Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Rain Doesn't Grieve ❯ 23 ( Chapter 23 )

23

 

Who can it be knocking at my door?

 

Omi ~ Tattoo

 

I took the stairs slowly, one at a time. I'd managed to wait a day and a half since my last disastrous attempt at reclaiming the past, and now I found I wasn't in any real hurry anymore. Yohji didn't have the same baggage as the others, but he had his share. And he had no special love for Kritiker.

 

This apartment had been his babe lair back when his real home was with us, over the flower shop. I'd known about it, of course; we kept it on our security grid just in case. But until today, I'd never known exactly what it looked like. I'm not sure what I expected; the place seemed a little run down on the outside, and that surprised me. Then again, it did have its own secure garage. That was probably the selling point for Yohji.

 

As I raised my hand to knock, I noticed a crumble of wax along the door edge. I frowned. That seemed a little paranoid, marking one's door like that. Then again, I couldn't resist checking my anti-spy gadget before knocking. Paranoia wasn't always a bad thing.

 

Yohji answered my knock quickly, as though he were expecting someone. “Omi! Hello! Come in!” He gestured me inside, then sprinted back to the kitchen. “I was just fixing some lunch, care to join me?”

 

“Lunch for two?” I asked, casting a wary eye about the apartment. Something didn't seem right.

 

“I always make extra. It makes a great midnight snack.”

 

“Oh. Thank you, yes.” I searched for some piece of furniture that I could get onto and off of without too much difficulty, settled on a barstool by the kitchen counter.

 

“It's great to see you,” Yohji said. “I ran into Ken the other night. It's starting to feel like a reunion.”

 

“I'd like to ask you about that, if you don't mind.” I caught his gaze and said, “We need you back, Yohji.”

 

“No.”

 

I consulted my bug detector again, then stated, “At least hear me out. If you don't want to come back to active duty, may I use your skills as a consultant? I need help, and you're the only one I can turn to.”

 

He frowned as he scooped noodles into two bowls. “Do you want to eat in here, or at the table?”

 

“Here, if you don't mind,” I told him. “It's hard for me to move much today.”

 

He handed me a bowl, then asked, “How bad?”

 

“I'm in physical therapy every day, and taking more pills and shots than someone my age should have to be. Some days are better than others. This isn't one of them.”

 

“Is it the weather?” he asked.

 

I considered my history so far, only having a couple of months to go on. “It might be. Is it supposed to rain later?”

 

“It's thinking about it, but I don't think it will. They can't predict with any accuracy.” He glanced away, toward the door. “What kind of consulting?”

 

My mouth full of noodles, I waved a hand at him to give me a moment. I'd missed his cooking more than I'd realized. Once I could speak like a civilized person and not a ravenous dog, I said, “I need this recipe.” I kept my tone serious and my expression stiff, though a giggle lurked right behind the words.

 

“You need me as a lunch consultant?” Yohji grinned. “Now that I can do!”

 

And then we both laughed as though the past few months had never happened. Yohji reminded me of why Weiß had become more than family to me: each one of us filled some need in each of the others. Between me and Yohji there had grown a brother-bond, not like the one I had with Ken but just as strong. Yohji had become my protector, my confidant, while Ken had always been my best friend first.

 

Of course, when Aya had joined us the entire balance shifted, but that was then.

 

Yohji leaned against the counter and leisurely ate his lunch before speaking again. As he wiped the oil from his lips, he repeated his question. “What kind of consulting? I'll listen, but I'm not promising anything.”

 

“You used to be a detective before you joined Kritiker,” I stated. “You taught yourself to think around the corners, to find things that were lost or hidden. I need that. If you won't come back, then teach me.”

 

My host scowled softly. “Teach you? But you've got all the resources of Kritiker at your beck and call. Why me?”

 

“Those resources have been compromised.” My own paranoid habit acted itself out again, checking the bug detector, nodding at the reassuring green light on the tiny cell phone screen. “I don't know if it's an internal leak or an external attack, all I know is I can't trust anyone without proof that they're secure.” I showed him my gadget. “I made this myself. It picks up on any unexplained signals. This is serious, Yohji. I wouldn't ask otherwise.”

 

Yohji sighed and regarded the ceiling. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. His short sleeve rode up, revealing his self-chastising tattoo: When you gonna learn?

 

I got to my feet. “Thank you for lunch, Yohji,” I whispered. I didn't need to hear him say “no”: that inked reminder had said it for him. “Maybe we can get together from time to time. I really did miss your cooking.”

 

As I started toward the door, Yohji stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. The familiarity almost surprised me. “Can I see that cell phone?”

 

I took it out of my pocket and handed it to him. Yohji studied the device a moment, then asked, “How do you work it?”

