Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Underneath It All ❯ The Things in Between ( Chapter 4 )

Warnings: Lime, Language, Violence

 

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

 

Internal Dialogue

Telepathy

 

Chapter 4

 

“What news is so urgent that would make you think it wise to interrupt my family time?” the old man inquired of the brown haired woman that had disturbed him. He either failed to notice or ignore the slight wince his words brought.

 

“As you no doubt know,” she began, trying and failing not to notice the `contents' of the room. “The base in Canada was completely destroyed, personnel included.”

 

“Yes,” he narrowed his eyes. “Though I hadn't been informed that everyone had been killed. You're telling me that they took out our strongest telepath?” Though his voice remained calm, she could hear his mental stream of cursing.

 

“Yes, Mr. Takatori,” she replied. “It appears that the Schwartz telepath was one of the survivors as I know of no other strong enough to get past his abilities.”

 

“You know this for sure?” he asked, his expression becoming thoughtful. If the information Shuichi had on Schwartz was correct, then we may me able to sway him to our side. We could use someone like that. The woman gave no indication that she had heard his thoughts; it wouldn't do for him to know that she had telepathic skills on top of her precognition. She couldn't begin to fathom how someone so weak minded had become the head of their vast organization.

 

“Unfortunately, no,” the brunette replied. “All I can tell you for certain is that there is a telepath among them along with one other piece of vital information.”

 

“And that would be,” he prompted, becoming impatient with her indirect speech.

 

“It's two things really,” she began. “The first is that your grandson, Mamoru, has been found among the enemy. They have apparently, through unknown sources, discovered our intentions to find him and convinced him to join them.”

 

“The hacker from Weiss,” Takatori mused. “He must still be alive and found a way into our systems. There's no other explanation for them knowing our plans.”

 

“That's the other thing,” the telepath stated, not particularly wanting to give the decrepit old man the information as the phrase `Don't shoot the messenger' ran circles in her mind. “It appears that the hacker you mentioned, Weiss' Bombay, is actually Mamoru.”

 

“What?” the old man nearly shouted. “He was with them all that time, and we didn't know? He could have been killed, my heir could have been lost, at that damned tower!” He was livid at learning this, but he needed to find out why he had never known that his grandson had been right under his nose. “Why is it that we were not aware of this detail until now? You worked with Weiss; how is it that you didn't know who he was?”

 

“I only worked with them after both your sons were gone, and they all took quite the exception when anything related to that time was brought up,” she replied. “I took the liberty of checking through Shuichi's files when I returned last week and found some heavily encrypted data,” she explained. “It appears as though the boy he personally saved several years back was actually Mamoru. However, your grandson suffered from trauma induced amnesia. Only Manx and Schuichi knew who he really was, and they kept it that way.” She paused for a moment to let that information sink in before continuing. “At some point, after Weiss killed Masafumi, Mamoru began to regain his memories, only no one, Shuichi included, realized he was not Reiji's son. He decided to disown the Takatori name and kept the name Shuichi gave him: Tsukiyono Omi.”

 

Saijou widened his eyes at that. It seemed that Shuichi had been making plans for his young grandson, going so far as to name him after the estate in which the old resided. When Shuichi was killed, there was no one left to properly influence his grandson, making him vulnerable to his enemies' whims.

 

“It seems our enemies have twisted his mind,” Saijou narrowed his eyes in contempt. “They've turned my own grandson against me.” He turned his head, looking directly into the woman's brown eyes. “Kyoko, I want you to personally oversee this matter. Spare no cost in locating where they've hidden Mamoru away.”

 

“Yes, sir,” she replied. Turning around, Takaora Kyoko, formerly known as Birman, stepped from the room to set the best hackers Kritiker had on the task. She held no illusions that they would find them this way as Omi's skills as a hacker were legendary, but she had to start somewhere.

 

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The two weeks between missions was nearly over, and in two days, the six chosen to take on Weiss would be leaving. During that time, things had become especially difficult for Kitada and Naru, both having directly taken life for the first time. Initially, they had been numb to the fact, the worry at the discovery of Omi's existence by the enemy overshadowing anything they may have felt in regards to the actions they had taken in Canada. However, it was only a matter of a day before it had hit them full force. It really was for the best that neither of them were going on the upcoming mission as it would give them more time to at least find some sort of equilibrium with what they had done, what they would have to do again.

 

The most difficult part of the situation for them was trying to come to terms with the fact that, in the past, their actions had, in one way or another, indirectly led to many hundreds of deaths. For Kitada, she had to wonder what right she had ever had in training so many people for this kind of work when she herself had never been a part of a lethal team. With Naru, he was always aware that the Crashers occasionally and inadvertently caused the deaths of many people, innocent or not, when they took out various buildings as ordered by Kritiker. However, he had never been so up close and personal with the taking of another life before; seeing the face of someone as they lay dying put a whole new spin on it. The mission to take out the rogue Esset agents had shown him what it meant to shoot someone in the back, what it meant silently creep up on someone and snap their neck.

 

The only way either could even begin to reconcile what they had done was by remembering that these were the same people who would hunt them down and slaughter them without remorse. It was a testament to the differences between the two sides. Even the former members of Schwartz felt some pity for the lives they were taking knowing that it could have just as easily been them had things gone differently. Both Naru and Kitada had resolved to continue on, though; it was the only way to ensure the survival of their remaining loved ones.

