Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Another Heaven (Weiss Kreuz Style) ❯ Scene 5 - 8 ( Chapter 2 )

Name: Androgene

Website: http://www.angelfire.com/space/noir13

Email: androgene@lycos.com

Title: Another Heaven (Weiß Kreuz Style)

Summary: Yohji is a police detective and Aya is a male strip dancer. When a serial killer is on a rampage, Yohji and his partner Crawford are called in to investigate. Soon they realize that the killer is not human and his next target may just be Aya. AU fusion - YxA

Category: Drama, angst, romance (the usual)

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Yaoi! Het sex in this installment.

Started: 1 Nov 2002

Completed:

Author's Notes:

Hayase Manabu - Kudoh Yohji

Ooba Asako - Fujimiya Aya/Ran

Tobitaka Ken'ichirou - Brad Crawford

Akagi Kouzou - Bishop

Chief Inspector Sakamoto - Manx

Makuta Yuuji - Ken Hidaka

Sasamoto Mina - Asuka aka Neu

Kashiwagi Chizuru - Schon

Kimura Atsushi - Nagi Noe

Kimura's friend #1 (the one who died) - Kikyou

Kimura's friend #2 (the one who lived) - Kase

Special student - Toto

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz belongs to Koyasu Takehito and Project Weiss. Another Heaven is a production of Omega Project Inc/Another Heaven Inc/Shochiku, and directed by Joji Iida. These film and anime do not belong to me and I make no profits from them.

Scene 5 - Disagreement & Ghostly Help

"This is victim number what?"

"Seven," Crawford replied. "He was murdered three days after the sixth victim, five days after the fifth. Our chef-killer seems to be slowing down."

"Or it could be he's just getting tired of the same repertoire," Yohji quipped.

It was a fine Saturday morning, a week after Aya's first night time visit. Yohji and Crawford were at a private boarding school for the mentally handicapped, three days after a volunteer teacher was murdered in his classroom at night.

Investigation had hit a dead end. They had such frustratingly little amount of evidence that it was becoming ludicrous. In the hopes of unearthing possible new evidence, both of them returned to the latest scene of the crime.

"What do we know of victim seven?" Crawford asked abruptly.

"Twenty-seven, male, unassuming appearance and humble nature, according to his colleagues. Parents died a couple of years back and he inherited a small fortune from them. Devoted his time to teaching special children as a volunteer. He's almost a saint, if you ask me."

"Perhaps not quite," Crawford mused. "There must be something about him that drew the killer, just like the rest. People like victim seven tend to have secrets that are often at odds with his humble image of goodness."

By this time, they had entered the classroom where the volunteer teacher had been murdered. It was empty and cleaned as best as anyone could. But there were still faint bloodstains on the floor. The detectives spread out, searching through the classroom.

"Look for things out of the usual," Crawford instructed. "Things that can help hint at what drew the killer to him."

Yohji pulled open a drawer and rummaged through it. "What if the volunteer teacher is exactly what he is? A humble, compassionate, down-to-earth man."

"Then I'll eat my badge," Crawford replied dryly. "I doubt it though. Humans are the most complicated species on earth. There isn't a single person who doesn't have masks, and everyone has motives and secrets."

"That sounds like something he would say," Yohji remarked without thinking.

Crawford paused in his search, sudden interest flashing in his brown eyes. "Sounds like who would say?"

Yohji faltered a beat, realizing what he had unwittingly given away, and quickly plastered on his easygoing smile. "You. I was talking about you in the third person."

Crawford wasn't that easily fooled, however. "No, you were talking about someone else." Brown eyes narrowed behind thin-rimmed spectacles. "You weren't talking about him, were you?"

"Who?" Yohji asked innocently.

"Fujimiya," Crawford said the name in a very calm voice but Yohji could hear the undercurrent of disapproval. "You aren't seeing him again, are you?"

"If I am, what's it to you?"

Crawford's expression remained inscrutable. He crossed the classroom to stand before a cool and challenging Yohji. "This may seem like a shock to you," Crawford began quietly, "but not everyone is as liberal as you are. Certainly not within the police force."

"I ain't that stupid to flaunt it to the whole world," Yohji retorted just as quietly.

"No, but sooner or later it will get out in the open, you can be sure of that. Fraternizing with a male strip dancer will only hurt your career. I hate to see your future go down the drain because of him."

"You dislike him, don't you?"

Crawford's eyes hardened dangerously. "My personal opinion of him does not matter. My disapproval is purely professional and as a detective concerned about his partner. How long have you been seeing him?"

