poor unfortunate soul

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:350px; border-right:50px solid #ac8bcc;][style=float:left; border:8px solid #ac8bcc; margin:3px; opacity:0.8;][/style][style=text-align:justify; padding:5px; color:#000; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;] He'd gotten his much needed respite from the school, but now he had to head back. If he didn't, he'd probably get back after curfew - because let's be honest, he'd probably get lost on the way. So, he began the trip back to one of the places he least wanted to be. His father wanted him there, so he'd go there. That was that. What Naoya wanted was completely irrelevant in this picture. He took a wrong turn without realizing it, and ended up getting lost - as predicted. Usually he could find his way out by himself- he couldn't manage to speak for himself to ask - but he was wearing the student uniform because it made it easy for people to figure out where he was trying to go if they stopped him to ask if he were lost. He didn't know sign language, and he didn't carry paper and pen around with him - though that might be a smart idea to start doing, even if his handwriting and grammar was poor. All he could do was nod, shake his head hesitantly, and point. Unfortunately, this was not a good day to get lost for the child. He found himself cornered by three larger males - people who lived on the streets and hustled people for a living from the looks of them - and being threatened for money. Sadly, the boy didn't carry money with him - he never intended to spend any, so he didn't take any from the money his father had given him. It didn't help that he couldn't speak to say that - but his pockets were empty, as they would find out when they made him turn out his pockets. Naoya let himself be subjected to this without any sign of rebellion or aggression - in fact, he was resigned and terrified, not that it was easy to tell from his face. words, 322 tags, goko/missile notes, i didn't know where to post it. it's just a random street. [/style][style=margin-top:2px; font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; color:#ac8bcc; text-transform:lowercase; text-shadow:-1px 0 #333, 0 1px #333, 1px 0 #333, 0 -1px #333; text-align:center;]it's sad but true[/style]

[style=font-size:10px; font-family:ms gothic;]made by RIVER! of BV, CTL and OTE[/style]

[missile2]

poor unfortunate soul

There had been a dry spell of cases lately, which was really the worst part of being a private investigator. As a police officer, and then police detective, he was never short on cases. Everyone called the police, for everything, and even if it was just running down false leads, there was usually always work to be done. Unfortunately, as a PI the calls were dwindled to those who the police couldn't help, those who didn't want to contact the police, and those who knew about his private investigator business. That lead to pretty odd hours, with his job taking over the entirety of his time for weeks, and then times like this when he was completely devoid of any distraction. Of course, he tried to spend his time wisely, researching crime patterns and areas, widening his list of contacts, and generally patrolling the city, but a workaholic just didn't feel right not working, and Goko always felt a bit restless when not doing something useful.

So, he was a little more hyper aware of his surroundings (more that he already was, anyway), when he heard a little commotion going on on a side street from where he was walking. It was already a place where delinquents were prone to gather in order to mug easy targets, and so the private detective didn't waste any time going to check it out. He saw the source of the commotion on the other side of the street where three thugs were harassing a smaller boy. "Hey, you brats!" He barked at them while he made his way swiftly toward them. It didn't seem like they were in the mood for a tougher victim (and weren't going to stick around to defend a broke mark), and they took off as soon as he shouted.

Goko had expected that. He wouldn't have been able to bring them all in without a fight anyway (something he wasn't going to attempt with a civilian around, when he could avoid it), nor was he going to chase them down when there was a victim here. Plus, he figured got a good enough look at them when he shouted to try to track them down again later.

"Little thugs." He mumbled when he was close enough to the victim to stop running. He took a moment to stop out his cigarette he was about half way though before turning to see the kid. He was a tiny little thing, and exactly the opposite of in-good-spirits. Really, the kid didn't look all that great to Goko, and his appearance looked a bit familiar in a way he couldn't quite place. His sense of duty, as always, far outranked any sort of curiousity he might of had, and instead he asked, calmly and clearly, "Are you alright, kid? What's your name?" While judging if the kid had been injured or not.