 

Perhaps that's what people mean when they say the world isn't black and white, Naru had considered one night, taking a new perspective on the old saying. And to think, we ignorantly believed that what we were doing back then was for the greater good. We never realized that we were only following along with someone else's perception of how the world should be. I know better, now; we have to do what is right for us, and in this case, that means nothing more than keeping each other safe, world be damned.

 

It was truly an unsettling realization for the teen, as he had never really considered that maybe, just maybe, sometimes the welfare of a few outweighed that of the whole as it so happened to be the case here. If they succeeded in wiping out the newly formed Kritiker-Esset alliance, then they would all be safe. For once, it seemed that their own agenda coincided with something that world didn't even know it needed in all its ignorant bliss.

 

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“I think,” Aya gave her opinion, “that after this mission, you and Yuushi will be able to relate to one another better.” Kitada's green eyes gazed thoughtfully at the young woman with whom she was confiding. It was odd, really, when she thought about it, but then again, maybe not. After all, the failed summoning ceremony had done something to age the brunette in ways she couldn't even begin to imagine.

 

“You're probably right,” the redhead sighed. “It's just that we seemed to be going somewhere with a relationship until a couple of weeks ago…” she paused while trying to order her thoughts. On the couch next to her, Aya sat quietly, encouraging her friend to continue. “He's tried to help me feel okay about we have to do, but I don't think he really understands. What's worse is that I don't want him to understand because that means he'll have gone through the same thing. At the same time, though, I want nothing more than for him to understand and relate to me.” Brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

 

“It's kind of a moot point isn't it?” the teen asked. “I mean, he's as committed to our goals as anyone else. He's going to be leaving on the mission tomorrow with the others, and when he gets back, it will be the same for him.”

 

“I know,” Kitada replied. “I'm just afraid that may make things too difficult for us to be anything more than friends.”

 

“I don't see how it could,” the brunette offered. “Take Omi and Schuldig as examples. They were both in very strong, committed relationships before, and the similarities between their lives and their lovers' lives were what cemented those bonds; they could relate to one another in ways that no one else could.”

 

“I'm not so sure it will be the same,” the older woman responded. “Our relationship has been very tentative from the start, what with me being his former boss.” She paused as something occurred to her. “How do you know about Omi and Schuldig anyway? No one knew who they were involved with before all this happened, and they rarely talk to anyone but each other about Yohji and Nagi.” Aya let out an amused snort before answering.

 

“You forget,” she said, lightly tapping her own head. “I don't have complete control over my ability.” The slight smile faded as she grew more serious. “I've seen things from all of your lives, things that I have no business knowing about because they're generally extremely personal.” She let out a frustrated breath before continuing. “I'll see one of you with a depressing look on your face and start to wonder how things could have been. I get so caught up in the feeling that sometimes I end up reliving a past moment in my mind, and it will seem so real. I wish I had better control.”

 

“It's not your fault, you know,” Kitada comforted. “We're all aware of the possibility that you'll see something that none of us particularly want anyone to know about, and to your credit, you've been training your mind. It will just take some time.”

 

“Yes,” the teen agreed. “I'm just impatient about it, not to mention the fact that I'm uncomfortable knowing so much about people when they haven't told me themselves.”

 

“We understand; you don't have to worry about that,” the green eyed woman told her. “And we know you're trying. There's not anything else you can do, and besides,” Kitada gave her a soft smile. “We all trust you.” The grateful look from Aya was all the response she received, but it was more than enough as the two women sat quietly for the rest of the morning, each contemplating their own problems with more clarity than when they began talking.

 

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The soft tapping of fingers against a keyboard was the only sound echoing around the room for hours. Omi had been working nearly non-stop on one thing or another since the mission two weeks ago. He was greatly unnerved at the fact that his existence was, by now, known Takatori, and he was doing any and everything he could think of to make sure that the man would never be able to locate him and his friends. He had practically tripled the time he spent training; outside of that, he could almost always be found hacking away on one of the computers. That wasn't to say that he neglected his body's basic needs; he knew better than to skip more than one meal a day, and he had forced himself to sleep a minimum of 4 hours a day. That was more than enough for him as in the past he could function at his peak with no sleep for three days straight.

 

The nearly silent footsteps approaching didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, even as engrossed in his work as he was. He simply continued typing away until his visitor decided to announce himself.

 

“Don't you think you should take the day off?” Ran's quiet voice sounded from behind him. “There's nothing more you can do, for now. Everything that can be done to prepare has been done.” The teen's hands stilled as he turned his dull, blue gaze from the monitor to the swordsman who had moved to stand beside him.

 

“I know,” Omi replied with a sigh. “I'm not working on anything for the mission. I'm just going over all our security measures, making sure there aren't any back doors that someone might be able to find and use to locate us.” The crimson haired man nodded his understanding, but he had no intention of leaving his young friend until he agreed to stop working. The teen hadn't even taken the time to acknowledge his own birthday two days ago; his behavior had gone far beyond obsessed.

 

“You've been doing this for two weeks,” Ran pointed out. “And unless I'm mistaken, you haven't found anything. You did set the whole thing up in the first place, and you are, without a doubt, the most proficient in this area - on either side. Give yourself a break.”

