Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Hope Diamond ❯ Fujimiya - 10 ( Chapter 10 )

Chapter Ten

The time for the masked ball draws near.

Throughout the day, I have tried several times without success to sneak away from the crowd in order to speak to Omi. For some reason, I am never left alone until now when everyone returns to their rooms to prepare for the masked ball.

Omi has arrived to 'help' me with my clothes; he is already dressed in the waiter uniform for the night. I quickly brief him on what I have discovered today. The boy looks grim and worried.

"Do you really think Schwartz knows?" he asks me seriously.

"I think they suspect I'm not who I'm supposed to be. Other than that, I really do not know what else they suspect." I step out of the bathroom, freshened and changed into the outfit I have picked for tonight.

Bombay sighs. "Well, there's nothing we can do about it. Except to stay on our toes, especially you. Siberian and I are still undiscovered, as far as we can tell. But you watch out, all right? Don't get into unnecessary trouble."

"Understood. By the way, why did Takatori say that a Tang Dynasty antique vase was stolen?"

"Well, apparently someone pinched the vase last night, right from his tea room. It must have happened during our own break-in."

"So security is focusing on the vase theft?"

"Yes."

I shake my head, chuckling at the timing both break-ins occurred. I find it funny, amusing even that they are concentrating on the visible theft which worth, regardless how expensive it is, cannot match the priceless information we stole from Takatori's computer.

I put on the rest of my outfit and turn to Omi. "Well, what do you think?"

"Very you."

I roll my eyes. "That's all you can say?"

It's a compliment though, and I know it. I'm born with a flamboyant nature and it shows in the outfit I have picked. A black long-tailed Victorian-styled waistcoat trimmed in discreet gold. Instead of a bow tie, I wear a black cravat that stands out against the white dress shirt and vest. My pants are fitted and I wear white gloves to complete the outfit. It matches the elaborately crafted gargoyle mask I had it made for the occasion (of course, Kritiker foots the bill).

We put on our masks and leave for the ballroom, joining the stream of guests all decked out in their elaborate best for the masked ball.

The ballroom is in the center wing of the mansion, a place as large as the front hall. The floor is polished marble and the ceiling is a gigantic fresco of some medieval scenes. A grand crystal chandelier is the main source of lighting, complemented by hidden spotlights to cast certain areas in highlight. Huge ornate gold-framed mirrors mounted the entire length of one wall, separated by heavy drapes of dark red velvet, while the opposite wall has a row of French doors with identical velvet drapes that open onto the gardens of the mansion. A carpeted staircase to the right of the front door leads up to the balcony of the ballroom that ran along the mirrored wall. At the opposite end, facing the entrance is a raised dais covered with Persian carpets and many huge colorful silk-covered cushions on a low divan. Next to it is an equally low ornately carved wooden table. On it is a silver pitcher and goblet, and a silver platter of nibble food. The wall behind the dais is draped with silk curtains in tones of silver and blue.

Omi has discreetly left my side once we enter the ballroom and I begin the task of 'blending in'.

All the guests certainly turn out in their very best for tonight. Evening gowns ranging from historical to modern and ethical are out in full force. The men have it easier, with fewer variations in their tuxedos or traditional costumes. The masks, however, are dazzling. I see elves, goblins and many Otherworld creatures, all crafted with exquisite details. Birds are plentiful, so are cats and butterflies, and a couple of snarling wolves. There are also some Harlequins and clowns, Noh masks and Chinese operatic masks. And there are some who opted to paint their masks on their faces, instead wearing one.

In other words, I have no idea who is who.

"Welcome!" Takatori's voice booms through the ballroom. Everyone turns to see the portly man, dressed in traditional Japanese formal wear, standing on the raised dais. He wears a traditional Japanese oni mask. "Welcome to the masked ball!"

A round of applause greets that statement.

"Tonight's ball is to honor my Gem. So without further ado, behold the Blood Diamond!"

The entrance swings open.

I nearly stop breathing when I take my first clear look of Aya for the day.

Aya looks absolutely decadent.

He wears scarlet silk tonight, from head to toes, a shade that matches the crimson ruby of his hair perfectly. It is a sleeveless fitted tunic with a high stiff collar, laced up at the side seams to offer glimpses of pale flesh. The tunic splits at the sides from hip-down; below he wears low-slung clinging tight red pants. The barely-decent pants are also laced up at the side seams from hips to feet, blatantly revealing the fact that he wears no underwear. His arms are clad in long red gloves and he wears soft-shod red ankle boots.