"About a week," Yohji admitted. "Not frequently though, mainly at night."

"Good. You can still stop this before it gets complicated."

"It's not complicated," Yohji grated. "We're in it purely for the sex. I don't confide in him and I certainly don't love him. He knows that as well."

"It doesn't matter if there are or aren't feelings between the two of you. The fact is you interact with him on a personal basis. People will use that against you."

Yohji glared coolly at his partner. "What are you trying to say?"

"Don't play dumb with me. Fujimiya can easily blackmail you with threats to go public."

"He won't."

"How would you know?"

"He won't." Yohji repeated again with such deep unshakeable conviction that it made Crawford paused.

Sighing in frustration, Crawford turned away. "Fine, be that way. Don't say I didn't warn you when he does betray your trust."

Yohji scowled angrily at his partner. He didn't know why he felt he had to defend Aya's honor but it was important that he convince Crawford that Aya was not the deceitful type, convince Crawford to look past Aya's occupation and see the person. Life had taught him this much: one could never judge a person by his social standing.

Muffled sounds of things falling caught their attention. Both detectives' gazes swung instantly to the closet, hands instinctively going for their guns. Argument forgotten, they exchanged a meaningful glance and stealthily approached the closet. While Yohji planted himself in front of the door, gun in hand, Crawford sidled to the side and yanked open the closet door in one firm pull.

A high girlish scream of terror nearly shattered the detectives' ears.

Yohji winced even as he quickly holstered his gun, seeing the terrified teenaged girl huddled in the farthest corner of the closet. Beside him, Crawford gritted his teeth together; his expression pinched with pain.

She was a young, pretty thing - pretty in a mentally fragile and childlike vulnerability despite being in her teens. Long blue hair were tied up in two ponytails and spilled thickly down to her shoulders. She wore the uniform of the school and her big blue eyes stared, frightened, up at the detectives from behind the teddy bear she was holding like a shield.

"Sssh, sssh." Yohji soothed the whimpering girl. "We're not going to hurt you. We're policemen, the good guys."

"P-policemen?"

"Hai," Yohji nodded encouragingly, smiling at the girl. "My name is Yohji and that old grouch behind me is Crawford. What is your name?"

"T-Toto."

"Toto. That's a pretty name. What are you doing hiding in the closet, Toto?"

"Sensei tells me to come, but we aren't allowed in class after lessons, so I hide."

"What is your sensei's name?"

"Masafumi-sensei."

Yohji and Crawford exchanged a startled glance. It was the name of the murdered volunteer teacher. This was getting interesting.

Slowly, so as not to alarm the frightened girl, Yohji hunkered down on the floor next to her huddled form, careful not to make her feel cornered. "When did he tell you come?"

"This morning."

Crawford arched a brow. The girl was obviously cracked.

"Why did he ask you to come?"

"Sensei says policemen are coming today. He wants me to tell them what I see."

"And what did you see?"

Toto whimpered, burying her face in the fur of her teddy bear.

"It's all right," Yohji soothed. "Just tell us. We won't laugh or hurt you. Right, partner?"

Crawford gave him a look that said he clearly didn't think the girl was right in the mind. Yohji just glared at him long and steadily. Finally, with a sigh, Crawford replied grudgingly, "right."

"See," Yohji smiled beatifically at his partner and turned back to the girl, her huge blue eyes peeking from behind her teddy bear. "You can tell us."

"I-I am here that night," Toto began hesitatingly. "I am hiding here from the bullies. Then I hear sensei come in, with a woman. He draws her face." Unexpectedly, Toto blushed and hid her face again in the plush fur of her teddy bear. "They...they do grown-up things!"

Sex,Yohji mentally translated.

"But sensei doesn't seem to like it. He try to stop her but she doesn't stop." She began to cry. "Then bad woman turn his neck around. I hear the sound; it is awful."

A thrill of excitement ran down Yohji's spine. This girl had witnessed the murder! Trying to keep his excitement under control, he asked her in a calm voice, "What else did you see?"

"Bad woman touches sensei's hair. She says it feels fine, says his brain is not delicious, and she leaves!"

"Did you see anyone else with her?"

Toto shook her head.

"No one else at all?" Yohji persisted. She shook her head again. "Did you see her face, Toto?"

"No." Suddenly Toto straightened up, a look of alarm crossing her young face. "Sensei? Where are you going?"

Yohji felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He looked at his partner whose expression mirrored his own unease. Green eyes searched the classroom quickly. There were only three of them here in the classroom, but Yohji swore he felt there was an additional person with them.

