Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Cops and Kittens ❯ Opening Up a Can of Worms ( Chapter 1 )

Cops and Kittens

Chapter 1: Opening Up a Can of Worms

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Disclaimer: The rights to Weiß Kreuz do not belong to me, but the storyline does.

Warnings: Cursing, but nothing really out of the ordinary.

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"I can't go on. Get out of here while you still can, and don't worry about me."

"No! I won't leave you. I can't."

"Asuka, now is not the time to argue. What good would it do for the both of us to die in this shit-hole? I would hate to think we did all that work for nothing."

"Fine, but I'm coming back for you. Stay right here and don't die on me, kid. I mean it, wait for me, Yohji, and don't do anything stupid."

"Wouldn't dream of it, beautiful. Now go."

He watched as she ran away as fast as she could. He could hear the mob following, closing in on her, but he was positive she would get away. She didn't have that much farther to go. They hadn't anticipated the sheer volume of firearms their pursuers had in their possession, until gunshots began echoing through the alley. He knew she wouldn't make it.

"ASUKA!!!"

*********

Detective Kudoh Yohji of the Tokyo Police Department woke up screaming as a shuffling sound was made beside him. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, when he realized that he was in the employee break room, resting for the second leg of his double shift.

"Are you all right, detective?" The young officer turned to the sound of the voice.

"Commissioner Takatori-san. I'm sorry, I was just . . ."

"Resting . . . like you should have been. I would be content to let you stay there, but Chief Han said there was a situation that needed your immediate attention. There seems to have been a homicide downtown. Four reporters were murdered. He wants you to go check this out." The young detective nodded and watched as Commissioner Takatori Shuuichi stood and left the room. Yohji felt much older than he should. He looked down at his watch and noticed it was barely past midnight. He still had a long night to look forward to . . . damn the bad luck.

He took the time to consider the Commissioner for a moment. If it wasn't for that man, Yohji would probably be living in the streets. Takatori Shuuichi had taken the time to shape him into the best detective on the Tokyo police force. Yohji had been in the pits of hell when the Commissioner had recruited him. It was hard to believe that just two years ago, he was one of the best private investigators in Japan. That was until . . .

"Asuka," he whispered to himself. Again, he had to give someone credit for saving him from himself. He was barely out of high school when he met that slightly older woman. He was nothing more than a kid who thought that he was ten feet tall and bullet-proof. Of course, he was really a kid who was living on his own, barely scraping by.

He was waiting tables at some shit-hole that should have been shut-down by the health department when he met her. She was just coming off the job and stopped in for some coffee. Of course, being the playboy he was, he immediately began to flirt mercifully with the brunette. She returned to the café every day, and, by the end of the week, he had a new job as a private investigator. It was the best two years of his life, especially after he and Asuka had become lovers. It had been two years since Asuka had been shot in the back like a rabid animal, and he still felt it like it was yesterday.

Yohji stood and stretched his tall, lanky frame. He was quite a handsome fellow with honey-colored hair that fell in waves just short of his shoulders, mischievous green eyes, and slender, but muscular build. He was the type of guy that turned heads of both men and women. He considered himself lucky in this fact because of his heritage. It wasn't easy growing up being Japanese-American, especially when your bastard of a father was a military man that didn't acknowledge his son. Now his exotic coloring was his greatest advantage. Of course it helped that he was unabashedly outgoing, and had the type of personality that everyone could like. Of course, he played both his looks and charm for all they were worth. He was the perfect candidate for undercover assignments.

Speaking of assignments, he had one that he needed to get started on.

********

The crime scene was not a pretty sight. Yohji walked around the carnage as CSI, the fire department, and the Medical Examiner rushed around, collecting anything that could be helpful. The rain wasn't going to help matters. This was the part of the job Yohji hated the most, the crime discovery. It was chaos . . . the noise of sirens, reporters, and spectators, a few dozen individuals rushing around trying to find answers, and the smell. The smell had to be the worst, - the smell of death - and it was especially hideous in a case like this.

