Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction / Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Red Shaman ❯ Red Shaman ( Chapter 1 )

As usual, don't own it. Wish I did. Making no cash from it.

 

 

 

 

 

Red Shaman

 

 

“Don't you think, Yohji-kun?” Omi said.

 

“Hmmn?”

 

Omi rolled his eyes when he realized that Yohji probably hadn't heard a word he'd said in the last five minutes. He followed Yohji's line of vision and rapidly found what was distracting him. Among the seemingly endless stream of teenage girls was a woman. Not just any woman but one that practically screamed old money and high class at thirty paces. Her tailored suit was simple yet elegant and she had a confidence about her that spoke of years knowing exactly who and what she was in life.

 

Omi looked around and noticed several of the girls staring at her as well. Some trying to emulate the kind of casual grace the woman possessed. While others looked at her jealously. (Probably because Yohji wouldn't stop leering at the poor woman) He sighed and shook his head.

 

“Omi,” Yohji said, nudging him in the ribs, “think she'd go out with me?”

 

Omi laughed. “I think you'd have a better chance of Aya agreeing to go out with you. She's probably married.”

 

“You didn't have to shoot me down that hard,” Yohji said, pouting. “Think Aya'd really go out with me?”

 

“I think he'd cut your head off first and not be particular which one it was,” Omi said.

 

“Ouch! You're mean today.”

 

“I call `em like I see `em. Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would please bring your purchases up. We'll be closing in about ten minutes.”

 

There was a great shuffling and the few girls who were actually inclined to purchase anything brought their flowers up to the counter and lingered a bit longer than was absolutely necessary. Something hit the floor with a crash and Omi looked up to see one of the vases of long stemmed roses smashed on the floor and a nearly hysterical girl frantically apologizing to the woman for getting her shoes and pants wet.

 

He moved from behind the counter to help clean up the mess. When he got close enough to the woman and girl to hear the conversation he was nearly stunned. He had expected the woman to be irate with the girl because the clothes were expensive. But the woman was calm and being incredibly gentle with her.

 

“Calm down, little one. It's only water. No real harm done.”

 

“But your beautiful clothes.”

 

“The clothes are only things, sweetheart. But if I may offer a few words of advice.”

 

The girl, who had been staring at her feet, looked up at the woman.

 

“For one thing, no one likes to be leered at no matter who they are or how used to it they may be. For the second, in order to get someone's attention, you have to truly believe that you're worth that attention. Understand what I mean?” she asked gently.

 

“I think so,” the girl stammered.

 

“Good. Now go on. I'll pay for this and help clean up.”

 

“But I'm the one who . . .”

 

“Yes. But I made you jump and drop it in the first place. It was just as much my fault.”

 

“Hai. Thank you, ma'am,” the girl said, bowing to her.

 

The woman bowed back and smiled. The girl left and the woman turned to Omi. “Here let me help you clean up this mess,” she said.

 

“Oh, no. It's okay. Part of the job.”

 

“As you wish. I will take the roses if you don't mind. It seems a shame to let them go to waste just because the vase is broken.”

 

“Yes, ma'am,” Omi said, reaching out to grab the flowers and dropping them again almost immediately.

 

“Be careful. Beautiful things usually bite,” the woman said.

 

He nodded. Knowing all to well that was true. He gathered up the roses and went to wrap them in paper.

 

Yohji was shooting jealous glares at him from under his lashes while dealing with the last few customers. Omi ignored him and told the woman how much the roses were. When she paid him he noticed the ring on her left hand. It was definitely not Japanese in design. It was done with intricate knot work that almost looked like lace and there were diamonds and emeralds set into the band.

 

“The ring is beautiful,” he commented without thinking.

 

“Thank you,” she said smiling. “It's my wedding ring.”

 

Omi shot Yohji a see I told you so look.

 

Then without warning she leaned across the counter and kissed him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Omi,” she said, before turning and walking out the door.

 

How did she know my name? he thought. And why, he wondered, did his legs suddenly feel like they wouldn't support his weight.