notes: aw, so many bad things happen to nao ;n; wordcount: 481

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:350px; border-right:50px solid #ac8bcc;][style=float:left; border:8px solid #ac8bcc; margin:3px; opacity:0.8;][/style][style=text-align:justify; padding:5px; color:#000; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;] They weren't pleased that the kid from the academy - wasn't it for rich people or something? - didn't have any money. In fact, if the man hadn't shown up, they'd have proceeded to beat the child up - after all, they had to get something out of it. As it was, the boy probably would have bruises on his shoulderblades - where he had hit the wall they'd shoved him into - and on his arms where they'd grabbed him. Not that he'd complain of them, or even give sign that he had them. No, he'd suffered much worse in the past - compared to that, these were nothing. The threats weren't anything that frightened the boy - threats of being hurt, of being killed. It didn't phase him - he'd had similar threats, worse threats even, given to him and also carried out in his life. And as for death? He'd longed to see his brother again for five years now - death would be a welcome relief from this awful life he had thus far led. Then the man yelled, and the thugs released his arms and beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. Naoya looked up towards the voice cautiously - was it someone else who wanted a turn? Just because they'd chased the other three away didn't make him a good person - no, he could be much more dangerous than those other three were. That he was much older and larger didn't make him any more comfortable - in fact, it made him even more terrified. Yes, there had been three thugs before, but at least their intentions were clear and easy to see; they'd wanted his money, and when that had failed they wanted his pain. But now he was alone with a strange male - and from his experience, this generally led to sex, and he didn't want that at all. Thus, his fear. The man paused briefly to put out a cigarette that Naoya hadn't even noticed, and then turned to Naoya. His eyes dropped to the ground almost instantly - one of his many submissive gestures - and tensed up, afraid the man was going to hurt him. But, instead, he asked if he was alright. Why? Even if he was - which, he was - why would the man care? He wasn't his father - who appeared to be the only one who cared if he was okay, even if Naoya didn't believe that he was sincere. So, he just gave a small nod of his head - yes, he was fine. He wasn't hurt, he wasn't anything, and he definitely wasn't worth this man's time and attention. Could he please go now? He wanted to go - maybe not back to the academy, but to leave this place and put as much distance between here and this man as he could. But to just leave would be rude - he had to be dismissed or he'd be punished. So he stood, his eyes locked to his shoes, waiting for what the man would do next. Please, could he just leave? words, 527 tags, goko/missile notes, my poor baby. [/style][style=margin-top:2px; font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; color:#ac8bcc; text-transform:lowercase; text-shadow:-1px 0 #333, 0 1px #333, 1px 0 #333, 0 -1px #333; text-align:center;]it's sad but true[/style]

[style=font-size:10px; font-family:ms gothic;]made by RIVER! of BV, CTL and OTE[/style]

[missile2]

poor unfortunate soul

Looking at the kid closer still gave Goko the impression that something was wrong with the small boy. Not necessarily because he could see any outwards signs of damage, because he couldn't at the moment, and the child was as calm, outwardly, as could be hoped for in this situation. But Goko had been doing this for eight years, already, and generally knew when something was wrong when he saw it.

Considering the short nod he got when he asked the kid if he was alright though, there probably wasn't going to be an answer to that curiosity forthcoming. But Goko was a detective, and his entire career was based on finding answers to puzzles on his own. So, he wasn't going to dwell on that aspect.

"Alright." He said, nodding back. Though he was sure the smaller boy was probably going to have a few aches, and bruises probably, Goko couldn't see any serious injuries that would require that he take him to a hospital, though he made a note to watch him in case he was in shock and just not feeling it. For now, though, he focused his attention on talking to the kid. Which, he was hoping to stop calling 'kid' sometime soon. "Will you tell me what your name is?"

He paused a moment, but felt that he probably wasn't going to get an answer to that. He adjusted his hat, like he usually did when gathering his thoughts, and then reached into his jacket to fish out his license. "Well, ordinarily, you shouldn't talk to strangers. Ideally." He said, out loud, though more as narration to what he was doing than anything else. He wasn't sure how old the kid was, but he looked pretty young. Sometimes, he had trouble with younger kids. He had no doubt that it was a show of one of his emotional failings, too. Kids, usually, needed affection, or at least some sort of motherly / fatherly / protective sort of pretense to hang on to. Goko was naturally protective, and usually very calm and patient with kids who didn't test him, but Goko wasn't a warm person, he didn't smile. On a purely instinctual level, Goko thought kids seemed unsure about him.

Once he fished out his detective license, he opened it up and presented it to the kid. Waiting to see if he'd want to take it and look at it, while continuing what he was saying. "But, my name is detective Sadao, and I'm here to help. At least to try to get you home." He paused a bit to see of there was anything the kid would do, before asking. "Do you have anyone you can call? Who can come pick you up?"

