Disclaimer: You know it. I don't have any rights or claims to Ghost Hunt, just the following story that borrows from our beloved manga. As with all my stories, I like to follow the story and take my own liberties.

P.S. Spoiler alert! Though you're reading fanfiction so no doubt you've seen it all before.

On Unsteady Ground
An unlikely pair finds an unlikely friendship.

Part One

When she first saw him she did not immediately recognize him as one of the others. One of those souls who had passed from the world of the living but still remained as mere shadows of their former selves. She saw them everywhere, the Others: riding the train, drifting aimlessly down the street or through shopping malls, waiting for a bus that would not come. She saw them everywhere, even when she did not seek them out herself. She should have known, she supposed, in retrospect, as his figure caught her gaze in a way that few living people ever had.

She'd been gazing absently out the window, passing the time between school and home in silence, watching the scene of a familiar park go by when her eyes fell upon him. It was utterly unlike her, she knew, but she was struck with the overwhelming desire to speak to him. When she turned her head as they passed, he lifted his gaze toward her before lowering it again to the pigeons at his feet. That was when she knew. She was curious, of course—wondering why this spirit could sense her gaze—but she also felt an obligation to go to him. Seeking out spirits and assisting them in finding their way to the peaceful afterlife was her duty, after all.

"Drop me off here, please," she told the driver, and the man nodded and maneuvered the car to the side of the street, slowing to a stop.

Masako Hara stepped out of the car, her dark eyes scanning the park. While instantly recognizable in her signature hōmongi kimonos, Masako was just as anonymous when she was not donned in the traditional garb, and perhaps even more so when wearing her school uniform. In a black coat over her navy plaid skirt, black tights and loafers, at first glance she very nearly looked like every other fifteen-year old school girl in the city. A stiff breeze blew through her hair, pushing her forward, and she hurried down the path that led to the center of the park.

As she approached she could see his figure more clearly. Her eyebrows knit together as she realized how young he was—certainly not much older than she. He was still watching the pigeons as she walked toward him, the birds scuttling away at first and then in a great commotion of flapping wings, the flock flew away as she advanced. He turned his gaze from the ground to the sky, watching them circle the park together, disappearing behind the trees.

She stood in silence, her eyes resting on his turned back. When he made no motion to face her, she spoke.

"Are you lost?" She asked quietly.

He turned then, a sad smile on his features. "I suppose I am." He sighed and walked toward her. "Lost in that I don't know the way home, but I'm not ready to go home yet, anyway."

The wind rustled the trees above her, the bare branches swaying in the breeze. It was early spring; the cherry blossoms hadn't yet begun to bloom in Tokyo, though she'd seen on the forecast that they were making their way up from Kagoshima and southern Kyushu. He stopped when he was only a pace away from her and she drew in her breath when she saw his brilliant blue eyes. The color marked him as a foreigner, but it was not only that which surprised her. There was palpable wisdom and sadness contained within those eyes and it was that which made her gasp.

"Where is home for you?"

The same sad smile tugged at his features. "It used to be England. Cambridge."

Masako felt a pang of sadness. It was so far away.

"Don't make that face," the boy said, exhaling through his nose in disgust. He slowly began to walk and Masako followed him, walking a step behind him. "Home is where your family is, anyway, so maybe I shouldn't say that. We hadn't been living in Cambridge for very long, either. It's not like I'll terribly miss it."

"Your family isn't there anymore?"

"You could say that."

Out of the corner of her gaze Masako watched him smile again slightly. It was a very peculiar feeling, to walk next to a spirit calmly, as she was. Even when she encountered benign spirits she felt uneasy. This boy, however, was different.

"How long have you been in Japan?" She asked gently.

He closed his eyes, thinking. "It seems like forever," he admitted. "But I think it's only been two weeks. No, three now. It's been a week since…" his voice trailed off. He didn't need to finish his statement.