Against the scarlet of his costume (there is no way I can call his outfit clothes), his mask is pure white, crafted and shaped to conform to his face. The slits for eyes and mouth are painted with delicate strokes of red and black, hinting of the beauty behind the mask.

The entire effect of his costume is sensual and mysterious. The tantalizing glimpses of bare flesh draws the eye to his obvious allure, tempting them to touch, but his stature warns everyone he is off-limit.

He is the forbidden fruit of the most dangerous kind.

I can't take my eyes off him, and I have a feeling no one else in the ballroom can either. My pants feel uncomfortably tight, and I had to remind myself to breathe, faced with that luscious vision that he presents.

The crowd parts before Aya as he walks through the ballroom. I marvel at the dignity and grace in his walk, despite his rather decadent image. And when I see him standing on the raised dais next to Takatori, a strange ache seems to settle in my heart.

There is nothing in his body language that hints of the vulnerable soul I have witnessed. If anything, Aya is entirely too cool and familiar with the role he plays now. When he arranges himself on the divan with languid grace, my heart twists. It's upsetting to see him displayed like a trophy, albeit a very powerful and sensual trophy. Even more upsetting to me is his practiced moves. Aya is not only perfectly aware of how he looks like, he is also too used to it.

Throughout the masked ball, Aya takes no part in the dancing and merry-making. The refreshments on the low table next to him remain completely untouched. When guests go up to him to wish him well and give him gifts, he simply nods and silently accepts the gifts with distant politeness.

I can't bear to see him like this for long, acting like a high-priced kept trophy when I know he is more than that. I slip out into the gardens halfway through the ball with champagne in hand, downing the bubbly alcohol in one gulp, stops a waiter and exchange the empty glass for a filled one. I down the second one too just as quickly.

Aya deserves better than this life.

I can no longer deny the fact that no matter how much I try, I can't see him as my enemy. The memory of his tears refuses to let me go. And I am too attracted to him not to be emotionally torn up about his existence.

"Such arrogance," the whispered words drift to me over the general sounds of the ball in progress. "Who does he think he is?"

"Hush," someone quickly replies. "You don't want him to hear you say that."

The whispered conversation catches my attention. Curious, I discreetly maneuver myself into a good listening spot.

"What can he do to me? He can't even lift a finger without Takatori's order."

"Still, he is powerful. And Takatori is not a man to cross."

"Bah. Did you see his attitude when I give him my present? He's just Takatori's whore and he's putting on airs."

"Well, he will get his just dessert one of these days. You know what they say about Gems and retribution."

"Can't wait for that freakish whore to be put in his place."

A cold fury sweeps through me.

Wrong. They are all wrong! Aya isn't like that, I'm sure of it. They haven't seen his gentleness or his tears. They weren't there when he needed comfort and support. This icy front he wears is just another mask - necessary for survival. I doubt anyone else has the privilege of seeing the gentle soul behind the cold mask.

I stalk back into the ballroom before I do something rash to spoil the evening and my cover. It is with great difficulty I manage to calm myself. This is why I hate the high society - their shallow pretentious ways and malicious ostracizing of those who are not of their class.

"Enjoying yourself, Shinichiro-san?"

"Yes," I reply with false pleasure. "This is an impressive ball, Takatori-san."

"Thank you. But you don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

I force a sheepish chuckle. "I'm still feeling somewhat delicate, I'm afraid."

Takatori 'tsk' lightly behind his mask. "That's a shame."

"Takatori-san, why doesn't the Blood Diamon join the fun?"

"He hates crowds, I'm afraid. And functions like these too." Takatori sighs theatrically. "I've tried persuading him to loosen up and enjoy himself, but well, it's not his nature."

"Sounds like you're very understanding of your Gem."

"Of course. He is the most precious thing to me."

A daring idea seizes me. "Perhaps I am up for a dance after all. Takatori-san, can I have your permission to have a dance with your Gem?"

He looks at me. I can't tell what his expression is, hidden behind his mask. But I sense his surprise and…something else I can't quite place.

"Well…why not?" he replies at last. "Though I think you'll find him a reluctant and even difficult person to persuade."