notes: yeah~ goko's not too horrible at this <3 wordcount: 458

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:350px; border-right:50px solid #ac8bcc;][style=float:left; border:8px solid #ac8bcc; margin:3px; opacity:0.8;][/style][style=text-align:justify; padding:5px; color:#000; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;]He could feel the man's eyes on him as he was looked over, and Naoya wondered what the man was thinking. Were the thoughts bad? Good? He hoped they were the latter, but deep down he believed it was the former. Not that he had anything against the man - it was just how he was raised to believe. Everyone was thinking badly when it came to him - be it a perverse thought or an insulting one, maybe even thoughts of him bothering them. That's just how the world worked. He had long since accepted that fact - he couldn't stop them, because they were in power and they hadn't even said it, but he knew. Of course he knew, when it had been apparant for almost his whole life. Now, well, now people hid it better, but he knew they thought poorly of him. Why would that have changed? The man asked for his name - as if Naoya could speak! Not that he blamed the man, he had no way of knowing that the child wouldn't be able to speak. Even though he'd been actively asked to speak, he'd gone so long with being punished for speaking out of turn - meaning everytime - that he couldn't bear to do it. So, Naoya gave a small shake of his head, and prayed the man didn't think he was being belligerant. The man had asked if Naoya would - and Naoya would, if he could, but he was unable to. He visibly shrunk a little, as if preparing for a blow - because that's what happened to him if he was bad, if he didn't do right. Not being able to answer properly, that was bad, wasn't it? The man kept talking after he shook his head, saying that you weren't suppposed to talk to strangers. If only he knew that just about everyone in his life ever had been a stranger, and they'd done more than talk. Talking - if he could manage it - was the least of his worries. At least he'd be able to answer people properly if he had a voice. Maybe he really should start carrying around a pad of paper and pencil - it definitely would help in this situation, when he was cornered and alone with a strange, older man that might do him harm if he couldn't answer properly. It was a common mistake to believe Naoya was much younger than he really was. He was short enough to be eleven or twelve, and he weighed the same as an eleven year old. He'd never be very big, having had a bad childhood whose repercussions would not only affect his personality but stunt his growth as well. It didn't matter that his father was much taller, and so those genes should be apparant - if Naoya had grown up in a proper home, that would have been the case. Unfortunately, he hadn't, and he had to deal with it for the rest of his life - however long or short that may prove to be. The man pulled something from his jacket - Naoya had heard him moving but didn't know what he was doing - and when the liscence was offered to the child he recoiled on instinct. He didn't really see what the object was; no, he'd caught the movement of the hand coming towards him and reacted accordingly. If he could, he'd have apologized for the poor reaction - acting as such would just get him in more trouble - but as such he just remained silent. Then the man gave his name - Detective Sadao. He'd dealt with people like him, a long time ago right after he'd been taken out of the prostitution ring. People like him had searched for and found his father, which had led to him being here. They weren't as bad as the rest, right? They'd helped him, they'd been nice. But people did bad things, especially to him, so he had to be wary. The man even said he wanted to help and to get him home. There was a pause, and Naoya wondered if the man expected him to say or do something - but Naoya was just waiting to be told what to do, because he had no power here. He had no way of expressing what this man wanted from him anyways. After the pause, the man continued. Did he have someone who would get him if he called? There was his father, of course, but wouldn't the man be mad if he had to come find his son? He was probably busy, grading classwork or writing something for a book. He was an important person with better things to do than come find Naoya. So, Naoya shook his head a little. No. He had no one who he would call. words, 819 tags, goko/missile notes, ._. I got carried away >>; [/style][style=margin-top:2px; font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; color:#ac8bcc; text-transform:lowercase; text-shadow:-1px 0 #333, 0 1px #333, 1px 0 #333, 0 -1px #333; text-align:center;]it's sad but true[/style]

[style=font-size:10px; font-family:ms gothic;]made by RIVER! of BV, CTL and OTE[/style]

[missile2]

poor unfortunate soul

Goko watched the kid nod at him, and tried to take in as much information about this as he could. He didn't honestly think this boy was mute, he'd encountered deaf-mutes before, years ago, and as far as his experience went, they went through ever conceivable effort to be understood. Even with his very sorry level of Japanese sign language, he'd been able to get a good idea of what they were trying to tell him, and communicate to a satisfactory level in return. This boy also didn't come across to Goko as the stubborn type, who refused to talk just to give him trouble (which was quite common in kids) - so, his impression of the kid was that he was very terribly shy. This thought allowed for him to extend a bit more patience than he normal would when trying to deal with an unresponsive kid. Mostly, because he knew being irritable now wasn't going to help anything in the least.

He was surprised when the kid jerked back a bit when he offered his license, and remained still until the shock wore off for the boy. Goko didn't like that, and was more than aware that skittishness like that was from more than just a scuffle with some thugs. His first guess was domestic abuse at home, and when the kid denied having anyone to call, it strengthened that idea. Either the kid honestly didn't have anyone he could call to come get him, or he was unwilling to use the number he had, for whatever reason.

Goko considered a few things, including the possibility that he'd unwittingly found a runaway. But if the kid was a runaway, he hadn't been one for long at least. He was still wearing a school uniform, and it wasn't any more dirty than those thugs had made it by grabbing him. He tried to think of the local schools around here, but there were dozens and he wasn't even sure if the kid was in elementary or middle school. The uniform didn't click with him right away either - it was a classic black, which was all fine and dandy, but terrible for identifying purposes. The only other clue was the brass I on the breast which could have been the letter or the number 1.

He wasn't all too familiar with the different schools' symbol (and now he had something to do tonight, correcting that), but at least it was a push in the right direction. If this kid was a runaway, he didn't look to keen on running now, at least.

