AN: Sorry, so sorry! I really needed to update this, and it's so sad, because I had a plot going on, and I forgot it after while, and it's slowly starting to come back to me. This chapter, I kinda just edged into the story, and hopefully it will make sense later. I listen to you guys, I really do. And when I don't update, and when you tell me to update, I'm very very sorry. I really am. I know that literature in general serves as an escape for many of you, because that's what it is for me. When I'm going through tough times in life, I turn to reading to escape. So again, thank you for reading my story, and thank you for putting up with my irregular schedule. And I'm really, really sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Finder Series.

It wasn't until the question, "Where do you live," came up, that Takaba began to stretch the truth just slightly. The first actual "friend" he'd met in ages would certainly turn away from him if he'd learned that Takaba practically lived in a hospital, and he wasn't willing to sever this bond just yet.

"It's taking you an awfully long time to recall your living quarters," spoke Asami, "Do you live in an apartment? You don't look like you've been out on your own for too long."

Takaba decided to ignore the insult.
"Yeah, it's kinda small, by the hospital," he began, "its nice...where do you live?"

Asami shrugged, and looked up at the sky, "I live in the city," he responded, monotonously, "I work there as well."

"Fun job?" Takaba added.

Asami shrugged again, "It depends on the day."

Takaba nodded in understanding, "Same with me."

Asami didn't bother to question Takaba's profession, as he assumed that whatever it was remained strictly around photography, though he had an inkling that this boy wasn't telling him everything he wanted to know, that he was withholding certain information.

The wind blew through the park, and Asami looked down at Takaba, who had a thin green jacket on. The jacket was ugly, along with most of his outfit.

The clothes were outdated, and the colors were faded.

"Aren't you cold?" Asami asked, wondering where his sudden consideration came from, "your job doesn't supply you with the proper income to afford proper clothing?"
Takaba blushed at the comment, "I don't mind them," they're all I have,"they get the job done, right? I don't need a million yen clothing like you do_Hey, about that job, what did you want me to do? Do I need to be interviewed?"

Asami paused and revisited his initial intention, "Ahh, that" he smirked, "Are you really interested?"
Takaba's eyes widened like saucers, "If it has to do with photography, than hell yeah I'm interested, its what I'm best at!"

Asami stopped, and looked the photographer up and down.

"You should be better about how you dress," the older man began, "In business, appearance is a necessity."

Takaba looked at his ugly clothing, and felt his face heat up.

Asami sighed, "Do you need me to by your clothing?"

"I don't want to be a both-"
"Do you need more clothing? Your living conditions are none my concern, but the way in which you represent me as my photograph, that is my business. So do you need clothing?"

The boy looked away, and nodded.

"Then let's go now," Asami said, "while I have nothing to do." He turned swiftly on his heels, leaving the photograph in his wake.

Takaba stood there shocked, slightly confused at the man's generosity.

"Are you coming, or not?" Asami looked back for a short while, and then resumed his stride, "I refuse to have any of my employees wearing outdated, oversized clothing."

Takaba gasped at the insult, "It's not like everyone can buy a clothing store like you can!"

Asami spoke, "I never said I could, though I can. But that's not the point. I'm just trying to be polite."
Idiot! You're being rude, this man is offering to buy you clothes! When was the last time you went shopping?! Apologize before he drops you!

"S-sorry!" the photographer shuddered quickly, as he caught up to the older man, "I'm just tired."

"And that's an excuse for your attitude," responded the older man, slightly agitated.

The younger man averted his gaze, and looked at his feet.

He hated humbling himself, but Asami didn't deserve his scorn.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I can go if you want me to."

The older man raised an eyebrow at the action, and was slightly impressed.

"No," spoke the older man, "I want you to stay with me."

"You want me to stay with you?" sheepishly, the photographer looked back at the older man, "So I'm not fired?"

"You haven't even been officially hired yet," replied the older man.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dmitri pulled on the golden coils of his hair, and was surprised that he hadn't pulled them all out in his current state.

The boy was gone, that damn brat was gone! He hadn't even taken his medicine! How much longer did he have before his body succumbed to pain? How long would it be before his energy was zapped completely?

He raked a gloved hand through his hair, and stalked the long white hallways, tossing a, "Have you seen Akihito," into the air, here and there.

The answers were almost all the same.

"Nope, not since last night."

"Thought he was in his room."

"Whose Takaba Akihito?"

