Detective's Rhapsody

[DISCONTINUED]

Disclaimer: "Bohemian Rhapsody" belongs to Freddie Mercury. Or some company that bought the rights from him. It's a good song, go download it. Oh, and Konomi-sensei's Prince of Tennis too.

Genre: An AU Mystery/Drama. Also some action, angst, and FujiRyo-type romance. My first attempt at this sort of story.

Pairings: The only one I'm giving away for now if FujiRyo. ... ;;; Okay okay, you know I'll put in some Golden Pair and InuKai later.

Rants: I have a LOT planned for this fic! A lot. So follow the clues and see what you can figure out! And enjoy the drama along the way. Hopefully nothing will be too confusing, everything shall be explained ... someday. Fuufuufuu.

Warning: PG-13 rating. There's no actual yaoi, but well... let's just say shounen ai is my thing. So if you hate it, I guess this isn't the fic for you. Though, if you ask me, even if you hate it, you'll still enjoy the story. There will be minor violence, too, and mature themes.

Summary: Atobe dies. OO Yup, I'm telling you the end right at the start. Okay okay, so it should be pretty obvious he was murdered, and the boy wonder of ISLID (International S-Level Investigations Department) is on the case! ) But he'll need lots of help along the way.

Ghostly fog wafted densely throughout the outer garden, coolly tickling the young boy's barely exposed neck behind his fine, light brown hair. He could hardly see the cement path three feet before him, yet the mansion's outline would still be visible, he knew, if only he tempted to turn around and look. But he would not look back, nor ever return. Tightening his grip on the black cloth strap of his messenger bag, his teeth bit lightly into his lower lip as a testimony of his determination, and his feet continued to step steadily forward, though the fog clouded all certainty of the future.

That was all right, too, he decided. He had a place to go, and he was strong now. All he had was the spare change of clothes in his messenger bag, a water bottle and a fifty dollar bill. But for the thirteen year old youth, simply stepping out into the world of freedom brought myriad excitement coursing through his blood, and he felt a small close mouthed smile slip into his lips. He liked the feeling behind the expression, and tried to freeze it on his face, closing his eyes in peaceful concentration. Never once did he stop walking, away from the mansion, away from the fog covered bushes, through the ebony steeled gate and into miora's breath.

Watching silently from behind one of the mansion's many windows, a man's fingers brushed lightly against the mole beneath his cheek, before placing the tips gently against the glass. His hand seemed to try to reach through the pane's thickness, hesitant to let the small boy go.

Seven years later, owner of said hand lay dead on his bedroom carpet, a thick handled knife protruding from the left side of his chest.

Act 1: Just Killed a Man

Scene I: Welcome to ISLID

Tezuka Kunimitsu had only served in his position as vice chair of ISLID (International S-Level Investigations Department) for two weeks and already he found himself wallowing in sludge. Wanting to sigh, but knowing the tendency didn't fit with his ever stoic countenance, which of course he had to maintain even though no one else was in the room to see it, he turned over the heavy file case dallying in his hands, sorting out the papers as if they might disappear if he handled them enough.

It wasn't as if he was afraid of the workload, he knew that as the current top investigator at the world's highest level police station he could handle it, but this case in particular would be vexingly messy. When he was promoted, he expected onerous duties as head to carve away at his personal time and any chance he had left for sanity, but he prepared to give his all. Depicting Atlas suited his stoic disposition, and he actually felt comfortable carrying the encumbrance, as if by doing so he ascertained his worth and role in society.

But no one is perfect, not even he. He knew the moment his glasses reflected the case's title this wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

Well, that was best part about being in charge. He could just dump all that sludge on someone else.

Tapping the intercom with his index finger, he voiced, "Call Echizen Ryouma to my office."

Without even bothering to register the secretary's acknowledgement, he went back to fingering the files, eyeing again the victim's profile that sat wearily on top. Atobe Keigo. He grimaced. This case would be messy indeed.

It's about time! Ryouma thought exasperatingly, pouting cheekily that the head hadn't called him in sooner. He had been there three days already, and he hadn't been assigned a case!