"Sensei! Don't go!" Toto scrambled from the closet. She turned several rounds, her gaze distant and searching frantically. "Don't go! Don't leave Toto alone!"

A clockwork toy suddenly started marching in place. The wind chime tinkled softly though there wasn't any breeze.

"Sensei!" Toto suddenly darted past the two policemen towards the huge poster at the back of the classroom. "Don't leave Toto! Sensei!"

She tripped and fell, one hand ripping the poster apart in her attempt to regain her footing. A white paper fluttered down to the floor from its hiding place behind the poster. Yohji rushed forward to help Toto to her feet but froze when he saw the paper.

It was a portrait of a woman.

* * *

"We must be nuts if we are going to take her word for it," Crawford said in no uncertain terms. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"Then I'm sure it was a breeze that moved the wind chime," Yohji rebutted sarcastically.

Both men had returned to the police station and headed straight for the labs with the portrait of the woman. Poor Ken was 'persuaded' into the arduous task of matching the portrait to the police's 'missing person' databank, a task very much akin to searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. The young detective was currently hunched over the computer terminal, trying to make himself invisible, while the partners argued - and had been arguing for the last half hour - behind him.

"The girl is mentally retarded and not exactly right in her head as well. We can't go arresting someone based on her account and ghostly help. The court will throw out the case."

"She witnessed the murder, Crawford."

"But she didn't see the murderer's face." Crawford fought to maintain his calm. The encounter with Toto had rattled him more than he was willing to admit. "At any rate, it is too easy for anyone to twist her story. I'm not willing to take her word for it."

"Crawford!"

"We are detectives, Kudoh. We deal in facts, not superstitions. Besides, we don't even know if this portrait of the woman is the face of the murderer, or even if she exists."

"She does," came the meek astonished voice.

Surprised, Yohji and Crawford approached Ken who was gaping at the computer screen. Yohji felt a surge of vindictive triumph when he saw the report. Perhaps now Crawford would be willing to give Toto the benefit of the doubt.

"Schon Kashiwagi," Ken read aloud. "Age: twenty at the time of disappearance. She is currently taking a degree course in homemaking and gourmet-cooking at a private university."

Yohji looked closely at the report. The resemblance between the portrait and the photograph was startling. "When did she disappear?"

"Three days before the first murder."

Expression carefully neutral, Yohji looked at his partner. Crawford glared at the computer, obviously hating to be proven wrong so dramatically. "Well?"

"So it would seem she is our likely suspect," Crawford admitted grudgingly. "But it still doesn't explain the strength behind the murders."

Yohji grinned; glad that Crawford had more or less came to his way of thinking. "We'll figure that one out when we bring her in for questioning."

"If we can find her."

Scene 6 - The Danger of Picking Up Girls

The bar was one of the trendiest and currently 'the place to be' for yuppies. No blaring music and flashing disco lights here; it was tasteful and classy, yet upbeat. It was Kikyou's favorite place to unwind after a day's work and have a couple of drinks with his buddy friends while checking out the girls.

Tonight he was here with his usual pal, Koichiro Kase, and a new initiate to the drinking and flirting game, Noe Nagi - a student working as a part-time clerk at their company. The boy was old enough to be just above the legal age of drinking but young enough not to have done much indulging. After three bottles of sakes, he was halfway to being stoned and totally oblivious to his two colleagues debating which girl to bring home for the night.

"How about that one? The one in blue cutoff-sleeves?" Kase was saying.

"Iya. Looks like some character out of an anime. That girl in black is much better."

"That guy looks like her boyfriend."

"Damn. What about those two?"

"They look like they come in a pair and way too frisky. Can you handle them?"

Kikyou grinned at his pal, "There's three of us."

"You mean two and a half," Kase said wryly, eyeing the obviously drunk Nagi. "The boy can't hold his liquor."

"Well, he's not all gone yet. There's still hope for him." Kikyou reached for his sake but abruptly paused in mid-reach, dark eyes fixated on a spot behind Kase.

Curious, Kase turned and felt his own breath catch in his throat.

The woman who sat down at the table opposite theirs was gorgeous. Shiny tresses of dyed blond hair cascaded down about her shoulders, framing a very stunning face. She wore a black velvet choker and a little red dress that clung to every curve of her body and displayed long sexy legs in a pair of red high heels.