Masako was relieved that he was aware that he had died. She had never enjoyed telling spirits that they were no longer among the living, and none ever seemed to appreciate the revelation. His ghostly expression had dimmed and she felt prompted to distract him from the thoughts of his death. "Did you come to Japan for vacation?"

"Something like that." He stopped and turned his face to look at her again, eyes apologetic. "I should tell you, I imagine, that I know who you are. After all, you're rather famous. It only seems fair to say that, Hara-san."

Masako suddenly felt embarrassed. "You saw me on television?" She asked tentatively.

He hesitated and nodded. She had the distinct impression that there was more to say—something in his eyes betrayed him, but he remained silent.

"You're much shorter than I imagined," he finally said, and for the first time she became aware of how she had to lift her chin to look at him, even as he gazed down at her coolly. "And you look much younger in your uniform." He grinned at her, eyes teasing. "It's very cute. You look much more approachable, Hara-san. Or should I say, Masako-chan?"

Masako felt a flush rise to her cheeks at both the word cute and the affectionate way he said her first name. "On a first-name basis already?" she retorted defensively. "Awfully forward when I don't even know your name."

"Gene," he answered, smiling down at her. "My name is Gene."

"Gene," she repeated, and with a small smile, she bowed toward him ever so slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm delighted to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," he said, and laughing, he repeated the set phrase of the traditional greeting. "You don't say that to spirits often, do you? Hajimemashite, douzo yoroshiku." He shook his head slightly, eyes suddenly distant. "Though it's not a bad idea. Hm…" he exhaled slightly and gestured with his head forward. "Walk with me, Masako?"

She nodded and followed him, once again walking half a pace behind him down the deserted path. "Nobody here today…" he murmured absently.

"Is there usually?" He nodded and she continued. "Do you come here often?"

"Just a couple times. My brother's staying at that hotel." He lifted his hand and pointed toward a distant building, visible above the trees. "Must be the weather," he mused.

Masako remained silent, watching him, wondering. She wanted to ask him about his brother, why he had come to Japan and how he had died, but the words would not form on her lips.

He suddenly turned toward her, watching her with a scrutinizing gaze. "Are you nervous?"

Masako paused. "No, I don't think I am," she said honestly.

He smiled. He seemed relieved. "I'm glad." He turned his head away from her again, gazing at the distant hotel. "I should go. I start feeling guilty when I'm away from his side for very long." He turned toward her, smiling apologetically, though through his pleasant expression she could see the pain of loneliness clearly in his eyes. "And I've probably kept you, as well. It's getting late. Your parents must be expecting you."

"They're not," she said flatly.

"Well, then, certainly the famous medium Hara Masako needs to do her homework and get her beauty sleep."

"My homework is already finished, thank you," Masako said primly, and he grinned at her in response, eyes twinkling with his jest. A small smile twitching at her lips, she wondered if she had ever had a conversation like this with a living person before and how she could feel so comfortable speaking with a spirit.

"Do you think we could meet again like this?" Gene asked, watching her. "It's nice to talk to someone for a change. It gets lonely," he admitted, "being by yourself all the time. Well—you know."

"No," Masako disagreed quietly. "But I can imagine."

The ghostly smile drifted across his lips once again. It was a sad smile, both nostalgic and longing and was yet completely accepting. With that smile she could see there was something more he wished to say but would not voice. "What about tomorrow?" He asked instead. "I understand if you're busy," he added quickly.

It was a peculiar feeling. She did want to see him again: she wanted to learn more about him, to know what thoughts he held behind that smile and his mysterious eyes, eyes that held sadness and wisdom even as he teased her. To discover he felt similarly pleased her in a way she could not have expected. "I could come here again tomorrow after school," she offered.

He smiled again. It was a beautiful smile, she thought. Easy, honest, and unwavering. "I would like that."

…

True to her word, the following day Masako returned to the park after school. Gene was sitting on a bench and she slowly approached, sitting down next to him. He turned his head and she gave a short nod in acknowledgement.

