#aod2chapter3

It was early evening when she knocked at the door of Kousuke's room, looking around warily for passers by. It wasn't like she had anything to hide, per se, but she would rather keep their two-person resistance as low key as possible for as long as they could. All else aside, she couldn't be bothered with dealing with the inane gossip that could possibly spring as a result. Keeping a secret from Aku-chan was impossible, especially in this period of exposure, but she'd still rather not broadcast anything.

She began to tap her foot impatiently, sharply rapping on the door. What if he wasn't there? Katsumi really didn't feel like going on a random chase around three islands. But at the same time, she felt as though postponing this meeting any later would be a bad idea. She had to do this as soon as possible, regardless of the practicality.

Fortunately for her, the door opened and she recognised, fortunately enough, that the one opening it was a sprinter and not a gravure idol. Relief flashed across her face before being replaced with businesslike seriousness, However, her wringing of her hands betrayed her nerves, and she spoke with a hasty tone.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack

The sound was constant and unfaltering in its rhythm, sans the brief pause here and there. Just hearing her heels against the bathroom tiles in an otherwise deafening silence was enough to give Katsumi a horrendous headache, mixing with her thoughts to form a complex concoction that she was struggling to separate into its individual components.

Even though every rational part of her mind knew that it was counterproductive, she could feel herself growing frenzied as she continued to pace the locked bathroom, wringing her hands. She'd been losing grip a lot more than usual lately, and it was beginning to be a problem, like when she'd- no, no, she had something more important to focus on.

This was different, however, because for the first time Katsumi felt personally vulnerable. Of course, the secret of Jin's yakuza past being blown out of the water would theoretically be cause for him to try and clean up his act, put forward an image of innocence. She should have been satisfied that she finally knew the secret that had been so frustratingly elusive, and yet all she could seem to think of were worst case scenarios. He could become paranoid and think that they were after him, that she was out for his blood, and decide to strike first; or maybe he would snap if she brought up the subject, and he would act on impulse; or perhaps somebody would decide to 'deal justice' and kill him, only to frame- he hated her, loathed her, and she couldn't help but think of just how easy it would be for him to kill her.

Katsumi caught sight of herself in the mirror. Somewhere along the line in the midst of her thoughts she had managed to smudge her mascara, and now a charcoal smear had been spread across one eye. Seeing this, Katsumi forced herself to start breathing regularly again. She could do make-up, but she'd need a steady hand - no point getting hysterical then, was there?

She would only work upon fact. Fact number one: Jin Suzumiyatake was from a yakuza family. Fact number two: he had suffered dismemberment at the hands of his own father for some great mistake. Fact number three: he was her roommate.

The beauty queen had to keep calm. That was key. Rationally speaking, she had nothing to fear. Jin was not a complete idiot and knew the implications that his past had. Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to stir up conflict so soon after the reveal.

There were some people on the islands that tried Katsumi's patience - Ameya, for example, was a nuisance but harmless; Rinta was worthless but easy to walk over. There were others who were more disagreeable but could be tolerated should the need call for it, such as Jin. And then there was one individual, and one individual only, who Katsumi would freely say that she completely and utterly loathed more so than she thought it was possible to despise someone whom she had only known for a few weeks. Genjirou Genji was about as close to being the scum of the earth as anyone that the beauty queen had ever encountered.

It was because of this that she knew that she needed to confront him. His mocking of Mori was not only out of line, but she knew that the model would be unable to stop him. Even after seeing her angry outburst at the trial, Katsumi was certain that Mori would play far too nice for the music producer to cease his tauntings. No, somebody who was capable of being decidedly meaner needed to take a stand, and Katsumi had a feeling that she was the only one of that kind who would.

But she'd have to be smart if she was to have any chance of diverting Genji's awful attitude away from the model. Katsumi wasn't like her roommate, who would have probably tried to solve the problem through a few punches. Apart from anything else, she'd rather not break a nail; and all trivial concerns aside, she wasn't a brawler. Besides, a few blows had done nothing to improve Genji, even making him arguably worse. No, Katsumi needed to use her wits here, and even then she had only a slim chance.

