Still Raining

Still Raining
Sequel to: On the Street of Dreams
Written by: chochowilliams
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Summary: Ayaka is used to getting what she wants and what she wants now is Eiri. And she’ll do whatever it takes to make him hers. Anything.
Chapter Summary: Chishin might have just closed in on the source of his old friend’s obsession.
Warning: angst, drama, romance, m-preg, language, m/m, hentai
Inserts: chapter 3, Street of Dreams chapter 7
A/N: I want to thank Kaname-luvr, sarah83654123, CrimsonBlood363, Queen-Cocaine, secret hidden within me, UnratedCrimsonBlood, cain aiden, Bfly-Ronaldita, Ayaka, ELENIOFME, animediva943, Mrs. Hatake Itachi, Lollieta Round, inumoon 3, idontsurf for your reviews. Thank you for favoring me and placing me on your alert list. I appreciate it. BTW. If I spelled your name wrong or forgot to mention you and you wrote a review, let me know. Anyway, enjoy!

+---+---+---+

Last Time

As soon as her mother vanished through the swinging door, the smile vanished from Ayaka’s face. Glancing over her shoulder at the now silent phone, she fisted her hands into tight balls of fury. Things would continue as planned. There was no doubt in her mind. In the off chance that something unexpected arose, there were always her contingency plans. One way or another, she would get what she wanted.

She reached into the breast pocket of her white blouse and pulled out a small photograph not was much larger than the width of her hand. Her face softened as she gazed at the boy in the picture who had his arm around her tiny shoulders and a big goofy grin on his face. Her finger traced his blond hair.

“I can wait no longer…Eiri.”

+---+---+

Chapter 8: And the Truth Shall Set You Free

Aizawa Residence - Tokyo, Japan

The couple sat in stunned silence in the living room of the house where they had raised their now deceased son.

“Mr. Seguchi…” Mrs. Aizawa spoke softly. She was unsure as to why she had spoken for she was unsure of what to say. Nothing they were just told made any sense. No matter how she tried to manipulate it in her head, she could make heads or tails out of any of it. “Just…what are you saying?”

On the sofa across from them sat Tohma Seguchi, appearing somber and regretful. When he spoke, his voice was soft. His hands were clasped in his lap. “I am truly sorry for having to-”

“I had a feeling,” Mr. Aizawa spoke up suddenly.

His wife turned towards him. “Masato?”

Masato Aizawa raised his head. He stared directly into the light eyes of the man sitting before him. “Alright. Whatever you need.”

His wife shot to her feet. “Masato,” she cried in disbelief. How could he believe the word of some man they did not even know? She did not care who Tohma Seguchi thought he was and she did not care. How dare this man waltz into her home and make such outrageous claims?

Tohma inclined his head in gratitude. “Thank you. I know it cannot be easy.”

“Masato!” Now she was fuming. “How can you-?”

“Oharu.” Masato turned towards her. It was said softly.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Oharu stalked out of the room in a huff. As soon as she was out of earshot of her husband and their guest, she burst into tears. She muffled her sobs into her apron.

Masato sighed. He was not angry with her at her outburst. How could he be? Being told that their only son’s only child may not be their grandchild was not an easy statement to hear. What he wanted the least was it to turn out to be true. But what if it was? “Just…tell us when and where.”

“Thank you,” Tohma said softly as guilt swirled within him.

+---+---+

Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan

Started by Kizou after his father died in a car accident when he was a second year in middle school, the Black Dragons started out as nothing more then a group of friends who could not seem to keep out of trouble. Back then “trouble” meant skipping class, talking back to the teachers and other administrative officials, breaking the strict school rules and policies, getting into fights (both on campus and off), stealing women’s purses and men’s wallets. It naturally snowballed from there. Little by little, they expanded their empire, taking out one group after another and absorbing their members into their own. They started dabbling in narcotics and drug trafficking, smuggling of illegal weapons and prostitution. Then there were the various legitimate businesses. There was not anything in Kyoto that the Black Dragons did not have their hands in in some fashion. What at one point had been nothing more than a group of juvenile delinquents had swiftly become a force to be reckoned with.

Like all of the various Yakuza groups though, the name “Black Dragons” was only a pseudonym. The group’s real name was known to only its innermost circle. Most of the members of the Black Dragons themselves were unaware of what the group’s real name was.