He put his license back in his inner jacket pocket and regarded the tiny boy. "Alright, that's fine, we'll figure it out." He said, adjusting his hat again. "First, let's head back to my office, it's not too far from here." He said, thinking the young boy would probably feel more secure indoors than out on the street where he was just attacked. He spared the street a glance, making sure to remember if for when he came back later to see to those three brats, before looking back at the kid again. "If I gave you a pen and paper, do you think you would be able to write down the name of your school?"

notes: no problem, i don't mind! xD wordcount: 549

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:350px; border-right:50px solid #ac8bcc;][style=float:left; border:8px solid #ac8bcc; margin:3px; opacity:0.8;][/style][style=text-align:justify; padding:5px; color:#000; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;] If the man had become irritable, it would have just terrified the child more. Then Goko's belief of domestic abuse - which, once upon a time, was true - would have been proven as Naoya cowered away and quite possibly dropped down to protect his head and chest, due to his expectation of receiving blows with anger or irritability. Naoya didn't know what he would do if he angered this man; it had been awhile since an adult had hurt him, but that could change at any time - especially since he didn't know this person. When no blow came from his recoiling away from the lisence, Naoya relaxed just the tiniest bit; not very much and not really visibly, but he did. He didn't really notice that the man stayed completely still until Naoya calmed - and even if he did, Naoya wouldn't have attributed it to himself. There was no reason for this man to want to make him more comfortable, to keep him from being scared, so Naoya wouldn't have spared it a thought. Naoya had no self worth - he wasn't worth any consideration, and even if he was it wasn't good consideration. No, it was bad - how to hurt him, how to make themselves feel good from his pain. His world was nothing but others pleasure at his pain for eight years; how could he think any differently? At one time, Naoya might have run away - but by this point in his life he'd lost the will to even do that. Not to say he wanted to run away from home - no, he wanted to run away from school. Being there, among all those males, people who could - and some who did - hurt him, was constant agony. Once, he might have fled, but now he was unable to even do that. He stayed because it was what his father wanted, and he would do nothing that would upset his father. He wouldn't bother the man, wouldn't break the rules, wouldn't even breathe if he was told not to, so complete was his submissiveness. The man didn't seem angry at his inability to speak to him; in fact, he seemed to be understanding somehow - but Naoya cast that thought away; as if anyone would want to understand him. Then the man said they'd go to his office - what was at his office? He'd been in a police department before, but that was a long time ago and this man hadn't been a part of the investigation. He didn't know this person, he was still a stranger, and Naoya still had the thoughts that this man was intending to hurt him - in one of many ways. But he would go - not because he wanted to, but because the man in power wanted him to. He just hoped his father wouldn't be angry with him for it. Then he asked if Naoya could write, and the boy hesitantly nodded. Not everybody thought to ask that - they just demanded that he speak, why wasn't he speaking, did he want to get hurt? But he was still unable to speak, to form words - it had been so long since he had spoken last that he could barely remember the sound of his own voice, a voice that was much younger than what it would currently be now. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever speak again. words, 577 tags, goko/missile notes, sad sad sad sad [/style][style=margin-top:2px; font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; color:#ac8bcc; text-transform:lowercase; text-shadow:-1px 0 #333, 0 1px #333, 1px 0 #333, 0 -1px #333; text-align:center;]it's sad but true[/style]

[style=font-size:10px; font-family:ms gothic;]made by RIVER! of BV, CTL and OTE[/style]

[missile2]

poor unfortunate soul

When the kid nodded in agreement to writing down the name of his school, Goko felt a bit of relief. This at least, wouldn't be too impossibly difficult. Once he got the name of the kid's school, he could take him back there, and find out more. The fact that the kid was willing to write, also supported his thought that the kid was shy rather than mute or stubborn. A stubborn child wouldn't have agreed to write anything, and he was still sure that an actual mute would have a more handy method of being understood, even as a child. Obviously, the kid was the anxious type, possibly with good reason if there really had been domestic abuse in his family, and so he did his best to be as calm as possible. That, at least, came naturally, much more so than trying to give off any feeling of warmth or cheerfulness, that he saw other detectives who worked specifically in child abuse and special victims use.

There was a reason he had stuck to narcotics and gang crimes back when he was a badge. Those jobs never required that he have a soft, reassuring exterior.

And yet he still had a weakness for taking in lost looking kids. Of course, this one, at least, was looking to be a lot easier to deal with, and would hopefully be more temporary as well. So, on the bright side, he was getting a little better.

"Good. This isn't the best place to loiter, in any case." He responded positively to the agreement the kid gave on coming back to his office. It was within his walking distance, and in a much better (though not necessarily any richer) part of the neighborhood. He reached out his hand slowly to the young boy, remembering to go slow, so that his movement couldn't be mistaken for anything aggressive. The reaction the kid had before had been surprising, but Goko was clever and experienced enough to understand what caused it, and he was going to make the effort not to cause it again.