As they stared, the woman shifted in her chair, deliberately crossing her legs, and gave them a sultry smile. She was perfect in every way - looks, figure and best of all, the right attitude. She was someone obviously at ease with her own sexuality and an old hand at these flings, which was good.

Kase swallowed, feeling his groin tightened. He looked at his pal who had the same look on his face. Yep, this woman was the one for the night.

One short hour later, the three young men were sequestered in Kase's apartment, watching the woman - who introduced herself as Schon - cooking in the kitchen. Ignoring Nagi sitting slumped over in a drunken stupor between them, the other two men discussed the prize they had brought home.

"She's kinda strange, don't you think?" Kase mused. "This is the first time my one-night fling actually wants to cook for me. You sure this will be all right?"

"You're not backing out on me now, are you?" Kikyou retorted.

"No." Kase paused, watching Schon stretched like a cat while stirring a pot of something.

"It'll be fine. Everyone entitled to her own quirks. Nothing to worry about." Kikyou hurriedly stopped Nagi from reaching for the whisky bottle. "Yamero. You have enough for the night, Nagi-kun."

"There's no butter in the fridge," came the coy sensual murmur.

The men looked up to see Schon leaning lazily against the doorframe, a sexy pout on her lips.

"No butter?" Kikyou repeated stupidly. All of a sudden, his brain seemed unable to function properly. "Can you make do with something else?"

"Iya. I must have butter." The slim finger playing with a spaghetti strap of her dress was downright distracting.

"I'll go buy some butter," Kase volunteered impulsively. He hastily scrambled to his feet and hurried to the front door. "Won't take long!"

A heated silence descended after the front door closed with a slam, to be broken by a groan of discomfort.

"I need the bathroom," Nagi mumbled, swaying drunkenly to his feet.

"Down the hall, to your right." Kikyou said distractedly.

Kikyou was oblivious to Nagi's unsteady rush to the bathroom, his lusty gaze fixated on the sultry woman chopping up some vegetables in the kitchen. Slowly, the realization that he was alone seeped into his lust-fogged brain. He swallowed, a tiny seed of an idea germinating in his brain. Now was his chance to put the moves on her.

Rising to his feet, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Kikyou headed for the kitchen. "Schon-san."

She ignored him, humming happily away under her breath, as she went about cooking. She showed no reaction even as Kikyou stood very close behind her at the pretext of peering over her shoulder as she deftly chopped vegetables.

"Schon-san." Greatly daring, Kikyou reached up to touch the silky fall of hair. "What are you cooking?"

The thud the knife made as she stabbed it point-down into the wooden chopping board made Kikyou jump. He remained frozen to the spot, hand hovering above her head, watching nervously as the sultry temptress suddenly turned dangerous.

Schon turned around, and Kikyou couldn't help but retreat before her lazy advance. There was something very wrong with the look in her eyes.

"Why are all men the same?" Schon sighed.

"Really, Schon-san, I mean nothing by it -"

"Is sex all you think about?" Schon continued as though she didn't hear him. Almost like an afterthought, she tripped Kikyou.

Kikyou fell down, the breath knocking out of him as his back hit the ceramic floor with a thud. Before he could move, Schon straddled him, held him captive on the floor with strength uncommon to a female. For the first time since he brought her home, Kikyou felt a frisson of fear racing through him when he saw the manic grin of lust and anticipation distorting her beautiful face.

Things suddenly fell into place with a click, the current media hysterics over the 'Gourmet Killer' coming to mind.

Kikyou let out a whimper. "Let me go, Schon-san. Please, I swear I won't tell anyone."

She gave him a bemused look and reached to undo his belt. Kikyou was too frozen with fear to stop her from pulling off his pants and underwear.

"Relax," she purred. Sliding down his body, she lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

Fear-stricken as he was, Kikyou didn't think he was in the mood for any of this. But to his horror, he felt himself hardening from the administration of her hot talented mouth. He tried to resist but Kikyou was especially weak when it came to sex, and this mingled with the fear was an incredible turn-on. Despite himself, a groan of enjoyment escaped him and his hips began to hitch upwards, trying to get her to deep-throat him.

She released him abruptly, eyes glittering with a wild dark lust. Kikyou watched, dazed, as she straddled him again, this time over his raging erection. One hand disappearing under her dress, she guided his cock to the wet opening of her vulva in a non-too gentle grip. Kikyou had only a moment to realize she was not wearing any underwear before she impaled herself on his cock.