But he knew. Oh, yes, he did. Shuichi Shindou knew many of the Black Dragon’s secrets. When dealing with the mob, they sometimes had a habit of forgetting that their little sex kitten had a brain in his head. Like when there was a child in the room, you had to be careful about what came out of your mouth. Otherwise, things best left in the shadows came spiraling out into the light of day. Out of the mouths of babes, as the saying went. Many of the secrets that he was privy to could bring down Kizou’s little band of misfits in a single, swift stroke. What the PSIA wouldn’t give to get inside his head. If only they knew.

The Black Dragons have been under investigation for many years now by various agencies around the world, including the Public Security Intelligence Agency here in Japan as well as Interpol and the FBI in America. All of the countless investigations over the years have proven to be fruitless ventures though. They could dig and dig and dig until their hands were red, raw, and bleeding, but they would never find anything to back up their suspicions because Kizou made sure there was no proof. He was no imbecile. All the agencies investigating the Black Dragons have nothing to go on but their knowledge that you did not become part of the Yakuza family by helping little old ladies across the street, though the Black Dragons were known for that as well. Without evidence to back up the charges, a Grand Jury was not going to indict a suspect.

He rounded the corner and came to a halt.

Before him, standing proudly at the top of the hill like a sentry guarding over the city was what had once upon a time been a Buddhist Temple, but that had been over half a century ago. For reasons that were still unclear, the Temple was abandoned virtually overnight not long after it’s founding. It’d sat abandoned on the outskirts of the city until Kizou purchased it about twenty years ago. It had fallen into serious disrepair and had cost close to a fortune to bring it back to its state of glory. Some tried to talk him into tearing the old Temple down. It would cost less to rebuild from scratch. Others tried to talk him into buying a house somewhere else, for fear of the grounds being cursed, but Kizou wouldn’t hear of it. So a year after he purchased it, Kizou was finally able to move into the converted ex-Temple. Ironically, it was not long afterwards that Kizou was diagnosed with stage one seminomas cancer

Shuichi ghosted his hands over his belly. He could not remember a time when he was more nervous. He could only imagine the look on Kizou’s face when he found the lover he had forcibly kicked out two years earlier on his doorstep, pregnant.

What had been an attempt at lightning the mood fell flat.

Taking a deep breath, he fixed the strap of his black messenger bag and took one tentative step forward and then another and another.

+---+---+

Ryugan Temple - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan

The phone’s shrill ring continued to echo down the hall.

“Can you get that dear? My hands are full of batter.” An older woman’s voice emanated through the still house.

“Yes, Mama,” replied a younger sounding female voice. Stepping out of the kitchen where she and her mother were baking cookies, Ayaka was drying her hands with a white kitchen towel as she marched purposefully down the hall towards the phone. She draped the towel over her shoulder and picked up the phone mid-ring. “Hello, Usami residence. This is Ayaka speaking.”

There was silence. Then a male voice spoke, “Oh! I’m sorry. Wrong number.”

Ayaka pulled the phone away from her ear and stared down at the receiver when she was greeted with the dial tone. “O-kay.”

“Who was it?” her mother called from the kitchen.

“Nobody Mama. Wrong number.” Replacing the receiver in its cradle, Ayaka yanked the towel off her shoulder and returned to the kitchen.

+---+---+

Location Unknown

He was alone in a room packed to the ceiling with various electronic equipment. It would remind an outsider of a hoarder’s house. There was a narrow path that cut through the clutter (or “crap” as his boss put it) that led from the door to the workstation. Trying to maneuver your way through the rest of the cramped office was like trying to get into Jakarta, Indonesia in a timely manner: impossible (1). The U-shaped desk before him was covered with half a dozen computers and an assortment of other knick-knacks. Each computer monitor showed something different: some with documents, others with formulas. Sitting behind the desk was a man in his early thirties with dyed blond hair that tickled the collar of his plaid button down shirt. A silver hands-free headset was secured around his ear. This left both of his hands free to do what he did best. His dark eyes sparkled from behind a pair of black rimmed glasses.

“Found you,” he whispered with a pleased smirk.

+---+---+

Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan

Ryuichi heard the distant sounds emanating from the kitchen. The clinking of glasses. The clattering of dishes. The rattling of silverware. The banging of pots and pans. The heavy footsteps on the tiled floor. The opening and closing of cupboards. The cacophony of noises dimmed as he strolled down the hall away from the kitchen to the master bedroom. The noise dimmed even more when he shut the bedroom door behind him. Rounding the bed and skirting the dresser, he stopped before the closet door. Sliding the pocket door into the wall, he stepped into the dimly light space and slid the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed him. Striding forward cautiously, he reached out blindly for the pull string. Finding it after some fishing, he yanked on it. Immediately the closet was flooded with light.

