Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Building Our Tomorrow ❯ The Grasp of the Past ( Chapter 9 )

AN: Sorry for taking so long to update. I've had my brother and a few of his friends visiting for the last few days so I hadn't been able to get this chapter finished in the normal amount of time. I also had a few problems writing the Ouka parts; they're not exactly how I wanted them to turn out, but I think it's because of who she's interacting with at the time. In the future, that shouldn't be a problem, and I may even come back and re-write those particular scenes so that they flow better.

 

Reviews

Splitpersona: Well, I already responded so I don't have much more to add.

 

Bombayoni: I won't answer your question directly, but if you go back and look at chapter 4, that might help. That's where I first started dropping the hints about who `he' is and it should answer as to what `He's alive' means. That particular plot point won't be fully developed for about 7 or 8 chapters though.

 

TrenchcoatMan: I know what you mean about `Grau'. I think there's even a fic with that title. It just seems to me that people could come up with something a little more original that `mixing colors'. I do think Aya and Crawford are good together, but I have different ideas for both of them. I've already started to give away who Aya will be with - see chapter 4 - but I'm not hinting at Crawford's interest for another few chapters. As for Ken, I've only dropped very subtle hints about who he'll end up with, but that won't be very clear until a couple chapters after he's dealt with Kase. Farf's romantic interest you're going to have to wait until the second story for; sorry, but I decided all but one of the pairings a long time ago, and his just cannot come up until then because of the plot, though there may be a hint of it in the very last chapter (I haven't decided on that yet). As for Ouka, well, I think it's clear that I don't like her character, and I've come up with what I think is an interesting way to deal with her. Tot, I'm still up in the air about. I like her character, but she just can't have Nagi, though I am inclined to keep her; I just have to figure out what to do with her in terms of the plot should she stay. And I'm glad someone else was as pleased with Ruth's demise as I was. Oh, and I've seen a KxF fic somewhere before… if I can remember where, I'll pass the info along to you. And I'll admit to toying with the idea of pairing them here, but I just couldn't let myself when the other pairings I have in mind are more conducive to what I need for this fic. Maybe I'll do a one-shot of them in the future for you.

 

Warnings: Language

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz, but this is what it would be like if I did.

 

 

Internal Dialogue

Telepathy

 

Chapter 9

 

His eyes could have burned holes through the screen had he Omi's ability; his intense glare had locked onto the screen the moment a picture of Kase flashed over it; he, along with the head of the Creepers gang, was their next target from Persia. Manx made a quick glance in the brunette's direction, a look of well disguised concern etched onto her face, but Omi caught the emotion falling from her. She doesn't think he can handle this mission. She doesn't realize he already knows what happened.

 

“I'm in,” Ken stated before she could even ask the question. A brief moment of surprise flashed over the red haired woman's face before she spoke up. I expected more of an argument from him… at least some sort of outburst. He must not want the others to know. If anyone noticed her momentary slip, they didn't say anything.

 

“And the rest of you?” she asked, looking around at the others as they all agreed to the mission. Once that was settled, Manx, as usual, produce a file with all the information Kritiker had for them and left them to make their plan of attack. The moment the Kritiker agent was out of earshot, the four assassins began their discussion

 

“Kase is mine,” the aqua-eyed teen's voice held a note that brooked no argument, everyone giving their silent acknowledgement and consent; they had known this was coming as everyone had a nice, long chat about their reasons for becoming assassins in the first place not long after forming Sadame no Kage.

 

“There's not much here,” Aya began after looking through the file. “Either Kritiker is trying to draw this mission out, or they're sorely lacking any decent intelligence agents.”

 

“More like they're lacking any intelligence, period,” Yohji muttered. For the last two weeks, their missions had been getting progressively less detailed.

 

“Manx is pissed about it, too,” the archer stated somewhat absently.

 

“Why would she care?” the older blonde asked, truly curious. “All she does is deliver a video and some paper work for us to sort through.”

 

“She cares,” Omi adamantly replied. “She thinks I don't know, but the only reason she's even still in Kritiker is to make sure Persia doesn't corrupt me; she actually handpicked the three of you for Weiss.” That's news, Ken thought as he listened to the conversation.

 

“So does she know about you?” The teen shook his head in response to the red head's inquiry. “Then why?” It was a valid question and something Omi had never really thought to mention before.

 

“She's worked with Persia since just after I was before,” the blonde youth explained. “There's something in her files that I haven't been able to get into, yet, but something happened a few months before my mother was killed that caused her to stay. Manx had begun to realize how truly psychotic both sides of my family are and wanted out; then she found out about the plans for me, and not wanting me to be completely warped by what she believes to be a simple feud between brothers, she decided to stay and protect me from my `father'.” The others seemed to think this over, all coming to the conclusion that they may have found an ally in the ranks of one the very organizations they were going against. Omi seemed to realize what they were thinking and beat them to the punch.

 

“We can't let her in on this,” he stated simply. “At least not until I can crack the security around her file; I think there's something in it that will guarantee us her support… either that or something told hold over her head, ensuring her loyalty to Persia.” They wouldn't put it past the conniving man. “But until I'm sure, we have to keep up pretenses. I'm fairly certain that Persia is the only one with access to the file, meaning it's got some pretty heavy protection, but I've almost finished hacking into it.”

 

“Why haven't you ever mentioned this before?” the question came from the former goalie.

