Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Fluesternd ❯ Part 3 ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Crimson 
Mission time, and the truth behind the new girls on the block.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.19.2002 | Pages: 6 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 290 | Status: Completed
Mission time, and the truth behind the new girls on the block.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.19.2002 | Pages: 6 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 290 | Status: Completed
*****3*****
Sleep is overrated.
Imagine how many precious hours are wasted in the time spent counting sheep and suffering through nightmares. Imagine. Our wasted lives already give up so much of ourselves that we will never get back. Why would anyone want to dwindle any more?
Then again, why are some few individuals sharp enough to stay awake?
Perhaps some poor creatures of humanity shy from their childhood beddie-byes in fear of what their subconscious will create during their slumber. Terrified of what their inner self may do if let loose upon the unsuspecting world.
We are all two-sided.
Each boy and girl - villain or anti-hero - is a million shades of grey. There is no black or white. There never was. We are either a lighter or darker shade of ash.
Ashes. Burn, burn, burn away, and what gets left behind is the core of our existence. Whatever survives the fire proves strong enough to withstand the blinding light that never was, and the suffocating darkness that lives only in fairy tales.
We still need heroes, however. Not those who fight for justice, but those who fight for compassion. Not righteous hunters who murder and slay for their causes, but warriors who see no need for violence at all. Oh, yes, how we need them. We need them to struggle for our sakes. Battle for our souls. Challenge every evil for our salvation.
They are not black nor white, neither do they clothe themselves in the pretense of being so. They are endlessly grey. Just like everyone else.........
*****
A warm breeze billows through the branches above, rustling the countless leaves of jaded green. It's a familiar path, covered in cherry blossoms that have blown from the field just ahead. Often have the same soundless, faltering feet walked amongst the mingled scents of sweet and bitter memory. Often has the same mind yearned to find this place peaceful, as anyone would, but failed along the way.
Naoe Nagi comes to the end of the thickening trees, peering through the last few branches into the clearing beyond. Seated innocently in the center of a thousand pink blossoms, is the most fragile and treasured blossom of all.
(Toto......) Nagi smiles. (Waiting for me again......with your little, stuffed bunny to keep you company......)
"Do you think Nagi will visit us today, Rabbi-chan?" he hears her all too youthful voice ask of her tattered friend, traveling on the wind across the meadow. "I miss him when he's not here. It's lonely in the house with just us. With Chen.....and Pel.....and Noi......all gone......." Such sadness "I hope he comes today......"
Nagi flinches at her words. She has been this way ever since her team mates died, leaving her all alone. If Nagi hadn't saved her that night, she most likely would have joined them, but at least she wouldn't have to take care of herself. That is something she cannot do.
Ever since that night, Nagi has been doing all he can to take care of Toto, with Crawford's hesitant permission. But, he cannot stay with her, and even if it was allowed, he would not want her to stay with him. With Schwartz. She belongs here, in the flower field, and so he helped her fix up an old cottage near Schreient's demolished home, bringing her supplies and visiting nearly everyday. It is certainly better than having her locked away in some institution for the way she is, but Nagi still feels he is cheating her. The once smiling girl with so much life and hope is withering away, and her stunted mind cannot grasp the reasons.
She is a child.
(Toto......I...I...) He can't even bring his mind to form the words. So, instead, he reaches out with it, lifting stray petals of pale pink into the air.
Always does he greet her this way, for he knows it will make her smile. Even if that smile is more faded with each new day.
Trained to notice the change in the wind, Toto jerks her head up, watching the flowers flow around her. "Nagi-kun!?" she calls, standing up and spinning around to locate her beloved companion. At last, she sees him, as the frail, young boy approaches from the trees. "Nagi! Nagi! You came!"
Nagi braces himself as she glomps him, her dear, stuffed bunny still held tightly in one hand. How simplistic are her emotions and reaction. How innocent, despite the acts of her troubled past.
"Hai, Toto. I came." Nagi whispers, hugging her firmly in response. "Did you miss me?" he asks after a pause, already knowing the answer.
"So much, Nagi-kun!" she replies excitedly, refusing to let him go. "I wish you didn't have to stay away so long."
Her words wound him deeply, for not only does he see her often - sometimes even more than once in a single day - but he is about to tell her how that will change. He must tell her something she will not understand.
"I......need to speak to you.......about that......Toto......" He hesitates, gently pushing her arms away.
The brief joy that had illuminated her bright, blue eyes is stripped away with the change in Nagi's tone, and she clings Rabbi-chan to her chest in anxiety.
"There are some bad people after Schwartz, Toto," he begins solemnly. "Crawford says I can't come......come see you for awhile......"
"Are you in danger, Nagi-kun?" her tear-soaked voice asks frightfully.
Nagi lowers his eyes. She has such affect on him. "I don't know, but it will be safer if I stay away. If I.......stay with the others."
A saddened pause. Then......
"How long?"
Nagi cannot look at her; he knew she would ask him that.
"A....few weeks or more. Maybe....longer." he answers truthfully.
Even without looking up at her, he knows she is crying. For ages, it seems, he has been a faithful, vigilant companion for her. Toto cannot bear to be alone for much longer than a day.
"Can't......can't I come with you, Nagi-kun?" she questions longingly. "We promised to live together one day. Can't I -"
"No, Toto." he stops her, lifting his watery, storm-cloud eyes. "You know that. I.....I have to go now. Crawford almost kept me from coming at all today. I have to -"
"What if you get hurt, and can't ever come back?" she asks suddenly, panicked. "Will you leave like Pel.....and Chen......and Noi did.....?"
Toto has begun backing away from him, shaking her head deniably as the tears run down her cheeks. Nagi reaches out, wanting so much to wipe them away.
"I'll come back. I promise -"
"No!" she cries out through angry sobs, backing away more swiftly. "You'll leave like everyone leaves!"
Pained feet turn, carrying the whimpering girl away, out of the flower field and towards her lonely, little home, and leaving Nagi to cope with a feeling he has too often had to bear.........
Anguish.
"Toto....." he whispers on deaf ears, the flower petals long since anchoring back to the ground.
"Tough luck, kid." A taunting voice calls from the trees. "Guess you should have fucked her when you had the chance."
Nagi feels a burning rage instantly build inside of him, the flowers at his feet exploding away with the force of his untrained power.
"Shut up, Schuldrich." he hisses, not bothering to turn around.
Unbearable laughter filters through the air, as it so often does, but is overpowered by a second voice, making itself known with an odd curiousity.
"Why do you care for her?"
This voice is softer, more eerie and intriguing.
"You wouldn't understand, Farfie." Schu's voice answers. "Your mind is too one track. Nagi's problem starts below the waste."
Those words are the final pin-prick of cruelty. Nagi spins around, facing his comrades as they stand just inside the thick of trees; Schu leaning against a sickly maple, while Farfarello is stone-still, and without expression.
"Don't listen to him, Farfarello." the young boy begins, stalking up to them. "He believes just because he can invade people's thoughts he knows what they mean."
A shorter, humored laugh escapes the German's lips as he pushes himself from the tree trunk. "Maybe *you're* the one who doesn't know what they mean. Ever think of that, kid?" he smirks pointedly. "Now, let's get out of here. Wouldn't want to keep our darling Bradley waiting." The red-head walks ahead of them on that, leaving the others to follow him through the trees.
It is Farfarello who waits for Nagi to make his way out of the meadow. Curiously, the Irishman watches the boy step past him, unable to follow. Noticing that his silent friend is still standing at the line of trees, Nagi turns back, and instantly discerns what that watchful, tawny eye is waiting for.
"She makes the pain go away." he says simply, barely above a whisper.
Satisfied, Farfarello wills his long legs to move forward, and the two continue through the forest side by side - silent - as they hurry to catch up to the swift red-head disappearing through the branches.
*****
The red-head hurries to catch up to his friends disappearing through the shop door. It is almost 9 o'clock.
"How was the cafe?" Aya asks happily, sitting comfortably behind the front counter as four very disgruntled florists storm through the door. "I'm thinking......you didn't have a good time, ne?"
"You can say that again!"