 

After a quick tutorial, he made a circuit of his apartment, through every room and back. He handed me the gadget. “What do you need?”

 

My heart skipped a beat. Ever since taking on the mantle of Persia, I had felt my connection with my teammates slipping further away, and in that one gesture, Yohji had brought it all back together. “Where does one begin to look for an invisible enemy? I've traced the computer break-ins and a series of radio transmissions to exactly nowhere. It's like tracking a ghost.”

 

Yohji looked thoughtful for a moment. He started pacing, and I knew that was how he kicked his brain into gear: with motion. He paused at the window, turning a potted flower that I hadn't noticed before. It was a cattelya orchid, a white one. I smiled at the sight of it.

 

“Tracking a ghost,” he murmured. “What kind of information are they getting? It doesn't give us much, but it's a start.”

 

“The last mission,” I stated. “Esset.”

 

 

Yohji ~ Dangerous

 

I stared at him, the word echoing in my head. He couldn't know about Schuldig, could he? Hell, how could he miss it? He was Persia now; even as Bombay he'd have turned up something, and I doubted that the Takatori parking garage could have been totally unmonitored. Was he here to test me, see how much I was willing to tell him?

 

Two could play that game. I paused to light a cigarette, then asked, “What do you think they're after? Us? Or something else?”

 

“That's the crazy part,” he said with a stiff shrug. “Usually when someone hacks into a system, they leave footprints, and those tend to point in a single direction. This is the first time I've encountered a trail like this. It feints, it veers, it vanishes, leaving the data undisturbed but probably copied. The hacker is mimicking a non-destructive worm, winding into damn near every corner of the mainframe. Every computer with a connection to it is compromised. Every one, Yohji.”

 

I whistled low, a surprised sound. “The police databases? The defense force?”

 

“Interpol.”

 

“Damn.” Before my eyes could betray my reaction, I turned back toward my flower and checked the soil. If Esset had gotten into the Kritiker mainframe, and through that had breached security with each computer we had ever contacted, this was worse than bad. Kritiker could be framed for espionage, or worse. Wars have started for less.

 

How badly did Esset want Schwarz back, and did they think Kritiker was hiding them?

 

“Every time I start to isolate their signal, it evaporates like it was never there. Next time it shows up, it's in a different area of the system. I can't tell exactly what the target is, and without that, I can't protect us.”

 

An idea occurred to me, an idea that I couldn't identify as good or bad just yet. Keeping my words slow and calm, I asked, “Omi, do you remember that time that Schwarz hacked into the Weiß mission computer? They were setting us up for Schreient.”

 

“How could I forget?” Omi said. “They did the impossible, and I never…” His voice trailed off, and he looked at me with wide eyes. “I never managed to track the signal.”

 

I reminded myself to tread cautiously here. “Do you think that kid and your hacker might have had the same training?”

 

“The technique is similar, though modified to take advantage of the larger system. And Schwarz were adding data, not copying it. But it does make sense. Is that your hunch, Yohji? Esset wants to know who we are now, so they're digging around in our computers?” He looked skeptical, but I couldn't tell of what part.

 

“Well, until you can pinpoint just what they're really after, that would be my best guess,” I told him. “Sorry I can't do much more for you. You're the computer whiz. I'm the people person.”

 

“Right. I'll keep you posted, if I can. Thanks again for lunch, Yohji-kun,” Omi said, once more getting ready to leave.

 

This time I didn't stop him.

 

As I watched him limp away toward the stairs, I couldn't stop wondering where he and I fit into the picture now. Was he someone I had to answer to? Was he still just my friend?

 

Was I a potential threat?

 

What would he do if I were?

 

That question hinged on the first two, and for the first time in my life I wasn't sure of the answers.

 

 

Omi ~ Persia

 

I had only intended to warn Yohji about Esset, and maybe get a little advice on how to approach the problem.

 

Now I couldn't shake the suspicion that he'd already known.

 

He'd answered the door as though expecting company…

 

And I know that he wasn't expecting me.

 

 

 

A/N:

Who can it be knocking at my door?

“Who Can It Be Now?” - Men At Work Business As Usual

 

Omi ~ Tattoo

It's so obvious how much Omi misses his team. And it's sad that Yohji has become his last resort - he'd rather turn to Ken for support, but since last chapter, that's not very likely at the moment.

 

Yohji ~ Dangerous

Paranoia, or a keen sense for traps? Either way, Yohji suspects that Omi knows more about the situation than he's letting on. Question is, how much does he trust his former teammate now that he bears the name Takatori and the title Persia?

 

Omi ~ Persia

And how much does Omi trust Yohji now?