Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Incubi, Succubi ❯ 02 Koe ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

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~ 2 ~ Koe [Voice]

"We can't afford to be innocent;
Stand up and face the enemy..."
- Pat Benatar, Invincible

--

When light hit Omi's eyes again, he was not surprised. Being without a body - chained to one he couldn't control, without tangible feelings like exhaustion or hunger - he found that he had much time on his hands - too much time. But enough time to think about his situation, and form questions, as well as plan a solution.

Curiosity began to stain his solitary existence, as well as the boredom of being unable to move. He imagined that perhaps, if she had not been so far gone, this is what Aya's beloved sister might have gone through. So, those visits in the hospital were justified; as he'd read before. He knew that stimulus of the brain was necessary for coma patients to keep going, but he could never imagine the torture of sleep barriers. Now he knew all too well. And he had only one, annoying visitor.

"Ah. Good morning." Omi felt himself stretch and fall back into bed, withdrawing into the sheets. "It's nice to sleep again - for two whole days! I've been needing that. Oh, I think our fever's gone down." Lazy fingers opened into the air, and the bed-side thermometer flew into his hand.

It was strange for him to hear someone else using his voice.

/Are you enjoying my body?/

"I can't wait to try it out I'm going to love being young again." He shook the small stick a few times, then checked the gauge. After confirming that it was at 98.6, the cold metal portion was slipped under his tongue.

/What are you planning to do with it?/

"Carry out a few objectives here and there, some revenge, personal vendettas. My associates will be joining us shortly."

/What makes you think that you'll get away with this?/

"I have my ways."

/It won't work./

"I'm part of Estet, dear. The fact that you killed us was a fluke. We won't let it happen again. Our plan makes it nearly impossible."

/Why do you need me for it?/

"You'll find out eventually." He sat up and hugged the blankets in his lap. "Won't he, David?"

/If he survives./

Within captivity, Omi's soul jolted. He hadn't considered that aspect of the situation.

/Yeah, you're timestamped, kid./

In one movement, he jumped off the bed, and hopped in front of the mirror. "If your body doesn't die within the next week or so, you are going to cease to exist."

Omi's consciousness withdrew himself from their voices. Deep in his core, he knew it was true. The smothering feeling of ebbing away into nothingness was eating into his soul. In the lack of death, he was trapped without a gate to heaven or hell, if they existed. Even if they didn't, he wouldn't be open to rebirth, or cosmic death. He was trapped without general escape.

/It's true.../

The gifts of life and time were turning on him.

He watched dazedly as his pajamas were peeled off and his face, hair, and limbs were examined. "Hey, now I know why you were wearing shorts. Nice legs." Aria smiled mischievously and adjusted his boxer shorts. "Got one of these too."

/Stop teasing me, Aria./

"You'll get your own body soon, Jack." With a grin, Omi pulled his garments back on. "You never were patient..." he muttered as he took the thermometer out and held it up to the light. "Hrm. 99.9 Not bad." His nose pressed against the mirror. "Boy, are you in there?"

/Do you even remember my name?/

"Ohayoo!" The blonde jumped as Ken burst through the door, with a glass of orange juice in hand. "How're feeling, Omi?"

Omi smiled and handed him the thermometer. "99.9. Just fine... Ken. Thanks." He took the juice and left the room with a nod.

*

"You'll have to tell me more about Kritiker, dear, unless you're planning on keeping your knowledge blocked up for the rest of your existence." Omi muttered to himself as he headed into the basement, to the computer that held mission files and information.

It was strange to be there without actually experiencing the room. Though it was the site of some of the worst television Omi had ever watched, the feel of the secret room was something he missed - needed - to feel like himself, like Tsukiyono Omi. The smell of urgency, the sight of the computers, the couch... everything that formed the habitat of his second life, which had once been abandoned, was in this place. Now he could do nothing but observe it, as someone guilelessly turned him into a traitor.

/I thought Estet was the know-all, be-all, kill-all sort of organization./

"I'm here, aren't I? Don't irritate me."

/Why do I have to tell you?/

He settled into the chair and pushed the start-up and monitor buttons, mumbling during the short wait. The floorboards creaked beneath his foot, which anxiously dug a heel into the old wood. "A soul's memories and knowledge belong only to the soul, and can only be accessed with their keeper's permission and desire. Each being's consciousness is their own. Therefore, I only have knowledge you reveal to me, unless you give me full access to your consciousness."

