Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction / Noir Fan Fiction ❯ There Can Be Only Two ❯ Tokyo Sightseeing ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer:

Though shall not be under the illusion that it is indeed the author of this "fan fiction" that is in possession to the characters.

Though shall only read this "fan fiction" for your personal entertainment and shall not try to gain worldly possession with this, as the author is not trying to do so.

Though shall know that the author's thanks go to Panda-chan for greatly helping with this work. (A FanArt she drew can be found at: A FanArt for Chapter Two can be found at: http://animexx.4players.de/fanarts/output/?fa=562314)

But mostly though shall not sue the author!

 

[#] foot notes, see end of chapter

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Chapter 2 - Tokyo Sightseeing

 

Alongside the car's windows the neon lighted skyline flashed by as they drove on the metropolitan expressway, revealing the only beauty this endless nightmare of modern urbanization called Tokyo had: The artificial lighted night. But Schuldig had no eyes for the bizarre beauty outside, nor was he interested in the people who lived there. He was eager to get some action not even having waited for a briefing at the base.

 

"So Mr. Hacker what's on our shopping list?" He asked in the direction of the passengers seat where the silent Irish sat.

 

"Not much." the questioned man answered him with an emotionless quite tone, but continued with a stream of information: "About two dozen known assassins are either operating in this area at the moment or untraceable. No lead on a possible client or his motives. Eszett has been out ruled completely, but otherwise nothing. Crawford has mentally traced almost 300 hotels in Tokyo and subsequent areas practical using our adversary's ability against them. He doubts that there is more than on party in this town with the means to disturb his sight. So we are going to check out the areas with the most 'disturbances' in the near future."

 

The flow of information - more likely the flood of information, given the fact that it had been Farfarello, who had just summarized multiple hours of research - left Schuldig wondering, but he kept the 'What-the-fuck-did-you-just-say?' question to himself. He looked at the image of the sleeping Brad Crawford in the rearview mirror and shrugged. No wonder Mr. C was exhausted, he thought as Farfarello continued his explanation:

 

"He roughly knows where they are, at about what time. Nothing more."

 

"Are we positive that it is 'they' and not 'he'?"

 

"Not very likely."

 

Which made only sense, since he strongly doubted any single person being dumb enough to actually kill one of Schwarz, and afterwards openly challenging the rest - which was a bad idea all by itself no matter what.

 

"So we are now going to this area to look around in the hope of finding something, because we have no better clues on who wants to kill us and where he is?" Schuldig asked skepticism prominent in his voice.

 

"Basically!" was the only answer he got ending the conversation.

 

They drove on for a while cars passing one of the veins that pulsated without rest in the heart of the Japanese capital. The silence only broken by the dampened noise of the traffic surrounding them until Schuldig suddenly disrupted the almost peaceful atmosphere:

 

"One more Question Farf?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"What I wanted to know was: HOW and since WHEN can YOU use computers like Nagi did, or since when do you talk in sentences spanning more than five words at all?" His voice was laden with a strange mixture of frustration, curiosity, excitement, and humor.

 

Farfarello blinked for a moment, slightly surprised: "Merely because I have not shown these capability in the past does not mean I do not posses any further abilities at all. In fact the processing of physical pain or pleasure takes up a large part of the human mental capacities. As you are aware of: I do not feel any pain at all, so what am I supposed to do with the unused brainpower? Compose Operas? Write Musicals? Or solve complex mathematical problems?" came the nonchalant soft reply from the passenger's site. Again effectively shutting Schuldig up with the unusualness of its relative complexity. And again the car sank into silence for a few minutes.

 

"You do _NOT_ write musicals, do you?" were the last words spoken during the ride.

 

They trailed off unanswered as the car rolled along the two-lane metropolitan highway, sided by ugly noise barriers that obscured the undisturbed view on the illuminated buildings beneath and above.

 

***

 

The targeted area had been as expected. It was ideal for someone not too interested in publicity, but with the possible need to get away very quickly. A boring business district centered around the local train station, fitted mostly for the needs of the local commuters, schoolgirls and boys, and shopping housewives - yet no housemen, as that species was widely unknown in Japan.