"You came," he remarked, gazing at her steadily.

"You're surprised?" Masako frowned.

"No," he said, shaking his head and his face widening in a broad smile. "You don't seem like the sort of person to break your word. But.. you know. I'm sure you're busy with schoolwork and your TV show and all that. I guess… I thought it would make sense if you wouldn't be able to make it. So I'm glad you came." He turned his gaze forward, a pleasant look on his face, his eyes moving over the park. "There are more people here today," he remarked.

She nodded, listening to the bright sounds of children playing, calling and laughing with one another. The park was full of lively activity. There was a game of soccer underway on the far field, boys in shorts and t-shirts shouting as they ran, kicking the ball to one another. There was even a small group of spectators: classmates, most likely, Masako thought, cheering encouragement from the side. A different area of the park, past a small enclosure where dogs ran free, a group of women chatted together—mothers, most likely—watching the children play on the playground. Masako inhaled deeply, noticing for the first time that she could smell spring in the air. "Today is sunny," she finally said simply.

"Warm, too." He glanced at her. "Isn't it?"

"You can't tell?"

He shook his head. "I can't really feel the temperature. I can only make my own conjectures. Yesterday you were wearing a scarf. Today you have your coat unbuttoned."

She nodded absently. They sat in silence for some time before the spirit spoke again.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I asked you to come here to talk to me, and I'm hardly making conversation."

She shook her head. "Take your time."

"Don't you need to go home?"

Her gaze was distant, having moved from the inhabitants of the park to watching the tops of the trees that surrounded it. "Eventually."

"What about your TV show?"

"I'm off this week, actually. A break in the programming. They don't have filming every week, anyway." Masako glanced at him, sideways, a frown hovering on her lips. "If you want me to leave, just say it. You're not going to hurt my feelings."

"It's not that," Gene grumbled, turning his head away. "It just seems… strange. That you'd willfully choose to spend your time with someone like me."

Her frown deepened slightly. "Why?"

"Why?" He laughed, though his smile seemed unnatural and his eyes distant compared to the innocent and carefree expression he'd held only moments before. "The habit of assumption, I suppose. Because I'm dead. And I know you say that doesn't make any difference to you," he said quickly, "I know you say on your show that the souls of the living and the spirits of the dead look the same to you, but I don't buy it. I don't believe it for a second."

Masako's gaze had settled firmly in her lap, the fingers of one hand idly moving over the tips of the other. "Of course it's not true," she said quietly. "They don't look the same. Of course they don't. But that doesn't mean the living are somehow more important than those who are no longer."

"You should say that on your show," Gene grumbled. "In front of a camera."

"I have," she said quietly. "But it'll never be aired. Probably. Most of what I say just gets edited out. The network doesn't care about what I think, or what the truth of the matter may be. They only want to sensationalize the spiritual world and make a profit."

Gene paused, considering her. "I take it that TV show wasn't your idea."

Masako smiled wryly. "Of course not."

"Do you enjoy it?"

She paused, considering. "You could say I've gotten used to it. There are parts I enjoy." She sighed. "I suppose it's good to get used to it. I'll probably do the show until I get too old and the network finds a younger, new medium to broadcast and sensationalize. By that time I won't have any skills to apply to the real world, and I doubt I'll be able to make a living as a medium. I'll probably get some menial office job and live off my savings from the show.. at least the money I can keep out of the hands of my mother and grandmother."

"That's pessimistic."

"It's realistic," she corrected.

Gene exhaled and looked away. "Realism. Overrated. Especially for the dead."

A small smile crossed her features. "True."

"How was school?"

She shrugged slightly. "Normal. Fine. Boring."

"You don't have any friends, do you?" Masako glared at him, insulted. "Well," he said quickly, "considering that you see spirits everywhere, people might initially flock to you but then they always leave when it's too much for them." He sighed. "That's how people are."

