Emulating Rube Goldberg (Tantei Gakuen Q)
Emulating Rube Goldberg
by aishuu
Fandom: Detective Academy Q
Pairing: Kyuu/Ryuu hints
Notes: Okay, so this has been in the works for, like, years. I've promised it to ickaimp several times... sorry I'm so late, dear one. Thanks to my sweetie, candy__chan, for acting as a sounding board.
Summary: Everyone grows up, even Kyuu. Ryuu isn't quite sure what to make of that.
Kyuu was sixteen when he brought in a Rube Goldberg machine to the DDS classroom. It had been an assignment for his high school, and he'd managed to come up with a fourteen-step process for lighting a cigarette. He'd only been required to do four, but when something interested him, he tended to reacted with excessive enthusiasm. After receiving the obligatory A (along with a note from his teacher to please try to respect project guidelines a bit better), he'd brought the project in to show his friends.
"The more complex a machine, the more likely it is to break down," he said as he ran the process several times. Kyuu lacked anything resembling subtly, so there were plenty of minor explosions and loud noises involved. "It's a lot like a crime - the more complicated someone makes something, the more that can go wrong and the easier it is to solve."
Megumi shook her head in disagreement. "Remember how many cases remain unsolved because of the tricks? It takes someone like Q Class to handle them."
"Yes, but once you figure out the trick, it's easy to pinpoint who was able to orchestrate it. It's as incriminating as DNA," Kyuu replied. He reset the machine after snuffing out the cigarette in an ashtray and filling in a new one.
"Ryuu?" Megumi said, looking for back up.
Ryuu had thawed somewhat over the years, and his smile came quicker than it had in the past. However he still preferred to observe from the sidelines and it often took prodding to get him to contribute to a casual conversation. His eyes were fastened on the contraption as Kyuu set it off for the fourth time.
"Kyuu's right, Megumi. The more unique a crime, the easier it is to find the solution. Anyone can hit someone over the head with a bottle; it takes a certain kind of mind to arrange an alibi trick or locked room mystery or try to pin it on someone else. After you eliminate the distractions, there's only one answer, to borrow Kyuu's mantra."
Megumi sighed and shook her head. Sometimes she felt double-teamed by them, since they thought so much alike. She should have known better than to ask Ryuu.
"Would you like to try this, Megu?" Kyuu asked, not detecting her frustration. For such a good detective, he could be awfully dense around women. Least she'd finally broken him of his obsession with her panties.
Later that day, after their class had been dismissed, Ryuu found himself thinking of what Kyuu had said and the way Megumi had reacted. Ryuu was quite fond of Megumi, but he'd never developed the romantic feelings she'd wanted from him. Luckily her crush had subsided into a more gentle liking. Otherwise things might have become more complicated.
Ryuu stared out the window in a blank fashion, letting his mind wander as he began to put the uneasiness that was starting to prey in the back of his mind. Kyuu's casual discussion of murder had upset something inside of him, but he couldn't pinpoint what.
"Ryuu? Is something wrong?" A hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned his body so he could look at Kyuu's concerned face.
Time had dealt well with the young man. He no longer resembled an elementary school student, the last couple years giving him both height and thinning away the roundness of his cheeks. His voice had broken about six months ago, and Ryuu was still trying to accustom himself to the light tenor Kyuu now possessed. There was still that hint of mischief, that innocent delight in his eyes that defined him, but it was tempered by experience. He had seen too much to remain completely innocent.
"I'm not sure," Ryuu admitted. He would have ignored the question from most people, but Kyuu had long since earned his respect. "I can't put my finger on it, but something is happening, something I don't understand."
Years ago, Kyuu would have laughed away Ryuu's feeling of unease, telling him to change it with a heavy dose of optimism. Now he just sighed and agreed. "Like... there's something about to happen. It's the silence before the storm."
"Not quite," Ryuu said. "It's more of a waiting for discovery. Something has happened, and we just haven't discovered what it is yet."
"A crime?" Kyuu asked reasonably. Both of them were more than experienced enough to know that not even their campus was safe from foul deeds.
"No," Ryuu denied the possibility. "Something is changing for the better. Can you feel it?"
"No," Kyuu said sounding regretful. "Do you know what triggered it?"
You, was the immediate response that sprang to Ryuu's mind, but he wasn't going to say that. Instead he shrugged, deciding silence would be better than a foolish answer.
Kyuu waited for a second before sliding into the seat next to Ryuu, propping his head up on his hands. "I hope it's something good this time. The last time I felt like this..."