 

A department store towered over the station belonging to the company that was running the line. Two other train or subway lines ran nearby, an expressway exit was around the corner, and this area of Tokyo showed absolutely no distinguishable feature that would interest anyone besides the residents. It looked like all the neighborhoods away from the bustling commuter hubs and shopping districts like Shinjuku, Ueno, and the like.

 

A rather sad looking surrounding Schuldig noted, as he looked at the boring, ugly concrete buildings side by side, yet not even bearing the controversial beauty of regularity. Buildings containing apartments and shops, divided by small streets, that were overhung with and endless bundle of cables mostly invisible at night due to streetlights and store-sings underneath them. Artificial light sources that were overpowering every light ray from above, be it scattered from the rubber coated copper lines, from the moon, or even from the stars. A sight that Schuldig had gotten used to, having lived here for so long.

 

The most prominent features maybe was that, in addition to the normal accumulation of Pachinko parlors, franchise chain restaurants, and bars of many styles and sizes, there was a medium sized western style hotel that also belonged to the same conglomerate as the train line and the department store. A hotel that - as Crawford had described it - seemed to be a focal point of the abnormalities he could not see, and thus maybe a place of interest to Schwarz.

 

They had decided to park car a little way off and explore on foot to make sure nothing too unexpected would happen before closing in on the hotel.

 

***

 

As expected as the ambience had been, the area had not turned out anything of interest as well. Neither the officers at the local Koban, nor the two little yakuza dealers that roamed the darker corners of this particular area had had valuable knowledge of any sort - Schuldig knew that for sure and had seen to it remaining that way. No sense in spreading rumors about some strange gaijins roaming the streets, asking strange questions about other strange foreign people.

 

Well everything had been pretty boring and uninteresting up until the point they had gone into the hotel and made their way through the mundane lobby. A dull lighted reception area, decorated with cheap industrial reprints of Ukyo-e and other Japanese style artworks, trying to blend the postmodern catalogue décor of the furniture and tapestry with the native style of the host country, and failing miserably.

 

But instead of the staff being reluctant and keeping a weary eye on them, the concierge had greeted them in passable English:

 

"Good evening Gentlemen! What may we accomplish for you?" Slightly taken aback, but not letting the slip show on the surface Schuldig - naturally as Schwarz's appointed man for conversations - started with story he had decided on using as an introduction, and later on directing the conversation with his own means:

 

"Well good evening. We are looking for a business consort of ours, that we kind of lost contact with and suspecting to be staying here."

 

But instead of wondering why no formal introduction had been given, nor any names, the concierge immediately reacted: "Oh yes. You would not happen to be Mr. Crawford or Mr. Huldig from....?"

 

Not losing any chance as he heard those words, not even being angry about the usually way the Japanese mutilated their names, Schuldig forced his way into the man's mind to prevent any action that might put them at a disadvantage. But there was nothing to prevent. Obvious to the penetration of his mind - or typical Japanese worker-bee-like mindlessness, as Schuldig absently noted - the man continued:

 

"There are not many foreigners coming to this place, so if you happened to be one of the afore mentioned gentlemen: your consort has left a message for you. Shall I get it?"

 

Introducing himself to the conversation Crawford began to speak: "Yes. I am Mr. Crawford. Please serve the message."

 

Not asking for further identification, thanks to Schuldig's intervention, the man reached under the counter and presented a white envelope that bared no outer marks but theirs and the company's names.

 

"Interesting." Crawford noted looking onto the white bundle.

 

"What is it. A bomb or what?" Schuldig inquired.

 

"No, but a homing devices. As soon as we open it whoever left this will know that we are here. At least so much I can tell."

 

"Well so lets open it anyway! I just hate this cat and mice play. At least as long I am not the cat for sure. Lets get it over with."

 

"Why should we take such rash action, Schuldig? I can tell you about the other content of that envelope besides that homing device without opening it. No need to inform anyone right away! Quite a sophisticated device, by the way." Crawford's confident smile seemed to accentuate the sincerity of his words. He took the envelope from the man behind the counter and concentrated for a moment only to open his eyes with a mild surprise showing on his face.

 

"Well a letter from a girl is the last thing I would have expected" he said out loud.

 

"A letter from a little girl?" Farfarello, more talkative than he had experienced him in all the time that he had know the Irish, expressed the words on Schuldig's mind; though lacking the emotional heat Schuldig would have used.

