Craze: You've almost found Fuji! Keep reading!

Lil'mil: Thanks as always for reading! I am sooo flattered you would, since IF is one of the best AUs ever . I only hope I don't bore you or disappoint you! I love Tezuka too. ;; Hopefully I'll do him justice, hopefully hopefully... (btw, Oyster is reffering to Oishi). And as for who dunnit... heeheehee

SadistFujiFan: ; yeah, there's some politics behind Tezuka only being Vice head. He's doing all the work (since the Nanjiroh who is still officially the head is dead) but they won't promote him because they don't want ISLID to look weak. Also, Tezuka's really young so putting him in charge officially would cause a lot of problems, even if his works have been outstanding thus far. Ryouma graduated from the academy a year early, so he's outstanding too! V

RuByMoOn17: Thanks for reading! Hopefully I don't disappoint? Fuji soon! promise

Purple jellybean hoarder: Wow! I'm so happy you read my fic, I love CounterSpin to death, so this is really exciting! Hopefully I can keep this up... hehe, poor Nanjiro (I seem to kill a lot of ppl in this fic, sorry!) Heeheehee, and Fuji... well, you'll see. FujiRyo is my favorite pairing!

ki-ku-maru BEAM: Yes we do! We love Tezuka! O I hope he has a bigger role in this story!

Hikari no Yami: Yeah, I don't like that Atobe died either. ( I love Atobe, so it makes me really mad! D I'm glad you like the plot, hope it won't get too out of hand ;; (maybe it already has?!)

Thanks for reviewing! Yes, there should be more FujiRyo! hm... how will they react when they first meet, I wonder too...

Thank you so much for reviewing! Please continue to review!

If you want, please post in your review who you suspect!

A/N: So sorry it took so long! This was pretty hard to write. Actually, between this chapter and last, is all supposed to be one scene, so... TT I included scene III in this too. (And it's not called The Main Suspect, sorry, I lied!) ;;

"Atobe's bedroom," Momo's hardy voice cut in. "The actual crime scene." Now that they'd finished collecting the suspects it was his turn to step in; he'd been in charge of the initial inspection, of course, and overseen the photographing and removal of the body.

Cutting out the suspension, the brawny field agent opened the door to reveal another small, ordinary room. Stepping in, Ryouma took in what he could of the scene - a half drunken wine bottle placed behind two gleaming unused wine glasses, all on a fine wooden tray, a decorative ivory rosary, the neatly made floral patterned sheets over a king-sized bed, off-white willowy curtains, and a window behind them which took up the entire wall. As expected, a man-shaped outline of whtie tappe decorated the floor. Momo explained that the maid who discovered the body was cleaning the room when she did, so she was already mostly done before she noticed Atobe.

Great. Just great. Little evidence, and almost no background on the victim. And very little help from Atobe's employees. Well, he did have one thing - plenty of suspects.

Ryouma wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or puke out all his guts.

Sighing with increased frustration, he pulled out the manila envelope with the files he'd been handed before. Academy standards dictated that he should exam the crime scene photos while at the actual scene. He took his second look over the glossy Kodaks, overlaying the outline with the image of a fallen body.

A lithe figure turned back at him, lying palms out and arms slightly spread, a graceful look of composure across his fine-traced features. Lavender bangs flew outwards framing even colored skin, marked only by a tiny spot beneath his right eye. Were it not for the thick handled protrusion from his chest area, Ryouma would have almost thought Atobe Keigo was sleeping. The extraordinary aesthetic posture sent the young detective's eyebrows twitching.

"Pft, hahaha!" Unabashed laughter swung his attention back to the redhead craning obtrusively over his shoulder, golden eyes trying to glare the soused man down. "That's so Atobe! He probably put himself in that position," Mukahi snorted, "to make sure he looked good. Knowing him, it was the last thing on his mind before dying."

"Che." He could have spent his time better! Like, tried to leave a clue or something... useless narcissist.

But for that matter... There were no mirrors. Anywhere.

Odd, Ryouma thought. Perhaps he kept one in his pocket?

He moved back into the living room (as he deemed it) to look at the other photos in better light. Now that it was on his mind, he noticed there were no mirrors in here, either.

One so vain doesn't check his image every 5 minutes? Perhaps the stereotype was wrong? No... but Ryouma knew he couldn't figure out the reason with what information he had here.

Arranging the angled blowups across the sofa cushions, his eyes narrowed in on the murder weapon. Obviously a knife, it bore deep into the chest of the victim, inserted (according to forensics) at close range to the body, as blood seeped out from behind, staining the carpet but not Atobe's clothes. But what really caught his eye was the handle.

Simply put, it was... spectacular.

Delicate carvings pealed back the wooden rim in the fashion of a budding chrysanthemum, stained white by some chemical. Hatched scratches around the blade joining edge resembled something of a net, and rising above a gentle hand cradles a blue orb that seemed to represent Earth. A fine craftsmanship, yet far too ornate for any practical use... but obviously the blade was another story.