Akihito, the incredibly sick, apparently suicidal patient, was very dear to Dmitri, and though the child obviously threw his own caution to the wind, Dmitri had promised the boy's late parent's that he'd keep him alive as long as possible.

The father, Dmitri could care less about. He was never fond of Mr. Takaba. His bright red hair, his sly smirk and crude remarks had always pissed Dmitri off. He was an asshole.

Mrs. Lana Takaba, on the other hand, Dmitri felt his heart sink into the ground the moment her pink coffin was buried six feet under the soil.

God forbid Akihito discover that his parents had died. And Heaven help Dmitri of the young man attempted to contact them, and instead came into contact with business partners or friends.

He shuddered at the mere thought. Akihito was already broken, the treatment was killing him faster than his disease was, and with his supportive pare...mother out of the way, he'd lose his will to fight.

The Russian sighed and paced around the brightly lit hallway, occasionally checking Akihito's room to see if the younger man had returned.

The room was as vacant as it had been when Dmitri arrived that morning. The covers were slightly tousled, the closet door was left ajar, and the restroom door was wide open.

As usual, his camera was gone.

Dmitri sat on the bed, and sighed. He needed to calm his nerves and think. Where would the kid go?

Takaba loved photography, and when he escaped, he usually took to the park near the hospital. Only the past times that the boy had left, he'd usually taken his medicine before hand. Not to mention, he was starting the boy on a different medication...

He fell back on the narrow bed, pulled the fluffy pillow atop of his face, screamed like a toddler, and kicked his legs like an angry child.

He had an easier time working at the insane asylum in Russia.

A knock on the door-frame saw the end to his temper tantrum.

"Uh...Dmitri-"
"What is it Ryuisuke?" Snapped the Russian as he peaked through the pillow.

The Japanese man gulped as he soaked in the pathetic scene. "Are you okay? We heard you screaming."
Dmitri slowly remove the fluffy pillow from atop of his head, sat up on the small bed, and looked at the accumulating crowd standing behind the supervisor.

The clergy had scuffled into the mix, followed by a sprinkle of nurses, patients, and other concerned doctors.

"Did you...you know...take something?" The Russian raised an eyebrow at the assumption, "I mean on accident! Accident, not on purpose, never on purpose."

The crowd echoed with the coined phrase from the doctor, as they tried to assure Dmitri that they did not think that he was a drug addict.

"Maybe he's had too much Vodka?" A young patient supplied.

"Not all Russians drink Vodka," The blond debunked the common stereotype, as he stood and brushed himself off.

He turned towards the crowd. "You needn't worry," he spoke, somewhat calmer than before, "I'm fine. Just splendid."

Ryuisuke nodded, and adjusted his glasses, "Then where's-"
"I'm going to find him," Dmitri cut in, "Don't worry about it."
Ryuisuke nodded, "Just be...careful?"
The blond doctor grunted, "Thanks for the consideration."

"No problem," replied the Japanese man, "Just be back soon, and take his medication with you while you're looking for him."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Times had changed. Trends were new. Fashions were gone, and replaced with futuristic, skimpier clothing.

They were flashy, gaudy and revealing. They had moved on, they had evolved.

Takaba had stayed the same for years.

Even the inside of Asami's car had looked like a spaceship, and Takaba couldn't help himself. He explored every bit of it, crawled all around the leathers seats, pushed on light buttons, and twisted the radio nob. In the process, he received a very ugly look from the driver.

Asami could only smirk.

And now, inside of the clothing store, the photographer looked at the fabric, and the garments like gold, like something he'd never seen before, but dreamed of.

His eyes were wide, and glittering, his mouth was slightly agape, as if he was speechless.

"Don't know what to choose from?" Came Asami from behind Takaba.

The boy shook his head, "It's been...how long...?"

At that, Asami could tell that Akihito was no longer speaking to him, but perhaps someone in the back of his mind, or referring to a distant memory.

Asami felt the urge to know Akihito a little bit more than he already had. He wanted to know the kid like the back of his hand, to read him like a open book, and to get to experience this personality that he had never once in his life encountered.

This soul was frozen in time.

Just then, two store clerks came from the isles, running quickly to greet Asami.

"Hello Asami-sama," greeted a young girl, whose face was plastered with make up. Akihito shuddered, she looked like a clown. However, she did hold an air of authority to her, and her clothes weren't old and ugly, like Takaba's.

"Do you need to be re-sized?" Questioned the older woman, who walked behind Asami with a string of measuring tape, "Or are you looking to purchase something new?"