The blue-haired girl turns her attention to Youji, who has so eagerly replied, noticing the brown stain on the front of his pants. Her eyebrows arch as she fails horribly in attempting to stifle her laughter.
"It's not funny!" he growls, leaning back in a huff against the side wall, while his team mates unenthusiastically grab for their aprons. "I could have permanent damage because of that sarcastic, little bi-"
"Youji!"
"......tease." the emerald-eyed, young man finishes, polishing his choice of insult after Omi's subtle correction.
As the younger boy finishes tying back his apron, Aya grabs his arm before he can pass her by.
"Yotan's......accident......wasn't *all* that happened, was it, Omi-kun?" she persists curiously. Her question induces a confirming grunt from Ken who is walking past the counter with an armful of neglected azaleas.
Eyeing Ken warily, Omi shrugs, smiling with little reassurance. "I don't know what happened to everyone else." he admits. "The girl *I* met wasn't all that bad........she was just......a bit too much for me."
"Too much!?" Ken's voice explodes unexpectedly, the young man practically throwing the pot of flowers he had been holding onto a table. "You want too much?! The picture of sunshine *I* ran into gave me the rudest insult I've ever heard just because I was there!" He paces furiously, not noticing the tensed and fearful looks his companions are giving him.
"Enough, Ken." Ran speaks sternly, stepping away from the front window. He has been watching the shop across the street with a scrutinizing gaze since they returned. "We'll have customers soon."
Pausing mid pace, Ken's fists clench white as the bone beneath, his body searching for an outlet of his misplaced animosity, sending blood rushing to his face as common sense rushes from his mind.
"Of course *you* don't have anything to complain about." Ken retorts, staring Ran down from across the shop. "You were the only one who *wasn't* scalded, screamed at, or dragged around like a lost puppy."
Omi's ears perk up at that last line, a slightly indignant look crossing his youthful features.
"That red-head did seem pretty alright compared to the others." Youji comments thoughtfully, still resting against the wall. His words send the continued unease between Ran and Ken out of mind, not purposely, but by default. He is genuinely curious, with a unique seriousness in his tone. "You talked with her the longest, Ran. Anything strange about her?"
With a sideways glance, Ran forgets Ken's mutinous demeanor, wondering if Youji has been sensing from the mysterious women a feeling similar to his own. The blonde's tone certainly would suggest so.
"No." he replies carefully. "She was very.........pleasant."
Narrowing his emerald eyes, Youji wonders what Ran *isn't* telling them, considering how odd and hesitant his words had been. Not wanting to stir any fuss, however, he shrugs it off, smiling slyly.
"Leave it to Ran to meet up with the best of the bunch and still end up as miserable as the rest of us." he says with a laugh.
Unsettled calm. Everything strives to fall back into place, but there is a heaviness in the bitter air. The group grows quiet, all finding some work to bury their questioning thoughts in; Ran and Ken steer clear of one another, too much wanting to be said, without the knowledge of how to properly bring any of it out into the open; Omi props open the front door for the day, greeting the few early customers with his veritable smile, for nothing hangs heavily in his heart for long; Youji excuses himself a minute to change his pants, contemplating how delicious it would be to break that feisty waitress' resolve against him; and Aya remains at the counter, wondering how on earth her friends can delude themselves so profusely.
(Every last one of them wears a mask......) she thinks desolately. (Once and a while it fades, and I can almost make out what they're really feeling, but not nearly often enough.) Determination strengthens. (I know what you are.........Weiss. How much longer can you exist this way.........?)
Her aching thoughts could stretch endlessly, but today they are rudely interrupted.
Ran has walked past the counter, stopping abruptly as he looks with rigid stance towards the door. Aya notices his sudden start, peering past him, and discovering the figure of a woman standing in the door frame.
A lovely, smiling woman, with red hair - near as tragic as her brother's - in large curls. Her shining, blue eyes state so much without a word, and she is wearing an unforgettable red mini-skirt and blazer.
(No......) Aya panics, unseen fear gripping her troubled heart. (She's the one who -)
"Ohaiyo....." comes Ran's dead-toned voice. "......Manx."
*****
Manx.
The name and persona carry with it unwanted thoughts and obligations, though the woman herself is a joy. If only her appearance brought relief instead of the empty knowledge of their unfortunate, future prey.
"Weiss, your next mission is imperative." warns the familiar, haunting voice from the video screen.
Oh, yes, such a painfully common image and sound.
The four assassins have placed themselves throughout the darkened, basement room, watching the silhouette of a man who has given them their missions since the death of his predecessor. Both were called Persia, but though the identity of the former became known, the truth behind this new figure remains hidden in shadows even more veiling than the man's darkened image.
"Last night, *these* men broke into the Tosho Keiji Musiem of Foreign Artifacts,"
An image of three unbecoming characters pops up on the screen. The first is gaunt, with thining, ashen hair and sunken eyes; the second appears oddly prim, with slick, black hair and glasses; and the third wears a gruff, light-colored beard, his shaven head sporting a disfiguring scar that runs through his left eyebrow. They all have the look of cruel, remorseless villains. This is good, for it will make the kill so much easier.
"After disposing of the guards on watch, they preceded to steal a rare tome from the musiem's vault........"
A new image appears. It shows a large, weathered book with the semblance of ancient worlds and forgotten eras.
".......and also killed many civilians in their escape. These men are wanted for many previous crimes, and the document taken has dangerous value. We believe they will be meeting with their buyer tonight outside the Kokaido Factory warehouse."
The screen shifts once again, restoring the image behind the toneless voice echoing all through the room as it bounces off shallow walls. The four comrades in arms know what comes next; they could chorus this subsequent line by heart.
"White hunters of light, hunt the future of these dark beasts."
Fade to Black.
There is a moment of restless quiet which hangs in the air as it does with every new mission. The question remains.......
"Everyone in?" Manx asks with a smile. The answer is almost always the same, but still does she speak those accustomed words, every time without fail.
"Hai." Omi answers with weak enthusiasm.
"Always." smirks Youji.
"Same here." Ken adds mechanically.
And Ran gives a slow and purposeful nod.
It is a rare occasion indeed when someone refuses to do the one thing they are so aptly trained for. So obscenely rare.
"Remember now, boys...." Manx begins as she heads for the stairs, always so light in her mood. "....The Kokaido Factory isn't far from a residential area, so keep things under control, if you can." A wink signals her departure, but she doesn't get too far up the steps.
"Manx, leaving so soon?" Youji grins, fluttering to the railing. "I have far too many rain checks in your name. Let me buy you a drink? It's devastating when your lovely face is gone for so many days at a time."
(I'd rather she never came at all.) Omi's mind reacts in reflex, and he mentally kicks himself the moment those thoughts are formed. No point in regretting something you'll never make up for - nor ever escape from.
"You'll have to add another rain check to the list then, Balinese." the blue-eyed beauty replies. "I have plans."
Youji brings a hand to his chest in mock horror. "A date?" he asks miserably.
Manx can't help but laugh lightly at that, though most of the others in the room roll their eyes in disgust. "An appointment." She states with finality, and slips quickly up the last few steps until disappearing, those two, simple words left hanging in the air.
Clinging to the lighter atmosphere formed in the room after Youji's common routine of failure, Omi and Ken walk up to the taller man, the mission safely tucked away in the vault of their misguided minds.
"Shot down again, ne, Kudo?" Ken teases, wrapping an arm loosely around his friend's shoulders.
Omi giggles, adding. "You say you only go for the women over 18, Youji-kun, but I don't think they go for you."
Truly hurt by such harsh comments, Youji frowns, tossing Ken's hand from his shoulder roughly. "They?!" he barks. "I'll have you know, Manx is the only woman who's *ever* refused me. Besides, I'm wearing her down."
This is more than either boy can handle.
"Right, Yotan." Omi kids sarcastically. "I know Manx isn't the only one who's said no to you. I can think of a few who have just today."
Images of platinum waves and baby-blues float through Youji's mind, all attached to the most tormenting, curved hips he's ever seen. There is a mild flash of a raven-haired belle as well, but a certain stain on a certain favorite pair of slacks dominates the first pictures of memory over the second.
(That damn waitress!) the pride-stripped playboy thinks angrily, his face brightening red from the thought of her, though he can find no words to throw back at his eagerly taunting companions.