All thoughts scattering to the winds, Kikyou moaned as he penetrated her tight warm sheath easily. He bucked upwards, driving deeper into her, but gasped when she forced his hips back down on the floor again with just the strength of her thighs alone. Clearly, she wanted to be in control and there was nothing Kikyou could do about it.

Unable to take charge of the tempo, Kikyou simply laid there, riding the waves even as she rode him. Pants and the occasional gasps of enjoyment filled the air; the scent of their coupling mingled with the aroma of the simmering broth. It felt forever; it didn't take long before Kikyou climaxed, spurting long and hard into her vagina.

Schon came as well, shuddering deeply. Her hips began to slow its frenetic pace, languidly milking Kikyou of the last drops before stopping. Purring, she reached up to grab Kikyou's collar and pulled him to sit up. Smiling at the dazed but frightened look in his eyes, Schon threaded her fingers through his hair.

"Such coarse hair," she murmured. "You must have a lot of bad thoughts in your head. Bad thoughts are delicious."

Her hands trailed downward with deceptively gentleness to his neck. Schon grinned when she heard the soft whimper from her victim. In one swift move, she broke Kikyou's neck. Pleased, she studied the dead body sprawled beneath her, making no move to rise or release the limp penis still nestled within her.

The sounds of a door opening reached her ears, as did the voice that sang out, "Schon-san. I've bought the butter."

Giggling lightly, Schon languidly rose to her feet. She tugged down her dress, ignoring the whitish trail of semen trickling down her inner thigh, and went to meet Kase. The unsuspecting man greeted her with a smile of anticipation.

"Schon-san, I got your butter for you. Where is everyone?"

Schon ignored his greeting. She was on a roll here and she was not going to stop. Ignoring the plastic bag Kase held out to her, she closed in and pushed him back onto the sofa.

Taken aback by her sudden aggressiveness but nevertheless turned on, Kase eyed her in nervous anticipation. "Schon-san, surely there's no rush."

She laughed.

Kase wondered what was so funny. Then from the corner of his eyes, he saw his dead friend. Fear swamped through him, killing his desire and lust. With a yelp of terror, he tried to struggle out from behind her body but she was tenacious and held on with a crushing strength.

In desperation and terror, Kase groped blindly for a weapon. And when his hand closed upon a heavy object, he swung it without hesitation. "Stay back!"

Kase scrambled to his feet as the blow threw the insane woman off him. Still gripping the object, which turned out to be a dumb-bell, he watched in horrified disbelief as Schon stirred and rose to her feet as though the blow was nothing. But Kase knew his blow was hard; blood trailed down her face in a thin trickle. She should be dead, not standing and scowling at him like a sullen child denied her favorite toy.

Schon struck, one leg lashing out to slam across Kase's face. The terrified man went down, one hand cupping his face. Blood poured from his broken nose and the blinding pain in his cheek told him she had cracked his cheekbone. She took a menacing step towards him and unexpectedly collapsed. She stared uncomprehendingly at her foot bent at an unnatural angle; she had broken her ankle with that kick.

Seizing the chance, Kase broke free. He bolted for the door, screaming hysterically for help, too terrified to even look back.

Scene 7 - When Left With The Impossible, It Must Be True

Yohji sprinted up the stairs with Crawford by his side. There was no idle talk, both men intent on the raid. The murder was committed almost half hour ago, more than enough time for the killer to make his, no, her escape, though they hoped that was not the case. If the hysterical victim were right, a broken ankle and a severe head injury would seriously hamper the murderess's movements.

Other police officers were already there, covering all possible exits. Ken was already there with two other officers, outside the target door. Nodding to his young colleague, Yohji took up his position. Crawford smoothly stepped forward and kicked the door open. Without missing a beat, both partners burst into the apartment, followed by the rest of the unit. In unison, they swept through the rooms, swiftly securing each room before proceeding further.

Yohji halted abruptly when they finally entered the living room. Behind him, he heard Crawford's sudden sharp intake of breath.

Leaning against the wall, fighting to draw each wheezing breath was the woman from the portrait named Schon. Her dyed blond hair was mussed and a thin trail blood marred her pretty face. Other than that, she was completely ashen and there was a dulled, terrified look of bewilderment in her eyes. It struck Yohji then that she looked as though she had just woken up from a deep sleep to a scary reality.

She stepped, no, limped weakly towards them, mouth opening to say something. Yohji could barely discern two words, "help me," in time before she collapsed right before their stunned eyes.

Grimly, Yohji knelt down beside the still form and gingerly felt for a pulse. There was none. With a sigh, Yohji was about to stand up when he noticed her skull was misshaped, cracked inward like eggshell, and the hair around that area bloodied and matted.