Ryuu waited, cocking his head to indicate he was paying attention.
"You know. That day, when we were assigned to investigate what happened to Katagiri-sensei's sister."
It was the first time Kyuu had brought up the topic, and thought it was painful, Ryuu thought it was a good sign. Their former teacher and Dan's top aide, Katagiri Shino, had done the unthinkable and killed the man who had killed her sister. If she, one of the supposed good guys, could do something that horrible, then anyone could.
For Kyuu, the world was very much a place colored with black and white. He saw through to the truth without needing to exert himself; his ability to put the pieces together into a flawless whole was only matched by Ryuu's own. Kyuu was one of the few people who saw the world the way Ryuu did - the only Ryuu had ever met. They both viewed the world like a Chinese puzzle box; sometimes challenging and deceptive, but there was always one solution.
Being betrayed by a teacher he had admired and trusted had shaken Kyuu's faith in humanity's essential goodness. The thought depressed Ryuu, whose more cynical outlook needed Kyuu to remain hopeful. He and Kyuu were tied together, like two sides of the same coin, though Ryuu didn't like to admit it.
Another long silence lingered between them before Kyuu continued, "Have you ever thought about it? Creating the perfect murder?"
Ryuu could trace exactly where that thought had come from, so didn't think it odd that Kyuu would ask. Megumi or Kintaro wouldn't have understood, but Ryuu did. It wasn't that Kyuu would actually do such a thing, but that he was desperately seeking to understand why Katagiri did.
"I think it's something all detectives do at some point. We're smarter than the criminals, we think, and we see where they go wrong. We wouldn't be caught because we understand what the cops are looking for, and we know how not to leave any evidence," Ryuu replied.
"And pride is the downfall of a lot of criminals," Kyuu said. "I've been thinking about that a lot lately, ever since -" He hesitated uncharacteristically, and didn't finish the sentence. Instead his own gaze wandered to the window, though he wasn't seeing the peaceful campus.
Ryuu didn't need to be told to understand. "Ever since Katagiri-sensei was sentenced," he replied. "I've thought about it, too."
"She had to know she would be caught," Kyuu said. "We were all witnesses."
"Maybe she wanted to be caught," Ryuu said.
"That makes me feel a bit better," Kyuu admitted. The smile that had been missing from his face started to spread, and though he'd lost the rounded cheeks of childhood, it was still an infectious expression.
"Does it? It means she knew what she was doing was wrong," Ryuu replied. "She didn't have to do it. I find that harder to forgive, than a crime of passion."
"All crimes have passion in them."
"You know what I mean," Ryuu said pointedly. Sometimes Kyuu could be too damn literal. "Taking a life for vengeance is pointless. She should have gone through the legal channels."
"Human justice is flawed," Kyuu replied, and the smile vanished like the sun behind clouds.
Kyuu's words sent Ryuu mentally reeling. Their purpose as members of the DDS was to uphold the law, and bring in those who violated it. But if Kyuu was questioning the rightness of the law itself, it would be difficult for him to continue as a detective. This could end very badly, if Ryuu wasn't able to reason with him.
"So are you saying we shouldn't have arrested Katagiri-sensei?" Ryuu asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Kyuu shook his head, before running a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out how to explain. "I'm saying that if justice really existed in our legal system, she wouldn't have felt the need to get revenge."
Ryuu had often contemplated the differences between justice and the law. It was a favorite topic for philosophers, the conflict between the guidelines laid out upon human society, and what quirks of life had to be made to fit within the schematic. Not every situation could fit into the framework of justice, but the law had to be applied evenly throughout.
"You're still an idealist, Kyuu. Life never works perfectly like that. We have to accept the flaws of the legal system, and work with what we have."
"Why should we?" Kyuu replied. "Why can't things be perfect? Would you accept anything less than an A for a grade?"
"No. But I also would understand that if the information I'd been taught is wrong, I won't end up with a perfect grade on the test, through no fault of my own. My responsibility is then to ensure I learn the correct information, even if it's going to take extra effort."
Kyuu blinked at the metaphor. "You've seen my Rube Goldberg machine, right?"
"Yes?" Ryuu asked, wondering where Kyuu's brilliant mind was going to jump to next.
"If you take out a step, it's broken. It doesn't matter that the other steps would work, one step is enough to destroy the whole machine." Kyuu stood, his hands clenched at his sides. "So if you take out part of the legal system, the entire thing is flawed."
