"...there's been no word regarding the disappearance of Ikehara Kaori, a former reporter for the local paper, who hasn't been seen in a week. Friends and family are desperate for news but the authorities haven't been very forthcoming with information. Some suspect the involvement of ghouls..."

Rui mutes the TV, frowning. The old man seated adjacent to her seems annoyed as she sets the remote down on the desk beside her; apparently he'd been pretty enthralled by the contents of the news. She doesn't care. For a week now, she's seen Kaori's face plastered everywhere, from the online blogs she frequents to the six-o'clock news, even her own paper. There was a special mention of Kaori on the front page yesterday, a highlight of her career and a hopeful wish that she be returned home to her family soon.

Rui's hand slides into the pocket of her hoodie, wrapping tight around her phone. Guilt presses hard against her lungs, and every breath she takes jabs at her chest like a blunted knife. She should have said something, anything... she just didn't think it was worthwhile. This was Kaori they were talking about. Invincible Kaori who tackled a man twice her width to get his interview for a case she had cooking. Kaori, the woman who once punched the the chief inspector of the police for implying she was out of her depth for tagging along on an arrest.

In hindsight, Rui thinks, abashed, maybe I should've realized she's exactly stupid enough to try to pull this kinda stunt...

"Kitamura-san?"

Tugged from her thoughts, Rui glances upwards, her grip on her phone only growing fiercer. A man is standing over her, concern etched into the deep lines of his aging face. She thinks he probably called her name more than once, and she feels her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. That's been happening a lot lately, her zoning out inexplicably. She feigns a smile and rises to greet the inspector, who shakes her hand with a tired smile of his own.

"I'm Inspector Aoyama," the man informs her as he leads her away from the lobby area of the police station, deeper into the rows of desks that are occupied by a number of bustling men and women, some sporting suits like Aoyama, others decked out in the traditional uniform of the police. "Your call to the station a few days ago... You seemed troubled, Kitamura-san. What's bothering you that you couldn't say over the phone?"

He sinks into the rickety chair of his own desk once she's settled into the seat across from him, and Rui is surprised to find him so gentlemanly. She's had a few run-ins with inspectors and the police in general before, and usually they brushed her off without much care. Then again, she'd always been with Kaori when that happened, so maybe the reaction was more expected than she initially thought.

"I, uh..."

She fidgets. She always fidgets. It's annoying, like so many of her friends, family, and colleagues have pointed out. She wrings out her hands in her lap even though they're already rubbed a blistering red. It takes effort, but she manages to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

"It's about... about Ikehara Kaori."

Inspector Aoyama raises a grizzled gray brow, interested but far from excited. She can imagine he's had about enough of this case, especially since Kaori isn't exactly loved by the eighteenth ward's police force.

"I'm... or I was her trainee, at the paper" - Rui nervously produces her recently-issued ID from beneath her shirt and holds it up for Aoyama to read - "and, uh... she was always going on about a case she wanted to crack, a story she wanted to follow... We kinda all got used to it pretty quickly. Um, except Harada-san. He's our boss. He didn't really like Ikehara-san's... enthusiasm, because it got her into trouble all the time... Oh, and me, after I started working with her."

"Kitamura-san," Aoyama interrupts, raising a hand to silence her, "are you insinuating that this Harada-san had something to do with Ikehara Kaori's disappearance? Because we've already questioned him thoroughly."

"What? Oh, no, no of course not! I just... Background, ya know?" Rui fiddles with her ID, running the pads of her fingers over the rounded, laminated corners. Her lips form a shaky smile. "Ikehara-san said background's important when you're telling a story."

"True enough," Aoyama agrees, his smile a little less tired now. "Continue."

"Right, well... Um, a few weeks ago, Harada-san and Ikehara-san had a fight."

"Which resulted in her getting fired."

Ah. She'd forgotten for a moment that they know everything. They're the police, of course they already picked through the last few weeks leading up to Kaori's disappearance. Of course they'd know she was fired. Something like that would hint at a motive. Maybe. She isn't sure; her younger brother is the one who loves crime dramas, not her.

She dips her head in confirmation anyway, even though Aoyama's words hadn't been a question.

"Yeah. She was fired two weeks ago. But the fight... I mean, they fought a lot, this was kinda just... the last straw for Harada-san, I guess. 'Cause this story wasn't gonna lead anywhere. That's what he said, I think. It wasn't worth going after. Ikehara-san didn't think so, though, and she told me all about it before she left."

"We know," Aoyama tells her gently, like he's afraid to startle her. Like she's a fragile little bird. That stings a bit, but she can hardly deny her vulnerability, especially given how timid she's coming across right now. She just... doesn't like being here. In the station. Surrounded by people who probably don't even want to find Kaori. "She was looking into the 'Closed Ward,' for whatever reason. We're not dismissing that information, obviously, but even with Ikehara-san's track record we don't think she would break the law and--"

"I have proof!"