 

"Yes. There are two photos and a fine crafted letter in decent English," Crawford noted, "telling us some of the things we wanted to know. But best I will quote:

 

"Dear Brad, dear Farf, dear Shu,

(I hope you are not offended, but I like the sound of 'Farf' and 'Schu'). It is so very nice, and also very impressive of you to have come by. But Altena told me not expect less of Eszett's Schwarz. Even though it is not very gentleman like to come to a date with a girl before the set place and time, you cannot imagine how exited I feel about contacting you with this letter knowing that if you read these lines things will become much more interesting. I would really love to say 'Hi' and warn you personally, but I fear, that you are occupied with more urgent matters at the moment, and I doubt that all of us will be able to meet after that matter is solved."

 

"I surely will solve that matter for her." Schuldig interrupted rudely: "Who in all the damnable hell did write that crap. If this is from a little schoolgirl, what kind of §#&%$? school did she attend to? And we are not Eszett's!"

 

"Shut up! It goes on!" replied Crawford angrily before continuing with the reciting:

 

"...matter is solved. But as a reward for having had all the trouble of coming by you will receive some information:

The people that you are probably looking for are two women named Mireille Bouquet and Kirika Yumura. You will find their photos in the envelope. Mireille is the blond European one and the leader of the team calling themselves NOIR. The Asian with the short black hair is Kirika. These two should be staying here. Do not underestimate them, please! It would ruin my preparations, if you get killed too fast by those two because of such a foolish mistake! We have high expectations in the following encounter between you and them. Please keep that in mind! You have been warned. Have a good time. Chloe"

 

Crawford finished the letter with a deep breath. Without commenting further on the strangeness of the letter, nor giving the redheaded German the chance to make any further sappy comments he began giving orders :

 

"Ok. Schuldig find out anything you can about an Asian looking girl and a blond western women, from France I suppose, from the guy!" pointing his thump towards the clerk behind the counter.

 

"And of course anything about the fair lady calling herself Chloe that was so kind to give us all these information." Turning his gaze towards his other partner he continued:

 

"Farfarello, please check out the security system of this place. We will meet back there in ten minutes." With a wink towards the back office that clearly sported a 'Staff only' sign he walked away from the ebony marble counter and took a seat in the small lounge crossing his legs; waiting, relaxing, thinking - for the moment. His white suit blending in with color of the cushions. A silent questioning 'So Noir it is?', almost inaudible, floated through the air, not carrying the mood of the speaker.

 

*

 

Schwarz was dangerous, not only because their members were extraordinary individuals, each deadly on his own, but also because they were working as a team, not questioning orders when needed - or at least not very often. Ten minutes later in the back office, that the staff had conveniently cleared, Crawford was summarizing the status:

 

"A blond lady that fits the description has left the hotel about an hour ago, looking for a bar to have a drink or at least she has asked for directions to a good one. Video footage depicts the same person as on the photo that is inside this envelope. Though the Lady is signed in under the name of Adrienne Belda. She is sharing a room with her niece Kuroko Belda, who the clerk - somewhat contemptuous - has perceived as a 'harufu'[1]. As far as the guys down here are aware of this, Adrienne left on her own and the child should be alone in their room. Officially third floor room 314, but a little unofficial deal with the staff relocated them to second floor room 202, which no one was supposed to know or even talk about, of course. There is no trace of anyone calling him or herself Chloe, or at least no trace of anyone that has seem suspicious to anyone. None of the staff actually know who turned in the envelope, but it was not one of the two guests. So we are still not clear about the motives of this Chloe, but it seems like she is trying to play them against us. Creating the impression of not really being in league with the other two. Anything else I forgot to mention?"

 

"You know Crawford. I wish you'd be able to tell us all that crap without us having to do the actual work." came Schuldig's cynical comment: "At least it saves the time to actually report all this. So what now?"

 

"Now?" Crawford's lips turned into an unpleasant smile: "Now we proceed with the original plan and play a little cat and mouse after our own rules with those ladies to find out what their part in the game is. You take care of the girl, Schuldig. And stay in touch. Farfarllo, please watch out for our mysterious benefactor Chloe, won't you. They are dangerous and can kill you. More I am not able to tell you. Have fun. I, myself, am going to have a good drink and maybe a nice personal chat with the lovely French mademoiselle in town."