Luckily, he wouldn't have had the chance.
"Joke all you want." Ran speaks coldly, still sheltered in the shadows of the darkened corner he finds so comforting. "But do not forget where you will be tonight."
Joy vacuums to the threat of twilight, the others turning to their leader with resentment. True, they are not merely your-friendly-neighborhood-florists, but that doesn't mean they enjoy being reminded of it.
With authority, Ran steps into the sliver of light penetrating the tiny basement, exposing his deadened features.
"We have a mission."
And missions always come first.
*****
Caution always comes first. In every situation, self-preservation is the overpowering directive. Seat belts in cars to protect the populous during traffic accidents, warning labels on cigarettes reminding the consumer of possible death and disease, the constant lecture children hear on not talking to strangers - the list is endless.
Not to mention the careful concentration placed on saying the proper words at the proper time, all in order to shield the ignorant from a truth they may not be able to face.
Manx continues down the sidewalk, heading for an abnormally average car parked out of sight from the "Kitty in the House" shop's observant windows. Another woman is patiently waiting for her in the driver's seat. She is paler than the lilies sold in the popular shop down the street, with dark, brown hair, and caring eyes.
"They accepted?" the woman's gentle voice asks as Manx opens the passenger door.
The red-head waits until she is comfortably inside the car before answering, "As if they would refuse? This is their way of life, Hanae."
"Which is exactly the problem." the brunette states quickly. "And remember, *they* may be listening."
Blue eyes widen slightly as Manx thinks those words over. How often she forgets.
"Even if you're right.......Birman....." she begins, correcting her choice of identity for the woman by her side. "....would it make any difference? If they wanted to, they could find out who we really are much more easily than just by waiting for us to slip up. They probably already know, anyway."
A subtle raise of hazel eyebrows proves Birman agrees with the red-head's logic. However, the instant shadow crossing Manx's face indicates there is something else plagueing her mind.
"What will we do if....if......" she tries, a concerned expression beseeching the friend beside her. ".......what happens when Weiss wants to know the truth about Persia? If they start questioning things before it's time? They're bound to get curious eventually."
Birman's mild, unreadable face darkens. There is only one answer to that question. "Let's hope they do not." her voice replies in a saddened whisper. She turns the key then, starting the rumbling engine slowly as she shifts into drive. "If they do......"
Manx's breath catches unwittingly in her throat, her mind swaying with the movements of the vehicle as it pulls onto the road.
"......it will be too late."
*****
It was getting late.
Outside, the disfigured, partially-visible moon shines far too little light on the darkening city. Street lamps hold such shallow illumination, after all, and the lamp on a certain contemplative, red-haired woman's desk offers far too little of anything for her to see the object in her pale hand clearly.
Rosuto Aiko has been cealed away in her room since the shop below her apartment home closed for the night. So much weighs on her mind, and the simple reminder of why she is so determined to complete her objective is wrapped around what is being held so tenderly in gentle fingers.
"Shed a little light on the subject?" a voice calls into the red-head's room humorously, the shadows drastically shifting as the ceiling light is turned on by the flick of a switch. "Trying to go blind or what?"
Aiko grins in spite of herself. The door is directly behind her, but she doesn't have to turn to know who's voice has interrupted her poignant thoughts. "I just didn't think about it, I guess." she answers in a light tone. "You know how I get sometimes, Hiromi."
Entering slightly, the buxom blonde peers over Aiko's shoulder. She doesn't have to walk very close to see what her friend is holding between those slender fingers, for the thoughtful red-head is slumped in her chair.
Hiromi smiles sympathetically as she realizes what it is her friend is looking at. "Staring at that thing again? What if it distracts you from our mission tonight?"
Still facing forward, Aiko answers with kind conviction. "It won't distract me; it'll give me incentive." she corrects. "You've come to get my butt in gear, I take it?" she asks then, with laughter in her voice as she sets the item down upon her desk.
"Yep. It's almost show time. Nervous?"
The question with an obvious answer.
"Yep. But that's ok." Aiko smiles, rising from her seat as she finally faces her carefree, blue-eyed friend, "We're ready to begin, at last. And there is nothing anyone can do to stop us now."
Soundlessly, anticipating feet tread over the floor as the young women leave the room. The light is switched off behind them, but the small lamp on the desk remains brightened. With silent vigil, the tiny rays of false sunshine float down on what Aiko had been savoring. Just a simple, square bit of plastic paper. A picture.
Yes. A tattered, old picture of a young girl with auburn hair in two high pony-tails at the sides of her head. Pure joy enraptures the innocent face, and a treasured, paper airplane is clutched happily in her left hand as she bounds towards the fortunate person who is capturing her image.
Aiko's final thoughts as she left the room still hang in the air above that stilled memory, determined and overrun by impassioned nostalgia.
(I will prove you wrong........Botan. For *her* sake.....I will prove you wrong.)
*****
Somehow, everything felt wrong.
Summer days have become eclipsed by a misplaced chill in the night air. A biting, northern wind is blowing, whistling with such resonance, one could easily hear as well as feel the force of it even from inside four, protective walls. How ironic is the weather compared to events that will follow, as if fate decrees that any needless lives taken tonight shall shift the very air we breathe.
No sound, save the echoing wind outside his window, disturbs Ran as he prepares himself for midnight judgment. There is a routine he follows before every mission, something he has picked up over the years out of flawed necessity. He retrieves his assassin gear from the basement and retires swiftly to his room. The lights kept dim, he changes carefully - more irreversibly every time - and always finds a need to run an exposed finger over the blade of his katana before encasing his hands in shamed leather, as the rest of his slender form is clothed. Finally, he conceals his now sheathed weapon within the shadows of his trenchcoat - hidden as he hides, a white hunter in the night - prepared for whatever he may face in the hours to come.
(Routine.......) Ran ponders, playing the word over in his tired mind. (When did death become habit? How long ago......urrg! Why am I torturing myself like this?! I am Weiss. Weiss.......)
"Ran-niisan?" a pleading voice calls quietly from behind him.
Ran stiffens. It's a familiar voice - alien all the same - reminding him all too well of the episode in the storeroom only yesterday. The same imoto has caught him off guard with her disheartening voice, urging his attention with a word. A horrible, undeserved word.
"Aya, I thought I told you to stay with Momoe tonight. Why are you still here?" Ran asks coldly, frigid, frozen, and fearfully faced away from her.
"I know. I'm going." she answers softly, sounding so very far away. "But I know what you'll be doing tonight. You can hide your face and your sword by refusing to face me, but I know. I know....."
(You only think you know it all.......) Ran retorts from inside, unable to speak his words aloud. (You think you know.......but the details, the years spent without remorse........you know only vague dreams. And dreams is all you will know.)
"Go, Aya." he states harshly, looking back over his shoulder with cruel eyes. "The shop opens early tomorrow. Go and get some sleep."
More than anything, Aya wishes she could reach out to her troubled brother, but too many hindrances keep her from fulfilling the fairy-tale. Ran - stubborn and settled in his clouded way of life - wants only to fade into the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on the one light in his life, without fear of tainting her treasured innocence.
How many innocents has he turned a blind eye to in the name of accomplishing a mission first? Too many. Too many for *her* to get caught in the crossfire of the next.
"I'll see you tomorrow then........Oniisan......" she breathes - relieving Ran's anxiety for a contradicting moment - tears in her eyes as she defeatedly steps from the room.
(Oniisan......? So formal.) Ran thinks sadly, lowering his head in his comforting solitude. (Always Oniichan, Oniichan............for so long...........but now...........) He shakes his head free from those lingering thoughts, forming his features into stone. No more time can be wasted thoughtlessly on the end of a rainbow rapidly fading away.
There is a mission to complete, and the night waits without patience. Waiting to smother him in unforgiving arms once again.
*****
Waiting to strike without regret once again - they linger, watching for their prey.
Ran has melded with the north wall of the Kokaido factory warehouse, hidden amongst its shadows; Omi crouches easily behind a dumpster nearby, crinkling his nose at every ripe stench that wafts his way; and Ken and Youji are behind two parallel trees, all waiting silently and still.