 

“I just don't want my presence to be the reason that the Kritiker hackers try that much harder and end up finding even the slightest error on my part,” the cerulean eyed teen worried.

 

“You'll just have to trust your abilities,” the swordsman shrugged. “The rest of us have no doubt that you've covered every conceivable angle, and probably some of the more impossible ones, as well.” Ran could see that the teen was giving in so he pushed just a little more. “You need to have a clear, refreshed mind for tomorrow. Go meditate and get your focus to where it immediately belongs: the mission. The rest, we can worry about once we've returned.” That did it; reminding Omi that he needed to center himself on the upcoming mission was what it took. It would be inexcusable to succeed in covering all their bases at home then turn around and screw up the mission.

 

“You're right,” the lithe blonde admitted as stood and stretched. “I could use some air anyway. I'll be down by the lake if anyone needs me.” The older assassin nodded his understanding as he watched his friend moved to leave. Once he was out the door, Ran moved to the computer to see exactly what the teen had been working on. What he saw caused amethyst orbs to widen in astonishment. There's no way anyone will be able to crack this, he mused. I'd wonder if even Omi could get through this if he hadn't been the one to design it in the first place. Shaking his head in amazement at how Omi could ever doubt his skill, Ran left the room to follow his own advice; meditating sounded like a really good idea.

 

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Schuldig didn't even try to suppress the soft smile that graced his features upon seeing Omi's sleeping form. The blonde had obviously run himself into the ground with all the work he had been doing for both the mission and security. It's a wonder he's not collapsed once over the last two weeks. Shaking his head and moving a few steps closer to the teen, the German allowed his golden gaze to shift towards the lake.

 

“Hey,” the archer's quiet voice startled the telepath. Apparently, he was awake the entire time. How does he manage to stay alert all the time? he wondered.

 

“I thought you had fallen asleep,” Schuldig stated as he lowered his body to the ground near Omi's position. Laying his head back, using the grass as a cushion, the olive haired man stared into the endless, cloudless sky. The color of Omi's eyes, the observation flitted through his mind so fast that he barely had time to register it.

 

“No,” the younger replied. “I was just - not thinking…” Omi really wasn't sure as to where his mind had actually wandered. As the wind gently caressed his lithe form and the sound of the nearby waves brushed past his ears, the blonde had been lulled into an altogether welcomed haze that lay somewhere between dream and reality.

 

“That's good,” Schuldig responded softly, not wanting to disturb the illusion of peace that seemed to surround them for the moment. “You've been going non-stop ever since we got back from Canada; I've been worried that you were going to burn yourself out.” The blonde head turned and the telepath got his first glimpse of the teen's azure eyes for the day; he didn't like what he saw and couldn't hold back the small gasp the nearly dead look caused.

 

“Ran said something to that affect a couple of hours ago,” the archer didn't want to respond to the distressed sound from his friend as he knew it was concern for him. “I've been out here ever since.”

 

“Omi…” the golden eyed telepath was at a loss for how to continue. He was so tempted to look into the young man's mind and find out what was causing him to appear so lifeless, but he refrained from breaking that trust. He had a fairly good idea of what was wrong, anyway; he just didn't know how to comfort the noticeably depressed teen.

 

“Have you ever wondered if…” Omi trailed off and looked back towards the sky, trying to hide the tears that were forming behind his eyes. “Have you ever thought that maybe things would be better if you weren't here to cause problems for everyone you care about?”

 

“Yeah,” Schuldig replied despondently. “It's crossed my mind on more than one occasion.” He rose up on one elbow and looked straight into the blonde's glistening eyes. “But then I remember that I don't make decisions for other people. Their actions, their choices, are not my responsibility. You can't take carry the burden of Takatori's ambitions on you shoulders, and you're not expected to, either.” Omi shut his eyes tightly at the words; a single tear slipped down the side of his face.

 

“But he wouldn't be doing all of this if I wasn't here,” the words were spoken in no more than a broken whisper. A gentle touch to his shoulder made him open his eyes and look into the worried face of his friend.

 

“You can't know that,” the telepath stated firmly as he pulled the teen into his arms, giving comfort where words could not. “Not even Brad can see an impossible future. Yes, everything would have turned out much differently if you hadn't been here, but there's no way to know if that would have made things better or worse. What I can tell you is that everything points to the fact that Takatori Saijou has been playing these games since before you were born. Who's to say that if you weren't here, he still wouldn't be hunting us? For that matter, it may be that none of us would even be alive save for your existence.” He paused as Omi shifted in his arms, his tear stained face pressed to the older man's shoulder. “You only see everything bad that's happened, but you have to remember that there are two sides to every coin; joy and sorrow, laughter and tears, love and hate: they all go hand in hand. Never forget that we are better for having you with us.”

 

Nothing further was said between the two as Omi cried softly in the German's arms. He knew Schuldig was right and that he was just letting everything get to him. He had been burying his pain for longer than even the telepath had realized, and it had only served to feed into the depression that eventually dissolved every mask he had ever donned. This release had been a long time coming, and Schuldig was more than willing to see the young blonde through.