From what the detective had been able to figure out so far, the four reporters had been working on some big story and was on their way to deliver the information to their editor. Their van was attacked while entering the highway ramp and careened off the ramp and landed on some young man on a motorcycle, causing an explosion. The kid on the bike never stood a chance. Yohji just hoped that the impact killed him instead of the fire. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air, creating a miasma of foreboding. The blonde detective had a feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger . . . bigger than any of them were anticipating.

"Detective, the biker's girlfriend saw the van fly off the on-ramp," a responding officer informed the blonde. Yohji turned around toward the apartment building to see a young, attractive girl bawling hysterically. "Do you want to question her?"

"Not right now. She won't be much help in that state. Get her name and contact information, and I'll get with her tomorrow. Right now we need to get this mess cleaned up before the kiddies wake up for school in the morning." Yohji paused for a moment, deep in thought. "Any clue as to what these reporters were researching?"

"No sir," the officer responded.

"You mean to tell me that there is no smidgin of evidence pointing as to why these men murdered? There is something, trust me. This wasn't a random killing. These men knew something that someone didn't want others to know. I want names . . . people they worked for, friends, relatives, girlfriends . . . hell, I even want to know where they buy their flowers." Yohji looked at the officer, "Why are you still standing here?"

"I, uh . . . I'm sorry, sir. I'll get on that right away." The young officer ran off to perform his duties. Yohji pulled out a cigarette and lit it, letting the nicotine high calm his rattled nerves.

"Man, this is going to be one hella of a long night."

********

Around three-thirty the next afternoon, Yohji found himself walking down Third Avenue, a few blocks from the witness' apartment. He was told by the girl's neighbor that 'Machirou-dono and a friend went for a walk.' Figured. Yohji sighed in irritation right before he heard an angry scream.

"Get out!" Yohji looked in the direction of the yell to see a horde of teenage girls crowding around a flower shop call Kitty in the House. Yohji pulled out a sheet of paper that he had tucked in his pants pocket. He was joking when he told the kid that he needed to know where the victims had bought their flowers, but the young officer had found out anyway. Yohji looked at the name scrawled on the piece of paper and was internally grateful that the kid had taken him seriously. Apparently the murderers knew where the reporters bought their flowers as well. The blonde officer wasted no more time and rushed past the crazy mob of barely pubescent females to find the source of distress. Yohji rushed over to who he assumed to be an employee (if the apron was any indication). The redhead in the orange sweater had his back to the detective, so Yohji slightly tapped the man on the shoulder.

"Listen, I've already told you . . . I don't want you to buy me flowers, I don't care if I look cute in sneakers, I don't want to go get ice cream with you on my break, and I don't want to go to your school's Valentine's Dance. So, if you are not buying anything, GET OUT!." The redhead finally turned around after his little tirade and found himself staring at a grinning man instead of a neurotic fangirl.

"And here I thought you were in trouble and needed rescuing." The redhead's cold violet eyes narrowed in apprehension. They were not eyes of a florist. They were more calculating, more aware than the average individual . . . and as fucking cold as the glaciers of Antarctica.

"Well, as you can see, I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself. So, either buy something or leave." With that, the redhead turned to ring up a customer.

"Actually, I need to ask you a few questions." Yohji presented the young man with his badge. A teen a few feet away (also wearing an apron) gasped. The detective turned his attention to the teen boy with strawberry blonde hair and big blue eyes and saw his mouth open in shock.

"Aya, is there something wrong? Is this man bothering you?" Another young man joined the group, but this one looked strangely familiar to Yohji for some reason. This one was quite athletic looking with dark hair and hazel eyes that made it hard to determine whether they were blue or brown. It just so happened that he was wearing an apron as well. Yohji thought it very strange how none of the young gentlemen looked like florists, but the redhead stuck out more than the other two.

"No, no problem. The detective just wants to ask me a few questions, no need to worry, Ken. I think I can handle it." Violet eyes bore into Yohji's, and the blonde knew he had probably finally met his match. It was time to turn up the charm. Yohji leaned against the counter and gave the redhead a sly little grin.

"So, is there somewhere we can talk without all this noise . . . Aya?" The redhead rolled his eyes and snorted.