"Okay, take my hand, and let's get going."

notes: yeah, nao's sad ;n; /shorter post sorry wordcount: 357

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:350px; border-right:50px solid #ac8bcc;][style=float:left; border:8px solid #ac8bcc; margin:3px; opacity:0.8;][/style][style=text-align:justify; padding:5px; color:#000; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;]To say he was shy was an understatement, not that this man could know any better. Utterly submissive was a better way to describe it. Though he was wrong on one account - he did have a form of mutism, one so complete that he couldn't speak around anyone; at least, they had yet to find anyone he was comfortable speaking with. While he knew speaking would make it much easier to get by day to day, he had a terrible fear of being harshly punished for speaking; he'd never learned to write while with his mother and Daisuke, so he'd never been punished for doing so. There was no anxiety or fear to write. Naoya was glad that the man was being calm, that he wasn't angry with him for not speaking. That would have made his anxiety - which was already quite bad - even worse. If he had been cheerful or happy, it might have been bad as well - at the very least Naoya would have wanted to know why he was so happy. He'd suspect - not that he wasn't already suspecting - that there was an ulterior motive and be even more anxious. That this Sadao man thought he would be easier to deal with was nearly comical. Granted, the child would answer all of his questions and do pretty much everything he said, but his psychological scars put a lot of barriers between himself and easy. Physical contact was terrifying, sudden movements were even worse; add that to his belief that everyone thought badly of him, that he was bad, and he would never do right and you had a recipe for disaster. Naoya didn't want to go with this man. He wanted to walk away, go somewhere else, anywhere else. But he was stuck with this man until the man let him go - which didn't appear to be happening any time soon. He said something about loitering, and then slowly extended his hand to Naoya, which surprised him. He didn't want to hold this man's hand; he just wanted to go elsewhere. But the man wanted him to take it - he even said so - and they weren't going to do anything else until he took it. So, hesitantly, the boy put his hand in the man's, and hoped that this wasn't all a bad idea. words, 496 tags, goko/missile notes, he is not pleased rn. [/style][style=margin-top:2px; font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; color:#ac8bcc; text-transform:lowercase; text-shadow:-1px 0 #333, 0 1px #333, 1px 0 #333, 0 -1px #333; text-align:center;]it's sad but true[/style]

[style=font-size:10px; font-family:ms gothic;]made by RIVER! of BV, CTL and OTE[/style]

[missile2]

Goko figured it was a bit of a gamble whether or not the boy would really trust him enough to actually come with him. The kid, so far, didn't have the most trust-giving expression on his face, and it seemed withdrawn. It wasn't all that different from his own expression, which Goko would never count as a good thing. Goko knew there was something not quite right about himself, and though, typically, he traced the root back to when he was twelve, which couldn't be much older than this boy here, he knew the first cracks in him had begun when he was much younger. So that expression the kid wore, and his silence, and general skittishness didn't sit well with Goko. But he wasn't going to try to piece together anything else, when he didn't exactly have all the pieces. First priority was getting to a safer location and finding out where the kid belonged.

"Okay." He said, holding the smaller boy's hand gently, and then leading him down the street at a slow enough pace that the kid could walk. Goko was aware enough of his long legs not to make big strides, and not to try to drag the kid along, while still making sure to lead him.

Goko's slight stunted behavior when it came to dealing with children came out in little ways, particularly in that he had a very hard time speaking for no reason. Despite the fact that he knew the little boy was uncomfortable, and that generally adults were supposed to be able to say things to calm them down or make them feel reassured, Goko stuck to more purposeful words, like, "Watch it there. Alright." When stopping befor crossing the street, or avoiding getting run into by people in too much of a hurry. He was probably also being a little too overprotective - holding his hand and keeping him from getting bumped by people, and making sure they very deliberately stopped to look both ways before crossing the street - of a kid Goko was fairly certain was nearing Junior High, if he wasn't there already, but somehow that came a bit more naturally, which is to say, natural in a very awkward fashion, to Goko than he was likely to admit.

When they got to the building just a few blocks away, Goko relaxed somewhat, as this was more familiar territory. "Well, here we are." He said, only for the kids benefit, to let him know they arrived. The building was five stories but homely, being family run by the landlord and his wife, and who's rooms hadn't even been completely filled. The bottom two floors were office spots, meant for small businesses, while the top three were extremely cheap apartments.

Once he lead the kid inside, he let go of the boy's hand and walked over toward the stairs, gesturing silently for him to follow. Second floor, second hallway, and first door on the right was his office, which had the very plain inscription of 'Gokōnosurikire Sadao, Private Investigator' on the door's window, in Japanese. Though his first name 五劫の擦り切れ, was nothing more than one part of a childish tongue twister, which he disliked, he put his full name for identification purposes.

"And this place." He said, unlocking the door and opening it up, while flicking the lights back on. The place was very basic, Goko never being one for interior decorating. It's center point was his large wooden desk (behind which was his chair), that had an old fashioned lamp, a few notepads and manila folders stacked neatly on top of it. Other than that, he had a large filing cabinet off to the side where he kept copies of some of the police reports on cases he'd been involved with or researched, and of course notes of his own, as well as a few chairs that he kept for clients.