 

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of his heart, the golden eyed man felt a surge of warmth that Omi trusted him so much so that he felt safe enough to completely drop his guard in the telepath's presence. Somewhere, deep in his soul, Schuldig knew that he felt just as safe with the archer. Neither man realized this on a conscious level, but it was perfectly clear to the unnoticed figure standing halfway between the house and the lake, silently observing the scene with a small, warm smile. Those two need each other more than they know, Ran thought as he turned back towards the house. He didn't need to check on Omi, after all; Schuldig had taken care of everything, it seemed. But I think they'll eventually understand.

 

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It had taken the six of them eight days to finally track down the rather unpredictable group of assassins calling themselves Weiss. Not even Crawford's precognition had been of much use so far; the American was only either able or willing to tell them that the outcome was currently not in Weiss' favor. His predictions, he had warned them, were only based on profiles that Omi and Naru had managed to obtain from Kritiker's computers; the profiles included pictures of masked men - not extraordinarily useful - and weapons capabilities, along with the city they were assigned to `protect'. They hadn't even found codenames for the four unknown men.

 

Currently, Omi and Crawford were holed up in one of the two hotel rooms that the six were sharing while the others were in the second room checking over their supplies. They had agreed that they would have to strike tonight - it was only mid-morning - before they lost their chance at catching the illusive assassins. The two of them were pouring over every last bit of data they had, including things precognition had forced on Crawford.

 

The American had, had a vision their first night in Kyoto; in it, he had seen a headless woman and a boomerang flying back to the hand of its masked owner. Over the next two days, the vision had seemed to repeat itself until he had finally realized that what he was seeing was tantamount to a serial killer. That had been what finally tipped them off. News reports had then been their next source; there was definitely a serial killer out there, and he seemed to only take the lives of women bearing full-body tattoos. Schuldig had spent the next three days keeping a telepathic eye on potential victims until he had managed to witness one of the murders and follow the man back to small bar in Gion.

 

The only other piece of information they had pertaining to the original Weiss came from Ran. Two months ago, when Kitada had brought the group to their attention as potential allies, Ran had immediately recognized the katana pictured with the leader's masked form. There had been no doubt in amethyst orbs that the man in question was his former mentor, Shion. That had stirred up a whole new sea of problems in that Ran had been told Shion was dead just before he had been assigned to the Crashers. He had been excited at the prospect of reuniting with the experienced swordsman, but that idea had been quashed not long after the discovery; it had been blatantly obvious that Weiss was working for Takatori via an organization called La Mort.

 

La Mort was a relatively small group of politicians whose ambitions presently paralleled those of Kritiker and Esset. It was beginning to appear as though every power hungry, large or small, conglomerate throughout the world was being taken under Takatori Saijou's wing. Fortunately, Weiss was the only trained unit in La Mort's ranks making the job of snuffing out some of Takatori's assets relatively easy - relatively in that Weiss was going to be a pain in the ass to take on. Locating and killing the leaders of the small organization would be cake once the assassin group was gone.

 

“So we know the guy with the boomerang is Ayame, the bar's namesake, and we know that he's completely cracked,” Omi finally spoke, rubbing his weary eyes with the back of his hand.

 

“His mind, according to Schuldig, was so completely splintered, that he couldn't do much more than confirm Ayame's position in Weiss and the fact that they all live above the bar,” The American confirmed.

 

“That's not all he found out,” the archer sighed. “He told me he managed to get the names of the other two that we didn't know from the guy's head.” Crawford gave the teen a sharp look, scowling in obvious discontent at not being informed of this.

 

“Why was he withholding their names?” the brunette's tone was frighteningly quiet, the glaring, brown eyes reminding Omi of just why one didn't want Brad Crawford as an enemy.

 

“I don't think he was,” the hacker shrugged, ignoring the cold stare. “I think he was just overly exhausted from trying to dig information out of Ayame's mind and still stay aware of himself that he didn't remember until much later. I didn't mention it until now because I needed to go over the data again to see if anything Schuldig found correlated with what we already have.” The blonde paused as he sent a brief glare to said data. “Nothing did, so we're essentially in the same boat as we were before… Except that we know one of them is more insane than Farfarello ever could have been. At least Schuldig could make something out of his thought patterns.”

 

“This doesn't help matters at all,” Crawford muttered. Leaning forward in his chair, the American raised his voice. “Who are the other two? Do we have any personal connections with them?” He needed to know if there were going to be any problems such as what they were sure to have when Ran saw his former mentor.

 

“Not that I'm aware of,” he replied, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. “Their names are Rindou and Azami. I've never heard the names before, but that doesn't mean anything. We all have people in our pasts that we don't talk about,” the telekinetic shrugged. “For all we know, Ran might have known them, as well, not to mention it's possible for either Nanami or Yuushi to know one or all of them.” His blue eyes hardened, two perfect chips of ice reflecting the room's light. “I'll take care of Shion so Ran doesn't have to.” Clearly, the nineteen year old's thought patters were on the same wavelength as the American's. They could not allow any of their pasts to interfere with their objectives; that would be an unnecessary and potentially deadly risk.

 

“You know that Ran will insist on facing his former instructor,” Crawford informed him needlessly, but the precog wanted it out in the open, making sure they covered every angle before the amethyst eyed man returned.