"Yeah," she said, sighing a little. "That's how people are."

Seeing her expression droop, Gene changed the subject. "Your studies going well? You must miss a lot of school."

"I do miss a lot," Masako agreed, "but the network provides a tutor. When we're filming I have private lessons, so I'm still near the top of my class."

"Best subject?"

"History."

"Worst?"

Masako made a slight face of disgust, though it lasted only a moment on her features. "English."

He laughed. "Japanese people are never very good at English. Even those in your class that do well on the tests, I bet they couldn't hold a real conversation."

"You're generalizing," she protested, and then frowned. "You're from England, aren't you? Since you're perfectly fluent in Japanese I had assumed at first you must be Japanese-born, but…"

His lips twisted in a strange smile. "I am hardly fluent."

"You should help me speak English, practice with me," she suggested, and Gene shook his head.

"It won't work. If I was still alive, but..." His voice trailed off. "I could speak English or German or French and you'd never hear anything besides Japanese."

The realization hit her suddenly, and she wondered why she hadn't noticed before. It seemed very obvious now, the hints in his conversation that had all pointed to one thing. "You're a medium."

"Was," he corrected.

She thought for a moment. "Have you been speaking English to me all this time?"

"No… mostly Japanese." He squinted toward the sky. "Sometimes though, I don't know how to express myself in Japanese. So I speak in English. Or… half and half." He turned and looked at her, grinning. "It's nice that it doesn't make a difference to you."

"It's not me," Masako frowned, thinking about the spirits of a plane crash she'd once encountered; the cacophony of screams in foreign languages she couldn't understand so loud she couldn't bear them. "You weren't just a medium, you were a perfect medium, weren't you?"

He shrugged, looking away. "Something like that."

"Can I ask you what it's like?"

"Hard to describe," he started, and paused. "It's not like if someone was speaking in a language I couldn't understand, instead I would just hear English coming out of their mouth. I could hear their words and would recognize them as unfamiliar, but somehow I would understand the meaning, in the back of my head. Kind of like when I was first learning French and realized my mind understood; I didn't need to translate one word to another." Her steady gaze prompted him to continue. "At some point you don't need to think of a verre as a glass. The step of translating just disappears when you know, when you understand. A verre is a verre the same way a glass is a glass. It's interchangeable; it's not the word but the object itself holds the meaning."

"When you were learning French?" Masako asked, curious. "Not Japanese?"

"No, my brother and I grew up bilingual. Or semi-bilingual, you could say—even though we spoke Japanese to each other we weren't completely fluent. We spoke English at home." He frowned again. "Maybe it's more like synonyms. When you hear the word joy you don't think of it as another word for happy. You just think of it as joy." He glanced at her, wondering if she understood his meaning. "Or koppu," he said the Dutch-derived Japanese word for drinking glass, "and garasu," the English-derived word. "They're different but they mean the same thing."

Masako nodded thoughtfully. "I probably can't really understand, can I," she finally said slowly.

"No," he said honestly, and grinned. "But that's okay. That perfect medium-ness, or whatever, was overrated too." He turned his head, watching a couple of elementary-school students walk by, who were watching Masako and snickering behind their hands.

"People will think you're crazy, you know, sitting here and having half a conversation with yourself."

"Everyone thinks I'm out of my mind, anyway." Masako frowned. "Even my family thinks so, though they won't say it. At least not to my face."

"It doesn't bother you?"

Masako pressed her lips together, glaring at the students. "I don't care what other people think anymore. Who are they, anyway? A couple of nobodies. I'll never see them again. So why should I care?"

"It was the same for me," Gene admitted. "Always 'look at him, he's bloody mental', and the like." A smile lifted the corners of his lips. "I didn't care, but my brother hated it. It was all I could do to keep him from going after them when he heard them say things like that."

Masako looked up, curious. It was the second mention of his brother. "Your brother defended your honor?" She asked, concealing a smile behind her hand.