"Psst......hey, Ken....?" A hushed and curious voice rips through the quiet.
Ken forms himself even more fully to the tree trunk his back is pressed against, carefully turning his head towards the man who has called his attention. "What is it, Balinese? They'll be here soon......."
"I know, I know. I was just thinking......" the blonde begins in answer. They are in fact only a few feet from one another, but still, it is always dangerous when you risk loosing the element of surprise. "......isn't this kind of an odd mission? I mean, we don't usually handle the common, petty thief."
His eyebrows furrowing in response, Ken takes a pause to consider Youji's assessment. Truthfully, he had initially thought the very same thing. But Persia would never send them on a mission that wasn't against some remarkably devilish enemy. Their quarries had always been so.
Always.
"Persia said the book they stole was real rare, remember? Maybe there's some dark ritual involved with it these guys are planning on carrying out." the brunette states logically, staring blankly forward as he considers his own words while he speaks them. "Besides, they did kill the guards, and a bunch of bystanders, too. I'd say that qualifies them for -"
"It's about time, Ryu! I've been waiting down the street for ten minutes!"
Repose broken. Fear wrenches through both assassins' hearts at the sudden voice echoing across the pavement beyond. They freeze, stalk still - even their breathing seems to slow - and they wait, watching, one with their camouflage as they anticipate their chance to strike.
(They're here.) Ken's thoughts state the obvious, turning cautiously to Youji. Without a word spoken aloud, Ken almost hears the taller man's response through the urgent, emerald eyes looking back at him.
(.......careful.......it's almost time.......)
"Don't yell at me, Boukai." a smooth voice calls, answering the one that had come before. "This volume is worth a high price to our buyer, and I will not be rushed."
A man with short, black hair, slicked back neatly, has arrived in an easily unnoticeable car. He has stepped out of the vehicle and is approaching a tall, slightly older man with light hair - long in the back, though it is thinning to form a broad forehead - who has come up the pass on foot out of the hazy night. The dark-haired man carries a package, large and gently wrapped in brown paper. Both seem at ease, unaware of the hunting eyes that watch them.
These men, without a doubt, are two of the questionable characters pictured on Weiss' mission screen not too long ago.
"Is Jerryck with you?" the taller one, Boukai, asks, gesturing to a shadowy figure in the backseat of the car.
Tamuri Ryu, trim and wearing a long, grey trenchcoat - open against the wind - gives an uncaring nod. "You know how he is. His foolish voodoo tells him we're dealing with the Devil. I doubt he'll come out until our gracious benefactors have paid their dues and left."
Boukai laughs, a sound unlike anything as it cuts through the air, gruff and pitchless. "How does that senseless gaijin survive in the world with those beliefs of his?" he questions the wind, throwing his voice out against the open, empty parking lot of the darkened Kokaido Factory.
This exchange continues, the two talking easily and without fear. They believe their transaction will be completed without deterrence. How foolish to believe such a thing so blindly. How foolish to believe in anything........
(Come on Omi.......any time now......) Youji thinks impatiently.
Their plan is all settled, as always. When the time is right, Ran will tell Omi to give the signal, and once the signal is clear, they strike. Simple.
(Persia said to take out the thieves before the buyer gets here, and then deal with whoever's on the other end afterwards.) the blonde restates in his mind, confirming. (We just gotta wait for -)
Clang!
Slow motion. There is a sharp sound that rings from somewhere near the building, deafening and distinct. The two men in the parking lot - illuminated by the streetlights - turn sharply towards the noise, caught off guard and open for attack.
(......the signal.)
Blurred speed.
Suddenly, darts shoot from somewhere unknown, hitting the soft ground around the unsuspecting victims. As Boukai and Ryu tense, searching madly in all directions for the nearby threat, Omi steps into the light, only yards from them.
"Who the hell are you?!" Boukai barks, reaching swiftly for inside his jacket.
"I wouldn't do that." a silky voice intercedes, immobilizing the balding man's arm.
Youji has abandoned the security of his tree, approaching the pavement from the side, and Ken follows close behind, both with their weapons raised.
"Whatever you want, you can have it!" Ryu cries out frightfully, dropping the package in his arms to the ground as he instinctively backs towards the car, noticing the deadly intent behind those weapons.
Neither of the men seem prepared for what fate may deal them tonight.
By now, Ran has also left the shadows behind, and all four assassins are revealed, with their targets surrounded against the car - no chance of escape save divine intervention.
"There is nothing we want that you can give us." Ran's unfeeling voice pounds across the distance separating him from their panicked prey.
Ryu and Boukai are pressed against the doors of the car in futile effort to escape whatever fate awaits them. Oddly enough, however, Jerryck, the nearly unseen man inside the vehicle, has barely moved, as if he senses no reason to be afraid.
"Who.....who are you?!" Boukai cries again, his voice cracking in whispered appeal.
The four assassins close in from all sides, expressionless, with looks in their eyes that seem dead to the world. Eyes that must be dead to everything in order to survive tomorrow. You would see nothing but ash to look in them, because the eyes are the windows to the soul.
And......
No intelligent assassin would take theirs along on a mission.
Ran's katana glints sharply, appearing from nothing, as he steps forward to answer his prey's desperate, foolish question. "The white hunters in the night........." he speaks in a deadly tone. ".........Weiss."
Movement so swift and trained, no human eye could catch it, nor hope to stand in its way, as Ran springs forward, prepairing to strike. But......wait......imagine something swifter, more trained, with more purpose behind it. Why? Because that's what shall save three innocent lives tonight.
A sharp, piercing screech of metal against metal unsettles the air, and sparks fly. Another figure has appeared from seemingly nothing, suddenly positionted between the terrified men and Ran's blade, holding that deadly katana at bay.
Furious and caught by total and utter surprise, Ran's fierce, violet eyes bore into the eyes of his instant opponent. Eyes which mirror his own all too well.
"You!!" he growls, straining against the weight of another's katana as it presses his own firmly down. The owner of the magnificent weapon returns his glare unwaveringly, her red hair blowing freely in the night wind.
Wrapped up in the shock of the situation, Ran's teammates give no thought to protecting themselves from forces that might just as unexpectedly confront them. And, as if on cue, unseen foes do indeed strike them from behind, catching each one off guard, just as Ran had been caught.
Omi feels the subtle prick of something sharp at his back, stiffening him, as an all too familiar voice calls with caution into his ear. "Stay still, cutie. Wouldn't wanna have to hurt you."
Catching sight of Omi's dangerous position, Youji prepares himself to spring to the younger boy's aid, vaguely registering the sight of this memorable, raven-haired young woman who has overtaken his smaller friend. Unfortunately, he loses the opportunity to act as a curved knife presses against his throat from behind, its owner's body crowding close to his own.
"Watch yourself, pretty boy." a teasing female voice calls playfully. "If you think coffee stains are hard to get out, I can show you something that's a lot tougher."
Ken, the only remaining member of Weiss, has stood frozen, watching as his comrades are overcome. Now, however, he can sense the figure coming up behind *him* even before she strikes. Whirling around, Ken jumps back as a hard, wooden staff swipes at his feet, missing him by inches. But, before he can counter, the weapon swings from the other direction, the brunt of the impact catching him in the chest as he is sent painfully to the ground.
Shaking the dizziness from the collision away, Ken stares up to discover a young woman standing guard above him, her silver eyes cold, while navy curls blow against her pale face.
(It's them......from the cafe........) he thinks frantically, struggling to understand what is happening. (....how....?)
"Go." a low, calm voice is heard, calling to the men standing stunned in front of their car. "Get in, and drive away."
The woman who could pass for the male red-head's twin doesn't need to speak her words more than once. Ryu and Boukai fly to the doors of the vehicle without a word to one another, slamming them shut as they speed away - their once prized package left forgotten on the ground only feet from Ran and his adversary.
"Who are you?!" Ran bellows, still struggling under the woman's strength through their clashing katanas. "Who do you think you are to intervene in our mission like this?!"
Rosuto Aiko and her fellows are the picture of calm despite the tense situation developing. Smiling even as she suddenly steps back, Aiko releases Ran from the force of her weapon against his, answering the infuriated, young man with a poised, unshaken voice.