 

“Well, I've only come across the file recently,” the blonde replied with a shrug. “Up until a few days ago, I had thought Manx knew everything that Persia knows; I think he either did something to her that she doesn't know about, or he has something on her. Either way, I was going to bring it up after I determined its contents… I haven't even said anything to Crawford about this, yet.” That was saying a lot; if the archer hadn't mentioned this information to the American, then he wasn't entirely positive it would be very beneficial, if at all.

 

“Anyway,” Omi brought them back on topic. “We're going to have a lot do research-wise on this mission. Yohji and Aya, you two should hit the streets as you're both good at getting word-of-mouth type information. Ken, you and I will be spending some quality time with the computer.” The brunette face-faulted. “Don't give me that look, Ken. Nagi told me what you were doing with his computer the other day; your secret is out, and I know you're almost as good as we are.”

 

“Fine,” the older teen held up his hands in defeat. “I should have known you would find out eventually. And I guess it will give me something to focus on until we can go after them.” Their assignments handed out, Aya and Yohji went to scour the streets while the other two took up residence in front of both the mission computer and the blonde's laptop. This is going to be such a long night. The complaint could have come from any of the assassins as they set out to perform the tedious tasks.

 

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Tomoe Sakura walked towards the flower shop where she knew her savior to be employed. The day was rather windy and blowing in the same direction as her footsteps were carrying her, causing her long, brown hair to frequently wrap around her face and effectively block her rose colored eyes from seeing what was directly in front of her. Pushing the chocolate locks from her face a moment too late, the teen found herself on the ground after having collided with someone, the force of which repelled the two bodies as though they were polar analogues.

 

“Pardon me,” Sakura apologized, flustered and embarrassed. “I couldn't see where I was going; my hair keeps getting in the way.” She looked up to notice another girl about her age sitting just a few feet away.

 

“No,” she heard, as they both got to their feet, moving so as not to further disrupt the paths of other pedestrians. “I should be the one to apologize. I was in a rush, not paying any attention to my surroundings.” The unknown teen let out a childish laugh. “Papa is always saying that I need to be more aware of others.”

 

“We could just say it was no one's fault,” the brunette offered a friendly smile. “By the way, my name is Tomoe Sakura,” she stated, bowing. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” The unnamed teen bowed in return.

 

“I am Takatori Ouka,” Ouka replied reaching into the small handbag she carried. “Here, take this,” the navy-haired girl held out a thin, black ribbon to her new acquaintance. “It will help to keep the hair from you eyes.” Sakura graciously accepted the offered hair tie and pulled the long locks from her face.

 

“Thank you,” the rose-eyed girl voiced her appreciation to the gesture.

 

“Well, I should be on my way,” Ouka stated. “There's a very important party my father is throwing, and he asked me to make sure the florists had received the proper order. His secretary is really bad about making arrangements - I don't know why he doesn't just fire that woman - so I always end up having to fix anything she's gotten wrong.” The nineteen year old seemed to ramble as if she had known Sakura for ages. “You wouldn't know where the Koneko no Sumu Ie is, by any chance? The directions I was given don't seem to be correct.”

 

“That's actually where I'm headed,” the brunette responded as a somewhat dreamy look settled over her at the thought of her destination, or rather, the thought of a certain crimson haired florist at said destination. “Come on. I'll show you,” she said, gesturing for her new friend to follow. Falling into step with the shorter teen, Ouka inquired as to the quality of the flower shop. From the pink-eyed girl, all she received was endless praise over the outstanding nature of not only the store, but the four handsome young men that worked there.

 

“You seem to really like this Aya,” Ouka observed, drawing a faint blush from her companion.

 

“He's so quiet and mysterious,” Sakura gushed. “And he's also kind and brave. He saved my life not too long ago.” This earned a raised eyebrow, but the dark-haired girl was unable to ask as the younger teen continued on with her Aya-worship up until the moment they reached the Koneko. Ouka was a bit taken aback at the popularity of the small flower shop; there were at least fifty squealing girls, and some boys, ranging from young teens to those in their early twenties. There were even a few who could have been her mother's age scattered among the crowd.

 

“Is it always like this?” she asked in slight awe.

 

“It's usually more crowded,” the brunette responded. “With exams coming up, though, there has been a drop in the crowd.”

 

“They really must be good at what they do,” the bluenette stated.

 

“They do make the most wonderful flower arrangements,” Sakura confirmed. “But in the couple of weeks that I've been coming around, I've noticed that the majority only comes to gawk; I have to admit to being guilty of that myself on more than one occasion.” The two began to make their way through the small crowd blocking the entrance before she spoke again. “It looks like they're all here today; oh, there's Omi working on an arrangement. He's the one who usually takes orders; I'll introduce you, and you can ask about the order for your father's party while I go talk to Aya.” Ouka looked in the direction Sakura indicated and let out an inaudible gasp; the blonde teen had to have been the most gorgeous specimen of man she had ever laid her eyes on. At that moment, she decided that he would be hers. And I always get what I want, she thought with the confidence of someone who had never been denied a single thing in her life.

 

“I would like that very much,” she replied to the brunette's idea, her gaze never once leaving the form of the lithe teen who was currently concentrating on some arrangement or another. Having said that, they once again pushed their way through the mob of drooling fangirls, not realizing that they were just as bad.