I smirk behind the safety of my mask. "One can always try."

"Then go ahead, you have my permission."

"Thank you." Taking my leave, I make my way through the crowd, unobtrusively approaching Aya from his blind side. I take the small wrapped gift from my coat pocket, a gift prepared for this mission courtesy of Kritiker.

Aya is half-reclining on the divan, chin propped up on a hand resting on an armrest. His entire attitude is one of boredom as he watches the ball. When I reach the raised dais, I can feel his gaze falling on me though he remains still. For a wild moment, I wonder if he recognizes me but dismiss that thought. I am masked as well and have not spoken yet to him.

Slowly, I mount the steps and sketch a quick bow. In a low voice, I say, "Happy anniversary."

His reaction is immediate and gratifying. Even though he does not move, he still seems to freeze. Then he recovers very quickly, silently nodding his thanks.

I offer my present. "A small gift for you."

Saying nothing, he solemnly accepts my present, turning the small gold-wrapped box about in his hand. For a moment, I can see him debating whether to open it or not. He does not, though I wish he would. But Aya has not opened the other gifts he received earlier on the spot either.

"Takatori-san has given me permission to ask you for a dance," I say calmly and stretch out a hand to him. "I hope you will do me the honors of accepting my request."

Aya stares at me, clearly incredulous at my audacity.

I see the amethyst eyes behind the mask darting to my right, where he sees Takatori is. By now, I am aware of the excited buzz rising behind me among the guests. My body language, my offered hand, it is clear to all what I am doing and they are speculating whether Aya will accepts my offer or not. I know for sure that Omi and Ken, wherever they are right now, are probably having apoplectic fits at the unnecessary risk I am taking.

Finally the beautiful amethyst eyes return to me again. And after a terse moment, he slowly reaches up and takes my hand. "I would like that," he says at last very softly to me, for my ears only.

I smile at him, even though he can't see my face. "Thank you."

The crowd clears before us as I escort him down to the dance floor. I do not look at them, diligently ignoring their excitement and gossip, even more diligently ignoring Takatori whom I can feel is burning a hole in my back with his glare.

A space is immediately cleared around us on the dance floor, for everyone wants to see the Blood Diamond dance. I welcome the empty space between the crowd and us. It gives us privacy to have a discreet conversation without being overheard. And with our full-face masks on, no one will even know we are talking to each other.

"You lead," Aya whispers as he places a hand on my shoulder.

"All right." I place a hand around his waist and clasp our other hands loosely together.

It is a slow number, one suited for ballroom dancing. Aya has got some serious lessons in ballroom dancing; he follows my lead surely and gracefully as we glide across the dance floor.

"You're taking a dangerous risk dancing with me," he whispers.

"I know but I have to speak to you. This is the only way I can think of."

"What is there to talk about?"

"I want to apologize to you for last night."

"Why? I'm the one who lied to you."

"But I shut you out because I couldn't see past the Blood Diamond. For that, I am sorry."

With our eyes locked, I can see the sudden flare of emotions in the amethyst depths. "I didn't think you would want to see me again."

"I want to."

"It's too dangerous."

"I don't care."

"We're enemies."

"No you're not," I tell him gently. "When I look at you, all I see is someone unhappy and lonely."

"And you think you can make me happy?" There is a defensive tone in his voice. "Don't patronize me."

"I never mean to patronize you. I just want to make it right with you."

"…You already have."

"Not enough."

"The music is ending," he says, trying to end our furtive conversation. "We should end this now."

Out of desperation, I tell him, "I know about the girl from whom you took your name."

The sudden painful tightening of his grip on my shoulder is the only outward sign of his surprise. "How-?"

"Promise you'll see me again and I'll tell you."

"Are you trying to blackmail me?"

"No, I'll never do that. I just want to see you again."

"…" Aya lowers his gaze to my cravat. "All right."

"Tonight then. I'll come to you."

"No. Your room instead."

"Okay. Room three-four. I'll be waiting."

The music ends not a moment too soon. Keeping a respectable distance between us, I escort him back to the raised dais. He sits down again as I bow formally.

"Thank you for the honor."

He inclines his head ever so slightly and returns to his aloof watching of the masked ball, dismissing me at once with haughty rudeness.

That doesn't phases me in the slightest.