"We are the calling of the wind, Abyssinian." she beams. "We are......Fluesternd."
*****A/N/*****
Part 3! Things are getting interesting. Please keep reviewing.
Sleep is overrated.
Imagine how many precious hours are wasted in the time spent counting sheep and suffering through nightmares. Imagine. Our wasted lives already give up so much of ourselves that we will never get back. Why would anyone want to dwindle any more?
Then again, why are some few individuals sharp enough to stay awake?
Perhaps some poor creatures of humanity shy from their childhood beddie-byes in fear of what their subconscious will create during their slumber. Terrified of what their inner self may do if let loose upon the unsuspecting world.
We are all two-sided.
Each boy and girl - villain or anti-hero - is a million shades of grey. There is no black or white. There never was. We are either a lighter or darker shade of ash.
Ashes. Burn, burn, burn away, and what gets left behind is the core of our existence. Whatever survives the fire proves strong enough to withstand the blinding light that never was, and the suffocating darkness that lives only in fairy tales.
We still need heroes, however. Not those who fight for justice, but those who fight for compassion. Not righteous hunters who murder and slay for their causes, but warriors who see no need for violence at all. Oh, yes, how we need them. We need them to struggle for our sakes. Battle for our souls. Challenge every evil for our salvation.
They are not black nor white, neither do they clothe themselves in the pretense of being so. They are endlessly grey. Just like everyone else.........
*****
A warm breeze billows through the branches above, rustling the countless leaves of jaded green. It's a familiar path, covered in cherry blossoms that have blown from the field just ahead. Often have the same soundless, faltering feet walked amongst the mingled scents of sweet and bitter memory. Often has the same mind yearned to find this place peaceful, as anyone would, but failed along the way.
Naoe Nagi comes to the end of the thickening trees, peering through the last few branches into the clearing beyond. Seated innocently in the center of a thousand pink blossoms, is the most fragile and treasured blossom of all.
(Toto......) Nagi smiles. (Waiting for me again......with your little, stuffed bunny to keep you company......)
"Do you think Nagi will visit us today, Rabbi-chan?" he hears her all too youthful voice ask of her tattered friend, traveling on the wind across the meadow. "I miss him when he's not here. It's lonely in the house with just us. With Chen.....and Pel.....and Noi......all gone......." Such sadness "I hope he comes today......"
Nagi flinches at her words. She has been this way ever since her team mates died, leaving her all alone. If Nagi hadn't saved her that night, she most likely would have joined them, but at least she wouldn't have to take care of herself. That is something she cannot do.
Ever since that night, Nagi has been doing all he can to take care of Toto, with Crawford's hesitant permission. But, he cannot stay with her, and even if it was allowed, he would not want her to stay with him. With Schwartz. She belongs here, in the flower field, and so he helped her fix up an old cottage near Schreient's demolished home, bringing her supplies and visiting nearly everyday. It is certainly better than having her locked away in some institution for the way she is, but Nagi still feels he is cheating her. The once smiling girl with so much life and hope is withering away, and her stunted mind cannot grasp the reasons.
She is a child.
(Toto......I...I...) He can't even bring his mind to form the words. So, instead, he reaches out with it, lifting stray petals of pale pink into the air.
Always does he greet her this way, for he knows it will make her smile. Even if that smile is more faded with each new day.
Trained to notice the change in the wind, Toto jerks her head up, watching the flowers flow around her. "Nagi-kun!?" she calls, standing up and spinning around to locate her beloved companion. At last, she sees him, as the frail, young boy approaches from the trees. "Nagi! Nagi! You came!"
Nagi braces himself as she glomps him, her dear, stuffed bunny still held tightly in one hand. How simplistic are her emotions and reaction. How innocent, despite the acts of her troubled past.
"Hai, Toto. I came." Nagi whispers, hugging her firmly in response. "Did you miss me?" he asks after a pause, already knowing the answer.
"So much, Nagi-kun!" she replies excitedly, refusing to let him go. "I wish you didn't have to stay away so long."
Her words wound him deeply, for not only does he see her often - sometimes even more than once in a single day - but he is about to tell her how that will change. He must tell her something she will not understand.
"I......need to speak to you.......about that......Toto......" He hesitates, gently pushing her arms away.
The brief joy that had illuminated her bright, blue eyes is stripped away with the change in Nagi's tone, and she clings Rabbi-chan to her chest in anxiety.
"There are some bad people after Schwartz, Toto," he begins solemnly. "Crawford says I can't come......come see you for awhile......"
"Are you in danger, Nagi-kun?" her tear-soaked voice asks frightfully.
Nagi lowers his eyes. She has such affect on him. "I don't know, but it will be safer if I stay away. If I.......stay with the others."
A saddened pause. Then......
"How long?"
Nagi cannot look at her; he knew she would ask him that.
"A....few weeks or more. Maybe....longer." he answers truthfully.
Even without looking up at her, he knows she is crying. For ages, it seems, he has been a faithful, vigilant companion for her. Toto cannot bear to be alone for much longer than a day.
"Can't......can't I come with you, Nagi-kun?" she questions longingly. "We promised to live together one day. Can't I -"
"No, Toto." he stops her, lifting his watery, storm-cloud eyes. "You know that. I.....I have to go now. Crawford almost kept me from coming at all today. I have to -"
"What if you get hurt, and can't ever come back?" she asks suddenly, panicked. "Will you leave like Pel.....and Chen......and Noi did.....?"
Toto has begun backing away from him, shaking her head deniably as the tears run down her cheeks. Nagi reaches out, wanting so much to wipe them away.
"I'll come back. I promise -"
"No!" she cries out through angry sobs, backing away more swiftly. "You'll leave like everyone leaves!"
Pained feet turn, carrying the whimpering girl away, out of the flower field and towards her lonely, little home, and leaving Nagi to cope with a feeling he has too often had to bear.........
Anguish.
"Toto....." he whispers on deaf ears, the flower petals long since anchoring back to the ground.
"Tough luck, kid." A taunting voice calls from the trees. "Guess you should have fucked her when you had the chance."
Nagi feels a burning rage instantly build inside of him, the flowers at his feet exploding away with the force of his untrained power.
"Shut up, Schuldrich." he hisses, not bothering to turn around.
Unbearable laughter filters through the air, as it so often does, but is overpowered by a second voice, making itself known with an odd curiousity.
"Why do you care for her?"
This voice is softer, more eerie and intriguing.
"You wouldn't understand, Farfie." Schu's voice answers. "Your mind is too one track. Nagi's problem starts below the waste."
Those words are the final pin-prick of cruelty. Nagi spins around, facing his comrades as they stand just inside the thick of trees; Schu leaning against a sickly maple, while Farfarello is stone-still, and without expression.
"Don't listen to him, Farfarello." the young boy begins, stalking up to them. "He believes just because he can invade people's thoughts he knows what they mean."
A shorter, humored laugh escapes the German's lips as he pushes himself from the tree trunk. "Maybe *you're* the one who doesn't know what they mean. Ever think of that, kid?" he smirks pointedly. "Now, let's get out of here. Wouldn't want to keep our darling Bradley waiting." The red-head walks ahead of them on that, leaving the others to follow him through the trees.
It is Farfarello who waits for Nagi to make his way out of the meadow. Curiously, the Irishman watches the boy step past him, unable to follow. Noticing that his silent friend is still standing at the line of trees, Nagi turns back, and instantly discerns what that watchful, tawny eye is waiting for.
"She makes the pain go away." he says simply, barely above a whisper.
Satisfied, Farfarello wills his long legs to move forward, and the two continue through the forest side by side - silent - as they hurry to catch up to the swift red-head disappearing through the branches.
*****
The red-head hurries to catch up to his friends disappearing through the shop door. It is almost 9 o'clock.
"How was the cafe?" Aya asks happily, sitting comfortably behind the front counter as four very disgruntled florists storm through the door. "I'm thinking......you didn't have a good time, ne?"
"You can say that again!"
The blue-haired girl turns her attention to Youji, who has so eagerly replied, noticing the brown stain on the front of his pants. Her eyebrows arch as she fails horribly in attempting to stifle her laughter.