 

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Ken heard the sound of the back door opening from the kitchen. He was taking a quick break from the shop before the rush of teenage hormones known as high school girls made their daily appearance. Looking up, he greeted Omi as he entered the room.

 

“Hey,” he said. “You'd better hurry; since you're back from school, we don't have much time until the hoards arrive.” The young blonde let out a pained groan at the thought but nodded nonetheless.

 

“I really hate this side of our job,” Omi intoned as he made himself a quick snack. “You'd think they could have come up with a better cover for us. I think the fanatical girls that show up here everyday may very well be worse than some of the people we target.”

 

“Yeah, well, we all have to put up with it,” the brunette replied. “Besides, we won't have to do this forever.” There was no doubt in his mind that they had all, at one point or another, entertained the idea of shoving the odd bouquet down an overzealous fangirl's throat.

 

“If there wasn't already a good reason for what we were doing,” the archer began as he popped the last bite in his mouth. “Getting away from that mob on a daily basis would be more than enough motivation.” The two headed for the door leading to the shop, grabbing their respective aprons on the way. Omi waved `hello' to Yohji and Aya before settling in to make arrangements for the rest of the afternoon, while Ken turned his attention to a customer looking for assistance. At their arrival, the older blonde took the opportunity for a quick nicotine fix before the rush; Aya remained in front of the register, silently cursing himself for not beating Yohji to a break as he knew that there wouldn't be chance by the time the ex-detective returned. Not long after Yohji stepped out, dozens of eager girls seemingly materialized at the entrance. A quick glance around told him that his own personal fangirl was not present for once, allowing him to relax slightly in spite of the obnoxious noises being made from all corners of the store. Not even ten minutes had passed when Sakura walked through the door followed by another girl with dark blue, almost black hair. I should have known it was too good to be true; can't that girl take a hint? Amethyst eyes looked resigned as he waited for the inevitable hero-worship he was about to receive. Ken and Omi gave him sympathetic looks before returning to their previous tasks. His torture was delayed as he noticed the brown haired girl and her friend heading for the youngest florist-cum-assassin and not him. Taking in the new girl's appearance, he observed the look of adoration that lingered on her face while looking at Omi. Aya smirked as he thought he wouldn't be the only one suffering through incessant chatter until closing time.

 

“Who's that with Sakura?” Yohji asked upon returning. The red head was about to answer when they both noticed the way the young blonde stiffened after the bluenette spoke to him. They watched curiously as he abruptly stood and excused himself before quickly exiting the shop and heading for their living space. Seeing the perfect opportunity to escape the madhouse, Aya volunteered to find out what was wrong.

 

“Ken,” he called out. “Will you cover the register? I'm going to check on Omi.” Said brunette nodded and approached the counter.

 

“What's going on?” he asked. “He was fine a few minutes ago.”

 

“Something that girl said to him, I guess,” the blonde responded as Aya left the store. “He didn't look so much upset as completely freaked out; I don't think I've ever seen him that pale. I wonder if he knows her or something.” Ken didn't get a chance to respond as they were interrupted by said teen and Sakura.

 

“Is everything alright with Omi?” she asked. “He doesn't seem like himself today.”

 

“He hasn't been feeling well,” Ken gave a plausible excuse. “He probably just needs to rest for a bit.”

 

“That's good,” the unidentified girl spoke up. “I was hoping it wasn't me that was upsetting him. All I did was introduce myself.” The two assassins exchange curious looks at that; it wasn't like Omi to react that way to a stranger.

 

“Oh, how rude of me!” Sakura berated herself. “This is Takatori Ouka…” They didn't hear anything else the brunette was saying having immediately recognized the teen's name. They were brought from their stunned states by Ouka's shrill voice.

 

“I need to check on an order that was placed for my father's party,” the teen seemed to be in business mode. “His secretary is notorious for getting things wrong, and I want to make sure you have the correct information.” The request was simple enough and Yohji set about looking up the information and showing it the bluenette. Only a few changes had to be made in order to satisfy the girl's perfectionist streak.

 

“Is there anything else,” the blonde asked politely, all the while wanting nothing more than to drop-kick the little Takatori halfway to the next continent for bothering his friend.

 

“No,” she replied pleasantly, not at all sensing the tension from the florist. “I should be getting home now. Could you please tell Omi that I hope he feels better and give him this?” she asked, holding out a small peeve of paper with a number scribbled onto it. She's certainly forward, the blonde thought. I wonder what she would do if she knew Omi was related to her. That thought actually brought an uncharacteristically sadistic smile to his lips. It could be fun fucking with this girl; he didn't know the details, but he had gleaned enough information to know that all of the former Schwartz members absolutely despised this girl. He acknowledged the girl's request with a nod before turning his attention to Sakura and Ken.

 

“…tell Aya that I'm sorry I missed him,” she was saying. “And please let Omi know I hope he feels better.”

 

“No problem,” the aqua-eyed florist responded while taking money from another customer. The girls waved goodbye and made their way out of the Koneko, completely unaware of the problems their visit had caused.

 

“That Takatori girl has a crush on Omi,” the blonde informed his friend.

 

“That's certainly something I don't want to think about,” Ken stated. “It's just… no. Aside from the fact that I'm pretty sure he'd rather bit his tongue than even talk to her, she's his sister.” Yohji just shrugged.