Aoyama blinks, and Rui flushes once more, dropping back down into the seat she's just jumped up from. Before she can lose her courage, she pulls out her phone and unlocks it, revealing the text message she'd been going back to, again and again, for days now. She slides the phone across the desk to Inspector Aoyama, who picks it up carefully, using his index finger to scroll through her messages with Kaori. He squints as he reaches the bottom.

Won't be back for a few days. Don't check up on me.

Rui had texted back, asking where she was going, what she was doing, but she never got a response. Knowing Kaori, she hadn't thought much of it at the time. Even while she was employed, Kaori would often go off the grid for a few days at a time. She'd once told Rui that it was so she could fully immerse herself in whatever investigation she'd embroiled herself in. Rui found it excessive, as did the rest of her fellow trainees, but the regular reporters didn't even question her methods anymore.

"Kitamura-san," Inspector Aoyama says slowly, tilting his head. "This could be referring to many things. It doesn't necessarily mean she went to investigate the Closed Ward."

Oh. She thought this might happen.

"I know it's not... definitive, Aoyama-san, but..."

She's wringing her hands again now that they're not preoccupied with her phone or her ID (now safely tucked under shirt). Her oft-bitten nails scrape against the backs of her hands, dragging out fresh red lines. This doesn't escape Aoyama's notice but he makes no comment about it. Instead he simply passes back her phone, tapping the fingers of his free hand against the lacquered wood of his desk. She scoops it up, holding it to her chest, her eyes falling to his tapping fingers. She doesn't like the look in his black eyes.

"We'll look into it, Kitamura-san."

Which basically means the exact opposite.

Forcing a lackluster smile, Rui thanks Inspector Aoyama for his time. He offers to show her out but she just shakes her head, wanting to be rid of this place and its people as quickly as possible. When she passes through the lobby, the TV's been restored of its sound, and the old man grins at her smugly from his seat. What he's even here for, she doesn't know, but she likes him about as much as she like Aoyama right now.

"...ghoul theory is looking likelier than ever, and we have a Ghoul Expert here today to prove it. Welcome, Kanemoto-san. You told us off-screen that you have a good idea about what happened to Ikehara Kaori. Could you please share that idea with our viewers?"

Rui pushes through the double doors of the station, stumbling out onto the sidewalk as though she'd been shoved from behind. She can't. She just can't believe that Kaori fell victim to the ghouls. It's ludicrous, unthinkable... and such an unfitting end for a woman of Kaori's caliber. That she would become fodder for some monster... the thought makes Rui physically ill, and she has to lean her shoulder against the wall of the station, hand curled into the fabric of her jacket - just over her heart - and breathing erratic.

She didn't say anything.

Rui never said a word about that text. Not until now, when it's already too late.

If something really did happen to Kaori... if it was a ghoul...

It would be all her fault.

Closing her eyes, Rui sucks in a few sharp breaths, trying to control her racing heart as well as the crushing weight afflicting her chest. It takes a considerable amount of time (enough for a few passersby to wander over and question her health) but she reins in her debilitating guilt, locking it away in the back of her mind. Ever present but not so distracting that she can't focus on the world around her.

She can work with that.

There has to be something I can do, she thinks, pushing away from the wall and merging with the evening foot-traffic. Shoulders brush hers brusquely, and she fights to keep a straight course through the throng of people just getting off work. Something...

Unbidden, the name of the Ghoul Expert on the news crosses her mind.

Kanemoto-san.

Her expression crumples as she realizes she's actually desperate enough to talk to one of those crackpots. But, no - she won't. Kaori wouldn't forgive her; she loathes those people most of all. Kaori herself has a strange fascination with ghouls, despite her fear of them. And she doesn't trust anyone who calls themselves an expert on the subject of ghouls. For some reason, she says that's like saying you're an expert on humans, and Kaori feels that's an impossible prospect that shouldn't even be attempted.

If not an expert, then...

Rui suddenly stops walking, much to the chagrin of those following in her footsteps. They irritably step around her, not even putting up a pretense of politeness as they shove past her, shoulders knocking shoulders, scowls appearing over their shoulders as they spare her a bitter glance. She's oblivious to all of it; she spins on her heel, shading her eyes as she struggles to see through the growing twilight. Past the police station, blocks away, she can make out the imposing structure that houses her ward's CCG.

If the police won't help her, if this really is the work of a ghoul... then the CCG would be the perfect alternative for her to explore.

But it's late, she reminds herself, frowning once more. They probably wouldn't bother opening the door for me right now. Tomorrow, then.

Her lips tip up a fraction at the thought.

Tomorrow, maybe she can do something for Kaori, something that will absolve her of this writhing, decimating guilt that coils in her stomach and slithers through her veins like a viper, waiting, just waiting, for the opportune moment to sink its fangs into her bloodstream, and cripple her from the inside out.

Maybe.