"It's not funny!" he growls, leaning back in a huff against the side wall, while his team mates unenthusiastically grab for their aprons. "I could have permanent damage because of that sarcastic, little bi-"
"Youji!"
"......tease." the emerald-eyed, young man finishes, polishing his choice of insult after Omi's subtle correction.
As the younger boy finishes tying back his apron, Aya grabs his arm before he can pass her by.
"Yotan's......accident......wasn't *all* that happened, was it, Omi-kun?" she persists curiously. Her question induces a confirming grunt from Ken who is walking past the counter with an armful of neglected azaleas.
Eyeing Ken warily, Omi shrugs, smiling with little reassurance. "I don't know what happened to everyone else." he admits. "The girl *I* met wasn't all that bad........she was just......a bit too much for me."
"Too much!?" Ken's voice explodes unexpectedly, the young man practically throwing the pot of flowers he had been holding onto a table. "You want too much?! The picture of sunshine *I* ran into gave me the rudest insult I've ever heard just because I was there!" He paces furiously, not noticing the tensed and fearful looks his companions are giving him.
"Enough, Ken." Ran speaks sternly, stepping away from the front window. He has been watching the shop across the street with a scrutinizing gaze since they returned. "We'll have customers soon."
Pausing mid pace, Ken's fists clench white as the bone beneath, his body searching for an outlet of his misplaced animosity, sending blood rushing to his face as common sense rushes from his mind.
"Of course *you* don't have anything to complain about." Ken retorts, staring Ran down from across the shop. "You were the only one who *wasn't* scalded, screamed at, or dragged around like a lost puppy."
Omi's ears perk up at that last line, a slightly indignant look crossing his youthful features.
"That red-head did seem pretty alright compared to the others." Youji comments thoughtfully, still resting against the wall. His words send the continued unease between Ran and Ken out of mind, not purposely, but by default. He is genuinely curious, with a unique seriousness in his tone. "You talked with her the longest, Ran. Anything strange about her?"
With a sideways glance, Ran forgets Ken's mutinous demeanor, wondering if Youji has been sensing from the mysterious women a feeling similar to his own. The blonde's tone certainly would suggest so.
"No." he replies carefully. "She was very.........pleasant."
Narrowing his emerald eyes, Youji wonders what Ran *isn't* telling them, considering how odd and hesitant his words had been. Not wanting to stir any fuss, however, he shrugs it off, smiling slyly.
"Leave it to Ran to meet up with the best of the bunch and still end up as miserable as the rest of us." he says with a laugh.
Unsettled calm. Everything strives to fall back into place, but there is a heaviness in the bitter air. The group grows quiet, all finding some work to bury their questioning thoughts in; Ran and Ken steer clear of one another, too much wanting to be said, without the knowledge of how to properly bring any of it out into the open; Omi props open the front door for the day, greeting the few early customers with his veritable smile, for nothing hangs heavily in his heart for long; Youji excuses himself a minute to change his pants, contemplating how delicious it would be to break that feisty waitress' resolve against him; and Aya remains at the counter, wondering how on earth her friends can delude themselves so profusely.
(Every last one of them wears a mask......) she thinks desolately. (Once and a while it fades, and I can almost make out what they're really feeling, but not nearly often enough.) Determination strengthens. (I know what you are.........Weiss. How much longer can you exist this way.........?)
Her aching thoughts could stretch endlessly, but today they are rudely interrupted.
Ran has walked past the counter, stopping abruptly as he looks with rigid stance towards the door. Aya notices his sudden start, peering past him, and discovering the figure of a woman standing in the door frame.
A lovely, smiling woman, with red hair - near as tragic as her brother's - in large curls. Her shining, blue eyes state so much without a word, and she is wearing an unforgettable red mini-skirt and blazer.
(No......) Aya panics, unseen fear gripping her troubled heart. (She's the one who -)
"Ohaiyo....." comes Ran's dead-toned voice. "......Manx."
*****
Manx.
The name and persona carry with it unwanted thoughts and obligations, though the woman herself is a joy. If only her appearance brought relief instead of the empty knowledge of their unfortunate, future prey.
"Weiss, your next mission is imperative." warns the familiar, haunting voice from the video screen.
Oh, yes, such a painfully common image and sound.
The four assassins have placed themselves throughout the darkened, basement room, watching the silhouette of a man who has given them their missions since the death of his predecessor. Both were called Persia, but though the identity of the former became known, the truth behind this new figure remains hidden in shadows even more veiling than the man's darkened image.
"Last night, *these* men broke into the Tosho Keiji Musiem of Foreign Artifacts,"
An image of three unbecoming characters pops up on the screen. The first is gaunt, with thining, ashen hair and sunken eyes; the second appears oddly prim, with slick, black hair and glasses; and the third wears a gruff, light-colored beard, his shaven head sporting a disfiguring scar that runs through his left eyebrow. They all have the look of cruel, remorseless villains. This is good, for it will make the kill so much easier.
"After disposing of the guards on watch, they preceded to steal a rare tome from the musiem's vault........"
A new image appears. It shows a large, weathered book with the semblance of ancient worlds and forgotten eras.
".......and also killed many civilians in their escape. These men are wanted for many previous crimes, and the document taken has dangerous value. We believe they will be meeting with their buyer tonight outside the Kokaido Factory warehouse."
The screen shifts once again, restoring the image behind the toneless voice echoing all through the room as it bounces off shallow walls. The four comrades in arms know what comes next; they could chorus this subsequent line by heart.
"White hunters of light, hunt the future of these dark beasts."
Fade to Black.
There is a moment of restless quiet which hangs in the air as it does with every new mission. The question remains.......
"Everyone in?" Manx asks with a smile. The answer is almost always the same, but still does she speak those accustomed words, every time without fail.
"Hai." Omi answers with weak enthusiasm.
"Always." smirks Youji.
"Same here." Ken adds mechanically.
And Ran gives a slow and purposeful nod.
It is a rare occasion indeed when someone refuses to do the one thing they are so aptly trained for. So obscenely rare.
"Remember now, boys...." Manx begins as she heads for the stairs, always so light in her mood. "....The Kokaido Factory isn't far from a residential area, so keep things under control, if you can." A wink signals her departure, but she doesn't get too far up the steps.
"Manx, leaving so soon?" Youji grins, fluttering to the railing. "I have far too many rain checks in your name. Let me buy you a drink? It's devastating when your lovely face is gone for so many days at a time."
(I'd rather she never came at all.) Omi's mind reacts in reflex, and he mentally kicks himself the moment those thoughts are formed. No point in regretting something you'll never make up for - nor ever escape from.
"You'll have to add another rain check to the list then, Balinese." the blue-eyed beauty replies. "I have plans."
Youji brings a hand to his chest in mock horror. "A date?" he asks miserably.
Manx can't help but laugh lightly at that, though most of the others in the room roll their eyes in disgust. "An appointment." She states with finality, and slips quickly up the last few steps until disappearing, those two, simple words left hanging in the air.
Clinging to the lighter atmosphere formed in the room after Youji's common routine of failure, Omi and Ken walk up to the taller man, the mission safely tucked away in the vault of their misguided minds.
"Shot down again, ne, Kudo?" Ken teases, wrapping an arm loosely around his friend's shoulders.
Omi giggles, adding. "You say you only go for the women over 18, Youji-kun, but I don't think they go for you."
Truly hurt by such harsh comments, Youji frowns, tossing Ken's hand from his shoulder roughly. "They?!" he barks. "I'll have you know, Manx is the only woman who's *ever* refused me. Besides, I'm wearing her down."
This is more than either boy can handle.
"Right, Yotan." Omi kids sarcastically. "I know Manx isn't the only one who's said no to you. I can think of a few who have just today."
Images of platinum waves and baby-blues float through Youji's mind, all attached to the most tormenting, curved hips he's ever seen. There is a mild flash of a raven-haired belle as well, but a certain stain on a certain favorite pair of slacks dominates the first pictures of memory over the second.
(That damn waitress!) the pride-stripped playboy thinks angrily, his face brightening red from the thought of her, though he can find no words to throw back at his eagerly taunting companions.
Luckily, he wouldn't have had the chance.