"Honor," Gene snorted. "He just wanted to degrade their intellect and insult them until they were nothing but simpering piles of mush. And Masako," he continued, "don't hide your smile like that. You have a beautiful smile, and I want to see it." Masako blushed pink at his words. He reached toward her, as if to take her hand, but he could not touch her. Instead, she slowly lowered her hand, eyes averted.

"That's more like it," he agreed, and her cheeks burned.

They sat in silence, watching the children play across the park, until Gene finally stood to leave. "Tomorrow, then?"

She smiled. "Tomorrow."

…

Thus began their meetings. Every afternoon, after school, Masako would go to the park and he would seek her out for conversation. The topics ranged from paranormal to the mundane. Recollections and stories of events that only a medium could witness as well as recounting moments that any teenager could understand. It was the first time in many years, at least since Masako could remember, that someone had been interested in her life as a whole, rather than simply as a medium on a TV show. Gene asked her about school; homework, teachers and classmates, as well as her own hobbies and interests. It was somewhat surprisingly to her that she could talk with him so easily. Try as she might, however, Gene always steered the conversation away from himself, preferring to ask her about herself. When he did speak of his own experiences and thoughts, it was evident that he had been incredibly advanced for his age—perhaps even a genius. When Masako remarked upon the fact he waved his hand dismissively.

"If you think I'm smart, you should meet my brother, he's brilliant. I've got nothing on him."

It was a rare mention of his brother again. "Is he older than you?"

"Younger, actually," Gene said absently, and changed the subject.

"Are you ever approached by clients?" He asked her, his hands in his pockets as they walked down the path. "Separate from your TV show, I mean?"

Masako gave a short nod. "There are busy periods with the network when I cannot take many personal calls, but in short, yes."

He smiled at her, a smile that was both teasing and sympathetic. "You must be very busy."

"What about you? Certainly, if anyone knew you were a medium they'd have come to you with the same requests I receive—" Masako asked, but Gene simply shrugged, an ambiguous sound escaping his lips as he exhaled.

"Occasionally. Not being on television helps keep one out of the media, I daresay. And perhaps my personal circumstances were much different than yours." He lifted his gaze back to hers. "Is it nice, having a week off from your show?" His lips quirked into a grin. "From my limited knowledge of show business, it sounds like it must be very tiring."

"It is," she agreed, and sighed. "But I don't like switching between it and the rest of my life. Just when I get used to the rhythm of the show—we stop filming and I have to go back to school. And just when school starts to feel normal and my classmates stop treating me like a complete stranger—I have to go somewhere far away." She shook her head slightly. "It's like I live in two different worlds. It can be disorienting, sometimes, switching between them."

"Your family must go with you, when you travel, right?" Gene asked, but Masako shook her head. He looked surprised, frowning. "They don't?"

"Honestly, I hardly see my mother these days. She's a stewardess, so she's wherever her flight lands at the end of the day. Usually in Seoul or Shanghai, Hong Kong or Manila. And when she's in Tokyo, she's either out shopping or staying with her lover. My father.." her voice trailed off. "Also nonexistant. He doesn't live in Tokyo anymore. My maternal grandmother looks after me."

"It wasn't always like that, though," she said, her eyes following a couple who were pushing a stroller and walking a dog in tandem. "We used to live in a small house in a quiet neighborhood, away from the main house that my grandmother lives in. My parents had a dog when I was young," she started slowly, almost surprised at the words coming out of her mouth. She'd never talked about her past like this before. She could feel his eyes upon her and so she continued. "It was a big dog; an akita inu. We would go to a park like this and play together."

Gene watched her. Her eyes were distant, a trace of sadness visible in the dark orbs. "What happened?" He finally asked.

