddled the chair in front of his computer backwards and he did a search of the newspapers on the Internet. Multiple headlines and newspapers popped up and he picked the largest newspaper chain. A picture of a family of four was on the front page. ‘The Tragedy of the Fujimiya’s’ was the headline, above a coloured picture with three incredibly normal looking people and one that just didn’t seem to fit in the perfect Japanese family. His pale skin just made his bright red hair and violet eyes stand out all the more. Ran Fujimiya, the missing son, had a small shy and gentle smile on his face, complimenting that cheery grin the sister that was clinging to his arm was sporting. Youji remembered back to that red-haired man standing on the balcony. If they weren’t the same people he would stop smoking.

“Ran,” Crawford murmured against the back of the man’s neck, “You know you shouldn’t go outside where people might see you.” He admonished.

“I wanted to see him.” He uttered in that deep voice of his, no emotion colouring his voice.

“Well what did you think of the man who’ll find you sister from seventeen stories up?” he asked, amused.

“He’s young,” Was his only comment. He knew nothing about the man, not even a name; he didn’t have much interaction with anyone but Crawford anymore.

“He knows what he is doing, don’t worry about it. Come, there are other things we can be doing right now besides standing here.” The foreigner pulled the man to the room adjacent to the office, locking the door behind them and pushing the other man onto the bed. The younger man stared solemnly up at him and Crawford smirked down at him, “So beautiful…” he said possessively. Ran turned his head to the side, pushing back tears that would do nothing, absolutely nothing. ‘Mine.” The man claimed, sucking on the juncture between shoulder and neck.

“Yours” Ran whispered, despairingly. He closed his eyes, letting the American do as he wished to his body. The tears came anyway and he thought of his sister, of what she might be going through right now and hardened his resolve. This man would help get her back, would help protect her, who was he to say no to the only thing Crawford asked of him?

He gasped in pain as he always did, when Crawford entered him with no stretching beforehand. He knew it would get better; he had never had sex with Crawford and not be satisfied. But it was just a reaction to physical stimuli.

And he wished it never happened.

It always did.

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