Curious, Yohji carefully pulled back the cracked area, surprised when part of it came free and he could actually look into her skull. What he saw, or rather did not see, make him paled. His gaze darted to his partner, wanting confirmation that he wasn't going nuts, and found it in the tension in Crawford's jaw line.

Schon's brain was missing as well. But in her case, it was impossible. She was alive until a few minutes ago and died before their eyes. There was no way she could have lived, even for a couple of minutes, without her brain.

No. Way.

No. Fucking. Way.

Agitated and plain shaken by the impossible discovery, Yohji rose to his feet and began to prowl the apartment. There must be an explanation for this. Schon could not have been the murderer; the real killer must be someone else, who somehow managed to escape them.

"Kudoh, calm down!"

Yohji ignored his partner's order. He barged into the kitchen and looked questioningly at Ken hunkered over a man's dead body. The young detective shook his head.

Nope, not this one, he's dead. The killer must be somewhere else.

Yohji frantically combed through the apartment again. He almost missed the tightly curled up form behind the toilet bowl in the bathroom if his ears hadn't caught the soft sound of a sob. Yohji froze at the doorway, staring at the young man shivering violently next to the toilet.

Was it him? No, Yohji decided quickly. The look in the young man's eyes was of someone sliding into shock.

"Get me the paramedics! Now!" he yelled to his colleagues. Grabbing the nearest towel, he hurried over to the terrified young man's side. "Oi, hang in there, buddy. You're all right now."

He quickly wrapped the towel around the shivering young man, brushing the flop of dark brown hair out of his face to see clearly the glazed and terrified expression. The young man looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. Poor thing, he must have witnessed the murder as well.

Yohji wrapped an arm around the thin shoulders, trying to warm the chilled body up as best as he could. "Snap out of it. I'm with the police. You're all right now, safe."

One arm stretched out from beneath the towel, groping blindly, until the young man had Yohji's shoulder in a firm grip.

"What is your name?" Yohji asked, trying to make him talk and stop sliding further into shock.

"N-Nagi. Noe Nagi."

"Nagi, eh? I'm Detective Kudoh Yohji. Nagi, did you see what happened?"

The young man refused to say anything.

"The apartment's clear," Crawford entered the bathroom. "No reports of any suspicious character within three blocks' range."

"They just have to search further then," Yohji replied irritably. "The killer couldn't have gotten far."

"Kudoh, the woman was the killer."

"The woman also happened to be dead and her brain missing, just like the other victims. How can she be the killer?!"

"We know she is, from Kase's account."

"The man was hysterical!"

"Calm down, Yohji!" Crawford barked. "Look at it this way. Every clue we found so far pointed to Schon being the murderer. Her education, the time she went missing, the portrait and now this! You can't deny that she is the murderer."

"Then explain this. How is a person able to live with her brain missing?"

Crawford glared at him, knowing full well he couldn't explain the unexplainable. "No matter the reason or circumstances," he said stiffly, "Schon Kashiwagi is the murderer."

Crawford stormed off, leaving behind a bristling partner. Yohji was fairly shaking with the effort of restraining himself from going after his partner and thrashing things out with him. Now was simply not the time nor place for them have a dispute.

"Beautiful..." the soft murmur of admiration reached Yohji's ears.

Suddenly he became aware of fingers playing with his hair, and had been doing so for some minutes already. Yohji's gaze swung back to Nagi, stiffening when he saw the dreamy look of exultation and bliss upon Nagi's face. It was as though the young man had found an unexpected treasure he had been unknowingly searching for a long time.

"Your hair..." Nagi cooed, "Is so beautiful."

Then Yohji saw it, saw the twin rivers of clear liquid flowing down Nagi's cheeks, too much and too swift to be tears. It was as though, instead of tears, water was being spilled.

Scene 8 - Not Over Yet

The sun was high in the sky when Aya woke. Sighing sleepily, he snuggled deeper into the arms that cradled him in a lax embrace, enjoying the sense of security and comfort his lover never failed to give him.

Violet eyes drifted opened and lingered on the slumbering face next to his. The usual cold mask Aya wore was absent, replaced by an uncharacteristic soft smile of contentment that would take Yohji's breath away if he saw it. But he didn't, lost as he was in dreamscape, and such were the only times Aya allowed himself to indulge in his feelings for the blond detective.