Ryuu didn't have an immediate argument to that. A part of him wondered if Kyuu might be right.
Later that evening, Ryuu found himself standing on the doorstep of Kyuu's home. He'd spent many pleasant evenings there, finding the place more comfortable than his barren apartment. Kyuu and his mother always made him feel welcome, and had even extended several invitations for him to move in. Ryuu was tempted, but didn't want to tarnish this place with his history.
Kyuu pretended to understand after demanding an explanation for why Ryuu turned down their invitation, but Ryuu knew he really didn't. Kyuu would never really understand how much Ryuu needed to keep Kyuu's world untainted by this own.
The door was answered by Kyuu's mother, who looked at him with dark, serious eyes instead of her usual smile. She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, an unexpectedly intimate touch. He opened his mouth to ask what she wanted, but shut it quickly as he recognized there was only one possible answer.
"Is he in his room?" he asked.
She stepped back to allow him entrance. "He's been there since he came home from school."
Ryuu nodded to indicate he understood. Kyuu was a social creature, and didn't like spending time pent-up in one place, only seeking solitude when something was bothering him. "Do you have a tray I can bring up to him?"
The door to Kyuu's room was closed. For a second, Ryuu thought it might be better to just head in without knocking, but his manners got the better of him. He shifted the tray into his left hand so he could rap on the doorframe. "Kyuu?" he called. "Your mother sent me up with snacks."
He heard the bed shift as Kyuu moved inside, and then the sound of the light switch being turned on. A second later, Kyuu opened the door, dressed in sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt.
"I'm sorry if I woke you," Ryuu apologized. "I didn't think it was that late."
Kyuu shook his head in the negative. "I was just thinking, not sleeping. What are you doing here?"
Ryuu wasn't exactly sure himself. He'd never been good at heart-to-hearts, and he had problems admitting he was concerned. It was a side effect to his own upbringing that emotional offerings were a subconscious sign of weakness to him.
But Kyuu was the one person Ryuu didn't mind being weak for. "I was thinking about our conversation earlier," he said.
Kyuu's shoulders slumped slightly as he turned to take a seat on the bed, which although wrinkled, was still made. Ryuu had the choice of sitting beside Kyuu, or claiming the only chair in the room, which was at Kyuu's desk. Mentally berating himself for cowardice, he spun the chair around before setting the tray aside.
He sat down and watched Kyuu, waiting for the younger teen to say something - anything. Ryuu didn't have a plan on how this conversation should go, or even what it was going to be about. If Kyuu wasn't going to say anything, it was going to be awfully quiet for a long time.
"Do you think I'm a bad person?" Kyuu asked, and his voice was soft enough that Ryuu had to lean forward to hear it.
"No!" Ryuu's reaction was pulled from him immediately, without having to think. "You're one of the best people I've ever met."
Kyuu shook his head. "But if I'm thinking such horrible things, surely that means..."
"Everyone had negative thoughts. We all wonder about how fair the world isn't."
"But-" Kyuu started, before taking a deep breath. "I was thinking about what you said earlier, too. You basically said that we have to work within the limitations, and try to change the things we can."
"Yes."
"I can't accept that." Ryuu opened his mouth to try to talk Kyuu down, but Kyuu continued speaking before he could. "I'm going to change how the system works."
"What?" Ryuu couldn't think of anything else to say.
"When there's an injustice in this world, it's our job to correct it. That doesn't just mean catching the criminals - it means going to the heart of the problem. And that means finding out what causes people to kill, and what might make them stop before they get to that point."
It was just like Kyuu to think like that, Ryuu thought, feeling a surge of affection for the other youth. Kyuu found murder as abhorrent as Ryuu did, but he simply refused to accept it.
Ryuu, though, couldn't be quiet, not when he could see the pit Kyuu was heading straight for. "You're setting yourself up for failure. Murder is part of the human condition."
"Weren't you just telling me that I should try to change things?" Kyuu pressed again. "The flaw isn't just in the system. The flaw is that the system has to exist in the first place; fixing the system is like a doctor treating the symptoms and not the disease. Just because something doesn't work right now doesn't mean it's impossible," Kyuu said. "Anything's possible, both good and bad."
"Indeed," Ryuu agreed. "Anything's possible, and I'd like to make sure it's the good things that happen."
Anything was possible if Kyuu was involved. Today wouldn't be the day that Ryuu sat beside his friend kissed him, but it could happen tomorrow. As long as Ryuu had Kyuu in his life, he could believe that tomorrow would be better than today.