"This way. Omi, I'll be in the greenhouse, yell if you need anything." Aya grabbed the keys to the greenhouse and motioned for Yohji to follow.

"All right, Aya-kun. Let us know if you need anything." The redhead nodded and led the way into the greenhouse.

"Kudoh Yohji. Aya, is it? Do you have a last name, Aya?" Yohji watched as the florist's nostrils flared in agitation before answering.

"Fujimiya. Listen, just tell me what's on your mind so I can be rid of you." Such ice shooting from those violet eyes.

"Gee, if I didn't know better, Aya, I would think that you had something to hide." Yohji took a few steps forward, causing the younger man to take a few steps back. They didn't stop until the redhead was backed against the wall. Yohji stood close enough to the man to feel his warm, moist breath on his face.

"That's because you're delusional. Now back off. Don't you have respect for someone's personal space?" Aya wasn't about to give the cocky officer the satisfaction of pushing him away. Instead, he stood taller, daring the blonde to do anything.

"Are you scared of me, Fujimiya-san?" Yohji leaned down a little more.

"And then you woke up. Listen, Detective, I believe this is harassment, so get off." That little redhead was a spitfire, that was for sure.

"Okay, okay, you win." Yohji stepped back and pulled a set of pictures from his jacket pocket. "Do you recognize these men?" The redhead violently snatched the pictures from the detective's hand and studied them.

"They look familiar, but I don't remember their names." Aya shoved the pictures back at the blonde. "Why?"

"Because they were murdered last night." Yohji studied the young man closely, trying to see if his face would give any signs of wrong-doing.

"And I suppose you think I did it?" Aya was fuming. A few moments ago, this cop didn't know him from Adam and now he was being accused of a crime he didn't commit.

"Not at all. Is there a reason why I should?" Yohji gave the florist a cocky smile, hoping it would piss him off enough to let something slip.

"No. Now, if that's all, Detective, I need to get back to work. I think that you have wasted enough of my time." The redhead started to walk past, but Yohji grabbed him by the arm.

"I know you're hiding something, Red, and I'm going to find out what it is." Aya jerked his arm away from the policeman's grasp.

"If you are that bored, I guess you need to have a hobby, but try not to be disappointed when you can't find anything." Aya patted Yohji's cheek in a smart-assed manner. "Have a nice day, Detective."

**********

"Little smart-assed son of a bitch!" Yohji slammed his keys down on his desk and kicked it for good measure.

"Yohji, you okay, man?" The blonde detective looked over at one of his closest pals on the force, Hanaka Ryo.

"If I ever think about going out with a redhead, shoot me, and if I ever mention buying flowers, don't let me go to Kitty in the House." Yohji tore off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair.

"That bad? You want me to rough whoever it is up for you?" Yohji chuckled, but shook his head in a negative motion.

"Damn, he was one icy bastard. I never knew florists could be so mean. This guy definitely needs a personality transplant." Yohji sat down at his desk and looked across it at Ryo's desk, and something immediately caught his attention. "Holy fuck."

"What? Have you finally lost it?" Ryo looked at the blonde then at his desk. "What is it?"

Yohji picked up a small glass frame that housed a soccer trading card. "What is this?"

"Man, easy with that! That's Hidaka's J-League rookie card! It's worth some serious cash!" Ryo tried to grab the card from his buddy, but Yohji carefully held the card out of the soccer fanatic's reach.

"Hidaka Ken. What is so special about him?" So the little florist with the hazel eyes was a professional soccer player at one time, was he? Interesting. So, what happened? Why was the kid working at a flower shop with a cute little teenage boy and a cold redhead, and not out on a soccer field?

"He was only the best goalie in the league! Then there was that whole gambling/drug scandal, and he turned up dead about a week later. I heard that he was framed and was murdered before he was able to prove his innocence. Of course, this is all rumors . . . no way to tell whether they are true or not. Too bad though, he really was good." Ryo was finally able to snatch the card back from Yohji's suddenly numb fingers.

"Dead? Are you sure?" It wasn't possible. Yohji had seen him, very alive, earlier today, arranging flowers. Something was very, very wrong. "Hey, Ryo, have you heard the name Fujimiya Aya before?"