 

“She doesn't know that,” he replied. “Besides, it could be interesting to see how this plays out. We know he hates her for some reason beyond the obvious. He could really screw her over by playing this up only to reveal his identity and completely crush her. I would pay to see that.”

 

“You can't seriously want Omi to date his sister just to mess with her,” Ken's voice held a note of disbelief and not a little disgust.

 

“No,” the blonde stated. “He wouldn't do that to Nagi, anyway. But it would be easy enough to lead her on, seeing as how she clearly has a thing for him.” The ex-soccer player just gave him an unreadable look.

 

“You've been spending too much time with Schuldig,” he said dryly. “You were never so eager to play with people before.” The brunette paused a moment before continuing. “I have to admit, though, the idea is appealing. It would be amusing to see her reaction.” Yohji smirked at the comment.

 

“We've all become such vindictive assholes since this whole mess started,” the former detective stated with no remorse. “Life's much more fun this way, don't you think?” The younger assassin just snorted, agreeing completely with the assessment. He held no illusions that they were all starting to enjoy their work just a little too much, and frankly he didn't care. I doubt the others do either, he thought. They all knew that the sadistic streak only extended to those that deserved their merciless acts; so long as they kept their perspective, the assassins saw nothing wrong with how they felt on the matter.

 

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The moment Omi was out of the shop, his fist hit the wall, nearly causing the poor, inanimate object to crack under the pressure. As he was about to once again take out his frustration on said wall, a hand caught his wrist.

 

“That won't help,” he heard Aya's voice behind him. “You'll just end up hurting yourself.” The blonde nodded and relaxed his hand, after which the violet-eyed man released his hold. Aya followed as he turned to the kitchen and unceremoniously collapsed into the nearest chair.

 

“What was that all about?” the swordsman inquired as he took a seat across the table. “I've never seen you lose your composure like that before.” The blue-eyed teen sighed and rested his forehead on his hands.

 

“That was my half-sister,” the archer stated. “Takatori Ouka, bitch that she is, is the reason I nearly lost it out there.” Aya was certain the blonde was understating how he felt on the subject if the apparent trembling was anything to go by.

 

“Did she recognize you or threaten you?” The immediate response was a short, humorless laugh.

 

“It would have been better if she had,” Omi said under his breath. That was something he could have dealt with, but the emotion that had screamed at him was something completely opposite from the hate that he had always associated with her.

 

“What was it then?” the crimson haired assassin asked after a long period of silence. The blonde head shook in an effort to clear his thoughts.

 

“She didn't really say anything,” he replied with a shiver. “It was more what she was feeling… There was this wave a pure lust and determination that was directed solely at me; it was… disconcerting, to say the least. When she wants something…” he let out another involuntary shiver as he remembered the time she had nearly succeeded in killing him. “She doesn't stop for anything; I know I shouldn't be afraid of her, but it's not that easy to push past events away… I'm so angry with myself for only being able to run away, and she didn't even know who I was.” The archer laid his arms out and dropped his head to the table. It was the first time Aya had the younger assassin so frayed. Even the mess with keeping his past and Schwartz a secret hadn't unraveled him this much. What did she do that makes you lose your confidence, Omi? Not fully knowing the situation limited his ability to help the blonde, and he was determined to find out. They were all a family of sorts, and he had no doubts that every single one of them would do anything in their power for each other.

 

“Take the rest of the day off, Omi,” the swordsman suggested in a brotherly tone. “The crowd isn't that bad because of exams, so we can take of everything.” The archer nodded wearily without picking his head up from the wooden surface. Knowing that Omi had no intention of venturing back into the store until the next day at the very earliest, he was confident he would be able to do what needed to be done. Reentering the flower shop, he spotted two of his other teammates conversing quietly while ignoring the gibbering high school idiots.

 

“If you're not buying anything, leave!” he stated with authority, the words coming out harsher than usual. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with the endless, trivial things these girls tried to force on their ears. The violet-eyed man smirked as he saw that his overly, but purposefully, callous tone had cleared out the store like magic. I'm going to have to remember that for the really long days.

 

“Is everything okay?” Ken asked as Aya approached the counter.

 

“No,” the crimson haired assassin shook his head. “I've never seen Omi so completely shaken before. Whatever that girl did to him before he was out of the Takatori household permanently caused some pretty severe damage. He's afraid of her, even though it's clear he knows he shouldn't have any reason to feel threatened by her. And he really doesn't like the fact that she wants him, not that I could blame him for that.”

 

“Yeah, well, she wanted to make sure he knows it, too,” Yohji handed him a piece of paper. “She left a phone number for us to give to him. If he can play this right, we may be able to use this to our advantage while at the same time helping him move past whatever hold she's got on him.” Aya nodded thoughtfully.

 

“Do you think you two can handle the shop by yourselves for a little while?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” the blonde said slowly. “What are you thinking?” The claw-wielding assassin looked curious as well.

 

“I'm thinking that I'm going to pay the rest of our team a visit,” was the blunt reply. “They probably know more about what's going on, and they may have a better idea about how to handle this. Don't tell Omi about the phone number until after I get back.” The other two nodded their understanding as he hung up his apron and left for the penthouse.