Hidden on the top shelf in the back of the closet, concealed beneath assorted articles of clothing was a shoebox. Just before he unearthed it, he glanced over his shoulder and listened attentively. It was muted, but he could still hear Tatsuha in the kitchen.

Good.

Pulling the box out of its hiding spot, he settled on the floor with it on his lap.

The shoebox was a rather large one. Once upon a time, it held a pair of black snowboard boots, which had since been misplaced. He was not sure what happened to them. A month before he (and the rest of L8r Records) discovered Yuki was pregnant with Shuichi, the executives at L8r Records sent him, Tohma and Noriko to Happo One- which is said to be the jewel among Hakuba Valley’s five skiing resorts- on a promotional venture. He’d purchased the boots at some shoe store, which has since gone out of business, a week before the trip. By the time he returned home from Happo, the boots were gone. Oh, well. No big loss. He hadn’t particularly cared for the boots anyway. Even though they had been a size too large, they had pinched his feet something fierce. Their shoebox had come in handy since, though it was more tape then cardboard now. Maybe it was time for a new one. If Tatsuha had his way, he would toss the box, as well as its contents, into the trash.

Lifting the lid off the shoebox, he set it on the hardwood floor behind him. Reaching inside the shoebox, what he pulled out first turned out to be a photograph.

In the background was a dirty brick building with someone’s version of artistic freedom covering its façade. Leaning against the driver’s side door of a black Mustang with arms crossed over a bare chest, was a young man who appeared to be at least twenty years old. In actuality, this twenty year old had been more like sixteen around the time the photo was taken. His jean-clad legs were stretched out before him. His ankles were crossed. Smiling smugly into the camera, his mused black hair was a glint with golden highlights. The yellow color contrasted sharply against the natural darkness of his hair. And maybe it was his bias, but there seemed to be a sinister gleam in those violet eyes.

The photograph had been taken somewhere in New York City the summer before the two of them met backstage after one of Nittle Grasper’s concerts at Radio City Music Hall. That brief encounter would turn out to be the catalyst that would change both of their lives.

Nittle Grasper had quickly gained quite a name for itself in North America thanks to several of their songs being featured in a popular anime. While they were virtual unknowns to the mainstream populace, they had quickly become an underground sensation. Their manager at the time had decided to cash in on their rising popularity by agreeing to a series of concerts at a series of conventions around the United States and Canada. It was at the Ani-Con in New York City where he met Yuki for the first time.

Yuki confessed later that he had not even known what a “Nittle Grasper” was when he bought the tickets to the Anime Convention. He hadn’t had any idea what a “manga” or what an “anime” was either. Just because he was Japanese did not mean anything. He had been born and raised in America just as his parents and grandparents had been before him. His girlfriend was the huge anime fan he claimed. She was the one who pressured him into buying the tickets. The night before Nittle Grasper was to take the stage as part of the opening ceremonies, though, he found out she had been cheating on him with his best friend. Instead of dumping her right then and there, he decided to go to the concert anyway. He just forgot to mention to his girlfriend that she was no longer coming with him. At the concert hall, he simply gave his extra ticket away to some old man who had been looking for a ticket for his granddaughter.

It was not until Nittle Grasper walked on stage did Yuki start to understand his girlfriend’s obsession. His began the moment he laid eyes on Ryuichi Sakuma for the very first time.

Yuki said he’d been determined to get backstage to meet him, but with the heavy security, he thought it would be an impossible fete, but would chance it anyway. Even if he were caught, it would be better than spending the rest of his life wondering “what if”. Ryuichi had not been able to fault that logic, even today. As it turned out, there had been virtually no security, making it easy for Yuki to slip backstage. No one had given him so much as a second glance amidst the chaos.

From the very beginning, he told Tatsuha that while Cupid’s arrow hit its mark with Yuki, the god of love had missed him. The arrow had gone right over his head. Looking back as the man he was now and knowing what occurred because of their brief rendezvous, he did not want to believe that he’d had any sort of special feelings for Yuki. How could he? The man was clearly suffering from some psychosis. Why else would he threaten to jump if Ryuichi did not promise right then and there that they could be a family?