"Normally, I would tell you that you were crazy for asking a question like that in a city as large as this one, but it just so happens I worked that case. Why do you want to know? That was about two years ago." Ryo went over to the file cabinet and pulled the file.

"The name was mentioned while I was doing some of my research, and I was wondering if there was some sort of tie between that case and this one." Yohji took the file from Ryo.

"I doubt that. A girl who has been in a coma for two years isn't able to do much." Ryo's phone rang and he excused himself.

"Girl? Yohji opened the file and saw a picture of a young, teenage girl with a large, heartwarming smile standing next to a blushing young man with a small, shy smile. "Fuck me." That boy in the picture had short bright, flaming red hair. The violet eyes were much softer and warmer, but there was no doubt that it was the same redhead that worked in the flower shop. Yohji continued flipping through the file and found a news clipping of a family. The headline stated that Fujimiya Anzai had just been announced as the new director of the Bank of Tokyo. The picture showed a very pleased older man, an older woman who was aging gracefully, the same young girl as in the last picture looking very proud, and the same shy redhead trying to blend into the background. The caption underneath the picture had listed his name as Fujimiya Ran, and the girl beside him as Fujimiya Aya. What the hell was going on?

As Yohji continued reading through the file, he found the police report for a murder/suicide on Anzai. It seemed the bastard was caught embezzling some money from Takatori Reiji, so he decided to blow up himself and his family in the late hours of the night. The girl, Aya, had been thrown by the blast and still lay in a coma at Magicbus Hospital. According to the police report, Anzai and his wife died in the explosion, and their son, Ran, died on the way to the hospital. Only, he didn't die, did he? Yohji had seen Ran with his own two eyes just this afternoon. So, why is the young man hiding himself behind his sister's name, and walking among the world of the living when he was clearly supposed to be dead? Yohji had various answers to that question, but they only bred more questions. He was going to have to find out from the source . . . without the source knowing it of course.

What was originally a simple murder investigation suddenly turned out to be something more.

*********

"Men, your targets are an elite group of assassins that had been hired to eliminate four political reporters. They have evaded all police attempts at finding them and bringing them to justice. Your assignment is to draw out these men and put an end to their bloody reign of terror. White hunters of the night, deny these evil beasts their tomorrow."

The screen went black and the room was once again shrouded in darkness. They didn't need to look at each other for approval, they already knew what they would do.

"Are you all in?" A stern, feminine voice cut through the silence of the room. The other three occupants stood and gave the affirmative.

It was time to go hunting.

*********

The soft beep of the hospital equipment greeted Yohji as he walked through the hospital room door. It had taken him a good twenty minutes to convince the nurse to come up here since visiting hours were not to begin for a few more hours. He looked around the room and saw beautiful flower arrangements decorating every surface of the room. Ran must really love his little sister. Imagine that . . . the redheaded florist had feelings.

"Hey there, Aya," Yohji whispered to the pale, sleeping girl on the bed. "My name is Yohji, and I just thought I would drop by to see if you could give me any information on your brother." The blonde officer sat down in a well-worn chair beside the bed and gazed at the innocent face across from him.

She had been in this condition for two years now, and she still looked no older than sixteen. It was sad that she was sleeping through the best years of her life. Yet, it was easy to see that her brother adored her and tried very hard to make her life a little less depressing if she decided to wake up. She looked like an angel, sleeping there peacefully in the early morning sun. Yohji almost felt as if he was invading a holy shrine of an ancient deity.

"Why? Why does he want to be dead? Why does he take your name so he can remain dead? What could have happened?" Yohji looked around the room for anything that might give him the answer. All he found was a notebook containing masculine handwriting, damning Senator Takatori to hell. Well, that was as good a clue as any. Yohji returned the notebook and made a mental note to investigate the Takatori family. Hopefully, he could get by with it without pissing off the Commish.

"Thanks, Aya-chan. You've been a big help." Yohji was just standing to leave when his cell phone rang. "Kudoh here."

"Detective, you are needed in the mountain area outside the city as soon as possible. There has been a report of a multiple homicide.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

*********

Laters,

sirencirce