/... You know, if you keep me talking to myself like that, the others will thnk I'm going off the deep end./

The glass was set down when the screen flashed brightly, asking for the password key to the awaiting terrain of information. "It can't be helped. It's either have a body, or not. And now I've got one. You haven't died yet, so you're going to disappear soon.-- Password?"

Faith. He had to have faith in his friends, and keep them alive. Until they figured it out...

/Persian./

"Persian?" The letters were typed in with unskilled hands.

It was all right to tell, wasn't it? She'd probably be the last to hear his true voice. The entire ordeal had been a year ago, and wouldn't be a threat to the present.

/Persia. He used to be our leader. He was head of the police--/

"Takatori Shuuichi." He smirked. "Of all the luck..."

/What?/

"Takatori Shuuichi. The man who broke away from his brother - that twit Reiji. Fool that he was. Trusting so heavily in Schwarz. Reiji had the brother... with the missing son. The son that was trained to kill...." His words slowed with the realization, and an internet browser opened with a search engine, where he typed "Takatori" in quickly.

/No... It wasn't his son. Reiji had the son that he left for dead. He--/

"Reiji Takatori only had three legitimate children. His two idiot sons, and the girl, Ouka. The one other son that he kept for eleven good years, was the son of his brother. The young boy was raised to be an assassin, in a group... powered by Kritiker. Run by Persia. You're Takatori Mamoru. Shuuichi's Mamoru."

/NO! I'm- I was the son of... I'm not a Takatori. I'm Persia's nephew, nothing more. We are not affiliated with the Takatoris./

"You're not his nephew. You're his son. We administered the tests for Reiji. We arranged the death of your whore mother."

Omi's soul felt the ice around his soul tighten. He was almost glad that he didn't have his body; he wouldn't like to feel his heart stopping.

"What's the matter boy? Didn't you know?" The glass was lifted for another modest sip, and several pictures appeared on the screen, a jumble of captures of the Takatori family.

/It's been over a year. It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter anymore.../

Each picture was enlarged on the screen, names and death dates beneath each. "Ouka was your cousin. You killed your cousins. You hated the wrong man..."

/I did NOT! Reiji Takatori deserved to be hated for everything he did in your organization. It's too bad he didn't cripple Estet any worse while Schwarz was still in his control./

"You murderous child."

/Stop it./

"Killing your own family like that."

/Urusai!/

"And now, you're the only-AAHH!!"

/URUSAI!/

The glass was crushed within his grasp, shards causing infinite cuts on his right hand and frigid liquid - a sudden burning cold - splashed about the rest of his skin. He fell to the floor in surprise, with Aria still reeling from the loss of control.

"What happened?!" Youji rushed in, then cursed. "Shit, kid! What'd you do that for?!" He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, then bent down to wipe the bloodied hand.

"I... I don't know," he glanced up at the computer screen, then sniffled pitifully.

Jade eyes brushed against the enlarged photos, then looked back at the injured boy. "What are you digging up old memories for?"

"I wasn't digging them up. They just..." Omi shook his head, picking at several chunks of porcelain.

With a sigh, the man stood up. "I'll get a broom, and bandage for your hand. Put that mess down, you'll hurt yourself even more. I'll be back." Before leaving, he turned the monitor off.

"Hai..."

He watched Youji leave.

"I could've killed him. Be glad I didn't. If you ever try to do that again, without my consent-"

/What were you expecting from me?/

"Don't provoke me, boy. Killing me once hasn't gotten rid of me, but I doubt the same fate for your friends."

/You'll have trouble proving that statement true, Mikata./

"How are you so sure?" Omi winced as he felt the handkerchief pressed against his slashed right hand. The extremety would need at least one week to heal.

/Despite your faith in my skills, I'm not ambidexterous. It'll take my friends less than a week to figure you out./

"I'd like to see them try."

*

"Youji." Ken tapped the playboy's shoulder with a bouquet. "Delivery."

"Huh? Ok." Youji pulled out of his smoking reverie from behind the counter and took the bouquet. "Thanks." He nodded and headed for the door.