“Love me! Ryu! Love me!”

Those words continued to echo in his head to this day, haunting him. How could he love someone like that? How could he have any sort of feelings for someone like that? For years, he even succeeded in convincing himself that his attraction to Yuki had been nothing but purely physical. Oh, how he wished that were the case. He would like nothing more than to believe that he felt nothing but contempt for Yuki Kitazawa, but if he wanted to be completely open and honest with himself, he would have to admit that was not accurate. It was because he’d fallen in love with a boy three years his senior that he found himself feeling such hatred towards him now.

After Nittle Grasper’s set at the opening ceremonies at the Ani-Con, he’d walked off stage with Tohma and Noriko in tow and there he was, leaning casually against the far wall and trying not to look nervous, trying to act as if he belonged. There’d been something about this mysterious boy that had drawn him in. Then, as if sensing eyes on him, the boy had raised his head. Over the sea of bodies, their eyes met. It was only for a second, but it seemed to last for an eternity. He’d forgotten who he was, where he was, everything and everyone except for the owner of those incredible violet eyes, eyes that their son had inherited. They were what would do him in. But at this particular encounter, their security personnel, who appeared literally from out of nowhere Yuki said later, swept him, Tohma and Noriko out of the building before he had the opportunity to speak to the boy with the beautiful eyes. When he’d glanced back, the boy was nowhere to be seen, lost amidst the anarchy. And that was that. He and the others had been pushed into their limo and driven to the airport where they caught a flight back to Japan. He’d thought he would never see that handsome older boy again.

How wrong he had been.

Ryuichi sighed heavily. Falling backwards, he draped an arm over his brow and stared unblinkingly up at the ceiling with the photograph still clasped in his hand.

It should have been a warning sign. Looking back now, seeing Yuki backstage after their concert at Zepp Tokyo here in Japan mere weeks later should have forced him to slam on his brakes. It didn’t though. He’d been too astonished to see him. To realize that the boy with the violet eyes he’d seen back in New York City was more than just a figment of his imagination had blown whatever misgivings might have been there out of his mind.

Lifting his hand, he stared at Yuki who was smiling down at him.

“Whether you like it or not, Ryuichi Sakuma, Yuki Kitazawa is going to a part of your life till the day you die because he is the mother of your son. You don’t have to like him. Nobody’s saying you have to. You‘re going to have to just grin and bear it and grow the fuck up.”

Tatsuha was right.

Once upon a time he may have had feelings for Yuki and even though that all changed in an instant when Yuki threatened to jump from the roof of L8r Records, which would have killed not only him but the child he was carrying, Yuki Kitazawa was still Shuichi’s mother.

“Dammit,” he cursed with a hiss.

He was startled out of his musing by a sudden buzzing that echoed throughout the condominium.

“Ryu,” though muffled, Tatsuha’s voice still reached to where he was hiding, “Eiri’s here!”

Sitting up, Ryuichi stared down at the photograph in his hand as he heard the sound of muffled voices.

+---+---+

TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo, Japan

The high back, black leather office chair squeaked as Chishin reclined backwards behind his cinnamon and slate L-shaped desk in the executive office of the President of TCN Network. He heaved a tired sigh. Swiveling his chair around, he stared out the floor to ceiling, two way, mirrored window that overlooked the bustling street below.

Idiot. That was what was going through his mind over and over again.

Agreeing to Nami’s request last night was the biggest mistake he’s made since taking over the floundering Christian network. When she threatened to take her services elsewhere unless he complied, he should have just let her. It was not the task of this network to promote bigotry, prejudice or hatred of any kind. The mission of The Christian Network was to communicate the teachings and the beauty of the Christian faith and to help people grow in their love and understanding of God and His infinite mercy (2). For wasn’t it written in Leviticus 19:18? “Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself”? Yes, it was definitely a mistake to continue to be manhandled like a marionette.

Nami Mataguchi’s abhorrence of the Neutrals as well as her dedication to slandering Shuichi Shindou and Eiri Yuki’s good names went against everything this station stood for.

A buzz sounded behind him.

Chishin swung his chair around. “Yes,” he called over the intercom.

“Sir, there is an Isoroku Tokudaiji on the phone for you,” replied his secretary’s voice.

That was quick, he thought. Aloud he said, “Thank you.” Picking up the phone, he pressed the flashing red button. “Hello! Isoro?”