It was plain even for someone as minimalistic (in some ways) as Goko, but he preferred it this way as it was easier to search for taps and cameras without tearing the whole place apart like his apartment. Recently, he hadn't had to worry about taps here much (though he still checked), as there seemed to be an unspoken accord of some sort between him and his 'shadow'. Which was mostly him biting the bullet and doing most of his work in his apartment upstairs, and leaving those cameras alone, in exchange for the relative privacy of his office for his clients. He's say it was pretty selfless, if he had much of a choice. With that, he turned to the kid and gestured inside, "Alright, come on in."

notes: there that wasn't so bad, was it nao?
wordcount: 789

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:350px; border-right:50px solid #ac8bcc;][style=float:left; border:8px solid #ac8bcc; margin:3px; opacity:0.8;][/style][style=text-align:justify; padding:5px; color:#000; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;]Naoya didn't like having to hold the man's hand. It was a point of complete and utter distraction and disturbance for him, one that left him very tense and anxious. He didn't like touching people or being touched by people. He didn't want to be a bother or be bothered; he just wanted to be left alone. But people just always wanted to be there, first when he was working and now because of the time he spent working. A more rational person would understand, but Naoya didn't. He wasn't worth the trouble, he wasn't worth bothering over. He was broken, useless, with nothing to do with his life anymore. He just wanted to be left alone, left to his own devices; but his father no longer let him be alone after their first month together, after being left alone nearly resulted in his death. He wanted to be alone, but instead, he was with this strange man who he didn't know, going to a place he didn't know. The man didn't walk too fast, which was nice, but that really wasn't the point. The man couldn't just let him go once they got to a main street. He could find his way back from there, but they kept going - the man giving him commands every so often. But, mercifully, the man kept others from bumping into him - something he couldn't help but be grateful for. Even more strange contact would have pushed him too far - and he had no choice in where he went because the man was pulling him along and he couldn't not follow. It was rude to pull away from someone so suddenly - and besides, it would be nearly impossible for Naoya to do such a thing. Sure, he was strong enough to pull out of the gentle hold, but psychologically he wasn't. They arrived before a building that looked similar to the rest of the buildings around them - and he would have paid no attention to it had the man not said that they were here; clearly this was where they were going. He'd never have spared it a glance had he been alone - it looked similar enough to the rest of the buildings around it that it would be of no help to him when he was trying to get his bearings. They entered the building, and finally the man released his hand. He was glad to no longer have to be tethered to the man, to be touched. He withdrew the hand to himself quickly, as if expecting the man to snatch it back again - which, in truth, he did. The man gestured for him to follow him, so up the stairs he went after the taller male. They paused before a door that had the man's name on it - at least, it had the word "Sadao" on it plus some really long word on it that he couldn't hope to understand at his reading level. Then the man opened the door and turned the lights on to reveal a sparse room - not that Naoya really cared. There wasn't a bed, and that was pretty much all he cared about at this moment in time. The man gestured for him to go in, and Naoya did with some trepidation, moving just a few feet within the room and glancing about a bit anxiously. What should he do? Should he stand here? Against the wall maybe? Definitely not sit down, that would be rude. He decided to move to stand a little off center from the door, so that he wasn't blocking anything. That would be rude. Should he look at the man, or at the floor? Maybe at the desk? No, there were personal things - or what Naoya assumed were personal things - on the desk, so that would be rude. So, his eyes were to the floor. Then he waited for whatever the man wanted him to do next. words, 667 tags, goko/missile notes, poor nao. he so confuseded. [/style][style=margin-top:2px; font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; color:#ac8bcc; text-transform:lowercase; text-shadow:-1px 0 #333, 0 1px #333, 1px 0 #333, 0 -1px #333; text-align:center;]it's sad but true[/style]

[style=font-size:10px; font-family:ms gothic;]made by RIVER! of BV, CTL and OTE[/style]

[missile2]

poor unfortunate soul

He watched the boy step quietly into his office, and followed him in closing the door quietly behind him. Since the kid didn't seem all that eager to enter and explore the room himself (though Goko couldn't really blame him, since there wasn't much to look at), the detective crossed over to where his desk was an pulled up one of the slightly worn, wooden chairs he kept around for when he had clients, and pulled it up neatly towards the front of his desk. Satisfied that this looked at least a little more inviting, he called the kid over again. "Come sit down over here."

He then moved behind his desk, himself, fishing through his notepads until he found one that wasn't too full of notes, and quickly tearing the top dozen or so pages out and setting them off to the side to be sorted through an re-written later. He then slid the pad and a disposable pen to the kid's side of the desk. Though, as a detective, there were plenty of curiosities that nagged at him to be answered. It was difficult to be a detective without the urge to solve the puzzles that life laid before you, but Goko had more self control than most, and his priorities were almost always straight. In this case, it actually helped that he was not an emotional person, but he'd long since stopped trying to turn his curse into some kind of gift. That had only stopped him from healing when he could have, early on in his life. Now, he thought, he was to set in his ways to be fixed without other repercussions.