 

With those words he ripped open the envelope revealing the photos and letter inside as well as a small electronic devise, throwing last mentioned item over to his blond companion, who turned it around in his hand a few times intensely staring at it with his yellow brown eye, the other one being hidden behind his trademark eye patch.

 

***

 

A few minutes later Crawford was walking down the streets of the still very active business district. He knew the address of the place the hotel staff had given him, though he kept an eye on his surrounding, being on guard for something he might not have seen, and trying to spot a place that might have intrigued a female professional killer from France. The other part of his mind, the precognitive part to be exactly, was still trying to overcome the disturbances - especially strong here - but making little process.

 

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, something indeed having captured his attention, though not exactly what he had been looking for. "Well that sure is a surprise! Damn those yellow pages." he thought to himself his face turning from the indifferent mask it had shown into a pleased and humored smile: "Nothing against a little fun before the real hard part." Those thoughts replacing his earlier worries he turned towards the place his eyes had caught sight of.

 

*

 

"Shouldn't you be getting the girl right now?" ask a low voice next to Schuldig.

 

The German had taken a seat at the hotel bar and was enjoying a drink, messing around with the other people present in his own way.

 

"Go away Farf! It's not like it has to be done right away." he countered: "Later is actually better. It's easier if the brat is already asleep. No need to hurry." Somewhat satisfied with the explanation the tall blonde man shrugged and started to walk away again.

 

"Yo Farf! Have a drink with me." Schuldig called him back: "It's not like this Chloe person will pop out of nowhere immediately, and knowing Crawford, the old bastard is having his own fun right now anyway!"

 

"No." came the only reply and the Irish went away again: "Don't forget to stay in touch!" where his last words repeating their leaders' warning from earlier.

 

*

 

Said old bastard was indeed having fun.

 

The advertisement boards of the shop he was currently in were in pink and white, sported lines like 'Special Valentines Day Offers' and 'Late night sales on the 13th of February - all our Staff attendant', and they were indeed having an affect. Even though it was pretty late, there were a lot of customers all over the flower shop. Husbands and boyfriends buying smaller and bigger bouquets - the size often being directly proportional to the guilt the customer had for the various reasons. But also a lot of young women and even still a few young girls, some of them actually looking at the flowers and dreaming about what they might get the next day, but most of them were more occupied with the staff rather than with the merchandise.

 

"Well business seems to be going well, doesn't it?"

 

Crawford got no reply from the clerk who only stared at him. While the whole staff seemed to have tightened up the very moment they saw him enter, the customers were oblivious to the change and happily continued their chitchatting and silent adoration of the boys managing the store, using the rare opportunity to see all four of them together - and of course using it to compare them.

 

"Well no wonder. With Valentines Day tomorrow sales must be great!" the white suited man continued his face sporting a wide grin: "Anyway I was just in the area to meet a French beauty and I thought that some flowers might be a nice thing to present her. Do you still have something exquisite that would befit a lady?"

 

He still got no reaction from the tall red headed man in front of him who seemed to be more occupied with frantically taxing the surrounding, looking for a way to escape or a possible threat.

 

"Hey I am talking to you! Won't an old acquaintance be allowed to get some flowers in here?" Crawford waved his hands in front of the man trying to get his attention back.

 

"What do you want?" the clerk more hissed than spoke. Some of the customers were taken aback by the rude behavior towards what they perceived as a tall, well behaved, and very good looking foreigner that spoke perfect Japanese and was probably rich. Unusual even for the man renown to be the shop's most impersonal, unfriendly staff member.

 

A little to the side one of the girls who had been talking to another salesman could not hold back her curiosity and asked him in quiet voice, yet not quiet enough for Crawford not to overhear:

"Acquaintance? Wow. Does Aya-kun know him?" but she got no reply since the boyish looking man she had been talking to was completely ignoring her, his eyes focused on the smiling Crawford, his fist tightly clenched, the knuckles, prominently white, exposing his extreme tension.