As the youngest member to ever join ISLID, seventeen year old Echizen Ryouma had by far exceeded his upper classmen at the academy, and since he didn't want anyone to think he was getting special attention thanks to his connections, he'd worked especially hard to make sure he stood out in everything. Athleticism and prodigal talent came naturally to him, and though he'd sulkingly admit most of it birthed from his genetics, it was still his personal abilities, not his father's influence, that had won him the singular spot that had opened in one of the most prestigious anti-criminal bureaus of all time.

Of course, he didn't want to think about the circumstances that had allowed the opening to become available. Basically it stemmed from the fact one of the lead detectives, Tezuka, had been promoted to Vice Chair, leaving an opening in investigations, but he knew that was just a cover - Tezuka was really being appointed the department's head, since the current Chair was... missing. For some reason, ISLID didn't want to acknowledge that its leader was most certainly dead (perhaps out of embarrassment?) so it had created the Vice Chair position that had never actually existed before - in reality, it was a polite way to put someone in charge without actually replacing anybody.

Ryouma barred his teeth into his lower lip, trying to focus on the stinging pain instead of the flashing memories that threatened watery excerpts on his lower eyelids. The Chair was...had been...the strongest person in the world, or so he himself had always proclaimed. But then Father - the Chair had been assassinated, just like that. Murdered in a place so desolate ISLID refused to risk a team to recover the body.

Stupid Nanjiro! Only that unshaven monkey would be foolish enough to infiltrate criminal territory without backup or a steady plan. He had just gone off, and despite jaunty promises to Ryouma and his mother that he'd of course return safely, ended up dead.

Ryouma wouldn't be like him. Two years forward, he was entering ISLID, taking the place of the burlesque monk even if only by shifting in at the bottom. After solving enough cases and moving through the ranks, he'd request a personal investigation, and then take his revenge. Sure, he didn't know who to take revenge on, but that was why he'd chosen to become an investigator; this way, he could find out for himself.

Everything. The truth. If there was such a thing.

Tezuka's office was something out of a detective film. That is, it only had the necessary props - nothing superfluously human like picture frames or personal possessions, just a desk lamp, coffee maker, mug overloaded with office utensils, and piles and piles of documents. Well, at least there was strong overhead lighting.

Only once had Ryouma chanced to see the venerated inspector, and that was when he had casually brushed by a few days ago. So this was the young detective's first chance to size up his superior. He'd been sure, like all his previous professors and bosses, that it wouldn't take him to long to figure out what made the older man tick, and knock him down with a cavalier smirk.

It didn't take a prodigy to figure out how wrong that assumption had been.

Staring impertinently at the Spartan simulacrum seated at the desk before him, Ryouma found himself face to face with the most serious visage a human could possibly own. Russet hair swept roughly into bundles, framing the narrow jaw line of the spectacled vice chair staring back, obviously returning the rigorous scrutinizing. The cocky novice swiveled his vision over the opposing man's tightly stretched frown, the straight fall of his nose and strict inward tilt of the eyebrows, the thin gold rim of his glasses that pushed otherwise disorderly bangs back behind tweaked out ears, and Ryouma couldn't help but note the tiny, scarred puncture at the center of the right ear lobe. His acute detective eyes also registered the neat fitted collar and dark, patternless tie that simply spoke, 'I am a professional. Enough said.'

He decided Tezuka was someone he would actually listen to.

"Echizen Ryouma. Welcome to ISLID."

"Ha..."

The deep, inlaid voice matched his captain's stoic exterior all too well.

"This is your first case."

"Ah.. okay." A thick packet was roughly shoved into his hardly outstretched hands.

"Dismissed."

"Ah... hai..."

And suddenly he found himself already out the office door.

"Um... right," he said to no one in particular.

First impression of Tezuka Kunimitsu: ... ... ... oh. ... my. god.

And people said Ryouma lacked conversational skills.

Note: Kind of like a prologue, nee? Originally I was planning to release Act I all at the same time -; but it's getting too long and I am hoping for some feedback. Please tell me what you think! ;; Believe it or not, Fuji does appear at the end of Act I. Otanoshimi nee!