Asami looked towards Takaba, who had gone unnoticed by the two women until now. Their eyes widened slightly, though in Asami's presence, they learned to tame their emotions. Anyone who paraded around Asami was somebody, despite their outward appearance.

This child was a regurgitated piece of garbage, and his clothes certainly showed it. Not to mention, he looked sick.

"Him ?" the younger girl shrieked. Asami's glare silenced her instantly, and she sheepishly looked at her feet.
"I can always find a new clothing store to-"
"That won't be necessary Asami-sama," the older woman spoke up, casting an ugly scowl at her partner, "we'll be happy to dress this young man."

"If you don't want to dress me, then i'll leave," Takaba said gruffly, as he made way to turn around.

Akane, the older store clerk, went rigid as the young man began to make his leave. Asami was one of her highest paying customers, her store gained it's reputation because of him!

And her assistant had so rudely addressed his partner! If that boy walked out of her doors, so did her fame and recognition.

"Young man!" she called sharply, quickly brushing past her employee, and catching the younger by the back of the shirt, "Like I said, we'd be happy to find the right clothing for you, just ecstatic.You won't find service like ours anywhere else in Japan. Trust me."

Takaba gulped, and looked at the woman. She was desperate, he could tell by the look in her eyes. Her entire fortune rested on his shoulders, he supposed. Walking out meant Asami walking out behind him, and he assumed that her business would crumble when that happened.

For the first time in ages, he was in control. He looked past her, towards her younger employee, whose face was red with embarrassment, and could feel Asami's eyes on his back.

The older man was waiting for him to make a decision.

He sighed. These people really didn't deserve his service.

"Okay," he sounded slightly deflated, "I'll be happy to shop here."

Akane's eyes lit up. She didn't believe it!

"Well, get to it then," Asami began.

"I-I_Yes! Let's get to it!" She grabbed Akihito by the arm, and made way to take him to the back.

She would dress this boy like a prince!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The air was cold and crisps, prickling against Dmitri's face, blowing his hair into his watery eyes. He wrapped his arms around his shivering figure, and pulled his white coat tighter around his body. He felt like an ice cube.

Damn that brat for dragging him all the way into the open, and not even considering the freezing temperature.

Behind him, Ryuisuke kicked at the grass, and the pebbles across the ground. Dmitri had dragged him along when he remembered that he could not speak Japanese.

The younger man had conversed with the scarce park individuals, asking them if they'd seen a sickly boy with a large camera.

A few people had spotted him, and to Dmitri's dismay, had seen him leave the park with another man.

Takaba was naive, and Dmitri could only imagine the kind of person he drove away with. The man was probably covered in tattoos, probably had gold teeth too.

Either way, Akihito probably wouldn't see anything wrong with him.

The civilians had managed to supply them with a general direction, but other than that, the two doctors were on their own.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOA pile of clothes lay discarded on the ground, and Akane came from the back, with another stack of garments in her arms. Nothing seemed to fit the photographer's liking. Not to mention, the poor boy was as thin as a twig.

No wonder Asami was buying him clothing, he probably didn't have enough money to buy his own. He couldn't even buy food for himself.

Speaking of Asami, the man had detached himself from the dressing photographer, and had gone around to look for clothing of his own.

He gave Kirishima the opportunity to scan the isles for something he may like, but the older man declined, and stayed by his boss's side.

"Too big," Akana muttered, as she tossed a shirt to the young girl standing beside her, "My my child, when was the last time you ate a full meal?"

"I uh-"
"Do us all a favor, and beg Asami-sama to take you out for lunch," Akane smirked, "God knows you need it."

Takaba blushed, "I'm just an employee..."
"Surely you must be more than that," Akana was appalled, "A family friend perhaps?"

Takaba shrugged as she placed another shirt in front of him, and sized him by sight. She'd done this long enough to know what the perfect fit looked like.

Another failure, and another shirt tossed to her hopeless assistant.

The room was stuffy as clothes made their way in and out of the room, and with the light shining above head, reflecting off of the mirrors, it was getting hot.

Takaba sighed, and rolled up his thick sleeves.

Akane didn't hide her shock this time. She gasped, and brought a hand to her mouth. The clothes fell to the ground.

His arms were pale, the veins were clear, and the skin was covered in tiny, purple injection marks.

He looked like a drug addict. That explained a lot. His thinness, his paleness...goodness, did Asami know? This kid was leeching off of Akane's highest paying customer, and she'd be damned if she allowed him to continue doing so.