"Joke all you want." Ran speaks coldly, still sheltered in the shadows of the darkened corner he finds so comforting. "But do not forget where you will be tonight."
Joy vacuums to the threat of twilight, the others turning to their leader with resentment. True, they are not merely your-friendly-neighborhood-florists, but that doesn't mean they enjoy being reminded of it.
With authority, Ran steps into the sliver of light penetrating the tiny basement, exposing his deadened features.
"We have a mission."
And missions always come first.
*****
Caution always comes first. In every situation, self-preservation is the overpowering directive. Seat belts in cars to protect the populous during traffic accidents, warning labels on cigarettes reminding the consumer of possible death and disease, the constant lecture children hear on not talking to strangers - the list is endless.
Not to mention the careful concentration placed on saying the proper words at the proper time, all in order to shield the ignorant from a truth they may not be able to face.
Manx continues down the sidewalk, heading for an abnormally average car parked out of sight from the "Kitty in the House" shop's observant windows. Another woman is patiently waiting for her in the driver's seat. She is paler than the lilies sold in the popular shop down the street, with dark, brown hair, and caring eyes.
"They accepted?" the woman's gentle voice asks as Manx opens the passenger door.
The red-head waits until she is comfortably inside the car before answering, "As if they would refuse? This is their way of life, Hanae."
"Which is exactly the problem." the brunette states quickly. "And remember, *they* may be listening."
Blue eyes widen slightly as Manx thinks those words over. How often she forgets.
"Even if you're right.......Birman....." she begins, correcting her choice of identity for the woman by her side. "....would it make any difference? If they wanted to, they could find out who we really are much more easily than just by waiting for us to slip up. They probably already know, anyway."
A subtle raise of hazel eyebrows proves Birman agrees with the red-head's logic. However, the instant shadow crossing Manx's face indicates there is something else plagueing her mind.
"What will we do if....if......" she tries, a concerned expression beseeching the friend beside her. ".......what happens when Weiss wants to know the truth about Persia? If they start questioning things before it's time? They're bound to get curious eventually."
Birman's mild, unreadable face darkens. There is only one answer to that question. "Let's hope they do not." her voice replies in a saddened whisper. She turns the key then, starting the rumbling engine slowly as she shifts into drive. "If they do......"
Manx's breath catches unwittingly in her throat, her mind swaying with the movements of the vehicle as it pulls onto the road.
"......it will be too late."
*****
It was getting late.
Outside, the disfigured, partially-visible moon shines far too little light on the darkening city. Street lamps hold such shallow illumination, after all, and the lamp on a certain contemplative, red-haired woman's desk offers far too little of anything for her to see the object in her pale hand clearly.
Rosuto Aiko has been cealed away in her room since the shop below her apartment home closed for the night. So much weighs on her mind, and the simple reminder of why she is so determined to complete her objective is wrapped around what is being held so tenderly in gentle fingers.
"Shed a little light on the subject?" a voice calls into the red-head's room humorously, the shadows drastically shifting as the ceiling light is turned on by the flick of a switch. "Trying to go blind or what?"
Aiko grins in spite of herself. The door is directly behind her, but she doesn't have to turn to know who's voice has interrupted her poignant thoughts. "I just didn't think about it, I guess." she answers in a light tone. "You know how I get sometimes, Hiromi."
Entering slightly, the buxom blonde peers over Aiko's shoulder. She doesn't have to walk very close to see what her friend is holding between those slender fingers, for the thoughtful red-head is slumped in her chair.
Hiromi smiles sympathetically as she realizes what it is her friend is looking at. "Staring at that thing again? What if it distracts you from our mission tonight?"
Still facing forward, Aiko answers with kind conviction. "It won't distract me; it'll give me incentive." she corrects. "You've come to get my butt in gear, I take it?" she asks then, with laughter in her voice as she sets the item down upon her desk.
"Yep. It's almost show time. Nervous?"
The question with an obvious answer.
"Yep. But that's ok." Aiko smiles, rising from her seat as she finally faces her carefree, blue-eyed friend, "We're ready to begin, at last. And there is nothing anyone can do to stop us now."
Soundlessly, anticipating feet tread over the floor as the young women leave the room. The light is switched off behind them, but the small lamp on the desk remains brightened. With silent vigil, the tiny rays of false sunshine float down on what Aiko had been savoring. Just a simple, square bit of plastic paper. A picture.
Yes. A tattered, old picture of a young girl with auburn hair in two high pony-tails at the sides of her head. Pure joy enraptures the innocent face, and a treasured, paper airplane is clutched happily in her left hand as she bounds towards the fortunate person who is capturing her image.
Aiko's final thoughts as she left the room still hang in the air above that stilled memory, determined and overrun by impassioned nostalgia.
(I will prove you wrong........Botan. For *her* sake.....I will prove you wrong.)
*****
Somehow, everything felt wrong.
Summer days have become eclipsed by a misplaced chill in the night air. A biting, northern wind is blowing, whistling with such resonance, one could easily hear as well as feel the force of it even from inside four, protective walls. How ironic is the weather compared to events that will follow, as if fate decrees that any needless lives taken tonight shall shift the very air we breathe.
No sound, save the echoing wind outside his window, disturbs Ran as he prepares himself for midnight judgment. There is a routine he follows before every mission, something he has picked up over the years out of flawed necessity. He retrieves his assassin gear from the basement and retires swiftly to his room. The lights kept dim, he changes carefully - more irreversibly every time - and always finds a need to run an exposed finger over the blade of his katana before encasing his hands in shamed leather, as the rest of his slender form is clothed. Finally, he conceals his now sheathed weapon within the shadows of his trenchcoat - hidden as he hides, a white hunter in the night - prepared for whatever he may face in the hours to come.
(Routine.......) Ran ponders, playing the word over in his tired mind. (When did death become habit? How long ago......urrg! Why am I torturing myself like this?! I am Weiss. Weiss.......)
"Ran-niisan?" a pleading voice calls quietly from behind him.
Ran stiffens. It's a familiar voice - alien all the same - reminding him all too well of the episode in the storeroom only yesterday. The same imoto has caught him off guard with her disheartening voice, urging his attention with a word. A horrible, undeserved word.
"Aya, I thought I told you to stay with Momoe tonight. Why are you still here?" Ran asks coldly, frigid, frozen, and fearfully faced away from her.
"I know. I'm going." she answers softly, sounding so very far away. "But I know what you'll be doing tonight. You can hide your face and your sword by refusing to face me, but I know. I know....."
(You only think you know it all.......) Ran retorts from inside, unable to speak his words aloud. (You think you know.......but the details, the years spent without remorse........you know only vague dreams. And dreams is all you will know.)
"Go, Aya." he states harshly, looking back over his shoulder with cruel eyes. "The shop opens early tomorrow. Go and get some sleep."
More than anything, Aya wishes she could reach out to her troubled brother, but too many hindrances keep her from fulfilling the fairy-tale. Ran - stubborn and settled in his clouded way of life - wants only to fade into the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on the one light in his life, without fear of tainting her treasured innocence.
How many innocents has he turned a blind eye to in the name of accomplishing a mission first? Too many. Too many for *her* to get caught in the crossfire of the next.
"I'll see you tomorrow then........Oniisan......" she breathes - relieving Ran's anxiety for a contradicting moment - tears in her eyes as she defeatedly steps from the room.
(Oniisan......? So formal.) Ran thinks sadly, lowering his head in his comforting solitude. (Always Oniichan, Oniichan............for so long...........but now...........) He shakes his head free from those lingering thoughts, forming his features into stone. No more time can be wasted thoughtlessly on the end of a rainbow rapidly fading away.
There is a mission to complete, and the night waits without patience. Waiting to smother him in unforgiving arms once again.
*****
Waiting to strike without regret once again - they linger, watching for their prey.
Ran has melded with the north wall of the Kokaido factory warehouse, hidden amongst its shadows; Omi crouches easily behind a dumpster nearby, crinkling his nose at every ripe stench that wafts his way; and Ken and Youji are behind two parallel trees, all waiting silently and still.
"Psst......hey, Ken....?" A hushed and curious voice rips through the quiet.
Ken forms himself even more fully to the tree trunk his back is pressed against, carefully turning his head towards the man who has called his attention. "What is it, Balinese? They'll be here soon......."