"Did you tell him?"

Youji stopped, holding the door open like an idiot as pedestrians passed. He flashed a smile, then backed into the flower shop. "Tell who what?"

"Him," the brunette gave him a significant look.

"Why would I do something stupid like that?"

"He's been acting strange lately," Ken shrugged as he reached for the watering can on a high shelf. "I mean, he's forgetting to feed Kiki, and he's been avoiding everyone. And that," he nodded to the bouquet in Youji's hand, "is the *ugliest* of Omi's arrangements I've ever seen. And he hasn't reminded you not to smoke in the shop. I figured that..."

"It might have been me, huh?" Youji gave a half-smile. "Not today." A locked door, an open window, and a dart from a pillow, he thought as he nodded good-bye. If it wasn't him, who was it?

*

The short amount of days did pass, to Omi's dislike. Life around the flower shop seemed a bit tenser, and quieter, but none of his colleagues showed an open suspicion of his difference in personality. He hoped silently that they secretly knew. All he had going for his case were his acquiring the use of his left hand, and the fact that he'd stopped adding "-kun" to the end of their names. Youji, at least, had to have noticed it.

The shop's fangirls, to his low expectations, hadn't noticed a single change. After all, it wasn't as if any physical changes had occured, he thought bitterly. But they continued to fawn over his injured hand, until Aria had finally lost control and barked a lecture about using time wisely as a teenager and finding something other than sex and make-up to obsess over. That kept them silent for an entire day. But Aya had been the only one present then, and kept his usual touch of silence during the ordeal.

Even school seemed hopeless, for nobody bothered him when he kept to his laptop during all break periods. A few girls tried to speak with him, but Aria, again, had grown impatient and merely walked away from the stuttering young females.

As the end of his week came near, Omi began to give up hope. Aria hadn't acted upon her plans yet, only researching more and more about Kritiker, and he was beginning to feel the pressure of solitary confinement. If nothing happened soon, he wouldn't be able to stop Estet from whatever they were planning.

But finally, to his great joy, a chance came when oppurtunity, along with a redhead bearing a video-tape came knocking with a mission. The objective? Break into an old museum archive that held information about the Estet ritual that had been attempted a year ago, and steal it before the other executive branch of Estet could do it themselves.

Aria grew curious with Manx's tight-lipped orders. "Why should we go digging up that crap? And why would they wait so long to do it?"

/"Crap"? Where'd you get that?/

"A boy without vision once said it," he muttered back.

Manx turned to Omi, a slight look of surprise in her eyes. "It was believed by the group, and Kritiker that the information was being held somewhere in Europe. Only recently have our sources realized that the riddle left by the three you eliminated a year ago pointed to somewhere here, in Tokyo." She spoke slowly and watched him closely, gauging his reponse. "A year after, a similar planetary alignment is expected - an ideal time to try again."

"It's still not as effective unless it's every 800 years, but that's true." Omi's hopes raised as he felt the auras of his friends twitch curiously. "It's just what I've seen. In research."

"It is all 'crap' though, as you've said it." Manx raised her eyebrows. "The ritual is still a farce of decoration and honor, and nothing effective."

The words, which infuriated Aria to no end, still haunted both her and Omi that night. He found himself waiting in the museum curator's office, hacking away for clues while his teammates were searching various branches of the large building.

His eyes flickered idly from the hanging paintings, to the screen, then back again. "What am I looking for?" Covering the mic of his headset, Aria found that she was forced to ask numerous questions she hadn't thought of beforehand. She wanted very badly to find the ritual information herself, but had no idea how to do the work.

/Clues - anything related to what you were going to do. And keeping the others alive. There - in the left wing - two guards going Youji's way./

He minimized the files window on the laptop screen, then clicked on the left wing footage window. "Oh... um... Youji?"

"What?"

/Balinese./

"Er-Yeah. Balinese. Two people headed your way."

"From where?" Ken asked, waving his hand to indicate his help.

"Um...."

/The hallway behind him, three doors down./

"Hallway behind you. Three doors down." They watched as the guards met up with the older man's wire. One choked to death by hanging, and the other strangled. "Efficient. Very efficient." Aria sounded amused.

"Thanks," Youji looked up at the camera. "I guess."