It is with a light heart as I descend the steps, rejoining the crowd as they immediately cluster around me, trying to pry details of the dance out of me. But I refuse to say anything beyond the superficial 'it's a honor', feeling too good to entertain their curiosity.

I can't wait for the ball to end.

* * *

Two-thirty a.m.

Where is he? The masked ball had ended around one in the morning. I hadn't got the chance to meet up with Omi after the masked ball, which is a blessing. I'm sure the chibi will love to rip me a new one for the stunt I pulled during the ball.

I lay in bed in the darkness, wearing just my sweat pants, and wait patiently for Aya to come. The moonlight shines through the gaps in the curtains, casting my room in deep shadows and silvery light that leach all color. Outside the grounds are quiet and I am about to doze off when I finally feel the additional presence in my room.

I sit up, straining to see in the darkness. "Aya?"

With nary a sound, Aya emerges from the shadows in the darkest corner like some pale ethereal ghost paying me a visit. Except this is one 'ghost' I look forward to meeting. On silent feet, he glides across my room and I, as though drawn to him, get up and meet him at the halfway point.

Aya is wearing his human guise. He looks younger, fragile even in that white oversized shirt and baggy pants. The sleeves are slightly too long for him and his bare feet peeks out from beneath the hems of his pants. He does not wear a mask and the moonlight softens the angles of his face and leaches the crimson from his hair, bringing out the purple depths of his eyes.

"You came."

"Hai." His voice is the human-sounding deep voice he first spoke to me with.

"I almost thought you wouldn't come."

"I'm here now."

"Were you noticed?"

He shakes his head, the long eartails and sole earring swinging with his movement. "Iya. Reiji-sama is out cold because he drank too much. I won't be missed."

"Is this…" I gesture at his disguise, "how you look like before?"

"Yes. Regressive genes in my family. My mother once told me my great-great-grandfather is a redhead too."

"I like your regressive genes. You're very beautiful." I reach out and gently clasp one of his eartails, stroking the silky strands through my fingers. "Well, your disguise is flawless. No wonder I was taken in."

"I have ten years of practice. It is the only way I can move about freely."

"Will you show me how your disguise works?"

Aya hesitates and then nods.

I watch in fascination as his disguise melts away. It is as though a filtering layer is being taken off. His features remain unchanged but take on the distinct subtle glow characteristic of a Gem. In the moonlight, he is a pale glowing statue of alabaster and silver, far too breathtaking for words to describe. What is the most remarkable is his aura. Like a tap that is being turned on, I can feel his aura of raw wild power being released from suppression, filling my mage sense again.

Gem-bright amethyst eyes look up at me as I step closer. I release his hair to touch his face, tracing his fine features with careful fingers, marveling at the similarities between his human disguise and his true self. Under my touch, his skin texture feels exactly like anyone else's - satin smooth and soft, but his human warmth is gone, replaced by the typical coolness that all Gems possess. The coolness of his skin does not repel me though. It is really like touching silk, in a manner of speaking.

Aya's beautiful eyes close as he clasps my caressing hand to his cheek, rubbing against my callused palm. Under my palm, his skin begins to warm from being in contact with my hand. He is clearly enjoying this small touch between us and it gladdens me to see him accepting my caress. Never taking my gaze off him, I reach for his other hand with my free hand. Long thick lashes flutter as his eyes open, half-lidded and mesmerized, to watch as I lift his hand to my mouth and place tiny kisses on his palm and slender digits.

He sways towards me, reaching for an embrace, and it is a request I cannot refuse. But when I slip an arm around his back, he suddenly hisses in pain and jerks away from my touch, breaking the intimate moment.

"Aya?" Startled, I quickly release him. "Are you hurt?"

"Iya," he says quickly, too quickly, in his now double-timbered voice. "It's nothing. I'm just a little sensitive, that's all."

I don't believe him. "Aya, that was pain."

He ducks his head, turning away from me. "Really, I'm all right."

"No, you're not." I don't like his furtive and nervous manners as though he is trying to hide something. Nor do I like the way he grips the collar of his shirt close with both hands. I tip my head as to meet his downcast eyes. "Let me see," I say firmly.

Almost reluctantly, he releases his death grip on his collar, letting his hands fall to his side. Murmuring an apology for my boldness, I unbutton the top two buttons and lift the collar away from his neck. My blood goes cold when I see the beginning of a narrow welt marring the pale smooth skin.