 

Omi and Yohji were telling Ken and Aya about the woman in the shop over supper that evening. Yohji nearly drooling as he spoke. Ken seemed mildly entertained by the thought of a woman rejecting Yohji for Omi. But Aya seemed to be thinking along slightly different lines.

 

“You say she called you by name?” Aya said, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown.

 

“Yeah. It was kind of weird.”

 

“Were you wearing your name tag?”

 

“I don't really remember.”

 

“Let me know if she comes back,” Aya said before leaving the table.

 

“What was that all about?” Ken asked.

 

“Just Aya being pissy and suspicious as usual,” Yohji said, his eyes narrowing through the haze of smoke. “You know how he gets.”

 

Omi nodded. He wasn't so sure he liked the look in Aya's eyes.

 

 

 

The woman, whom Ken and Yohji had taken to calling Lady, did come back again. Twice when Yohji was on shift with Omi again and once when Ken was. She was always pleasant and polite. Nearly always bought something expensive. And always kissed Omi on the cheek and said goodnight to him. Remarking one Friday evening, “You remind me of one of my boys.”

 

“Really? Who is he? Maybe I know him?” Omi asked. He had gotten to like her in the time she spent there and was curious about her life.

 

“I don't think so,” she said, smiling a little sadly. “He died a few years ago.”

 

“Oh. I'm so sorry,” he said. Not knowing anything else to say in that situation.

 

“It's okay. I should have been there to protect him,” she said.

 

“How . . . how did he die?” he asked and was immediately sorry before the words had finished leaving his mouth.

 

“He was murdered,” she said softly.

 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . .”

 

“That's quite alright, sweetheart. It's natural at your age to be curious about people. Have a good night. Night, Ken,” she said, waving to the other boy as she went out the door.

 

 

 

“Damn it! Nothing!” Aya cursed at the screen in front of him. He had done thorough searches of the woman's image for three days and had come up with exactly nothing in the process. Even with his limited computer skills he could usually find a match to a person's picture. He had pulled her photo from the surveillance cameras in the shop. There was just something too weird going on with this woman. She only came into the shop when Omi was working. Aya didn't trust anyone who needed that many flowers.

 

Aya usually took the morning shift but switched off with Ken to be able to see this woman up close and personal.

 

Omi had been suspicious of Aya's motives when Ken had told him that he and Aya had switched shifts.

 

“What are you up to, Aya?”

 

“Checking a few things for myself,” Aya said. Looking over the stock. “What does she usually buy?”

 

“What does who usually buy?”

 

“The one you call Lady.”

 

“She buys various things. Roses, violets, I think she bought one of the potted azaleas the other day, orchids. Why?”

 

“Just curious,” Aya said, before asking one of the girls if she needed anything or if she was planning on standing and staring at him all day.

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“You're too young to say those words.”

 

“Please,” Omi snorted. “What is it about her that rubs you wrong?”

 

“I've never met the woman.”

 

“No. You haven't and you've already judged her guilty of something. Care to enlighten the rest of us?”

 

“Let's just say I'm suspicious as hell. She only comes in when you're working,” Aya hissed lowly.

 

“So. She likes me. Says I remind her of her son.”

 

Aya nearly growled. “She moves like one of us. Even in heels. Speaking of those damn stilettos, they really are stilettos in the heels. Normal shoes until you tap the toe which activates the spring mechanism to the heels which ejects the blade.”

 

Omi stared at him speechless for a moment. “I think you're being paranoid, Aya,” he said before walking away to greet Lady at the door.

 

Aya's hands clenched into fists. “Damn it, Omi. I know you always wanted a mother, but this is ridiculous.”

 

She and Omi wandered around the shop, he was pointing out the new stock they had just gotten in. Aya stood watching her from his place behind the counter, ready to spring at any move that even remotely looked like an attack. He might not have his katana with him but he was sure as hell lethal in other ways. Unfortunately, he was certain she was as well.

 

When the shop closed for the evening, Aya followed her outside.

 

She turned to him with a slight smile. “Was there something you wanted from me, Abyssinian?”