Aya was glad to see the lines of worry and stress gone from Yohji's face; his lover looked almost younger in repose. The case had been wearing Yohji down and it frustrated Aya to no end that Yohji had refused his help. All Aya could do was to make Yohji forget about the murders for a few hours every night for the past week, to the best of his abilities. For Yohji, Aya was willing to be the distraction he needed.

It didn't matter even if Yohji did not love him.

Aya's only desire was to be with him. And he would never tell Yohji, nor woo his love. Life had taught him never to ask for something that could not be given, it would only end in heartbreak. And besides he wasn't suitable 'mate-material' for the detective; those like him seldom were. So Aya treasured every moment he got to spend with Yohji, seizing every chance he had to indulge his heart.

Today was a boon. It was Yohji's first day off in a long while and his chance to sleep in, which gave Aya more time than usual to watch him. Yohji had mumbled something about the case being solved when he returned late last night and tumbled straight into bed, too exhausted to do anything else. It was the best news Aya had heard in a long while. Since he didn't have to go to work as well, Aya had a whole day to spend with Yohji and he wondered in idle anticipation how they would spend the day together - if they would spend the day together.

Carefully, trying not to wake Yohji, Aya brushed back the errant fall of blond hair from Yohji's face. Very lightly, he traced the sleeping features with his fingertips, memorizing the angles and planes of his lover's face. He froze when the green eyes suddenly opened, catching him unaware, and fixed him with a sleepy stare.

For a long moment, neither moved nor speak. Aya waited with abated breath for Yohji to comment on his touches and Yohji trying his best to clear the sleep from his mind.

"Ohayo," he finally mumbled through a yawn.

Relaxing, Aya withdrew his hand and schooled his expression. "Ohayo."

"What time is it?"

"Half-past ten." Aya pillowed his head on his arm, watching as Yohji sat up and stretched like a cat. The blanket fell away, putting his toned and tanned body on display for an appreciative Aya. The blond turned, smirking when he saw the look on Aya's face.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Of course. You said something about solving the case last night?"

Yohji's smirk faded and he looked away. "Hai."

Frowning, Aya sat up as well. His lover had a dark brooding expression that was unlike him. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"It is..." Yohji's voice trailed off. Then he sighed, "I don't know. Maybe it's me but there's something about this case that still bothers me. The pieces don't fit quite exactly. I still feel as though I'm missing something, something vital."

Nestling close, Aya linked his arms about Yohji's waist and rested his cheek against his back, trying to ease Yohji's doubts. "I'm sure you would figure it out soon."

Yohji stroked the pale arms embracing him. "You have such faith in me, Aya."

"Hn." He placed his palm upon Yohji's chest. "You have a kind heart and a sharp mind. That is why I stay with you."

"I don't-"

"Love me," Aya finished for him. "So what?"

Stealthily, Aya reached down below the sheets. He smirked when he heard Yohji's sudden inhale of breath as he stroked the semi-hard cock he found. Very quickly, Yohji's cock hardened, filling his pale hand with its heated length. He grinned when Yohji shifted uncomfortably, legs parting to accommodate his strokes better. Stretching, he lazily nuzzled Yohji's ear, licking the curve with a wet tongue.

"Isn't it better this way?" Aya whispered heatedly into Yohji's ear.

Making a sound between a groan and a growl, Yohji turned suddenly and pushed Aya back down onto the bed. He grasped Aya's slender wrists and pinned them above his head; one insistent knee inserted between pale thighs. Green eyes, smoldering with kindled lust and amusement, met sultry violet.

"How do you want it?" Yohji asked in a low growl.

Aya licked his suddenly dry lips. The predatory look in Yohji's eyes sent a thrill of excitement down his spine, made him even harder.

Very deliberately, Yohji lowered himself upon Aya's pinned form, chest against chest, hips against hips. Their erections pressed against each other, Yohji gave a sudden sharp thrust. Aya gasped, flushing as a bolt of hot pleasure sizzled through him. Lowering his head, Yohji nipped playfully at the shell of Aya's ear.

"Do you want it hard and fast?" he whispered.

Yohji thrust again, this time moving maddeningly slow and languid. Aya groaned again, writhing under the assault. He tried to arch up, but Yohji pressed down upon him heavily, pinioning his freedom. Only his legs were free and they spread wide, knees pulled up and feet flat against the sheets, submitting completely to Yohji. And Yohji was quick to take advantage, pressing even closer and forcing Aya's legs to spread even further.

"Or slow and long?"