"Hey isn't that-"

Startled out of his observations, Ryouma spun around to see those two drama stooges were back from carting off that sleeping nuisance Jirou guy, and peering nosily over his shoulder. Had Ohtori just spoken?

"It's definitely..." Shishido started, then grumpily went quiet.

"Definitely what?!" Ryouma snapped, sick of all the ballet prancing he'd been audience to since approaching the mansion.

Leaning back disconcertedly, the brunette shook his head. "I'm the Head of Security, so I keep up on these things. Those are symbols for Yon. It's a powerful gang that headquarters several hours south of here. They've had dealings with Atobe before..."

Suddenly Momo interrupted to cry, "Ah! I know what you're talking about!" He beamed all too proudly, chest puffed up as if anticipating the marvelous effect of his contribution. "Yon's cool, I've heard good thigns about them!"

An eyebrow arched above the detective's inquisitive golden eyes. "Good things about a supposed gang?"

"Eh? ... oh yeah, didn't anyone tell you?" The joyful man slapped his junior's back affectionately (but far too heavily), "I used to be in a gang before I got- uh, joined ISLID. Kinda fun back in the day. Ah but I mean, Yon was in the same area, they've got quite a reputation, been around forever."

Shishido nodded. "Actually, Atobe told us that whoever becomes the leader of Yon is given a special knife, one that only he can use. One like this here..."

Put two and two together... "So," Ryouma felt that appropriately he have the last word, "The knife belonging to the leader of Yon is the murder weapon, meaning our prime suspect is..." he stopped. There was something wrong about this train of reasoning... but he couldn't put his finger on it. He still felt a queasy knot in the bottom of his gut saying he was still not being told something important.

But, at least he had a place to start, and a suspect to start with.

Yon's boss.

Scene III: El Abismo

Despite the dry, Californian sun leering overhead, the area Ryouma entered was so crowded with tall, empty buildings that little light managed to glorify the district known as El Abismo. The empty streets slept beneath shadowy, dank blankets, shifting aside as if frightened by or threatening the estranged visitor. Drips on pavement, drips on whatever plastic or metal trash had been dumped into defilement piles, echoed in a lonely, off-key melody. Disrepair of walls and railings along the high-rises made them seem abandoned, but Ryouma knew its occupants just didn't have the money to fix them.

He had heard about this place during his studies at the academy. El Abismo was a slum amongst slums, a place that even thugs tended to avoid. Drug dealers and prostitute used drift about its rim, but rumor had it the current gang in charge was so aggressive that even they had been roughed out. The Italian mafia had once had its claws on the area, but it seemed the immigrant mobsters had more or less been replaced by local city kids that ran only semi-organized crime in the form of orthodox gangs. But this was far from a blessing - these 'kids' were anything but youthfully innocent; they were viscous, mean, toughened by years of sordid poverty, so bad that the government and philanthropic organizations had all but abandoned the area altogether.

Such was the home of Yon, one of LA's many gangs but also the most powerful.

He decided to confront their leader directly.

Momo had offered to go with him, but he'd quickly snapped, "No, I'll be fine by myself."

I don't need anyone's help, he thought. Even if somebody came, they'd just be in the way.

Still, he'd taken the black handled switch blade he'd been offered. Why the field agent carried such a precarious reminder of his 'good old days' Ryouma deemed safer not to question. For preservation of his sanity.

You'll know where to go when you get there, Momo had told him. Just follow the signs.

What signs, he'd wanted to glare, but now that he was here, it was pretty obvious.

Dashed around in various places, white trash bags were meticulously placed and spaced, marking out a loose path down particular streets. Markers, he thought, wondering why they'd made them so obvious. Each bag puffed spherically bright, stuffed entirely with what looked like shredded newspaper, tied off in crisp, perfect knots that pushed up the handles like a pair of animal ears. They reminded him of chubby white rabbits, like the one from that story that was always running off crying it was late for something important.

Soon he didn't need the signs; he could hear where he needed to go. Rowdy laughter, stampeding, shattering glass, and an unsteady banging all drew him towards one narrow alley in particular.

Turning one corner changed the world.

The empty manless space he'd wandered a second ago was replaced by an alleyway filled with people. Boys and even some girls were lounging, playing, running, sleeping, laughing, screaming, falling over piled up cardboard boxes and more white stuffed trash bags. Some looked as young at ten, others looked almost thirty. Most sported jeans and t-shirts, but some dressed more finally, and some hardly wore rags. More noticeably, though, was that on each and everyone of them, a heavy, colorful orb dangled from a golden clasp on the right ear.

A sign of membership to Yon.

Echoes of Momo's loud reminders flashed through his ears: "Don't bother with the little guys. Go straight for the boss, challenge 'im directly and they'll leave you alone. It ain't true for all gangs, but Yon and the one I popped from had an honor code 'bout these things."

Perfect. That was just Ryouma's style.

"Hey! Is the boss around?"

Somehow, his voice pierced the raucous, and suddenly he found a couple dozen hardened faces glaring ferociously at the source of interruption, a dangerous tint piercing through narrowed eyes.