Masako smiled bitterly. "Nothing good can last, I suppose." She exhaled, sitting down on the park bench and tapping her shoes on the pavement. Gene sat down next to her in a fluid, silent movement as she continued. "When my parents divorced, my father got the dog. My mother got me." She shook her head and a short, painful chuckle escaped her lips. "Though I think I would have rather stayed with that dog more than my parents, and escaped to Aoyama like he did."

"I'm sorry," he said simply, and she shook her head.

"It was a long time ago."

"Couldn't have been that long ago." Gene muttered, and sighing, rested his head in his hands, watching the running children.

"What day is it today, anyway?"

"Friday."

"Ah.. You don't have school tomorrow, do you?" She shook her head. "You film next week?"

"Yeah," Masako said, and frowned, correcting herself. "Yes." When she spoke with Gene she'd started to slip into casual speech more and more often. "I think my producer said we would be filming in Nagoya."

"Different scenery, huh. How long will you be there?"

"Almost the whole week. We return Thursday evening."

"Will you go to school on Friday?" She nodded, and he grinned at her. "Next Friday, then? Promise?"

Masako smiled, her hand lifting unconsciously toward her mouth, but stopping halfway before falling back to her side. "Yeah. Until next Friday."

…

She found she was restless, the following Friday. It had been a week after their last meeting, and the days couldn't pass fast enough. The sky was dark and cloudy, and by late afternoon it had begun to rain: lazily, at first, but the scattered drops soon became persistent and uniform until a downpour was streaking the windows. From her seat in the back of the car, Masako gazed absently at the street, watching the falling water hit the pavement in large splatters, ricocheting into other raindrops and turning to mist. The sound of the windshield wipers was steady against the constant patter of rain on the roof. She leaned forward as the sight of the park came into view.

"Let me out here, please," she instructed the driver.

"In this rain?" The man sputtered, eyes wide in surprise. "I'm sorry, Hara-san, but your grandmother asked me to bring you straight home today—"

Her eyes hardened. "Let me out here," Masako commanded coldly, and the man hastily obliged, reluctant to disobey.

She walked under her umbrella but her shoes and stockings around her ankles were soon soaked through. Walking through the deserted park she searched for him in vain. It seemed that the spirit, too, was held at bay by the pouring rain. She wondered briefly if he'd lost track of the days before she began to wonder if he had forgotten about her and their promise. Releasing a heavy sigh, Masako paused under the boughs of a budding tree, holding her umbrella tight with both hands. Gene was nowhere to be found.

She knew it was wrong. That if anyone knew she was returning, day after day to meet a spirit—for what?—they would tell her it was an awful idea. Even more so that she was offering no assistance to the spirit to help it seek the afterlife. In fact, she'd rather started to forget of Gene as a spirit at all—or even as one of the departed. And to think of a spirit as the same of the living—to forget a spirit was dead—certainly that was her greatest transgression of all.

She sighed again, trying to remind herself that spirits generally had no interest in keeping promises and that even if he had, his absence could suggest that he had moved on—which would surely be a good thing. Ultimately, the living and dead should not stay in the same world, she reminded herself. She remained where she was for some time, listening to the rain and trying to convince herself she was glad he was not there before setting herself in motion once more.

She was leaving the park, walking back toward the thoroughfare when an approaching figure, veiled by the thick rain, caught her eye. She paused, wondering at first why he seemed familiar as she watched his steady gait.

He was young—certainly not much older than she. Her eyes widened when she saw his form, clothed entirely in black and very much among the living, and she suddenly understood. Gene's brother. Gene's twin brother.

Twins.

What had he said? My brother's staying at that hotel.

A perfect medium.

Something like that, he'd said nonchalantly, shrugging and looking away.

My brother and I grew up bilingual. Even though we spoke Japanese to each other we weren't completely fluent. We spoke English at home.

He was walking toward her. He must have seen her stare. She drew in her breath when she saw his brilliant blue eyes, so familiar, and yet—so incredibly different. Gene's eyes had been warm. These were cold. Gene's face—fluid, flexible, changing. Laughing, grinning, winking, pouting, teasing and playful. This face was stoic, a mask of somber resolution. A smile would look foreign with those eyes.