END
by aishuu
Fandom: Detective Academy Q
Pairing: Kyuu/Ryuu hints
Notes: Okay, so this has been in the works for, like, years. I've promised it to ickaimp several times... sorry I'm so late, dear one. Thanks to my sweetie, candy__chan, for acting as a sounding board.
Summary: Everyone grows up, even Kyuu. Ryuu isn't quite sure what to make of that.
Kyuu was sixteen when he brought in a Rube Goldberg machine to the DDS classroom. It had been an assignment for his high school, and he'd managed to come up with a fourteen-step process for lighting a cigarette. He'd only been required to do four, but when something interested him, he tended to reacted with excessive enthusiasm. After receiving the obligatory A (along with a note from his teacher to please try to respect project guidelines a bit better), he'd brought the project in to show his friends.
"The more complex a machine, the more likely it is to break down," he said as he ran the process several times. Kyuu lacked anything resembling subtly, so there were plenty of minor explosions and loud noises involved. "It's a lot like a crime - the more complicated someone makes something, the more that can go wrong and the easier it is to solve."
Megumi shook her head in disagreement. "Remember how many cases remain unsolved because of the tricks? It takes someone like Q Class to handle them."
"Yes, but once you figure out the trick, it's easy to pinpoint who was able to orchestrate it. It's as incriminating as DNA," Kyuu replied. He reset the machine after snuffing out the cigarette in an ashtray and filling in a new one.
"Ryuu?" Megumi said, looking for back up.
Ryuu had thawed somewhat over the years, and his smile came quicker than it had in the past. However he still preferred to observe from the sidelines and it often took prodding to get him to contribute to a casual conversation. His eyes were fastened on the contraption as Kyuu set it off for the fourth time.
"Kyuu's right, Megumi. The more unique a crime, the easier it is to find the solution. Anyone can hit someone over the head with a bottle; it takes a certain kind of mind to arrange an alibi trick or locked room mystery or try to pin it on someone else. After you eliminate the distractions, there's only one answer, to borrow Kyuu's mantra."
Megumi sighed and shook her head. Sometimes she felt double-teamed by them, since they thought so much alike. She should have known better than to ask Ryuu.
"Would you like to try this, Megu?" Kyuu asked, not detecting her frustration. For such a good detective, he could be awfully dense around women. Least she'd finally broken him of his obsession with her panties.
Later that day, after their class had been dismissed, Ryuu found himself thinking of what Kyuu had said and the way Megumi had reacted. Ryuu was quite fond of Megumi, but he'd never developed the romantic feelings she'd wanted from him. Luckily her crush had subsided into a more gentle liking. Otherwise things might have become more complicated.
Ryuu stared out the window in a blank fashion, letting his mind wander as he began to put the uneasiness that was starting to prey in the back of his mind. Kyuu's casual discussion of murder had upset something inside of him, but he couldn't pinpoint what.
"Ryuu? Is something wrong?" A hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned his body so he could look at Kyuu's concerned face.
Time had dealt well with the young man. He no longer resembled an elementary school student, the last couple years giving him both height and thinning away the roundness of his cheeks. His voice had broken about six months ago, and Ryuu was still trying to accustom himself to the light tenor Kyuu now possessed. There was still that hint of mischief, that innocent delight in his eyes that defined him, but it was tempered by experience. He had seen too much to remain completely innocent.
"I'm not sure," Ryuu admitted. He would have ignored the question from most people, but Kyuu had long since earned his respect. "I can't put my finger on it, but something is happening, something I don't understand."
Years ago, Kyuu would have laughed away Ryuu's feeling of unease, telling him to change it with a heavy dose of optimism. Now he just sighed and agreed. "Like... there's something about to happen. It's the silence before the storm."
"Not quite," Ryuu said. "It's more of a waiting for discovery. Something has happened, and we just haven't discovered what it is yet."
"A crime?" Kyuu asked reasonably. Both of them were more than experienced enough to know that not even their campus was safe from foul deeds.
"No," Ryuu denied the possibility. "Something is changing for the better. Can you feel it?"
"No," Kyuu said sounding regretful. "Do you know what triggered it?"
You, was the immediate response that sprang to Ryuu's mind, but he wasn't going to say that. Instead he shrugged, deciding silence would be better than a foolish answer.
Kyuu waited for a second before sliding into the seat next to Ryuu, propping his head up on his hands. "I hope it's something good this time. The last time I felt like this..."
