"Wow..." everybody murmured. Only Aoshi was silent, his head bowed over his food, his chopsticks motionless in his hand. He had a recolection of a story being recounted to him by a tall elegant young woman. It was similer, yet very different. The boy in the story he remembered had his sister taken from him by accident and his hair was bleached by the shock of it. What if that young woman from the bus accident... And the boy in the story had been starved by a horrible life in Shanghai, murdered his foster family after they had restored him to health and taught himself martial arts to gain revenge.

'It's too similer,' Aoshi thought warily. 'Enishi could be lying too. Something's bothering me about this boy.'

"I've got to go," he said abruptly, rising. He dumped the empty plastic container into a garbage can and shouldered his bag. He paused when Misao hailed him, but didn't turn. As she approached his side he began to walk again. Still behind him, Misao grabbed his sleeve to make him stop and he pulled her against his side.

"I feel something about him," Misao whispered urgently.

"Not here," Aoshi interrupted. "We're going to find the truth out about this Yukishiro Enishi."

---------------

As Misao and Aoshi left, Chiho rose to her feet and called after them to no avail. Gisuke rested a hand on her arm. "Let 'em go. Aoshi's in a mood. He'd just snap at you."

Chiho sat back down reluctantly and smiled apologetically at Enishi. "Sorry about them. Aoshi-kun's a little moody, and he and Misao-chan seem to have some sort of secret right now."

"Hey!" Gisuke exclaimed suddenly. "I've got it! Their engaged!"

Chiho's response was a burst of loud laughter. "Yeah right! Misao's only 15, and besides, she'd tell me no matter what the circumstances were!"

Enishi watched the two figures depart. Misao looked tiny next to Aoshi's lean yet strong frame. 'So they're an item, huh,' he thought, his mind busy with plans and imaginings. The hand that Aoshi had wrapped loosely around Misao's shoulders drew Enishi's eyes. A jealousy boiled up in him and he glared at Aoshi's back vehemently. The young man paused at the door after opening it for Misao and glanced briefly back over his shoulder. Two pair of blue eyes met and narrowed in shared antagonism before Aoshi turned away, feigning boredom.

'You think you've got it all under contol, don't you,' Enishi thought sourly. 'No problems with your life. No worries. Perfect.' He was rich, Enishi could tell. He wasn't sure how, but he could tell. His parents gave him whatever he wanted. His family wasn't scared of him. He had a beautiful girlfriend. Shinomori Aoshi was everything Enishi wasn't. He was satisfied.

'But why does he never smile?' a small voice at the back of Enishi's head said faintly.

The house was silent. Enishi wasn't surprised. His grandmother was probably visiting some friends or asleep. His aunt and uncle were still at work and wouldn't get home until much later.

Enishi's family lived in a three story cream-colored house in the suburbs of Tokyo. The commute into Yakihata was murder, but Enishi's parents wouldn't have it any other way. A tall wrought-iron fence had been built around the the property with ornate spikes on the top of every few poles. The European-style garden was maintained by a team of professional gardeners every week. A Japanese-style garden was in the back with a more solid fence preventing the outside world from peering in.

Inside it was opresively quiet. Enishi was always afraid to make any noise. The furniture was all western but there was one wing of the house that was tatami. Enishi's grandmother used it for the occasional tea cerimony and Enishi had begun to use it for meditation late in the evening.

"I'm home," he whispered to himself as he kicked off his shoes in the genkan. He wandered through the kitchen, picked up a bag of chips and headed up to his room. He changed into a tight black tank top and light, loose pants that he had picked up in China. He belted them on and pulled on a pair of chinese slippers he used as house shoes, his feet being too big for the ones his aunt and uncle owned.

In the bathroom he removed his glasses and splashed his face with cool water and dried it. Enishi stared at his reflexion in the mirror. The face, perfectly clear, stared back at him with a slightly sad and angery expression.

The aquamarine eyes reflected his emotions back at him. Guilt.