She'd heard of them, those famous twins from England. Cambridge, Gene had told her. We hadn't been living in Cambridge for very long.

Masako couldn't remember exactly when she'd first heard of them, or where, but in the world of parapsychology they were famous: a perfect medium and his twin, a boy with volatile and incredible PK-MT. They were young, not even ten years old when their powers were discovered. They were adopted by a man who was both a parapsychology researcher and professor at a large English university—hadn't she also heard the twins were half-Japanese?

She had never realized that those famous twins were still young, never would have thought they were still teenagers. The hearsay often commented on their accomplishments together and how early their powers had manifested and how accurately demonstrated to researchers, and yet it had never brought to light the fact that all of this had happened within the span of five years or less. Didn't one of them hold a doctorate, weren't they together becoming respected researchers in the field? Despite what she had believed previously, now, she was sure. In fact, now that she'd made the connection she wondered how had she never seen it before. Gene was short for Eugene. Gene was the famous Eugene Davis. And his brother, standing before her, was his twin Oliver.

Masako turned her gaze away quickly, a flush creeping across her cheeks as she realized how blatantly she'd been staring. It had only been a few seconds but it was enough for him not to notice. The young man, ignoring her, walked past. As he passed she lifted her hand to cover her mouth, quieting a sob as tears filled her eyes. Closing her eyes, she cried silently, shrouded in the sounds of the heavy downpour around her.

She felt his presence beside her, even before she opened her eyes. "Don't cry, Masako. Why are you crying? There's nothing to cry about," a gentle voice pleaded.

"Gene," she whispered, relief unmasked in her voice. "You shouldn't be here. I thought… I thought…"

"That I had passed on?" He smiled sadly. "Sorry. You know us ghosts. Unfinished business and all that."

"You shouldn't be here," she repeated softly.

"Maybe," he said dubiously. "I just thought I should warn you. So you could prepare yourself."

"Prepare myself?" Masako questioned, and he hurried past her. She turned to follow him but stopped in her tracks.

It was his living brother that was waiting for her. "I didn't recognize you at first," the boy said flatly. He'd been standing at a respectable distance behind her, watching her as she'd cried under her umbrella. "And when so many days passed without you coming here, I thought I must have been mistaken. But the fact that you returned here today confirms my suspicions, Hara Masako-san."

"Am I not free to go as I please?" Masako asked haughtily, though there was a tremor in her voice.

"Of course." He walked closer toward her, watching her carefully. He frowned, stopping at an arm's length in front of her. He'd seen her stare, earlier, and even now she regarded him uneasily. "Do I remind you of someone, Hara-san?"

Masako said nothing, not willing to say the truth nor could she bring herself to lie. "You've seen me come here before, then?" She finally asked lightly, her eyes narrowing.

"I couldn't help but notice." He was watching her closely, his eyes piercing. "You continue to return to this place because there is a spirit here. That much is obvious. I have seen you speaking with someone, even when you are alone."

"Yes." Masako said honestly, agreeably. "And I returned to this park today for the same reason. Is that how you knew who I was, Davis-san?"

He stiffened slightly at his name, his eyes flashing. She was watching him closely and caught the slight narrow of his eyes, the purse of his lips. As she had suspected, he had not thought that she would know who he was, and there was only one way she could arrive at that conclusion. "Then it is him that you meet?"

She bobbed her head in a small nod.

He exhaled sharply through his teeth, and she saw his face unmasked for the first time. There was unmistakenable sorrow and grief, but a shadow of relief seemed to pass over his eyes. "What has he told you?"

Masako paused, considering. What had Gene told her about himself? "Almost nothing."

"You're lying," he said sharply.