 

Aya paused for a moment, taken aback at her use of his code name. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

 

“Who are you? What do you want with Omi?”

 

Lady only smiled at him serenely. “Full of questions tonight aren't we. You mean to tell me you can't find out who I am?”

 

“What do you want with my team mate?”

 

“I believe that's my business and not yours,” she said, turning to walk away from him. It was a direct insult, turning one's back on a known assassin. Implying that they were absolutely not threat to the person. “I will tell you this though.”

 

“What?”

 

“I'd rather die myself than see that boy hurt. If you never believe anything else in the whole of the universe, believe that.”

 

“Why should I believe that?”

 

She smiled over her shoulder. “Try finding Red Shaman. You'll have to have Omi hack into the database. It's rather high security. Have a good evening.”

 

Aya stood with his mouth slightly open before he recalled he was supposed to be helping close the shop.

 

“Aya, what did you do?” Omi asked suspiciously.

 

“Don't worry, she's still alive,” Aya said. “Partially because I doubt even I could kill her,” was said under his breath.

 

“What?”

 

“Just be careful.”

 

“I'm not as stupid and naive as everyone seems to think I am,” Omi said impatiently.

 

“I never said you were.”

 

“No. But you sure as hell just implied it,” Omi said and stalked off.

 

 

 

Aya had asked Ken to have Omi check into the term Red Shaman for him. Considering that Omi hadn't spoken to him for three days, he thought it was best for someone else to ask him to do the digging. He stood watching from the door way as Omi's fingers flew across the keyboard in front of him. He grimaced occasionally then smiled as he managed to hack through another layer.

 

“This is really heavy security, Ken. What did you say this was for again?” Omi asked somewhat distractedly.

 

“Research on something for a mission.”

 

Omi shrugged and went back to doing what he did best. “There, it's set up to run every available password without setting off any of the red flags in the system. We should know something by tonight. It'll just run by itself.”

 

“Good,” Ken said. “Cause it's your night to take out trash.”

 

Omi groaned and got up from his seat. “Okay, okay, fine.” He made his way into the kitchen and snagged the garbage bag, tied it and lugged it outside to the dumpster.

 

He had just tossed it in and closed the lid when he heard someone call him.

 

“Bombay.”

 

Damn it, he wasn't armed. Who the hell thinks about carrying weapons to take out the garbage?

 

“It's okay. It's just me.”

 

“Lady, what are you . . .”

 

“Look, I don't have much time, bishounen, so I have to make this fast.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Your little friend will come looking for you if you take too long out here. I wanted to give you something that may help on your mission tonight. You are not to show this to anyone until afterward, understand. Hopefully, you won't need them. But I like to cover all bases.”

 

He nodded and she handed him two gloves and armbands.

 

“These are mine, but I think they might serve you better. The bands automatically load darts into the chamber, they'll fire in rapid succession as long as you hold the switch. It fires by pressing the button located at the pad of your middle finger with your thumb. They were made specifically for me, but since you have small hands the mesh should stretch to fit you without being too binding. You can have them adjusted if you need to later.”

 

“Why are you giving me these? I've never seen anything like this before,” he said, staring in fascinated wonder at the mechanical workings of the device.

 

“And you won't again. I just wanted you to have an edge tonight,” she kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck.”

 

“Thank you,” he said to the night air.

 

“Oi! Omi, you alive out there?” Yohji called.

 

“Be there in a minute. The stupid lid is jammed, again.”

 

 

 

Aya was on pins and needles. Ken and Omi had set off on the mission an hour ago and had been reporting back in at regular intervals as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened so far but Aya had a sense of foreboding about this mission that he just couldn't shake. He kept glancing nervously at the computer screen, watching the codes and rejected passwords flash across the screen and listening to the incessant droning of “Access Denied”, every two seconds.

 

Suddenly the computer blipped and said “Password Accepted” then “Accessing Database for Red Shaman”.

 

Aya leaned closer to the screen and watched in horror as the information came up.

