Having a double life was normally not a problem for Hakuba Saguru. As a detective and the teenage son of the Superintendent General, it was understood that he had two sides to himself.

As a detective, he worked with grit and blood, smiled for the press, poured over paperwork through long nights, drank coffee with officers, and confronted criminals with the intent of finding some semblance of justice.

As a student, he studied hard, read and reread books for leisure, and ignored most everyone and everything else. 

That was well and fine. Manageable, even. At least, it would be, were it not for the secrets. The delusions of grandeur, the high society parties, the drinking, the ridiculous flirting. He used it to fill the cracks that work couldn’t smooth over, and it left him unstable. Divided. But he thought it was all well in hand, easy enough to let the chaos control him.

This worked – but only to a point. When the carefully proportioned and maintained sides began to bleed together, it brought trouble in spades, and always of the most painful kind.

That evening was no different. 

The detective, cup of coffee in one hand, pushed through the busy sidewalk, gaze fixed ahead on the bookstore. He’d called ahead and they had promised to hold the last volume that he needed to complete yet another literary collection. Simple, to the point, and he’d have time to browse around for other choice tomes before heading back to Ekoda. 

His plan was, as per usual, orderly. Safe. Well-constructed and timed. Hakuba made his way, taking in the scene around him with a faint smile. It was almost like Covent Garden back home. Not quite, but… almost. But in the crowd there were at least a handful of somewhat familiar faces. People who he’d seen working in the area, some who had been accessories to some sort of tragedy or another. Perhaps, even, the far-too familiar smile of someone that he used to know in another life…

…or a woman scorned. 

He recognized her seconds before she recognized him, eyes meeting across a side street. Whether it was a detective’s gut instinct or his own sense of self-preservation that set the warnings off, he couldn’t be certain, but he knew that expression on her face the moment it crossed her. Suddenly, it wasn’t the book that he was worried about finding, but his very life that was at stake. He had to find an out – and quickly. 

Pretending to have not seen her (which was a foolish move to make on his part), the detective took a sharp left and crossed the other street and into traffic. Not that it was terribly dangerous at this time of evening; the crowded streets kept anyone from moving terribly fast, though it was still technically illegal. The hypocrisy made him grimace, but he continued on, stepping up onto the opposite sidewalk with a huff, and searched the oncoming traffic for a scapegoat.

This he found in the figure of another teenage boy. He seemed the bookish type, and the shy, almost wounded expression lent him an air of, well… the only way to describe it was ‘prey.’ Perhaps on his way to the same bookstore? Either way, he seemed to be the best choice for this dangerous escape. Hakuba approached briskly and from an angle, nearly brushing past the other boy before he stopped, reaching a hand out for his arm. 

“I know that this is going to sound strange, but please, bear with me: I need your help." The first words were a hushed, urgent whisper, and Hakuba offered his most pleading expression in tandem.