Ryuu waited, cocking his head to indicate he was paying attention.
"You know. That day, when we were assigned to investigate what happened to Katagiri-sensei's sister."
It was the first time Kyuu had brought up the topic, and thought it was painful, Ryuu thought it was a good sign. Their former teacher and Dan's top aide, Katagiri Shino, had done the unthinkable and killed the man who had killed her sister. If she, one of the supposed good guys, could do something that horrible, then anyone could.
For Kyuu, the world was very much a place colored with black and white. He saw through to the truth without needing to exert himself; his ability to put the pieces together into a flawless whole was only matched by Ryuu's own. Kyuu was one of the few people who saw the world the way Ryuu did - the only Ryuu had ever met. They both viewed the world like a Chinese puzzle box; sometimes challenging and deceptive, but there was always one solution.
Being betrayed by a teacher he had admired and trusted had shaken Kyuu's faith in humanity's essential goodness. The thought depressed Ryuu, whose more cynical outlook needed Kyuu to remain hopeful. He and Kyuu were tied together, like two sides of the same coin, though Ryuu didn't like to admit it.
Another long silence lingered between them before Kyuu continued, "Have you ever thought about it? Creating the perfect murder?"
Ryuu could trace exactly where that thought had come from, so didn't think it odd that Kyuu would ask. Megumi or Kintaro wouldn't have understood, but Ryuu did. It wasn't that Kyuu would actually do such a thing, but that he was desperately seeking to understand why Katagiri did.
"I think it's something all detectives do at some point. We're smarter than the criminals, we think, and we see where they go wrong. We wouldn't be caught because we understand what the cops are looking for, and we know how not to leave any evidence," Ryuu replied.
"And pride is the downfall of a lot of criminals," Kyuu said. "I've been thinking about that a lot lately, ever since -" He hesitated uncharacteristically, and didn't finish the sentence. Instead his own gaze wandered to the window, though he wasn't seeing the peaceful campus.
Ryuu didn't need to be told to understand. "Ever since Katagiri-sensei was sentenced," he replied. "I've thought about it, too."
"She had to know she would be caught," Kyuu said. "We were all witnesses."
"Maybe she wanted to be caught," Ryuu said.
"That makes me feel a bit better," Kyuu admitted. The smile that had been missing from his face started to spread, and though he'd lost the rounded cheeks of childhood, it was still an infectious expression.
"Does it? It means she knew what she was doing was wrong," Ryuu replied. "She didn't have to do it. I find that harder to forgive, than a crime of passion."
"All crimes have passion in them."
"You know what I mean," Ryuu said pointedly. Sometimes Kyuu could be too damn literal. "Taking a life for vengeance is pointless. She should have gone through the legal channels."
"Human justice is flawed," Kyuu replied, and the smile vanished like the sun behind clouds.
Kyuu's words sent Ryuu mentally reeling. Their purpose as members of the DDS was to uphold the law, and bring in those who violated it. But if Kyuu was questioning the rightness of the law itself, it would be difficult for him to continue as a detective. This could end very badly, if Ryuu wasn't able to reason with him.
"So are you saying we shouldn't have arrested Katagiri-sensei?" Ryuu asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Kyuu shook his head, before running a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out how to explain. "I'm saying that if justice really existed in our legal system, she wouldn't have felt the need to get revenge."
Ryuu had often contemplated the differences between justice and the law. It was a favorite topic for philosophers, the conflict between the guidelines laid out upon human society, and what quirks of life had to be made to fit within the schematic. Not every situation could fit into the framework of justice, but the law had to be applied evenly throughout.
"You're still an idealist, Kyuu. Life never works perfectly like that. We have to accept the flaws of the legal system, and work with what we have."
"Why should we?" Kyuu replied. "Why can't things be perfect? Would you accept anything less than an A for a grade?"
"No. But I also would understand that if the information I'd been taught is wrong, I won't end up with a perfect grade on the test, through no fault of my own. My responsibility is then to ensure I learn the correct information, even if it's going to take extra effort."
Kyuu blinked at the metaphor. "You've seen my Rube Goldberg machine, right?"
"Yes?" Ryuu asked, wondering where Kyuu's brilliant mind was going to jump to next.
"If you take out a step, it's broken. It doesn't matter that the other steps would work, one step is enough to destroy the whole machine." Kyuu stood, his hands clenched at his sides. "So if you take out part of the legal system, the entire thing is flawed."