 

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This is ridiculous, Omi thought as he finally managed to drag his head off the kitchen table. I could kill her with a thought, and what do I do?! I go hide like I did when I was a little boy. The seventeen year old knew exactly what the problem was; Ouka had always found a way to slip under his radar, and had, on more than one occasion, tried to kill him until the day of his kidnapping. On top of that, she had constantly chipped away at his self-esteem, and when a child is constantly and consistently told he's nothing more than a worthless piece of trash who was the reason his mother killed herself, well he had subconsciously begun to believe it. It didn't matter that he knew his mother had been murdered; it didn't matter that he knew his life had meaning. All that mattered was that from the moment he had met his navy haired, older sibling, she had done nothing but wear him down. Sometimes, even the strongest person can freeze in fear at something so utterly insignificant because of mental conditioning. I will not let her get to me; she's the worthless one. The archer sighed. Now if only I can remember that when she's around.

 

The archer stood from his slumped position in the chair and head for the basement. If he wasn't going to be working for the rest of the day, he could at least do something useful. I could search from some information on the Creepers and Kase… But Ken wants to be around for that, so I cou… The teen stopped mid-thought as noticed the message flashing on the computer screen. Quickly sitting down, he set to work; the program he was using to slowly break into Persia's system had finally finished its run. Fingers nimbly ran over the keyboard, code flying across the monitor; he eventually finished the job his automated program had begun by pulling up the file on their Kritiker liaison. Sky-blue eyes widened as he read through the protected file; there was no way Manx could have possibly known about this or she would have killed the man herself years ago. I knew he was a twisted, manipulative fuck, but I never realized how far he would go… No, that's not true; I just never stopped to think that I wasn't the only one he would go this far with. After reading and rereading the file several times over, Omi leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“Now I have to figure out what to do with this,” he spoke to no one. “She deserves to know the truth, but can I risk telling her and trusting her to not to do something stupid.” The pyro sat in his chair staring at the screen for several minutes before copying the file to disk and erasing the evidence of his work from the computer. Moving to the other side of the room, he booted up his laptop and saved the information there, reducing the disk to ash once he finished the task. Feeling confident that no one would find the information he headed back upstairs and wrote a note to let the others know he was going out for a while. He needed to talk to Crawford before the day was finished, but for now, he needed to think. On top of the mission and this new situation with Manx, he had to deal with the inevitable next encounter with Ouka. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed, he thought as he closed the door behind him.

 

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“I didn't expect to see you,” Farfarello stated simply as he opened the door to let Aya into the penthouse. “Crawford would have warned me if something was going to happen.”

 

“If I understand his ability correctly, he may not have counted on another factor coming into the picture,” the swordsman responded as he followed the white-haired man through the penthouse to the living room.

 

“Well, I'm the only one here right now, so if you wanted to speak with Crawford, you'll have to wait until later tonight,” he informed Aya.

 

“It doesn't matter which one of you I talk to,” the crimson haired man responded, settling himself on the couch. “I have a feeling that the four of you are equally knowledgeable on the matter.” A golden eye looked at him expectantly as he joined the violet-eyed assassin on the couch.

 

“What's going on?” Farfarello recognized the seriousness in the swordsman's voice and wanted to know the situation immediately.

 

“Takatori Ouka showed up at the Koneko a couple of hours ago,” he started, noticing the dangerous glint reflecting from the part-time psychopath's eye. “Omi barely kept himself together long enough to get out into the apartment before trying to put his fist through the wall.”

 

“Did she know who he was?” Farfarello would not let that little Takatori bitch destroy his `little brother'. If she was threatening Omi, he didn't care if Crawford said her death would cause the end of the world; he would make she wouldn't be alive long enough to see the sunrise. Ever observant, Aya picked up on this.

 

“No,” he stated. “And she didn't threaten him, either… It's a bit more complicated than that. Omi said he could feel her attraction to him, along with the determination to stop at nothing to get him.” The disgusted look that crossed Aya's face endeared the man to Farfarello. It seemed that all the former Weiss members were just as protective of Omi as they were, not that he needed protecting, of course. They all felt that way about everyone one of their numbers, it seemed.

 

“She is certainly he father's daughter,” the one-eyed man muttered under his breath, though Aya caught the softly spoken words and couldn't help but agree. It was a wonder that Omi had turned out as he did, what with being fathered by one Takatori and raised by another. He must have inherited traits predominantly from his mother.

 

“Yohji thinks that we can somehow use this `crush' Ouka has on Omi to our benefit,” the katana wielding assassin stated. “I told him to hold off on mentioning anything to Omi about it until after I get back.” The scarred man nodded at that.

 

“Good idea,” he replied. “Crawford will want to see how her presence will affect our plans, anyway.” The two men sat in silence for a few minutes before Aya spoke up once again.

 

“What did she do to him that has him so completely terrified that he forgets himself?” The question was asked in an uncharacteristically soft tone, speaking volumes of his concern for the younger assassin.

 

“Before any of us ever met him,” the white haired assassin started. “She was extremely jealous of the attention he received from all the Takatori. She was constantly attacking him psychologically and physically; this was before his talent had surfaced. Even though she really didn't realize that she was `teaching' him to be afraid of her.” The explanation made sense to Aya, but it had been years since the blonde had seen his half-sister. “Even after we came into the picture it didn't stop, and we couldn't be around every second to act as buffers. One night when Omi was seven, Ouka managed to slip something into his food; it nearly killed him, but we managed to `liberate' the antidote from Masafumi's lab and get it to him in time. That was only a month before he and Nagi left for two years, and the kidnapping occurred not long after they returned.” Farfarello let out a breath before continuing. “This is the first time he's had to face her in ten years; it's probably natural for him to fall back into his childhood mindset.” One again, a look that promised certain death passed over his face. “She will suffer for every bit of pain he felt.”