Horrified, I push the shirt completely off his shoulders and inhale sharply.

Four angry red welts crisscross Aya's back, all looking extremely fresh and painful. They lap over his sides, a shoulder and one even extends down below the waistline of his pants. No wonder he wears such baggy clothing; he must have been in a world of pain.

For a long moment, I can't move or think. A great fury has seized hold of me; there is a haze of red blinding my vision and all I can think of is how badly I want to tear Takatori apart with my bare hands into tiny bloody pieces.

"Yohji?" Aya's voice reaches me as though from some faraway places. His face is turned to look at me over his shoulder; I catch a glimpse of his visible eye - wide and anxious.

I take a deep breath and brutally clamp down on my rage, reining in the urge to explode. The only other person in the room is not the one I want to take my fury out on. And he is the one who needs care right now.

"I'm all right. I just got a shock."

In a quick move, Aya pulls his shirt back on again. "I shouldn't have shown you. You're ashamed of me."

"No." I catch his arms, stopping him from moving away from me. In two steps, I'm in front of him, lifting his chin to meet my eyes. "Shocked, yeah. Appalled that you are so badly hurt, yeah. But I'm not ashamed of you."

I brush his bangs away from his forehead. "Believe me. There's nothing about you I'm ashamed of."

He searches my face intently, searching for what? I'm not too sure. Maybe he searches for reassurance, or for comfort, or the truth of my words but whatever it is, he believes me. I feel his acceptance in the relaxation of the muscles in his arms I'm grasping, see it in the softening of his gaze.

"Come sit on the couch," I say to him. "Let me treat your wounds."

"Medicine doesn't work on me."

"Even so, let me clean the wounds. Your back is a mess." I gently but firmly hustle him over to the couch and make him sit down, switching on the table lamp beside us.

While he takes off his shirt, I quickly draw the curtains close to block any intrusive eyes even though my window faces the ocean. From my carry-on luggage, I take out a small first-aid kit, grab a chair and return to the couch where Aya is seated with his back facing me.

I work in silence, cleaning and bandaging his wounds. Sometimes he gasps in pain but he bears the agony stoically. His wounds are in a mess and that's saying something. Gems usually do not injure themselves and when they do, they heal rapidly. But these welts are not healing.

"What did he use on you?" I ask at last, unable to withhold my curiosity.

"A Devil's Whip."

Good Lord.

A Devil's Whip - a torture weapon, crafted from the blood of a stillborn baby and its mother who died in childbirth, bathed in the fires of Hell and given the kiss of approval by the witnessing demon. It is a horrible cruel thing, made to torture the victim to death. It inflicts terrible searing pain and tears the skin and flesh from the victim in bleeding strips. No ordinary person ever survived a fogging session with a Devil's Whip. I'm amazed Aya is still able to get up at all, much less come to me, a testimony to his Gem resilience.

"I thought that thing has been banned for a century," I manage to say in a calm voice. My hands are a different matter; they are shaking slightly with the anger I'm holding back.

"Reiji-sama doesn't give a damn about rulings," Aya replies in a tired voice. "Besides, nothing hurts me for very long. These wounds will fade in a couple of days."

My heart breaks for him. He sounds so dispirited and resigned to his fate. It hurts to see how close Takatori is to breaking him. I put away the bandages and move over to the couch, very carefully bringing him into a hug, wrapping my arms lightly around his shoulders and head.

"Don't dismiss your hurts like they're nothing," I tell him quietly.

"But they are."

"No one deserves this, especially you." I feel him quells in my arms at the forceful tone of my words and mentally kick myself for frightening him. "Sorry. I'm just so mad he would do this to you."

"Daijoubu," he murmurs against my chest.

"Why did he hurt you?"

"He was drunk and in a jealous fit."

Something clicks in my mind. "For dancing with me during the ball?"

"Hai."

"He has no reason to be angry with you," I reply heatedly. "He gave me permission."

"Yes, he did. But before the ball began, he ordered me not to accept any offers of dance. It is to give the impression that I'm devoted to him."

"Why did you disobey him?"

He shrugs in my arms. "I was curious to know how dancing with you would be like."

I have to smile at that matter-of-fact statement. "Has he ever hurt you before?"

"Yes."

I close my eyes in pain. "Aya…why did you agree to become his Gem? Is it because of that girl in the hospital?"