 

“Ran hasn't mentioned anything about Shion since just after he found out he was still alive,” the archer looked down as he spoke, his tone maintaining a sharp edge. “Even then, it was obvious that he held a deep affection for the man.” Omi looked up again and locked gazes with Crawford. “We've both seen firsthand what happens to Ran's focus when he lets his emotions take control. We can't let that happen here; there's too much at stake, so I'll take on Shion… Unless your visions tell you otherwise.” The precog nodded his concurrence having already drawn the same conclusion as the blonde and only wanting to make sure they were in agreement on the matter.

 

“I need to check, now,” Crawford stated, giving the teen warning that he shouldn't be disturbed. Omi nodded shortly, and with nothing better to do for the moment, he began rereading information on Weiss despite the fact that he had already memorized everything in the file down to the punctuation marks.

 

If Omi faces Shion without informing Ran of the plan… Both Omi and Ran will die.

 

If we tell Ran and can't convince him not to confront Shion… Ran, Yuushi and Schuldig will die.

 

If we tell Ran and convince him to let Omi face Shion... Nanami will protect Omi from a killing blow, after which they will both die.

 

Crawford stayed in his trance, sifting through layers upon layers of possible scenarios and outcomes before coming across one that was viable. The only problem was that it all hinged on one man, a man that was currently not within their ranks. They would essentially need their tenth teammate to join them before the battle began rather than in the middle of it as he had always seen before. Despite the inordinate amount of time he spent in the trance, the frustration of seeing failure upon failure was worth it to finally find that one strand of hope. Not only would they now have a better idea of what they would be facing, but Crawford had also discovered which of Weiss would be joining them should things go accordingly.

 

“Omi,” the precog called for the archer's attention, his chocolate eyes regaining their focus.

 

“What do we have to do?” Omi asked, his gaze immediately leaving the, in his opinion, useless file he had been pretending to read.

 

“Not we,” Crawford informed him. “You. If you can do what needs to be done this afternoon, then it won't matter whether it's you or Ran that faces Shion.” The telekinetic simply gave the man a bemused look, gesturing for the American to explain himself. Doing so, the plan was laid out within thirty minutes, Omi shaking his head at the sheer insanity of it all.

 

“You realize that if I fail,” the teen began slowly. “I will have not only warned him of our impending attack, but also give him the opportunity to get at me.” There was a slight hint of panic lacing the blonde's voice, hardly noticeable, but it was there, and Crawford picked up on it almost instantly. Omi did not, under any circumstances, want to be in the grasp of the enemy; Crawford couldn't say that he blamed him for that fear. “I'll do it,” Omi's voice firmed with resolve before the precog could say anything. “I trust you and know that you wouldn't even suggest it if it weren't the only way, but if this leads to my capture, then we're all fucked. They're bound to subject me to their strongest remaining telepaths, and I don't know how long I could hold out. If this doesn't work out, and they do get to me…” he trailed off, his intense, cerulean stare boring into Crawford's eyes.

 

“If that happens,” the precog's voice was as hard as ice, though he couldn't mask all the compassion he felt for the teen's reluctant resolve. “I'll shoot you myself.” Omi nodded, his body relaxing minutely at their mutual understanding. There was no telling what Saijou would have his people do to bend Omi's mind, and the archer would rather be dead than betray his friends and family for a man he hated with all his being.

 

“If you haven't heard from me in three hours,” the blonde began as he rose and opened the door. “Then I'll have become a liability.” He didn't wait for Crawford's response as the door closed behind him. Nodding to the empty room, the American sat back and steeled himself for the cries of outrage he would face once the others learned that Omi was gone. While waiting, he ran through his visions once more; several variables had been eliminated once the blonde made his decision meaning that a great many of the possible futures were no longer so. He was surprised to learn that something, he wasn't sure what, had changed enough to increase their chances of success to nearly one hundred percent unless something he had no for which to account occurred.

 

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“Excuse me,” a vaguely familiar looking blonde addressed him as he headed further and further away from `Bar Ayame'. The man with forest green hair and hazel eyes paused mid-stride and turned a puzzled look to the younger man.

 

“Yes?” he responded questioningly. “Do I know you?”

 

“It's possible,” the blonde shrugged uncaringly. The walk resumed as the lithe teen fell into step beside him. “If you do, that may make our conversation go a bit more smoothly.” Bemused, the older man raised an eyebrow. It would certainly help if I could recall why I should know you, he mused. Unconsciously, he fingered a deck of cards in the pocket of his trench coat.

 

“Perhaps this conversation would best be served in a less public setting?” the man observed as he noticed his walking companion send covert glances to their surroundings. At the blonde's nearly imperceptible nod, the dark haired man directed them towards Maruyama Koen. Silently, the older of the two lead them towards an area of the park that was rarely visited.

 

“No one will overhear us?” the younger man asked as the stopped at the edge of a small clearing.

 

“We can speak freely,” the hazel eyed man assured. And I can easily kill you here, if it becomes necessary, he thought, his curiosity at why blonde approached him not in any way overriding his distrust. “You seem to know me, and I freely admit to having a sense of knowing who you are. Be that as it may, I believe introductions are in order.”