 

Undisturbed by the antics of the other employees Crawford restated his query:

"I'm looking for some flowers - and that's not the cheap ones you've got there in the front. Flowers I can present at a first date with French lady. I thought I might get some good advise here since the store seemed awfully popular. So will you help me, or not?"

 

"A date? You?" disbelieving the clerk blinked

 

"Yeah what else would I need flowers for? You seem to be experts on women's tastes for flowers." The distressed man noticed that suddenly all the attention in the store was focused on the uneven pair - a lot of women's eyes speaking of interest and expectations.

 

"Well. Tell me about her and what your intentions are for her and we will see whether we have got something appropriate for you or not, Sir." A lot of the customers again wondered why the man with apron had been speaking so slowly and menacing, as if someone was threatening him at gunpoint, or why he had been stressing the words 'intentions' and 'Sir'. But they quickly forgot about it, as they watched a professional at work; a very good looking professional in their opinion, silently wishing that the unknown man was ordering for them, and a lot of them debating who was the actual better looking of the two men.

 

A few minutes later a still smiling Crawford, obviously in a good mood, was leaving the shop with a big bouquet, the content hidden in the white paper wrapping.

 

"Thanks again for the friendship discount! Really good work, the lady will be very pleased! I think I will recommend your store to my business associates." he called before turning back and disappeared into the night.

 

Behind him the shop's staff could only watch in disbelieve as the American leisurely strode away muttering among themselves, but too quiet for the still present customer to hear:

 

"An interesting choice of flowers for him."

"Should we follow him?"

"No!"

"But..."

"You really want to play chaperone to that guy on a date?"

"Well no, but..."

"..hey that could be interesting.......only joking"

"Than don't. It's not our job!"

"But he might...."

"Just forget it. No one knowing us would come here to buy flowers before going to kill someone, would he?"

"HE probably would."

"In my opinion he was never here! Got it! The customers are waiting!"

"But shouldn't we at least inform Manx or so?"

"Yeah sure, and tell them what? An old acquainting just stopped by to get some flowers for a date? A professional precognitive bodyguard of a former target, a witness nevertheless, just visiting? You tell them."

 

The conversation of the customers however went other ways:

"Wow. Is he a prince?"

"Well if it wasn't a white suit, but an uniform he would look a little like my brother."

"I could imagine him with a top hat and a cape."

"With a mask or with a monocle?"

"He had glasses, that's in between."

"I wish it was me he is going to meet!"

"Bah I hate boys! He is probably a pervert"

"Maybe he is a famous thief"

"He just looks a little bit like my old sempai."

"You know he isn't Japanese?"

"Doesn't matter! He still does look like him!"

"That must be a very lucky girl he is going to meet."

And almost simultaneous: "But he is nothing compared to my..." the different names being incomprehensible though the honorable ending "sama" was prominent again with some of them.

Of course none of them had any idea how wrong they were about most things, especially the lucky girl part.

 

Their whispers faded away into the gloomy night like the man in the white suit had done, leaving the innocent to themselves, their dreams protected by beasts, beasts with black hands.

 

*

 

While Schuldig had been taking a little break at the hotel lobby, Farfarello had been on the lookout for the person called Chloe. Not exactly sure what to expect, or from where, he had decided on the hotel roof as a watching post, after having leaving the German to himself. The hotel building having only three floors, Farfarello had no problems observing the main entrance and the street, as well as the roof access from his position - gargoyle like on the sill.

 

Schuldig would be able to handle anything they might have overlooked inside the hotel. And since the chances of actually not having noticed something were rather slim, the best plan of action was to wait outside for the arrival of their mysterious informant.

 

Sitting in the chilly winter breeze wearing just a T-Shirt was a small price to pay for being able to monitor at least two of the three entrances and have a quick look at the backdoor if needed. He didn't mind the cold anyway. A throwing knife heading for his kidneys though he did mind. So he flipped out of the way.

 

"Chloe I suppose?" He got no answer from the silent roof.

 

*

 

'Well seems like it's time to go to work! Good luck to you Farf! Yo, Crawford it's starting' Schuldig stood up.

 

"Thanks for the drink, man!"

 

Since the barkeeper was not even wondering why the redhead did not pay anything at all, nor did he know anything else about the stranger, he also did not know that only receiving one of Schuldig's infamous smiles in trade for the beverage was a good thing.