"It's the truth." She gazed up at him, resisting the urge to flinch from his cold stare. "I had gathered that he was a medium. I did not realize who he was until I saw you."

He stared at her impassively for several moments, regarding her. The sound of the rain seemed almost deafening between them, as Masako waited for him to speak. He finally gave a short nod, as if to acknowledge what she had said and turned away to leave. "Do me a favor," Oliver said quietly, his head only turned partially toward her. "The next time you see him, if you ever see him again, ask him where he died." He handed her a business card, the paper splashed with raindrops as it passed through the space between his umbrella and hers. Shibuya Psychic Research.

"Shibuya Kazuya?" She questioned, reading the name on the card, even as he had begun to walk away.

He paused once more, stilling. "That is I. I would appreciate it if you did not tell anyone that Oliver Davis is currently in Japan."

Searching for his dead brother, Masako thought, flinching slightly even as the words remained unsaid. "Of course," she said.

He gave a curt nod and turned away, and she watched him disappear into the rain. When he was gone, she turned in a slow circle, searching the park around her, but the entire area was empty again. Releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she sighed and felt the tension release from her shoulders.

She knew her driver was in the vicinity, waiting for her to finish at the park so he could take her home to her grandmother, but she had no intention of going home yet. Instead, she began to walk through the park, away from the road and down a narrow tree-lined path.

She nearly jumped when he appeared before her. "Where are you going?" Gene demanded, his voice annoyed. "You need to go home, Masako. It's getting dark and you're half soaked. You'll catch a cold in this weather."

"And you should go back to your brother," Masako said crossly, not sure why she was annoyed.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Are you mad that I didn't tell you?"

"Not... really." Masako said, looking away, finding that tears were once again gathering in her eyes. "It doesn't matter. It's just that... I just wish..." She broke off her statement and shook her head. Wishing for something wouldn't change anything. She turned her gaze back to him, eyes narrowing somewhat. "I'm supposed to ask you where you died."

Gene nodded thoughtfully, considering her words. "It would be possible for me to explain, I suppose." He closed his eyes, thinking. Almost immediately they flew open again. "No. Not today. You need to go home." he pointed toward the road for emphasis. "Besides, you're going to get a phone call from a distressed principal. He'd like you to come to his school. I wouldn't want you to miss it."

Masako looked alarmed. "You saw my future?"

"No," Gene said, snorting slightly. "My brother is about to take the same case. I overheard the principal say they were going to call you in as well." He looked amused. "Along with some other specialists... it will prove very interesting." He gave her a steady look. "You will keep your word, won't you, and keep his identity a secret?"

"I will," she said affirmatively. Even if she hadn't meant it when Oliver asked her (which she had), how could she refuse his twin?

"We won't be able to meet here again."

"I know."

"But I'll see you again, you know." He smiled reassuringly and Masako felt a rush of mixed emotions, so overwhelming she could not identify them. "Oh," the spirit said, as if an afterthought, who seemed to be growing faint. "When you see him, you can tell him that he needn't bother searching in Hokkaido anymore. I'd already left. That, at least, you can tell him." He gave Masako a small smile and disappeared.

Alone again, Masako turned her shoes back toward the road. Her grandmother, if she couldn't manage to avoid her when she returned, would scold her tonight. Usually that would fill her with dread, but tonight she was too distracted to think of such a thing. When she did return to her grandmother's household, she was spared the immediate lecture because her grandmother was out visiting with a friend—but later, Masako knew, her grandmother would get word of her truancy and certainly wouldn't miss the opportunity to rebuke her. She had only just changed out of her uniform and into dry clothes when her grandmother's attendant came searching for her, carrying the portable phone.

"Masako-san, there's a man on the telephone for your. He says he would like to request your assistance with a delicate matter." The woman's lips pursed. "Were you expecting a call?"

Masako couldn't help but smile. "Yes," she said. "I was."

Thank you for reading! I'd be so happy if you left a review and let me know what you thought.