Aya couldn't decide. There was no way he could think with their cocks rubbing together in that sweet hot rhythm. Yohji kept alternating the pace, sometimes fast and forceful, then he would unexpectedly slow down; the unpredictable pleasure drove Aya quite nuts. The rush of excitement was heightened by his helplessness; Aya loved it when Yohji overwhelmed him in this manner, pinned him down and just dominated him with his lust, demanding the redhead to take it all.

"Well, Aya?" Yohji rasped. "How do you want it?"

"T-take me. Just take me..."

Infuriatingly, Yohji stopped completely, pulling a moan of dismay from the redhead. "Uh-huh. You have to choose, Aya. Fast or slow?"

The blond laughed when Aya started swearing at him. Unexpectedly, he gave another sharp but short thrust. Aya shuddered and writhed helplessly, trying to get Yohji to fill him.

"Well?"

"H-hard," Aya finally gasped out. "I want it hard and fast. Don't make me wait."

Yohji smiled. Swiftly sitting up, he snatched a new condom and the tube of lube from the bedside table and readied himself. Pinning Aya again to the bed, he shifted his hips and without warning, thrust hard and deep through the tight pucker and into Aya's hot depths.

Aya shrieked, arching upward, as pain-pleasure seared through him. Without waiting for him to adjust to his entry, Yohji began to move, hard and forceful. Another moan escaped Aya as Yohji changed the angle of his entry and hit his sweet spot every time. He writhed helplessly beneath Yohji; his wrists were still pinned but Aya wrapped his legs around Yohji's waist, trying to bring him deeper.

"Yes..." he breathed. "Take me, Yohji. Harder. Make me yours."

"Mine..." Green gaze locked with violet, glittering with heat and possession. "Mine...Aya!"

With a shout, Yohji came violently, spilling deep within Aya's warmth. Releasing Aya's wrists, he reached down and fisted Aya's erection. The redhead cried out at the forceful strokes, hips jerking spasmodically as he came as well, shooting over his belly.

Panting hard, Yohji rested limply in Aya's embrace. Aya cradled him close, refusing to let him go even when Yohji finally gathered the strength to make the effort.

"Stay," he said softly.

"I'm probably getting too heavy for you," Yohji mumbled next to his neck.

"I want to feel you inside me for a while longer."

Yohji paused uncertainly, and then gave in, shifting until he covered the smaller man, fitting the curves of their bodies as best as he could without leaving Aya's warm depths.

"God, I'm tired." Yohji said drowsily.

"Then sleep." Aya reached up and stroked a hand through his lover's blond hair. "You earned it."

He planted a tender kiss against the blond hair when Yohji hugged him in his slumber, smiling softly when he heard the snore escaping his lover.

* * *

It was early afternoon when Yohji woke up again and felt rested enough to get out of bed. He told Aya to get dressed; he wanted to bring the redhead to a place.

Curious and secretly happy that Yohji was taking him out, Aya pulled on his clothes in record time. He wondered where they were going but Yohji refused to tell him, saying he would know once they got there. As it turned out, Yohji took him to the city museum.

"Yohji, I didn't know you appreciate art," he murmured.

"I don't. But there's something I want to show you." Yohji led the way through the galleries until they reached a fountain.

The fountain had a full-sized sculpture of a classical Greek man in the nude, except the top half of the statue's head was gone. It was made of white polished marble and obviously very old.

Aya glanced curiously at the statue. "Is this what you want to show me?"

"This was the last place Schon's friends saw her before she disappeared. Three days later, she turned up again as the serial murderer." Yohji turned somberly to Aya. "According to her family and friends, Schon was a quiet, demure and obedient girl. She wouldn't just up and run away, much less commit those crimes. It just doesn't seem to fit her personality."

Aya looked at the statue for a long moment and said, "Something evil ran from her head."

"What?"

"Schon is a good girl, demure and always defer to her parents' wishes. She was brought up to believe that is the way a proper girl should behave. Schon, like anyone else, has desires. But because she always deferred to her parents' wishes, her own wishes and desires have been repressed. That made her weak and attracted the wrong kind of attention. When the evil settled in her, it unleashed all her suppressed desires. It was a temptation she couldn't resist and that's how the evil dominated her. In the end, the evil fed on her suppressed desires and twisted them further to suit its own tastes."

"So what is this evil?"

"I don't know. I can't sense a face to go with the feelings I get." Aya stepped close to Yohji, placing one hand on his lover's arm. "But it ran from Schon when she died; it didn't perish with her."

A chill ran down Yohji's spine when he heard that.

Violet eyes peered gravely up at him. "It's not over yet, Yohji."