So, despite wanting to know a little about why this silent kid wouldn't speak, or why he seemed so skittish, or how his home life was, and other such things, first thing was first - he had to stop calling the kid, 'kid'. So, he gestured simply to the pen and pad and asked, "Could you write down your name?" And then, after a moment, added, "And the name of the school you currently attend." Those two answers would go the furthest at the moment anyway. If he knew the boy's school and name, he'd be able to take the boy back and contact the child's guardians (hopefully). Then he'd see what he could find out himself, without troubling the delicate looking boy in front of him. Delicate things were not his specialty, and he had no intention of stressing the kid out even more than he already was.

notes: /can't think of any notes wordcount: 426

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:350px; border-right:50px solid #ac8bcc;][style=float:left; border:8px solid #ac8bcc; margin:3px; opacity:0.8;][/style][style=text-align:justify; padding:5px; color:#000; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;]The man shut the door behind him, so quietly Naoya almost didn't hear it. Then he made his way across the room, past him and to the desk that Naoya had so firmly decided to not look at. Not that it was surprising that the desk would be his destination - there wasn't much else in the room of interest. Naoya heard the man moving things about, and he cautiously looked up just enough to see what it was he was doing, what he was looking for. If it was something that would cause him harm, he wanted to know before it came to touch him. The man had moved a chair in front of his desk and told him to come sit. He didn't want to draw closer, though. If there was something bad in that desk, he wanted time to see what it was. Sitting right there would make it nearly impossible to be ready for anything - but the man wanted him to do it, which meant he had no choice. Slowly and quietly, he moved across the room to carefully lower himself into the seat. His eyes, since he no longer really had a floor to look at and he didn't want the man to think he was being too curious about his things, went to his hands that sat folded in his lap. There was more noise after he sat - this time the man was moving things around on the desk itself, and despite himself he couldn't help but look up just slightly, warily. He was looking at his notepads, moving them about before picking one. He flipped through it before grabbing a number of papers and suddenly ripping them out, making the boy jump at the sudden noise. He hadn't expected such a response, and he felt bad - the man was tearing up his things for the boy before him, when the boy didn't even think of himself as worth even a small scrap of those papers. Then the notepad and a pen were pushed across to sit before him, Naoya leaning back a little as they made their way to him. Not that he truly found the objects threatening, but more the hand that pushed them to him. The man instructed him to write his name and school down on the paper; fortunately for the detective, Naoya had been taught his name first of all the things he learned to write. Once he started attending Chishiki Academy, his father made sure he knew how to write the name down - just for situations like this. So, carefully, the boy lifted the pen up and, with a cautious glance up at the man, slowly and carefully penned "直哉内田" - Naoya Uchida - on one line. On the next line he wrote "アカデミーを保つ" - Chishiki Academy. Then, just as carefully, he set the pen back down and sat back. The man had told him to write the words down, but he never told him to offer them back. words, 505 tags, goko/missile notes, japanese characters from google translate, so idk how correct they are. [/style][style=margin-top:2px; font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; color:#ac8bcc; text-transform:lowercase; text-shadow:-1px 0 #333, 0 1px #333, 1px 0 #333, 0 -1px #333; text-align:center;]it's sad but true[/style]

[style=font-size:10px; font-family:ms gothic;]made by RIVER! of BV, CTL and OTE[/style]

[missile2]

poor unfortunate soul

Goko had to remember to draw his hand away slowly, since kid seemed skittish even when he was just sliding the pen and pad across the desk. He hadn't really considered that motion one that could be misconstrued as aggressive, but he supposed it might have just been too fast for the kid.

He leaned back a bit and intertwined his fingers across his lap, so he could watch the boy write. It was with a little more concentrated effort than he would expect from an older kid, but he just remained quiet and waited until the boy had finished. When he did finish, it didn't seem like he was going to pass the pad back over, so he slowly reached for it, paused with his fingers on it, and slid it back towards himself.

He'd made it as obvious as possible that he was going for the notebook, but probably wouldn't be surprised if the kid was startled anyway. Still, it was better to use more predicable movements, he thought, around someone so on-edge. He realized that he might have learned that best from his sometimes-torturer than from anything else, but that was definitely a train of thought he needed to say away from. He looked down at the kid's words, and noticed that the handwriting looked like a very small child's. Exceptionally clear, but shaky in it's effort to be precisely like what the textbook taught. He stored that information away as well.

"Nice to meet you, formally, Naoya-kun." He said with a nod. He tended to speak very formally to stranger who weren't crooks, so it was a little bit of a relief to him to have an actual name to apply to the kid. He looked down to the name of the school and blinked. He was pretty sure he knew that place, but he was going to need to check first. "Hm... Excuse me."

He gave a small nod and stood up from his seat slowly. He wasn't in that much of a rush, and so still made the effort to have more predictable movements. He walked the long way around his desk and to his large filing cabinet that wasn't too far away. He unlocked the drawer with a light clink and spent all of ten seconds finding what he needed, taking it out and locking the drawer back up again. He was exceptionally well organized, particularly when he filed things away. He hated searching through pages and pages of unorganized reports and notes. That just drove him crazy.

He returned to his seat at the same speed, using the same path he used to leave it, and placed the sheet of paper down on his desk. "Well, I have to admit, I thought you were a lot younger than you are. My apologies if it seemed like I was babying you earlier." He said honestly. The paper he had pulled out listed the contact information of a few different local schools, and it stated very clearly that Chishiki was an international boy's academy for high schoolers. Which meant, as a freshman (that brass I was definitely a 1), he had to be at least 14-15 years old.