"I know, I know. I was just thinking......" the blonde begins in answer. They are in fact only a few feet from one another, but still, it is always dangerous when you risk loosing the element of surprise. "......isn't this kind of an odd mission? I mean, we don't usually handle the common, petty thief."
His eyebrows furrowing in response, Ken takes a pause to consider Youji's assessment. Truthfully, he had initially thought the very same thing. But Persia would never send them on a mission that wasn't against some remarkably devilish enemy. Their quarries had always been so.
Always.
"Persia said the book they stole was real rare, remember? Maybe there's some dark ritual involved with it these guys are planning on carrying out." the brunette states logically, staring blankly forward as he considers his own words while he speaks them. "Besides, they did kill the guards, and a bunch of bystanders, too. I'd say that qualifies them for -"
"It's about time, Ryu! I've been waiting down the street for ten minutes!"
Repose broken. Fear wrenches through both assassins' hearts at the sudden voice echoing across the pavement beyond. They freeze, stalk still - even their breathing seems to slow - and they wait, watching, one with their camouflage as they anticipate their chance to strike.
(They're here.) Ken's thoughts state the obvious, turning cautiously to Youji. Without a word spoken aloud, Ken almost hears the taller man's response through the urgent, emerald eyes looking back at him.
(.......careful.......it's almost time.......)
"Don't yell at me, Boukai." a smooth voice calls, answering the one that had come before. "This volume is worth a high price to our buyer, and I will not be rushed."
A man with short, black hair, slicked back neatly, has arrived in an easily unnoticeable car. He has stepped out of the vehicle and is approaching a tall, slightly older man with light hair - long in the back, though it is thinning to form a broad forehead - who has come up the pass on foot out of the hazy night. The dark-haired man carries a package, large and gently wrapped in brown paper. Both seem at ease, unaware of the hunting eyes that watch them.
These men, without a doubt, are two of the questionable characters pictured on Weiss' mission screen not too long ago.
"Is Jerryck with you?" the taller one, Boukai, asks, gesturing to a shadowy figure in the backseat of the car.
Tamuri Ryu, trim and wearing a long, grey trenchcoat - open against the wind - gives an uncaring nod. "You know how he is. His foolish voodoo tells him we're dealing with the Devil. I doubt he'll come out until our gracious benefactors have paid their dues and left."
Boukai laughs, a sound unlike anything as it cuts through the air, gruff and pitchless. "How does that senseless gaijin survive in the world with those beliefs of his?" he questions the wind, throwing his voice out against the open, empty parking lot of the darkened Kokaido Factory.
This exchange continues, the two talking easily and without fear. They believe their transaction will be completed without deterrence. How foolish to believe such a thing so blindly. How foolish to believe in anything........
(Come on Omi.......any time now......) Youji thinks impatiently.
Their plan is all settled, as always. When the time is right, Ran will tell Omi to give the signal, and once the signal is clear, they strike. Simple.
(Persia said to take out the thieves before the buyer gets here, and then deal with whoever's on the other end afterwards.) the blonde restates in his mind, confirming. (We just gotta wait for -)
Clang!
Slow motion. There is a sharp sound that rings from somewhere near the building, deafening and distinct. The two men in the parking lot - illuminated by the streetlights - turn sharply towards the noise, caught off guard and open for attack.
(......the signal.)
Blurred speed.
Suddenly, darts shoot from somewhere unknown, hitting the soft ground around the unsuspecting victims. As Boukai and Ryu tense, searching madly in all directions for the nearby threat, Omi steps into the light, only yards from them.
"Who the hell are you?!" Boukai barks, reaching swiftly for inside his jacket.
"I wouldn't do that." a silky voice intercedes, immobilizing the balding man's arm.
Youji has abandoned the security of his tree, approaching the pavement from the side, and Ken follows close behind, both with their weapons raised.
"Whatever you want, you can have it!" Ryu cries out frightfully, dropping the package in his arms to the ground as he instinctively backs towards the car, noticing the deadly intent behind those weapons.
Neither of the men seem prepared for what fate may deal them tonight.
By now, Ran has also left the shadows behind, and all four assassins are revealed, with their targets surrounded against the car - no chance of escape save divine intervention.
"There is nothing we want that you can give us." Ran's unfeeling voice pounds across the distance separating him from their panicked prey.
Ryu and Boukai are pressed against the doors of the car in futile effort to escape whatever fate awaits them. Oddly enough, however, Jerryck, the nearly unseen man inside the vehicle, has barely moved, as if he senses no reason to be afraid.
"Who.....who are you?!" Boukai cries again, his voice cracking in whispered appeal.
The four assassins close in from all sides, expressionless, with looks in their eyes that seem dead to the world. Eyes that must be dead to everything in order to survive tomorrow. You would see nothing but ash to look in them, because the eyes are the windows to the soul.
And......
No intelligent assassin would take theirs along on a mission.
Ran's katana glints sharply, appearing from nothing, as he steps forward to answer his prey's desperate, foolish question. "The white hunters in the night........." he speaks in a deadly tone. ".........Weiss."
Movement so swift and trained, no human eye could catch it, nor hope to stand in its way, as Ran springs forward, prepairing to strike. But......wait......imagine something swifter, more trained, with more purpose behind it. Why? Because that's what shall save three innocent lives tonight.
A sharp, piercing screech of metal against metal unsettles the air, and sparks fly. Another figure has appeared from seemingly nothing, suddenly positionted between the terrified men and Ran's blade, holding that deadly katana at bay.
Furious and caught by total and utter surprise, Ran's fierce, violet eyes bore into the eyes of his instant opponent. Eyes which mirror his own all too well.
"You!!" he growls, straining against the weight of another's katana as it presses his own firmly down. The owner of the magnificent weapon returns his glare unwaveringly, her red hair blowing freely in the night wind.
Wrapped up in the shock of the situation, Ran's teammates give no thought to protecting themselves from forces that might just as unexpectedly confront them. And, as if on cue, unseen foes do indeed strike them from behind, catching each one off guard, just as Ran had been caught.
Omi feels the subtle prick of something sharp at his back, stiffening him, as an all too familiar voice calls with caution into his ear. "Stay still, cutie. Wouldn't wanna have to hurt you."
Catching sight of Omi's dangerous position, Youji prepares himself to spring to the younger boy's aid, vaguely registering the sight of this memorable, raven-haired young woman who has overtaken his smaller friend. Unfortunately, he loses the opportunity to act as a curved knife presses against his throat from behind, its owner's body crowding close to his own.
"Watch yourself, pretty boy." a teasing female voice calls playfully. "If you think coffee stains are hard to get out, I can show you something that's a lot tougher."
Ken, the only remaining member of Weiss, has stood frozen, watching as his comrades are overcome. Now, however, he can sense the figure coming up behind *him* even before she strikes. Whirling around, Ken jumps back as a hard, wooden staff swipes at his feet, missing him by inches. But, before he can counter, the weapon swings from the other direction, the brunt of the impact catching him in the chest as he is sent painfully to the ground.
Shaking the dizziness from the collision away, Ken stares up to discover a young woman standing guard above him, her silver eyes cold, while navy curls blow against her pale face.
(It's them......from the cafe........) he thinks frantically, struggling to understand what is happening. (....how....?)
"Go." a low, calm voice is heard, calling to the men standing stunned in front of their car. "Get in, and drive away."
The woman who could pass for the male red-head's twin doesn't need to speak her words more than once. Ryu and Boukai fly to the doors of the vehicle without a word to one another, slamming them shut as they speed away - their once prized package left forgotten on the ground only feet from Ran and his adversary.
"Who are you?!" Ran bellows, still struggling under the woman's strength through their clashing katanas. "Who do you think you are to intervene in our mission like this?!"
Rosuto Aiko and her fellows are the picture of calm despite the tense situation developing. Smiling even as she suddenly steps back, Aiko releases Ran from the force of her weapon against his, answering the infuriated, young man with a poised, unshaken voice.
"We are the calling of the wind, Abyssinian." she beams. "We are......Fluesternd."
*****A/N/*****
Part 3! Things are getting interesting. Please keep reviewing.