Her assistant had vanished seconds ago, perhaps to go tell Asami of her findings.

She inhaled sharply, walked over to the boy, and grabbed his wrists.

Holding them up to his face, she glared.

"So you do drugs, hmm?" she hissed, shaking the thin arm to emphasize her point.

At that moment, something in the boy's demeanor changed. His eyes widened in terror as he looked at his arm, and suddenly, they began shaking.

"I-it's that b-bad?" The boy shuddered, as he looked at his arm like it was some sort of insect.

"Drugs are-" She grabbed his hand so quickly, that she hadn't had the time to realize what exactly had fallen into her grasp. Around his wrist, was a bracelet of some sort. She released her grip quickly, and looked at the light blue band that slid down his arm.

Patient Name: Takaba Akihito

Date of induction: 1999-2014

Hospital/Institution: Cry of Hope Co.

MD: Dmitri Arbatov (contact information on the back)

For a minute, the two stared at one another, completely unsure of what to say. Akane's head swarmed with questions. He'd been in the hospital since 1999? That certainly explained the bruises on his arms.

"Please don't tell Asami! I'll lose my chance at getting a job!" he pleaded suddenly, "And I'm not contagious, I swear! I just need to do something before I..."
The sentence rolled mute off of his tongue, and the unspoken phrase fluttered into the air. He looked down at his arm, that had now fallen to his side.

Asami wasn't going to hire an ailing man, his dream job was going-

Akane grabbed at his sleeves and pulled the fabric down, covering the small spots on his arm. Next she went for the bracelet, tore it off of his wrist, removed the small paper, and with the dark pen she always kept handy in her pocket, changed the date 2014 to 2000, by circling around the numbers. She spend a little more time on the back.

It was ugly, and unprofessional.

Just like a doctor's hand writing.

Putting the pen back in her pocket, she maneuvered the piece of paper back into the plastic, and stuffed the crumpled bracelet into Takaba's back pocket.

He stood there, shocked.

"I did my part, now you do yours," she hissed, as her assistance came in with Asami hot on her trail.

He removed the bracelet from his pocket, and looked at it's altercation. Asami didn't look pleased at the information he'd just learned, and had brushed past Akane.

Like the older woman had done before him, Asami roughly raised Akihito's sleeve.

His expression stayed the same.

"Do you have a reason as to why your arms are covered with injection marks?" The older man glared at him.

Takaba gulped, and quickly handed him the bracelet.

He took it, and looked over it. He seemed to be oblivious to its changes.

"What happened?" Questioned the older man, monotonously. Takaba gulped, and searched for something to say.

"Akih-"

"I got sick with the flu, and I had to stay there for a while. My doctors were so nice, that I decided to wear the bracelet everywhere I went," he lied.

"Then why is it off now?"

"Because I cut it off, Asami-sama," Akane chimed in, looking at the older man, "I was in a rush to fit this young man, and I so carelessly maimed him of his bracelet. I'm incredibly sorry."

Takaba couldn't bite back his smile, "Its alright, I need to let go of the past anyway."

Asami nodded, and handed him the bracelet. Despite Takaba's negligence of the plastic seconds ago, he greedily took it back from the older man, flipping it up and down in order to see if it was okay.

The new writing had extended even to the back, and Akane had left a promising message.

Never give up on your dreams, Takaba-san. Only you can over come death!

"What kind of doctor would write something like that to you?" Asami placed a hand under the boy's chin, and lifted his head, "A cruel doctor indeed, huh?"
Takaba blushed at the close proximity, and looked away towards Akane.

He smiled, "Only a doctor who believes in me, Asami."

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I apologize for any mistakes, I proofread this myself.

I know the ending was slightly cheesy, but I didn't know how else to end it. I took the hospital band from personal experience. When I was younger, I went to the hospital often, and I refuesed to take of my hospital bands. Unfortunately, I went to a Catholic school, which had a dress code. The next day, the nurse cut of my hospital band, I give it to my mom, and she lost it/threw it away.

You grow attached to things like that. And when you get a lot of injections, you get bruises on your arms, they're like little spots. Anyway, I hope you liked this, and again, I do hear you and i'm trying to update everything else.

The world is so devastated right now, so please do keep it in your thoughts and prayers. And if you all are feeling down in the dumps, and need someone to talk to. I'm willing to listen. As always, have nice week, and God bless!