 

“Of course, Rindou,” the younger replied, bowing in a mockery of a formal introduction; the older wasn't surprised in the least that the blonde knew his name. “My name is Tsukiyono Omi, but I rather doubt that name means much to you. You might be more familiar with my codename: Bombay.” That did it, Omi thought wryly as he eyed the cards that appeared in Rindou's hands. The other man, too, noticed several darts slip between the blonde's fingers; there also appeared to be a small crossbow strapped to his forearm underneath his shirt sleeve.

 

“You're wrong, you know,” Rindou replied conversationally. “I'm very familiar with the name Tsukiyono, simply not in conjunction with a family name.” Caught you off guard, did I? The dark haired assassin smirked at the flash of confusion in cerulean eyes.

 

“We can talk about that later,” the archer brushed the comment aside. As perplexing as it was, his purpose here was more important than his name.

 

“Assuming we don't kill one another.” A tarot card neatly planted itself in the ground directly in front of the teen, only inches to spare. The older man was impressed that the kid hadn't moved in the slightest, not even a twitch of the muscles. Rather, he seemed to be smiling at something. Following his gaze, Rindou spied the dart sticking up between blades of grass only millimeters from his foot. He's good, better than I am…

 

“I didn't come here to fight,” Omi replied, his defensive stance maintained. “I told you before that I want to talk to you.”

 

“You mean Kritiker didn't send you to hunt us?” Rindou asked, sarcasm dripping with every word. Omi was almost shocked into dropping his guard, but not quite. Instead, he let out a humorless laugh, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the understandably confused assassin.

 

“You have no idea what's going on, do you?” the teen was amazed; he had been certain Weiss was on Takatori's payroll. And now it seemed that, Rindou at least, was under the impression that Kritiker was after them. The irony of the situation was a glaring beacon of light in the blonde's opinion. No wonder Crawford saw this as a possibility, though I wonder… If he knew that Rindou seems to have a grudge against Kritiker what would his visions have shown?

 

“Enlighten me, please,” the tarot assassin requested in an altogether dry tone.

 

“First off, I haven't been a part of Kritiker since they plotted to kill my team.” Any trace of humor at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation had vanished. Rindou could fairly see the fire burning in the teen's cerulean orbs; the fierce glare made him really listen to what Omi was saying. “Kritiker has joined up with an organization known as Esset; a group of us, people formerly from both organizations, is working to bring them down.”

 

“You want us to join you, then,” the dark haired man surmised. The prospect was rather intriguing and not altogether an unpleasant idea. It was gratifying to know that there were others who had grown wise to Kritiker's machinations.

 

“Not exactly,” Omi responded slowly. “There's a lot you don't know, and I'm positive you're not going to like what I'm about to tell you.” H took a deep, calming breath even as his hand gripped the darts more tightly; there was no telling how the older assassin would take the news. “Weiss, while apparently getting its orders from La Mort, is still working for Kritiker. Your team is our next target, but,” he pierced the man with a frozen, blue gaze, forestalling any comment or action until he had finished. “We want you to join us.”

 

“You're lying,” Rindou bit out, eyes narrowed contemptuously. “Shion despises that organization every bit as much as I do. He would know if Nagatsugawa was getting our jobs from them.”

 

“I'm not lying,” the archer stated evenly inwardly pleased at having learned another name; if nothing else came of this meeting, at least there was something more for them to go on. “Takatori may be an insane old man, but he's psychotically smart when it comes to politics such as this.”

 

“All the Takatori are dead,” came the short reply. “Your team was the one that took them out, all except Saijou, and Shion saw to that himself.”

 

“Shion didn't kill Saijou,” Omi informed the man, a flash of - something - flickering through his eyes. “He's been trying to find us since we disappeared from Japan; he's been even more relentless in his search since he found out his long, lost grandson,” the blonde spit the word out as though it were an infectious disease, “is among us.” Rindou could have sworn he saw the teen's eyes flash red for a moment but didn't give it a second thought as something else clicked into place.

 

“That's rich,” his tone filled with a bizarre mixture of malice and mirth. “The Takatori heir is standing before my eyes trying to convince me to betray my team.” His wrist flicked in a motion faster than the human eye should be able to track, releasing one of the razor-sharp cards towards the blonde's throat. To say he was shocked when said card was pinned to the ground by one of the archer's darts would have been a severe understatement. No one had ever - ever - countered his weapon before. Dodging he could have maybe believed; it had happened before, as seldom as it was. For the teen to have intercepted it with such apparent ease… inconceivable.

 

“I am not the Takatori heir!” Omi's voice was so hard, so filled with unconcealed hatred and disgust, that Rindou could almost believe him, almost; what he heard next, though, made him doubt everything he had known for the last two years. “That demon plotted to kill my team and another eight months ago; he didn't completely succeed, but he came damn close. Those of us who were left behind… We, more than anyone, want to see that piece of shit suffer a painfully slow death as his world crumbles down before him.” The blonde's voice struggled to even out after the outburst; his attempts to calm himself were palpable if the slight trembling in the tense frame was anything to go by.

 

Rindou was not a stupid man; he could feel the air thicken around him, and he wasn't so insecure as to deny the fear that shot through him. This time he was sure he had seen red overwhelm the blue of Omi's eyes.