“Hey, Chishin,” came the tired sounding masculine voice over the line.

He met Isoroku Tokudaiji back in high school through a mutual friend. “You sound tired.”

A yawn was his answer. “Seeing as I’ve been up since, uhm, five yesterday morning, tired is an understatement, but it was worth the lack of sleep-”

“You found something,” Chishin interrupted. His excitement was mounting.

“That I did.”

Mentally cheering and quite literally at the edge of his seat, Chishin’s grip on the phone tightened. “And?” he prodded.

“What I used was a-well, that doesn’t matter,” Isoroku interrupted himself. “Anyway,” he continued without a pause, “I was able to procure Nami Mataguchi’s phone records for the past two years for both her cellphone as well as her number at The Trinity- and if you ask me how I will have no choice but to kill you- and I searched through those to find the numbers that she called the most, but that yielded the same old same old: her parents in Akita, older sister in Kagoshima, younger brother in Aichi…”

Same old Isoroku. How he was able to say all that in one breath was beyond him.

“So I thought maybe she doesn’t call them. Maybe they call her. So I went back through her phone records and this time I found it.” Isoroku sounded excited.

“Found what?” Chishin had to admit, he was too.

“‘Who’, my dear Chi-Chi,” Isoroku corrected. “I found the ‘who’.”

“And who did you find?”

“Usami. Ayaka. Usami.”

Before he could stop it, a gasp escaped passed Chishin lips.

“I take it you know her?”

It was as if all his energy was sucked out of him at once. Chishin collapsed back into his chair. “A-are you sure?” His voice came out barely above that of a whisper.

There was a noise over the line that clearly expressed Isoroku’s disgust with the question. “Of course I am. So who is she?”

“Sh-she…” It did not have to mean anything. Could be just a simple coincidence. It happened. Somehow, he was not buying that explanation though. But if Ayaka Usami was indeed the force behind Nami’s crusade…

“She what? Come on man! I did not lose a night’s sleep for free. Who is she?” Isoroku demanded.

“Fiancée,” Chishin muttered. He was beyond flabbergasted, but it made a sick sort of sense. Put her into the picture and it all finally started to make sense.

“Huh?”

“Ayaka Usami was supposed to marry Eiri Yuki,” he explained in a stronger voice.

“No kidding?”

“Actually,” Chishin corrected, “their fathers arranged for them to get married, but Eiri decided to marry Shindou instead.”

“Well. Well. Interesting.”

Chishin was not so sure that “interesting” covered it.

+---+---+

Park Axis Ochanomizu - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan

With a “thank you” tossed kindly over her shoulder, Mai Shindou stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk. The sweltering heat encased her immediately. Of course, she had to choose one of the hottest days of the year for this little fieldtrip. Lucky her. At least her husband was at work. He never would have allowed her to do this.

As the bus pulled away from the curb and started down the street where it vanished around the corner, she glanced at the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to get her bearings. She had no idea where she was. She hoped she hadn’t gotten off at the wrong stop. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a lined sheet of paper that had been ripped out of a spiral bound notebook. She unfolded it and tried to read the chicken scratch scribbled on it. Her daughter’s handwriting was atrocious. “Park Axis Ochanomizu,” she read the unfamiliar name slowly. She glanced up from the paper at the buildings around her. They all looked alike. How was she supposed to tell which was which? “Excuse me,” she called after a man in a business suit. “Can you tell me where the Park Axis Ochanomizu building is?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied kindly and pointed across the street at a glass and metal high-rise building.

Mai breathed a sigh of relief. She had gotten off at the right stop. After thanking the man, she waited for a break in the traffic and darted across the street.

+---+---+

Ryugan Temple - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan

It was a beautiful day. Oh, yes it was.

Humming the wedding march happily, she strolled, practically skipping, around the koi pond behind the house, picking the flowers that grew wildly along the back wall. The bouquet’s sweet fragrance tickled her senses. Maybe she could use these same flowers in her bridal bouquet. She was sure her grandmother would love it for it was her grandmother’s grandmother who originally planted the flowers.

She giggled gaily. Never before had she felt as fortunate and ecstatic as she was at this moment.

Shindou was willing get the paternity test done.

But…

The smile slipped and the merriment she has been feeling since she received the news this morning died a quick death. Stopping her leisurely walk around the pond, she frowned into the colorful bouquet of flowers clutched in her small hand. She thought about what that could mean, really thought about it for the first time. As much as she did not want to think about the possibility, she could be wrong. That Aizawa guy could be the biological father of Shindou’s son. It could explain why he was confident enough to agree to her challenge.