Ryuu didn't have an immediate argument to that. A part of him wondered if Kyuu might be right.
Later that evening, Ryuu found himself standing on the doorstep of Kyuu's home. He'd spent many pleasant evenings there, finding the place more comfortable than his barren apartment. Kyuu and his mother always made him feel welcome, and had even extended several invitations for him to move in. Ryuu was tempted, but didn't want to tarnish this place with his history.
Kyuu pretended to understand after demanding an explanation for why Ryuu turned down their invitation, but Ryuu knew he really didn't. Kyuu would never really understand how much Ryuu needed to keep Kyuu's world untainted by this own.
The door was answered by Kyuu's mother, who looked at him with dark, serious eyes instead of her usual smile. She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, an unexpectedly intimate touch. He opened his mouth to ask what she wanted, but shut it quickly as he recognized there was only one possible answer.
"Is he in his room?" he asked.
She stepped back to allow him entrance. "He's been there since he came home from school."
Ryuu nodded to indicate he understood. Kyuu was a social creature, and didn't like spending time pent-up in one place, only seeking solitude when something was bothering him. "Do you have a tray I can bring up to him?"
The door to Kyuu's room was closed. For a second, Ryuu thought it might be better to just head in without knocking, but his manners got the better of him. He shifted the tray into his left hand so he could rap on the doorframe. "Kyuu?" he called. "Your mother sent me up with snacks."
He heard the bed shift as Kyuu moved inside, and then the sound of the light switch being turned on. A second later, Kyuu opened the door, dressed in sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt.
"I'm sorry if I woke you," Ryuu apologized. "I didn't think it was that late."
Kyuu shook his head in the negative. "I was just thinking, not sleeping. What are you doing here?"
Ryuu wasn't exactly sure himself. He'd never been good at heart-to-hearts, and he had problems admitting he was concerned. It was a side effect to his own upbringing that emotional offerings were a subconscious sign of weakness to him.
But Kyuu was the one person Ryuu didn't mind being weak for. "I was thinking about our conversation earlier," he said.
Kyuu's shoulders slumped slightly as he turned to take a seat on the bed, which although wrinkled, was still made. Ryuu had the choice of sitting beside Kyuu, or claiming the only chair in the room, which was at Kyuu's desk. Mentally berating himself for cowardice, he spun the chair around before setting the tray aside.
He sat down and watched Kyuu, waiting for the younger teen to say something - anything. Ryuu didn't have a plan on how this conversation should go, or even what it was going to be about. If Kyuu wasn't going to say anything, it was going to be awfully quiet for a long time.
"Do you think I'm a bad person?" Kyuu asked, and his voice was soft enough that Ryuu had to lean forward to hear it.
"No!" Ryuu's reaction was pulled from him immediately, without having to think. "You're one of the best people I've ever met."
Kyuu shook his head. "But if I'm thinking such horrible things, surely that means..."
"Everyone had negative thoughts. We all wonder about how fair the world isn't."
"But-" Kyuu started, before taking a deep breath. "I was thinking about what you said earlier, too. You basically said that we have to work within the limitations, and try to change the things we can."
"Yes."
"I can't accept that." Ryuu opened his mouth to try to talk Kyuu down, but Kyuu continued speaking before he could. "I'm going to change how the system works."
"What?" Ryuu couldn't think of anything else to say.
"When there's an injustice in this world, it's our job to correct it. That doesn't just mean catching the criminals - it means going to the heart of the problem. And that means finding out what causes people to kill, and what might make them stop before they get to that point."
It was just like Kyuu to think like that, Ryuu thought, feeling a surge of affection for the other youth. Kyuu found murder as abhorrent as Ryuu did, but he simply refused to accept it.
Ryuu, though, couldn't be quiet, not when he could see the pit Kyuu was heading straight for. "You're setting yourself up for failure. Murder is part of the human condition."
"Weren't you just telling me that I should try to change things?" Kyuu pressed again. "The flaw isn't just in the system. The flaw is that the system has to exist in the first place; fixing the system is like a doctor treating the symptoms and not the disease. Just because something doesn't work right now doesn't mean it's impossible," Kyuu said. "Anything's possible, both good and bad."
"Indeed," Ryuu agreed. "Anything's possible, and I'd like to make sure it's the good things that happen."
Anything was possible if Kyuu was involved. Today wouldn't be the day that Ryuu sat beside his friend kissed him, but it could happen tomorrow. As long as Ryuu had Kyuu in his life, he could believe that tomorrow would be better than today.
END