 

“I believe you,” Rindou finally found his voice noting absently that he hadn't managed to keep the tremor from it, not that he had really tried. No one, absolutely no one, could fake that brand of unadulterated hatred; he was certain that the young man before him passionately abhorred Takatori and everything for which the name represented, all in spite of the fact that Saijou was likely his last, living relative. Though I highly doubt he considers the man family in any sense of the word, the green haired man reflected, his cautious eyes trained on Omi, afraid that he may have forfeited his life with his earlier assumption.

 

The blonde studied the man before him, trying to gage the truth in hazel depths. He could easily read the remnants of panic shining in the still slightly widened eyes. He also saw naked honesty reflected back from that gaze and felt his overly tense muscles relax into a less defensive stance. Rindou seemed to sense the subtle change and relaxed his posture as well. There were still things that needed to be said, but there was no longer any lingering sense of a possible battle. Weapons had been slipped back into their niches at some point, as well.

 

“The others on your team,” Omi started after an indefinably too long and altogether too short moment. “I don't know if they're aware of La Mort's connection to Kritiker and Takatori, but they're a threat to us…” he trailed off knowing that the older assassin would understand what he wasn't saying.

 

“How can you know that for certain?” Rindou wanted to know. He was understandably skeptical on this particular point. Who's to say I'm the only one? was what he had really wanted to ask, but it was clear that Omi recognized the underlying question. The look in hazel eyes all but gave it away.

 

“I don't know beyond all doubt that the rest of Weiss isn't just as in the dark on the matter as you are…” The blonde paused before continuing, making sure that the older man was still willing to listen. “But I trust my source implicitly. There is absolutely no chance of your teammates turning.” He raised a palm in the universal `stop' gesture, forestalling any comments or arguments until he was finished. “I wasn't given any details, and I didn't ask for reasons that, if you decide to join us, will become crystal clear. Whether or not Shion, Ayame and Azami know the truth behind their orders is irrelevant. They will remain in current capacity unless they are eliminated. You are the only one who will even consider altering fate.”

 

That the teen would use such a word gave Rindou pause, making him suspect, on some level, the true natures of some of the kid's allies. He knew very well what Esset represented; anyone in living in Japan and in their chosen profession over the last two years had at least heard stories of what Esset was. He said that some of his allies were dissenters from Esset…

 

Forest green hair shadowed hazel eyes as he looked down at the seemingly innocuous dart embedded in the death card he had thrown only minutes before. He hadn't even realized that was the card he had drawn as it tended to only appear when killing a target and not when he was in an unexpected situation such as this.

 

Rindou was well versed in tarot and knew what the card actually meant. People were ignorant, though, and often took it at face value. He let them believe what they wanted while he used its meaning to condone his actions. He was a bringer of change, eliminating from this world all those who would do nothing more than allow society to stagnate in all its greed and selfishness - the world in which people such as Takatori thrived.

 

It had never been turned back to him before, and he had to wonder at that. It was obvious that the group with which Omi associated was fighting for personal reasons, but he had never seen such fiery conviction in anyone he had ever come across. The blonde wasn't taking up someone else's cause and running with it; he had his own cause, and it sounded as though the young man's teammates did as well. Their ultimate goal may have been the same, but the reasons they were swimming so hard against the current must have been their own; no one could display such unbridled passion for something unless it was what they, themselves, desired. The people the blonde represented had to have the same desire, regardless of the motivation. Otherwise, Omi would not have been with them; that much was obvious to Rindou, as he could plainly see the blonde was no one's fool.

 

He kept his gaze on the card for a moment longer; he had never considered using the cards to determine his own fate, but he would do so now. Lifting his head, he saw Omi patiently waited for him to speak. The teen wouldn't be waiting much longer. Rindou had already made his decision; he would follow the path the card had laid before him. It didn't matter that his reasons for wanting Takatori Saijou dead may differ from the reasons of Omi and his companions. All that mattered was that, that group was actively pursuing an end, an end he was bound and determined to see through by his own convictions.

 

“Then I will help you alter the course of fate,” Rindou finally spoke, his hazel appearing a deep green as the light scattering from the grass and his hair reflected off them. The two men then collected their weapons from the ground, not another word passing between them. There was an unspoken trust filtering through the air. A strange bond had formed between the two, unlikely allies; it was tenuous at best, but it was there, and it was enough that they would eventually build something stronger - as friends and as brothers-in-arms.

 

As they silently sat down in the edge of the clearing - there were still things to discuss - Omi smiled. It had taken just under two hours to fulfill his objective; Crawford would be extremely pleased at the success as it would bring them one step closer to the end of the war into which they had been thrust. He would first let the precog know that everything had worked out advantageously. The archer already knew what would need to be done for the attack on the remaining members of Weiss. Once Crawford was informed of the situation, Omi would let Rindou in on the plan.

 

Today's turning out to be a halfway decent day, after all, the blonde reflected as he pulled out the small mission communicator he had brought with him. Not even the storm clouds rolling in would change his mind; it wasn't everyday that things went even the slightest bit well for him, and he wouldn't let anything ruin that.

 

----------------------------------------------------------------- -------

 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Schuldig's voice was soft in that simmering rage sort of way that made one feel as though a snake was about to strike its prey. Ran was feeling profoundly grateful that he wasn't on the receiving end of that particular glare. Actually, he was rather interested in the answer to that question, as well. The redhead wasn't anywhere near as enraged as the telepath, but he was more than a little angry. A quick glance to the other occupants of the room told him that Nanami and Yuushi felt much the way he did. Crawford had slipped into that cold, collected place where there was no hope of discerning what he felt.