She shook the negative thoughts away.

No. She knew she was right. She had to be. It was not as if Shindou had agreed. No, he had caved in under the pressure. Why else would it have taken so long for him to agree to get the DNA paternity test done? If he had been so confident of his son’s biological genes, he would have agreed right away, right? Yes, the statement that he released claimed that he had “nothing to prove”. That no matter what the results came back as, “Eiri was little Takanori’s father”. So his reluctance could be chalked up to pride and stubbornness.

But…

What if she was?

No. It didn’t matter, she decided. There were always other ways after all.

One way or another she would crush Shuichi Shindou and Eiri would be hers.

She wondered if Eiri would not mind having the ceremony here. Of course, her father would be the officiate. His father could not very well do it. First, though, before they could be married, he had to divorce that little whore of his. But that was an easy fix. Then, of course, there was that waiting period required by law…

Ayaka blinked down in confusion at the crushed flowers in her hand. How did that happen, she wondered.

+---+---+

Park Axis Ochanomizu - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan

“May I help you?” asked a soft, but demanding voice from behind her.

Startled, Mai spun around. With a hand over her racing heart, she laughed lightly at being caught unawares.

Standing before her was a young girl about the same height as her son, though she wasn’t as lithe as he was. Her hair had been pulled into a side ponytail, the long strawberry blond tresses hanging freely over her shoulder. Casually dressed in a way too short jean skirt, a black velvet zip up hoodie over a white T-shirt, black stockings and black leather heeled boots, she seemed to be scrutinizing her, as if trying to decide whether or not she belonged in the building or not.

“Is there something I can help you with?” the girl reiterated.

“Oh, uhm, well, I’m trying to find my son’s apartment.” Mai glanced down at the sheet of paper still clutched in her hand. “Apartment number 2108?” She glanced at the girl hopefully.

“You mean Shu?”

“Yes,” Mai confirmed with a nod and a grateful smile. “Yes. That’s him. Shuichi Shindou.”

The girl crossed her arms over her chest and regarded her with suspicion. “You’re Shu’s mother?” It sounded as if she did not believe her.

“Yes I am.” Technically, he was her son’s son, thus making him her grandson, but when the executives at L8r Records decided that one of their rising stars was too young to become a parent (not too mention what it would do to their record sales if the news were to get out that Japan‘s newest teen idol had a kid), she had decided to adopt him and raise him as her own so that he would not become lost within the system.

Raise him as her own. She had to wince at that. After voluntarily taking her grandson into her house, she’d done a lousy job as a mother, hadn’t she? But that was why she was here. Hopefully it wasn’t too late to make things right.

“Funny. He always said his mother was locked away in some loony bin.”

Mai blinked. “What?”

The girl continued to regard Mai with open hostility. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here. I don’t know if you’re really Shu’s mother or what and it‘s not really any of my business, but he hasn’t been here since yesterday morning.”

“He’s not here?”

“Yeah. He left with a small overnight bag and said depending on how things went, he just might be moving out.”

Mai mulled that over. Moving out? Did that mean that he and Eiri had gotten back together? One could only hope. “Thank you,” she mumbled, half distracted by her thoughts, as she exited the building.

“He always said his mother was locked away in some loony bin.”

What did that mean?

---TBC---

(1) This is a real problem in Indonesia.
(2) This is the real mission of EWTN, which is a Roman Catholic cable channel here in the States

A/N: Thought you guys would find this little factoid a little interesting. “With the ability to do early ultrasounds, we have learned that many pregnancies start out with two babies, but one is lost in the first few weeks. The loss is so early that even the woman does not know about it; without ultrasound, we would never have known this was happening.” Found it on: yourtotalhealth (dot) ivillage (dot) com (slash) pregnancy (dash) possible (dash) miscarry (dash) one (dash) twin (dot) html.

A/N 2: All the residential towers/buildings are real, but I may have moved their location for my benefit.

A/N 3: I am SOOOO sorry that this is so late! Gomen! I sorta hit a roadblock so I ended up working on “Kin no Shuichi”, my original fantasy epic and turning “Sorry” into an original story. That gave me time to think over what I wanted to happen with “Still Raining”. The chapters should be coming out faster than before. So, was it worth the wait?