Ryouma didn't back down. "I asked, where's your boss!"

For a moment, all the faces stayed silent. Then one dark skinned guy hopped off his throne of cardboard, thrusting his hands into worn jean pockets and sauntering menacingly towards where the detective held his place.

The man leaned over, practically screaming in his face, "Look kid, what's your problem?! One two three leaders ain't here!"

From this distance, Ryouma could see through the man's dark goggle lenses and note the pupils squinting down, and he realized his right ear was being scrutinized.

"Hey, you ain't us! Did Tigers sent you?!"

He didn't know who 'Tigers' was, but he certainly wasn't about to blurt his cop affiliation. He shrugged, playing the broken record tactic, "Where's your leader?"

The shaded man glared, but then a spiky haired brunette lounging on more of the boxes called, "Hey Touji, lay off. He ain't dun nothin'." He joined them on the street's perimeter, an impish smirk pulled on his face.

"Hey Leader, 'nother one's here to date you!" he yelled, sizing the gold eyed youth from head to toe, then let out a whistle: "An' this one here's head over heels in love!"

Shuffling ensued as members started to shift closer to the walls, as if making way for the coming of the Queen. A door he hadn't realized was there swung out from the building that was all metal, and he heard a feminine voice placidly coo, "What is it, Minami-kun?"

Then a lithe figure with narrow shoulders materialized as if on cue, graceful and small. He wasn't a girl, Ryouma could tell, from his straight body and masculine choice of ware, but his long, gentle lashes and the smooth, round curve of his face, small stature and shoulder gracing hair radiated effeminate and elegance. Thin exposed arms folded innocently behind his back, and an overly genial smile danced over soft, pinkish lips.

Ryouma's first though was, This wimp's the head of California's number one gang?!

Similarly, said 'wimp' sized up his opponent, taking in the baby face cheeks and tangled ebony hair. One glance at those scowling golden eyes and he knew he was being underestimated.

Good, Fuji thought, almost licking his lips in pleasure.

Those golden eyes narrowed into a sweeping glare, and the boy seemed to think he was being tricked and laughed at by the rowdy gangsters.

"May I help you," that gentle, wind-like voice continued, "gendarme?"

A sudden angry hissing emerged from the crowd, but the one they claimed was leader waved them down. Ryouma realized in rising internal panic that this man had just identified him as a police member. He gulped his hard bounding heart back into his chest, and forced his expression to remain hard as iron.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," he used the wording he'd thought about carefully before arriving, "that doesn't involve," he waved towards those around, "them."

"I see." That rippling voice never wavered, its owner maintaining this irkingly genial smile that pushed his eyes into thin, closed slits. "True, my business is my own. Then, I will make a deal with you."

That smile grew mirthfully, and Ryouma felt something sickly drop in his stomach, but he ignored it and forced himself to nod.

"Then," the fair haired man flicked his wrist, "I will tell you all you want to know, if you can keep yourself from bleeding for the next two minutes."

But Ryouma didn't have time to think about the meaning of his words, because instantly his quick vision registered that the flick had opened a butterfly switch blade, the smile had faded and been replaced by piercing cerulean eyes, and that small, lithe body was dashing towards him with the grace and speed of a dragon, a shimmering, deadly knife aiming for his throat.

A/N: Whoa! Finally ended Act I! Okay, later I'm going to go through and edit like mad, and put all the scenes together so Act I will just be one chapter. ;; But this is how it is for now, sorry!

About ISLID:

For clarification, Tezuka is the Vice Chair of ISLID, and Nanjiro is the Chair. Nanjiro died two years ago, but for some reason ISLID refused to promote anyone to Chair to replace him. Instead they promote Tezuka to Vice Chair, and let him run everything as if he were Chair. And up until now, ISLID has never had the position of 'Vice Chair'. It was run by a Chair, overseen by a supervisor (Ryuuzaki-sensei), and then orders were sent directly to the different staff members.

ISLID is a pretty small group actually, with only a few hundred members at various headquarters. There is a West Coast headquarters, and East Coast headquarters, a London headquarters, and a Hong Kong headquarters. None of these come into the story. ; The staff consists of investigators (Ryouma), field agents (Momo), field medical assistants (Oishi), coroners, forensics, intelligence agents, secretaries, managers, and the Chairs (Tezuka). The main headquarters changes every couple of years, so currently they are at West Coast headquarters.

Atobe's mansion is somewhere in Northern California, presumably not to far from San Francisco. Sniff, I'm so sorry though, I totally messed up the description. There actually was a reason why Gakuto had to be the guide but it got cut out.

El Abismo is a few hours east of LA. It's just a made up place (don't go looking for it on a map!) from yoshikochan's imagination.

As for ages: Echizen is 17, Tezuka is 24, Fuji is 20. The staff at the Atobe mansion are all in their twenties or early thirties (Atobe likes young, pretty people) with the exception of some of the maids and manservants. Momo is 18 (a year older than Echizen like in the anime) as is Eiji.