 

The red-head studied the intensity he saw in the Irishman's one-eyed gaze and felt he could relate. He may not be Omi's brother by blood, but he shows the same reaction I would have were it my sister. Aya was finding the white-haired assassin to be worthy of both his trust and respect; the fact that Farfarello was probably legally insane didn't affect that in any way. The eight of them were all certifiable in one way or another. Besides, he couldn't deny the fact that he was looking forward to his own brand of revenge. Deciding that now would be a good time to get to know another of his new teammates, Aya leaned into the couch and the two began talking about the merits of a swift kill versus a long, drawn out kill. In the end, they both agreed that the first was good for taking out random targets, while the second was definitely the way to go when carrying out one's own personal vendetta.

 

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Yohji and Ken looked up from the television at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. It had been several hours since the shop had closed, at which time they found Omi's note; Aya had yet to return as well, at least until now.

 

“Where's Omi?” he asked after greeting his teammates.

 

“He's been gone since before we closed,” the blonde replied. “Went out to clear his head, but he's usually back before now.” It was clear that both he and Ken were worried about the archer's absence.

 

“I'm sure he'll be back soon,” the red head stated. “After what I just found out, I'm not surprised that he needed time to sort his head out.”

 

“Well?” the ex-detective was impatient to hear just what Aya had learned.

 

“The Takatori girl really fucked with Omi's head when they were kids,” he informed them as he sat on the couch opposite them. “Farfarello is pretty sure he gets stuck in his memories of that time, which causes him to freeze in remembrance of the abuse.”

 

“She can't be more than a couple of years older than Omi!” Ken pointed out. “He hasn't been in the Takatori household since he was nine.”

 

“That may be,” the crimson haired assassin agreed. “But Ouka was apparently so insanely jealous over the attention he received that she snapped at a fairly early age, even nearly killed him once when he was seven. She also got to him using words as well; always telling him he was worthless, that it was his fault his mother died; intellectually, he knows it's not true, but it doesn't stop the emotions of a scared, little boy from taking over.”

 

“So what are we supposed to do?” the brunette asked. “If she's as single-minded as I think she is, there's no way we can stop her from basically stalking Omi.” Now that was something they hadn't thought of.

 

“You don't have to worry about it,” Omi made his presence known; they hadn't heard him enter the apartment. “Apparently, I just missed Aya at the penthouse. Crawford told me that we should go with what you guys have already come up with.” The young blonde made his way into the room and sank onto the couch next to the swordsman. “I'm going to have to play the shy kid with a crush on the rich, daddy's girl.” No one missed the scathing tone in his voice; it was obvious this didn't sit well with teen; it didn't really sit well with any of them, not after what Aya had discovered.

 

“Are you okay with that?” It was Ken who gave voice to the concern they all shared. “I mean, the way you reacted after seeing her for less than a minute… I'm just worried about you; we all are.” Omi gave a weak smile.

 

“I have to get over this sometime,” he replied. “Besides, it's all in my head, right? There's no need to be afraid of that pretentious bitch when I'm clearly the stronger by far.” It seemed to the others that he more trying to convince himself of that fact than them. After all, he had essentially been conditioned to react that way towards this weak, pathetic excuse for a human being.

 

“We know you can handle it,” the ex-soccer player assured. “But we're here if you need anything.” Aya and Yohji made noises of agreement.

 

“You know, I had almost the same conversation with Nagi, Schu and Farf less than an hour ago,” the archer laughed. “Thank you,” he said in a more serious, subdued tone. I won't let any of you down, he added silently. A contemplative atmosphere settled over the room.

 

“There's something else…” Omi spoke up, suddenly remembering his reason for visiting the penthouse in the first place. The others looked at him expectantly. “The next time Manx shows up for any reason, we'll be bringing her in on everything.” The news didn't come as a complete shock as they had been discussing the possibility only a day or so ago, so the archer continued. “I finally got access to her file, which is why I had originally gone to talk to Crawford. Given the information, his visions changed; she's now a part of this as much as we are.”

 

“What did the file say?” the violet-eyed swordsman asked. The pyro rose from his seat and retrieve his laptop bag from the floor by the entrance. Settling back into the couch, he started the computer and opened a hidden file, turning the machine around so that everyone could see the display. Three sets of eyes narrowed as the words on the screen were digested. Suddenly, green eyes widened in recognition.

 

“Wasn't that the name of the guy who…” he started to ask.

 

“Yeah,” Omi replied. “That's him.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Ken asked, though it looked as though Aya had figured out what they were referring to.

 

“Here,” Aya pointed a name out on the screen. “Minamoto Takeshi. The man who kidnapped Omi.” A look of understanding crossed the brunette's face.

 

“So,” he began. “It wasn't a mistake that he was the one who took you.”

 

“No,” the archer's eyes narrowed. “It wasn't.”