"She is my imouto, Aya-chan."

In a quiet voice, Aya told me everything. His family's murder and why he agreed to be Takatori's Gem. I listen, not daring to say a word. And the more I listen, the stronger is my suspicion that somehow Takatori has engineered the tragedy in order to get his hands on Aya, even if Aya hasn't realize it himself.

"For her, I'm willing to do anything."

"And to that end, you sold your humanity to him."

"I just want her back. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, Aya, not at all. In fact she's blessed to have a brother who loves her so much."

"I'm a terrible brother. I can't even keep her safe." He pulls away from me, keeping a distance from me. I can read the tension and pent-up turmoil in the rigid lines of his body, in the clenched fists in his lap.

"I keep telling myself that she will wake one day but after ten years of waiting, I don't know anymore. I didn't want to kill Jun at that club. His life is like a reflection of mine. He's alone in the world with only his imouto who needs his care. Now he's dead and when I think about his imouto, alone and not even knowing that her brother is dead, it brings home the fact that I'm trapped too. Who will take care of Aya if I lose faith?"

Amethyst eyes dart towards me, desperate and needy for understanding. The dam has broken and Aya's troubles pour out in a rush that I doubt he could stop even if he wants to. When was the last time he ever confide in anyone? Never, I'll bet. The life of a Gem, any Gems, is often said to be a lonesome one and his is even more so, for it is his prison.

"That night, I thought seeing Aya again would make me feel better, help me sort out my problems. But instead I felt worse, so I ran. And when you came along, I couldn't face you. You had been so kind to me, and I-I felt like I've betrayed your kindness. Because you tried to save Jun but I killed him and I saw how you looked at me in that club. You -"

I move quickly, stopping his flow of words with a finger on his lips. "Ssh. You don't have to explain anything to me."

"You hate me."

"I thought I hated you," I admit. "That was before I realize who you are. Now…I can't hate you, Aya. I can't hate someone who is in so much pain and guilt over an action he never wanted to take. None of it was your fault. Takatori was the one who killed Jun."

"Reiji-sama -"

"Don't call him that," I cut him off. "Don't address him like that. When you're with me, just be yourself. The boy you once were. Not Aya, not the Blood Diamond, just you."

He stares at me, amethyst eyes wide and uncertain. "Ran," he says in a tiny whisper. "That is my name."

"Then just be Ran," I smile at him, pleased that he has gifted me with his real name. "Like I'm being Yohji."

"Yohji…Ran…"

"No one else but us tonight."

He gives me a tiny nod, the agitation fading from his eyes. I tug him towards me and settle him against my side. With a sigh, he relaxes and cuddles against me, molding his lean body to the contours of mine. His face is a cool presence against my bare shoulder and his arm across my stomach a comfortable weight. I hold him carefully, mindful of his injured back, resting my cheek on the top of his head, idly stroking the pale expanse of his arm.

I close my eyes, soaking up the intimacy and rightness of having him in my arms. Strangely enough, here in the darkness, in the heart of the lion's den, danger a constant presence around us, I am at peace. For I hold in my arms a small piece of heaven.

"I really shouldn't be trusting you this much this quickly," Ran murmurs next to my skin. "But I do. Somehow I know you mean me no harm, even though you are Re-Takatori's enemy. If things have been different, we might have been on the same side."

"We might have been friends, or I might have driven you up the wall on a daily basis."

"Why would you do that?"

"I'm not exactly the most industrious person around, Ran. I'm the lazy type."

I feel a small rumble of chuckles against my chest. "I can see how often we'll argue over the work in the-the, um..."

"Flower shop," I supply the word. "Technically speaking, I'm a florist."

He peeks up at me, incredulous and amused. "You? A florist? That's your cover for being a vigilante?"

"Well…" I hedge, debating on whether how much I should tell him.

"No, don't tell me anything about your work. I don't want to know. It's the only way I can protect you from Rei, I mean Takatori."

He leans against my shoulder again, a contented bundle in my arms. I can stay like this all night, savoring his closeness. I love the weight and feel of Ran in my arms. My desire for him hasn't abated in the slightest but it doesn't seem like a priority right now. This coddling, sharing of comfort, it's more fulfilling than I thought it ever will be.

"Yohji? How did you find out about Aya?"