 

Ignoring the people at the bar the Schwarz member leisurely headed for the second floor briefly wondering whether to take the stairs or the elevator. Deciding not fall victim to corny elevator music he quickly jumped up the stairs.

 

The hallway, he found himself in, was boring. The hotel itself not being anything special, the second floor as well as the third consisted only of a single narrow corridor paved with an industrial red carpet - good for covering bloodstains Schuldig absently noticed - while the walls were painted in light yellow. Uniform and uninteresting lights were illuminating this miserable place of existence in equal intervals, designed with functionality in mind, not beauty or happiness. The rooms behind the simple white doors were probably of the same style, narrow and functional, nothing more.

 

Not wasting any time on actually complaining about this workplace Schuldig headed strait for the door displaying the 202 in uninspiring brass letters.

 

"Well, Well what to do, how to kill?" Schuldig wondered aloud: "I could silently pick the lock with my l337 3v1l lock picking skillz. Or I could shoot the lock and burst into the room shooting everyone inside, which would be fun. Or.." smiling like the infamous proverbial cat who just ate the canary, "I just could use the master key the nice guy at the front desk gave me."

 

Plan sat into action he carefully inserted the key and turned it softly. The door opened almost with out a sound revealing a short corridor with the obligatory sanitary unit to the side opening the view into a dark room with the beds hidden behind the corner.

 

'Here we go!' he thought to himself taking out his gun and turning off the safeguard while entering the room.

 

*

 

'Yo, Crawford it's starting.' Schuldig's voice sounded in his head. 'Well good timing!'.

 

The bar he had just entered was an interesting cross between a stylish western restaurant and a classical high class Japanese izakaya[2]. Dark wood and white paper were the major component in the interior design, though the tables were western style. The decoration ranged from bonsai trees, to wall scrolls featuring different calligraphy works, to aquaria. The light, not too bright, was pleasant, giving the place an overall cultivated, yet cozy ambiance. The guests seem to match that style. Western cloth were worn, yet not the penetrative colors one could see in downtown Harajuku or Shibuya. All in all a place Brad Crawford felt comfortable with.

 

"Good evening and welcome Sir! What may we do for you? Table for one or are you expecting guests?" the waiter at the entrance register greeted him.

 

"Well, actually I am here to meet with my:" with his free hand he reached inside his jacket pulling out the photo of his target. For the merest second he again studied the features of the portrait woman until he continued slowly: "...with my fiancé. Is she here already?"

 

The waiter also briefly glanced at the photo. Misinterpreting Crawford's slight hesitation while looking at the photo - a photo of a stunningly beautiful Lady in his opinion - and seeing the bouquet in the other man's hand he did not question the stated reason for seeing one of their guests and let the new arrived visitor into the restaurant:

 

"This way please Sir. She has already been with us for over an hour. I hope she will not be to displeased with your late arrival."

 

"Well, we will see how pleased she will be with me, won't we?"

 

The blond flowing hair of his quarry was well visible within these premises frequented mostly by the dark haired natives of this country. He spotted her at the far end of the divided room sitting at a small table for two, her back naturally to the wall, absently staring into nothingness, and contemplating matters of unknown importance with a single glass of red wine in front of her. For the short moment it took the pair to cover the distance to the table he had time to admire her regal appearance. The wine red sleeveless tunic and almost obscenely short black skirt seemed to fit her naturally, complemented by high heeled boots that reached up till mid calf.

 

Long though that moment did not last. Almost too fast they had reached the table. Fast enough not to be noticed by the blonde women before the moment they stood in front of her.

 

"Isn't this a lovely night for the two of us meeting, Ms. Bouquet? Do you mind me joining you for the evening?"

 

The flawless French the Gentleman had used the waiter could not comprehend, the slight graceful bow he watched in awe. He just hoped that everything went well with that seemingly perfect couple. Joy surely hadn't been the expression on the woman's face upon seeing her 'fiancé'.

 

 

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[1] A term used for children of mixed race origin. Half Japanese. It is usually used derogatively.

[2] A Japanese pub or bar. To meet with people, eat, drink and chat.

 

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Ready to rumble, aren't they? I hope you are interested in the further events that night. Stay tuned!

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