Having arrived at the door of the music producer's room she took a moment to breathe and mentally prepare herself before sharply rapping her knuckles against the wood. The first step was to maintain control, and she was determined to make sure that she didn't fail it - that also meant keeping calm.

Therefore when the door opened Katsumi's face was completely stoic, despite the cold aura radiating from her being of such a chilling kind that it could make active volcanoes extinct.

Katsumi had, since its opening, paid many a visit to the gift shop. What fascinated her more than anything else was the incredible range of what it stocked (and how tacky a large amount of it was - seriously, "Min Meng did Nothing Wrong" t-shirts?). She had managed to restock her Canal No.4 supply and obtain some new clothes, but was still unable to understand whether or not she liked having it there.

After all, the building was more than amply stocked with potential murder weapons, free for the opportunistic (and the Genji) to take and use as they wished.It made her feel unsafe, but what was she supposed to do? Confiscate or monitor every weapon on all the islands? Tie people's hands together so that they couldn't strange anyone? It was pointless. Preventing murder was too great a task for her, and she knew it.

Still, she supposed having a good idea of the stock in the shop could do no harm, so she had taken to frequent visits where she would simply browse the items. It was on one such visit that she came face to face - quite literally - with one item that made her eyes narrow in distaste.

A cardboard cutout of Miyagi Miwa.

Besides the fact that it was both tacky and, quite frankly, creepy to have it in the shop (Katsumi wasn't a fan of Aku-chan's taste), just the very fact that it was the spitting image of the lolita model caused Katsumi to loathe it. She had briefly met the girl once or twice when their separate modelling careers crossed paths, and just those few encounters were enough to make her never again want to see Miwa for as long as she lived.

A thought occurred to her that made her anger build and resulted in her storming out of the shop, on the hunt for one particular individual. Fortunately for her, Karada Rinta happened to be passing by at that time. Before he even managed to get in a word of greeting, she had reached up, firmly grabbed him by the ear and proceeded to drag him back inside the gift shop. (No mean feat, considering that he was four inches taller than her with her heels on and a striking eight inches taller without them).

She didn't speak as she strode through the shop, keeping her grip firm, until they reached the cardboard cutouts. At that point Katsumi released Rinta, half-throwing him as she let go and pointed at the two-dimensional representation of his girlfriend.

Katsumi supposed that she really ought to be exploring the obviously suspicious areas of the new island, such as the abandoned building or even the mine (or she should at least be convincing other people to explore the potentially dangerous places for her). In any case, she should have been doing something useful, something productive- something other than attempting to ice skate when she had never done so before and there was a high chance of the outcome being quite frankly embarrassing.

That was why she specifically checked to see that nobody else was at the ice rink before entering the changing room. Ice skating couldn't be that difficult, could it? She could dance in heels higher than most people could walk in; perhaps it was the same basic principle of balance? She hoped so anyway. Either way, it would be a nice way to take her mind off recent events and focus on something entirely different.

Katsumi had paid a visit to the shop before coming, in order to have clothing somewhat more suited to the chill. She had to confess to spending far longer than she should have making sure that her gloves, scarf, earmuffs and princess-cut coat all coordinated in various shades of blue and turquoise. Japan's reigning pageant queen couldn't be expected to go ice skating in a mismatched outfit, could she?

The blonde was just sitting on one of the benches, having removed her heels and being in the process of lacing up one skate (whilst wondering how on earth she was going to get from the bench to the rink when walking on a thin strip of metal) when the sound of a door opening alerted her to another's presence. She looked up with mild irritation-

- which turned into not-so-mild irritation when she saw that the newcomer was none other than her beloved roommate.

"Great. As if I didn't see enough of you as it is."

If he was planning on skating then there was no way that she was going at the same time. Having never even skated before, she wasn't about to make a fool of herself in front of somebody who she knew perfectly well would mock her for her inexperience. Rolling her eyes, she unlaced the boot and took it off before heading over to the locker that she had stashed her heels in, waving the hand that wasn't holding ice skates dismissively.