*

"Remember *Schuldich*, we're here only for the artifact and nothing more. We don't have time to play if we're going to do this right," Crawford stood with the rest of Schwarz outside the Ani Special Museum, examining some notes beneath a street light. "We go in, find the stone, and get out. All right?"

The telepath groaned, jabbing the snickering Japanese boy beside him roughly with his elbow. "Don't even joke about it Crawford. My head still hurts from our last job. Stop laughing!" Nagi calmed his laughter to a violent jerking of shoulders and turned away from the scene to take in the museum's perimeter.

"There'd better be more than two guards this time." Farfello sniffed behind him, arms folded across his chest. as he glared at Schuldich "And I'm not sharing them, either."

Two guards would be more than necessary, Nagi thought to himself as he lifted an eyebrow. The building's architecture consisted of a double barbell shape, indicating three main buildings - all decorated with a pseudo-mix of Greek and Japanese shape. Rows and rows of windows that ran along the connecting corridors gaped at the world like an empty smile, objects glittering through each pane. He could only imagine the paths that ran through the structure's stone-colored walls, which glowed a light silver thanks to the round lantern moon above. It was elaborate but small, and the layers of dust that covered everything were more than obvious. Crawford had noted that the museum hadn't been regularly visited for at least ten years - Estets three executives had intended to visit one year before, but were deterred themselves.

"Don't dawdle - we can't give Estet's other executives a single opportunity. We're here for business." The American folded the notes into his pocket, then turned to Nagi. "Open the door."

With a blink of Nagi's midnight blue eyes, the door popped open.

"Good." Crawford nodded his approval as he walked through the doorway. "You're controlling your power with less physical outlet. Keep it up, Nagi."

Schuldich patted Nagi's head as he passed to follow, mocking Crawford's voice. "Keep it up, Nagi." He shoved the boy backwards before withdrawing his hand.

/What's the matter, Schu? Jealous?/ Nagi caught himself easily and smirked at the redhead.

/I wouldn't have a reason for it./ Schuldich glanced back him slyly, meeting his gaze with thinned emerald eyes. /Besides, Crawford doesn't play favorites; he's already got me. When you reach that certain level of power, there's nothing else to do but watch the world. Keep those big blue eyes open, Bishounen./

The boy nodded, then followed Farfello and Schuldich behind their leader. It was a cheesy museum, at best. Paintings of all the usual "spiritual" symbols, and flowers, and umpteen dots of color everywhere - that meant absolutely nothing. To them, at least. To the former executive branch of Estet, though, this museum was a great favored visiting place. Themes of humanity and all. Nagi shook his head. And now he was on a mission to find information about their stupid ritual. Crap, he thought. Just like it was a year ago - all crap. The *real* art was in about every other museum in the world.

He stopped abruptly behind Farfello, who had paused behind a glass exhibit of ... a donkey. Yeah. "Farf, what's wrong?"

The Irishman looked back at him, then motioned with his elbow at a door, hands ready in the pockets of his vest. "A stray kitten."

"What?" Nagi stepped forward, and peeked into the small crack. He gasped at what he saw - the blonde-haired chump from one year ago, that somehow managed to live. "No way... Wait, if he's alive - and he looks very alive and hacking, though injured - then his team must be here." Looking back at Farfello, he flicked some hair out of his face. "Do you think they're here for the same reason?"

"I wouldn't put it past them, the team booming with intelligence." Farfello quirked an eyebrow as he said this. "If we take him out-"

"-We'll have an advantage. Let me do it, Farf."

Farfello shrugged. "It's your fight to finish. Tell Schuldich what you're doing. I'll join up with Crawford in case his team finds us before you're done."

"All right." Nagi grinned as his teammate silently handed him a knife (just in case). "Have fun!"

"You first." Farfello nodded as he left.

As he slipped through the doorway, floating with the knife and the upper hand, Nagi smiled. He'd take the screwed-up assassin completely by surprise, with no help around. Surely, this time, he'd win. No blood but his opponent's, he thought maliciously.

/Care to share, Bishounen?/

/Sorry, Schu. This one's mine./

When he'd finally come close enough to see the security camera images on the glowing laptop screen, he drenched the room in light.

"Boo."