"Just good old PI skills. I was a private investigator before. And with the few clues I had and a healthy dose of luck, I manage to track her down. You should have seen the look on my face when I discovered Aya isn't you."

"I bet you were shocked."

"Shocked is not just it," I say wryly. "Try confused as well."

"Hn."

"Do you know that Aya-chan hasn't aged the slightest at all?"

"Takatori told me he cast some kind of suspended animation spell on her, to keep her healthy while he searches for a cure."

Suspended animation spell, huh. No wonder I couldn't detect anything with my tiny probe spell. Suspended animation is far subtler and requires a lot more precision in order to be detected.

"Do you believe that? That he will actually search for a cure for her?"

"Yes." I note the hesitation before he answers. "That is our deal."

"And is it part of the deal to taint yourself with death?"

This time, the hesitation is longer and the conviction weaker. "…He says as long as I carry out his orders, he will give my sister back to me."

"Do you believe him?"

His silence tells me the truth.

"I don't have a choice," he admits at last in a small defeated voice. "I have to obey him, even if just to keep her alive."

"He treats you like you're a trophy and worse." I didn't have to elaborate the 'worse' part. We both know what I mean.

"It is his right. Gems are not free creatures. We are unnatural, man-made, we are only what our creators made us to be."

"Even Gems were once human."

"We gave up our humanity for this unnatural existence."

I grasp his arms, turning so I can look into his eyes. "But you still have one thing you'll always have: your heart."

"…"

"It's easy to sacrifice one's humanity. I have seen people do the worst things to those around them. Murder, torture, cruelty, you name it. Sometimes it's so bad I can't believe the perpetrators are human in the first place. Even I have lost a little of humanity in my assassin work."

I gently brush the back of my fingers across a pale cheek.

"Everyone has these three things: their humanity, their soul, their heart. To most, all three may seem like the same thing but not to me. One can give up his humanity and commit atrocious acts for beliefs he deem righteous. One can sell his soul, but for reasons he believes in. But one cannot sacrifice his heart. It is the heart and what's in it that drives us to remarkable heights or depravity."

I lower my hand and place it lightly on his chest where I can feel his heart beating beneath the cool flesh.

"It's the one thing that is yours from birth till death. All the bad and good feelings in your heart belong to you; it tells you what to do. No one can take your heart away from you. Takatori may have got your humanity and soul but he hasn't got your heart. And it's what is in your heart that keeps Aya-chan and you alive. It's all yours, no one else's. He can't take that away from you, Ran."

He looks at me with startled eyes. I can see him contemplating my words, working to understand what I am trying to tell him.

"Yohji, that's…almost profound."

"It's the truth, or the way I see it."

"The truth?"

My mood turns sad as it always does when it comes to her.

"I fell in love once years ago. We lived hard and worked hard. We were young and we believed there was nothing we can't accomplish. But our last case went straight to hell. I was badly injured and she sacrificed herself to save my sorry ass. For months after that, I was a wreck. I couldn't do anything; I didn't want to do anything. My heart was completely empty because all my feelings have always been channeled towards her. With her dead, I just don't see the point of continuing anymore. But I can't commit suicide because she saved my life. So I just exist until my boss recruited me.

"At first I was cynical of the whole assassin game. But believe it or not, it was the killings that got me feeling again. The more I kill, the more I come to appreciate the fragility of life. It is just too easy to snuff it out but so difficult to nurture it. So I decided to live as best as I can, let my heart be alive and drive me forward once more. She would want that of me.

"From that moment on, I follow my feelings and try to live a full life. And I know all the experiences I went through are safe in here, treasured memories and emotions that belong only to me and no one else. I can share them with others but they will always be only mine."

I fall silent, waiting for Ran's response. That is the first time I have ever told anyone about her. It is also the first time I have spoken so plainly of what is in my heart, of what I believe in. I'm still not sure why I told him about her but she is part of the truth I have learnt the hard way.

Ran rests a palm against my chest, above my heart. "What is her name?" he asks softly.

"Asuka."

"Do you still love her?"

"A part of me still does," I admit.

"At least you were free to love her," he says wistfully. "I wonder how it feels to love freely."

I recall the nightmare I had last night. Was it instead trying to tell me that Ran is my chance at redemption? I certainly hope so because once I make this choice, I doubt there is any turning back.

"Ran, listen. I'm going to free you."