 

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This was so not how he expected to face his former lover/best friend when they had been given the mission to hunt down the leaders of the Creepers. If anything, Ken would have very much preferred seeing Kase on the business of his bugnuks, but no, the bastard just had to run into him in broad daylight, in public, no less. The worst part of it was, the shorter brunette had to stand there and smile at one of the men he wanted dead most in this world. The prick had the audacity to act as if nothing had changed between them, though it had been several years since they had even seen each other, not to mention the fact that Kase had ignited the flames himself. Quit touching me you fucking son of a bitch!

 

“Kase,” Ken tried in the friendliest manner he could muster. “We haven't been together in years; why don't we just talk, for now.” And later, I'll feed you your still beating heart as you take your last breath. The slightly older man feigned a hurt look, but removed his hand from assassin's back.

 

“There's a small café just down the block,” Kase began. “Why don't we go there and catch up?” More than anything, Ken wanted to say no and get out of there, but talking to this man, this enemy, might prove useful for the current mission; he wouldn't let his team down, no matter how strongly he felt about the immediate situation.

 

“Sure,” the assassin replied. “But I don't have a lot of time; I have to get back to work soon.” The second-in-command of the Creepers nodded his understanding, and the two brunettes began the short walk to the place Kase had suggested, an awkward silence hanging in the air. Once inside and seated with beverages in hand, the tense quiet was finally broken.

 

“What happened, Ken?” the older asked. “I thought you died that night. If I had known, I never would have let those men drag me out of there without you.” Ken wanted to dropkick the man right then and there for that comment. As if you weren't the one who ordered my execution. Taking a page from Omi's book, the claw-wielding assassin responded.

 

“I'm not really sure,” Ken started, managing to pull a thoroughly confused and innocent face. “I don't remember much of what happened. The doctors told me I had been found in a burning warehouse and brought to the hospital. I happened to be watching a news report not long after they left me, and it was saying something about how I had died in an incident that was likely related to the drug scandal.” Ken sighed and ran a hand through his hair; he really had been taking lesson from the master. “I thought it might be better if I stayed `dead' and started over. I remembered you had been with me that night, so I assumed you had been killed in the fire; if I had thought for one second that you had survived, I would have tried to find you.” He's buying it, Ken thought as he watched the various emotions cross the other's face. Kase thinks I'm still completely clueless as to what he did.

 

“Gods, Ken,” the Creeper finally managed after gathering his wits. “I don't know what to say. I always felt like I was the one to blame for your death, like I should have… No, could have done to prevent it, and here you are alive, thinking that I was the one who had died that night.” He never found out I was the one to set him up. Good, he thought while sipping at his tea. Maybe I can find a way to use this. “Do you think that… maybe we could… start over? You were always my best friend, my lover. I've never forgotten you, and now you're back; it just seems that there must be a reason for why we found each other again.” The younger brunette was pleased when his utter repulsion at the prospect stayed completely hidden; in fact, he managed to pull a small, convincing smile.

 

“I'd like that,” Ken replied, all the while reminding himself to rinse his mouth of the shit he was being forced to spew. “I'd like nothing more than to start now, but I really am late for work. Do you have a number I could reach you at? I can call you tomorrow, and we could plan to get together.” If ever there was a shit eating grin to be seen, Kase certainly had the market cornered on them. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a business card, wrote something on it and handed it to the assassin.

 

“You can reach me anytime at the second number,” the older man informed him, pointing out the hastily scribbled writing. “It's my cell, so you should have no trouble getting me.” The dark haired assassin nodded his understanding and stood to leave.

 

“See you soon,” he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door. The next time we meet, you'll be the one to know what it's like to be played with. Once Ken reached his motorcycle, he allowed a look of contempt to settle on his face. Blue-green eyes burning with hatred as he covered his head with his helmet, the ex-soccer player mounted his bike and tore off for the Koneko. After his shift, he would tell the others about this afternoon's encounter, and they would plan the best course of action. He knew it wouldn't be long until the time of revenge. A cruel smile settled on his face as thoughts of how he would make Kase suffer simmered in his mind.

 

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“Come in,” Omi called out in response to a knock on his bedroom door. A moment later, Yohji popped his head in.

 

“Manx is here,” the older blonde informed the blue-eyed teen. “She wants an update on the Creeper's mission. I could have told her what Ken told us last night, but I figured you might want to go ahead and talk to her about other things, as well.” The archer stood from his bed where he had been idly listening to some music, thinking over the very two subjects that the ex-detective had mentioned.

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Do you mind if I talk to her alone? I think she might take it better one-on-one. I don't want her to feel like we're all ganging up on her.” He paused for a moment. “Besides, I need to tell the woman who's essentially been my surrogate mother for the past few years that I've been lying to her the whole time.”

“No problem,” the green-eyed man voiced his understanding. “I'll let Aya and Ken know what you're up to; we'll be in the shop if you need us for anything.”

 

“Thanks, Yotan,” Omi smiled as he walked towards the door. “Cross your fingers for me,” he half-joked as he walked out of his room behind Yohji. “I know Crawford said everything would work out, but I'm still not looking forward to this conversation.”

 

“I'm sure it'll be fine,” the lanky blonde reassured. “She'll understand why you had to keep everything secret; Manx will probably even be grateful to you for finding the truth about what happened to her mother. It will confirm her belief that she's doing the right thing.”

 

“I hope so,” the pyro stated to no one after he had left Yohji to the store and headed for the basement.

 

“Where are the others?” the red haired woman inquired once he arrived.