Goko slowly took out his cell phone, which was extremely out-of-date, but he was fine with the excuse that he was old. "Pardon me." He said, holding up his hand, like he would if he was stopping a conversation, even though he was fairly confident, by now, that the kid wasn't going to talk to him. He dialed the number to the main desk of the Academy and waited until someone picked up and announced that he'd reached the school's front desk, and could they help him. "Yes, sir. My name is detective Sadao, and I believe I've found one of your students, Uchida Naoya." He said with the same sort of mechanical formality that he used with almost everything. As he expected, the receptionist looked up Naoya and confirmed that he was one of their students. "Yes, sir, thank you. I will be returning him shortly. If there is a parent or guardian currently looking for him, please give them the number 361-5699." Then he waited until the man on the other end repeated the numbers back before saying, "Yes, sir, thank you for your time."

He quietly hung up and placed the phone back into his jacket pocket, while looking back at Naoya. "Seeing as Chishiki is a boarding school, and we haven't quite made it to curfew time yet, it's unlikely there will be too much fuss just yet, but it's good to try to give them my number anyway, if I can't know theirs." It seemed that his 'small talk', to put the kid at ease, had degraded from practical directions to just outright stating his internal reasoning for things. He really doubted that was going to do anything but make the kid think he was a crazy person though. So that was probably a no-go.

Perhaps something better would be, "Are you hungry?"

notes: another long one, sorry xD wordcount: 840

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:350px; border-right:50px solid #ac8bcc;][style=float:left; border:8px solid #ac8bcc; margin:3px; opacity:0.8;][/style][style=text-align:justify; padding:5px; color:#000; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;]He expected the man to take the paper - after all, he'd asked for the words and what was the point of them if he couldn't see them? Still, he couldn't help but keep distance between himself and the man's hand - now that he was free of holding it, he wanted it to stay that way, and he wanted to stay away from it lest the man decide he wanted to grab him again or something. Once the man had pulled the pad of paper back to him, he sat straight again and kept his gaze in a sort of neutral position - downwards, but from his periphreal he could see what the man was doing. The man read over the paper before greeting him by name. Naoya gave no sign of acknowledgement besides glancing up briefly at the sound of his name - because what was he supposed to do? Nod? Shake his head? Why would he do those things - that meant yes and no. A shrug was indifferent or unknowing and that clearly wouldn't make any sense. There was no hand gesture he could use, there was nothing but silence. Naoya was used to it, his own silence - though at one point it had bothered him too - but it seemed to unnerve others constantly. The man excused himself and rose, carefully moving away from the boy and to some big metal thing against the wall. He didn't know what it was called, though he'd seen them before. As such, he wasn't surprised when the man pulled one of the drawers out and searched through it for something. Naoya wondered what he was looking for, what he had needed. The man returned with a sheet of paper that he placed on the table between them once he had made his slow return. All the while, Naoya carefully kept track of all of his movements - he didn't want any surprises. The man apologized once he sat down - Naoya didn't think he was worthy of apologies, and thus gave a small shake of his head. Maybe the man wouldn't understand - a headshake was pretty vague and ambiguous - but Naoya had to, needed to even, negate an apology directed towards him. He wasn't worth the apologies, the waste of breath. He was worthless. Not that the man before him knew that, but that wasn't the point. The man carefully pulled out a cellphone - Naoya was unaware that it was old, as he wasn't up to date with those things - and made a phone call after excusing himself. He talked to some person on the other line, telling them that he'd found Naoya and that he'd be returning him. Naoya didn't need to be returned, he could make it there himself if only the man would let him go. Sure, he got turned around, but he would make it there eventually. Then he gave them a phone number for his father - who no doubt would make a phone call to the man if Naoya didn't turn up. Then the man hung up and gave him attention once more, not something Naoya cared too much about. Naoya knew it wasn't curfew yet, because they hadn't been here long and he'd been on his way back well before the curfew ended, but it was good to know that this man knew there was a curfew in place. That meant that Naoya would have to be back at the school soon or he could get in trouble. Probably not a lot, since Naoya wasn't that important, but he'd get into a little bit at least. The man then offered him food - Naoya wondered vaguely if the man would put something bad in it if he said yes, because that would be a bother to the man. Besides, even now his appetite wasn't healthy; he still ate little each day and didn't really notice if he didn't eat. He went to each meal at the school and ate something each meal - because that was what his father wanted - but it still wasn't a lot. So no, he wasn't hungry, and when Naoya shook his head to express that he wasn't lying. words, 708 tags, goko/missile notes, poor goko having to deal with silence~ [/style][style=margin-top:2px; font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; color:#ac8bcc; text-transform:lowercase; text-shadow:-1px 0 #333, 0 1px #333, 1px 0 #333, 0 -1px #333; text-align:center;]it's sad but true[/style]

[style=font-size:10px; font-family:ms gothic;]made by RIVER! of BV, CTL and OTE[/style]