 

Red Shaman: Level 9 security: Assassin: Female: Location: Unknown: Identity: Unknown

1903: 212 Confirmed Kills.

1904: 317 Confirmed Kills.

The list went on and on.

1951: 409 Confirmed Kills.

1967: 597 Confirmed Kills.

1978: 399 Confirmed Kills.

1985: 541 Confirmed Kills.

1999: 324 Confirmed Kills.

2003: 558 Confirmed Kills.

2005: 666 Confirmed Kills.

 

Aya felt his throat close. How could anyone live that long? Had to be different women who took over the identity as the others were killed or retired.

 

“Oh, God!” He hit the button to the field communicators. “Bombay, Siberian, this is base, do you read me? Abort this mission! Do you read? ABORT!”

 

There was nothing on the other end but static for a moment. “Siberian to base, mission accomplished. Bombay is . . . is . . . God, Aya! I think he's dead,” came Ken's voice over the com.

 

Aya was silent for a moment, trying to remember how to breathe.

 

“What the hell happened?” Yohji asked from the door way.

 

 

 

He felt . . . odd. No pain. Not the burning agony that had ripped through his chest with the bullet's impact. Just floating sensation.

 

“Omi?”

 

“Lady?” he said, turning his head to try and look at her. But that seemed to be too much effort. He felt her sit down behind him and pull his head into her lap.

 

“You must choose, bishounen.”

 

“Choose what?”

 

“To live or die.”

 

“Aren't I already dead? I was shot point blank in the heart.”

 

“Yes. You were. But I have some say over who lives or dies. But you must choose one or the other for yourself.”

 

“Live. I want to live.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I have responsibilities. Things I need to do.”

 

“No. Give me a real reason, sweetheart. Not because of any responsibilities on your part or because you think you need to do something. Tell me why you want to live.”

 

He thought for a moment. Why did he want to live? What was so important about the life of an assassin that it needed to be extended? Then his team mates' faces flashed before him and he had the answer.

 

“Aya. Ken. Yohji. They're the only thing like a family I have. I don't want to leave them.”

 

She leaned down and kissed him. “Then you shall have your wish, sweet boy.”

 

 

 

Ken nearly ran the car off the road when he heard the formerly lifeless body in the seat next to him take a deep breath.

 

He pulled the car to the side of the road.

 

“Omi? Omi!?”

 

“Not so loud, Ken,” Omi complained, holding a hand to his aching head.

 

Ken grabbed him and squeezed so hard Omi thought he was going to break his ribs.

 

“Ow! Let go you baka. What do you think you're doing?”

 

“You were dead. There was no pulse. Blood everywhere. There was a huge hole in your chest. I could see through you. You were dead!”

 

“Then how do you explain me sitting here talking to you?”

 

“I really don't give a shit how it's possible. Just that it is,” Ken said, before grabbing him again.

 

“Damn it! Get a grip on something other than me,” Omi protested. “Who do you think I am? Yohji?”

 

“Yeah, well, you'd better be prepared to be glomped by him too. I told him and Aya that you were dead.”

 

Omi rolled his eyes and sighed. Thinking Lady, wherever you are, thank you.

 

 

 

The woman that Omi called Lady stood watching the shop from across the street. She watched Ken help Omi, under protest, into the house. She also felt the sheer joy from the other two that the youngest member of their ranks was alive and safe.

 

She smiled a little to herself when she felt two people materialize behind her. She leaned back into both of them.

 

“You know, my love,” said the man in the suit. “You can't save them forever.”

 

“That's true, koishii,” said the blonde putting his left arm around her shoulders. “Eventually, everyone has to die.”

 

“I know that. But I can prevent any of them from going before it's really their time,” she said, resting her left hand on the blonde's.

 

The man in the suit put his hand over the other two. “Come on. It's late. We need to go home,” he said.

 

 

Omi looked out the window from his room. He could have sworn he had seen Lady standing across the street with two men. And even though it was dark and the distance was no doubt deceptive, he could also have sworn he had seen the full moonlight glint off of three perfectly matched knot work, diamond and emerald rings.