 

“They're not coming,” the blonde gave a half shrug. “I have some things to tell you after I give you an update on the mission, and I would rather do it privately.” A crimson eyebrow rose at hearing that.

 

“Is it something you don't want the others to know?” she asked, sufficiently intrigued by Omi's odd behavior. He shook his head as he made himself comfortable on the couch with his laptop.

 

“No,” the archer replied. “They already know what I'm going to tell you, but I thought it would be best if I was the one who spoke with you.” If the Kritiker liaison wasn't having doubts about this conversation before, she was certainly having them now. The tone of voice the young assassin was using was nothing she had ever heard from him before. To Manx, it was as if he had a completely different personality. In a sense, he did, though she didn't know that, yet. Before she could ask what he was talking about, Omi quickly got the formalities out of the way, informing her of their latest break in the mission, though she wasn't really paying attention. Finally, a long pause in the speech indicating he was finished allowed her to speak up.

 

“It seems like you have everything in order with the mission,” she stated as she crossed her legs. “Now, if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you would tell just what the hell is going on.” Manx had managed to work herself up over the last few minutes, and the uncharacteristic outburst was proof that she was worried about what was happening. Omi's only response was to tap a few keys on his computer and turn it so that that screen was facing her. Somewhat annoyed by the lack of response, but curious nonetheless, the red head read the information on the screen, nearly gasping after only the first line which held her real name - Hanae Kitada. No one was supposed to know who she was, and she knew her file didn't have her name on it; none of their files contained personal information. What is going on here? Where did this come from?

 

“What?” she started without looking back to the file. “How did you ge…”

 

“Just read it,” the pyro interrupted. “We can talk after you're finished.” Not really certain if she wanted to read what the file contained or not, she simply nodded and looked back to the laptop; if Omi thought it was important enough to bring to her attention, she would read it, no matter how disconcerting his current behavior was. Ten minutes later found her staring, gaping like a fish, at the blue-eyed teen next to her.

 

“Is… Is this… real?” she asked haltingly as if she was merely waking up from a nightmare. Omi looked directly into forest green eyes as he responded.

 

“It's real,” he confirmed. “I came across it when I was hacking through Persia's system,” Manx's deer-in-the-headlights look dropped and was replaced with a frown. “Don't look at me like that Manx. I've know almost since I met you that you have no love for that bastard. Anyway,” he continued before she could say anything. “I found it suspicious that he had a heavily encrypted file with your codename, so I thought I would find out what it is. I had suspected that he perhaps had something that he could use against you, possibly us, and I needed to know what it was. I never thought it would be something like this.” The woman took a moment to let the fact that Omi was not as naïve to the workings of Kritiker as she had imagined him to be sink in.

 

“How much do you know about Kritiker?” she demanded. I need to find out where he stands, she thought. Please don't let me have failed in keeping him out of his father's reach.

 

“I know more than you do,” was the plainly stated response. “We all do.” Now that was a surprise, and she almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea; only Persia knew more than she did.

 

“I know you don't believe me,” he went on, ignoring the condescending look on her face. “But there are things at work that even Takatori Shuichi, my father, doesn't know.” The word was spoken with such venom that Manx almost forgot that the teen wasn't supposed to know who Persia was, let alone that he was the archer's father.

 

“How did you know that?” she asked sharply. “I never wanted you to find out you were related to that wretched man.” Omi sighed as he knew the conversation was about to head into murky territory.

 

“I know who I am,” he stated simply. Green eyes widened at the statement. “I never lost my memory; I've always known my past, but no one could know that until the last month or so.”

 

“Why?” the red haired woman wanted to know. “Why have you been lying all this time?” She was hurt; he could tell.

 

“There's something bigger than a feud between the Takatori brothers going on, Manx,” Omi began. “And I'm apart of it; you are also now involved.” The look Manx was giving him told him to go on. “You know about the team called Schwartz and the rumor that there are five members, not four.” The woman nodded her affirmation. “It's not a rumor,” he went on. “There are five members; I'm the fifth.”

 

“You're a spy,” she whispered as she felt her world would crash down at any moment.

 

“Yes and no,” Omi responded quickly before she could jump to conclusions. “I was sent to infiltrate Kritiker but not for the reasons you think. I'm here to help make sure that an even larger threat than the Takatori doesn't win.”

 

“And you say the others know about this?” her voice held a hint of disbelief.

 

“Yes,” he replied. “They do. Not long ago, both Weiss and Schwartz were dissolved and a new team, Sadame no Kage, was created.” The archer went on to explain everything from the beginning and ended his monologue with a simple question. “Will you join us?” Manx looked directly into his eyes, holding the blue orbs in her gaze, deciding on whether or not she could believe him. Omi allowed her to read into him with no hesitation.

 

“Alright,” she agreed. “I'm in, but” she took a breath before continuing. “I want to meet the rest of the team. If I'm going to be working with you on this, I need to know who I'm dealing with.” The pyro smiled and nodded; everything had turned out just as Crawford had predicted. “I can't believe what a good actor you are…” she muttered under her breath, though there was no heat behind the words, causing Omi to laugh. Things were definitely going to be okay on this front.

 

TBC

End of chapter notes: I know I already said it, but I'm really not happy with how the first scene with Ouka went. I need to have her befriend Sakura and meet the guys that way, but it just seemed kind of lame. Then again, I guess sometimes life can be fairly random and dull like that, so I guess it will do.