 

“There was only one possibility of surviving this mission with everyone alive,” the American replied, his tone seemed completely unreadable. “Omi was the only one who could ensure that future; he went to take care of it.” Ran, however, was becoming rather adept at reading Crawford.

 

“Assuming he can manage that, correct?” Violet eyes narrowed, showing that the swordsman understood the implied non-statement. Crawford had the decency to drop the cold act and let them see that he just as worried about their absent teammate.

 

“This was the only way I could see us winning with no real casualties,” the precog explained. “Every other scenario I saw ended in at least one of our deaths before we succeeded, if we succeeded at all.” By the end of the brief explanation, everyone else had calmed to some extent in that they were no longer directing any hostility towards the American. That didn't lessen their worry any, however.

 

“You and Omi should have discussed this with the rest of us,” Yuushi put in. “One of us could have kept on eye on him. Now we have no way of knowing whe-” the rest of his words were cut off by the familiar beep of a headset not set in silent mode. The sound startled everyone but Crawford. They almost never took the things out of silent mode.

 

“Then everything is set for tonight,” the American appeared to be clarifying whatever he had heard after putting on the communications device. He stopped speaking and tilted his head in an unconscious approximation of listening. “Good,” the brunette eventually responded. There was another pause in which Crawford seemed to go into a trance. “Everything will work out to the best of my knowledge. We'll see you in,” he paused to look at his watch. “Seven hours, twenty-three minutes.” The American removed the headset and flipped the small switch that placed it in silent mode.

 

“I assume that was Omi,” Schuldig drawled once Crawford returned his attention to the others in the room. “I take it he finished whatever it is he was supposed to do, so why is it that it didn't sound like he's coming back?”

 

“Because he's not,” the American replied easily. “He will, however, be present for our attack on Weiss,” he didn't hesitate to add.

 

“How is that going to work?” Nanami spoke up for the first time since they had gathered. “We haven't even planned the mission, yet. We could completely end up tripping over him if we don't know where he's positioned. Something like that could give us away. Why take the risk instead of having him come back here?”

 

“Omi and I planned everything this morning before he left,” Crawford informed them, somewhat sidestepping the question, as he pulled up the mission schematic on Omi's laptop. Everyone moved closer to see the screen, having no trouble making sense of the plan after their years of experience.

 

“Wait,” Ran spoke up. “I see where the rest of us are going to be and all the places that Weiss could possibly come in, but you don't have Omi's position marked.” As much as I don't want to deal with the unavoidable outburst, Crawford thought. It will be much easier to tell them now than to have one of them mistakenly attack Omi.

 

Five minutes later, Crawford was pleasantly surprised. Only Schuldig had tried to argue against the plan; the American had only received varying levels of glares from the others. Once he explained enough of what he had seen, though not everything, they had grudgingly agreed that the plan was better than an all out assault on assassins who were just as capable as they were.

 

“My biggest problem with this whole thing is that we'll have no idea as to whether or not Omi is even going to show up until he gets within my telepathic range,” the German eventually said after only he and Crawford remained. They still had a few minutes before they needed to start their pre-mission mediations.

 

“He'll be there,” the brunette had every confidence in the teen's abilities.

 

“You can't know that,” Schuldig retorted. “Any number of things could happen that would prevent him from being there. This whole plan is based on the assumption that something you can't account for doesn't happen.” The American gave an uncharacteristic sigh before responding.

 

“I know,” he said. “But this plan is the only thing that keeps us all alive.” Schuldig's golden gaze leveled on him. “Don't give me that look, Schuldig. I spent the better part of the morning tracing possible futures. Doing this is the only way it will work.”

 

“Look, Brad,” the telepath nearly growled. “Cut the shit. There's no reason that splitting the team like this should work any better or worse than if we were all together. I stopped protesting earlier because it's obvious that your hiding something… something big.” It went unspoken that that generally mean someone, in this case Omi, would be facing their death. “I know you like to keep your visions to yourself, and I have no problem in trusting in you judgment; neither do the others. But damn it!” Schuldig slammed his open palm onto the bed, his face red with frustration and anger. “If something goes wrong, if something happens to Omi…” he couldn't finish the sentence. The German had no idea where all the anxiety was coming from, only that it was a familiar pain that he could neither identify nor recall what had previously caused it.

 

“Fine,” Crawford relented, recognizing that which Schuldig could not. “I didn't want to say anything on the chance that it doesn't play out like I've seen; someone still has two equally probable futures, and it's not any of us, Omi included.”

 

“What does that mean?” the olive haired man finally asked, accepting on faith that the archer's life wasn't in the balance. “As long as we complete the mission with everyone in tact, why would it matter that someone else may or may not die?”

 

“That, Schuldig,” the precog started. “Is something I can't tell you… For the same reasons I couldn't tell anyone about what would happen to Omi and Naru in Canada.” Crawford paused, debating on whether or not to tack on a cryptic word of warning. “Just remember,” he eventually stated. “That you trust Omi.” The German gave the man a look that plainly asked the precog if he had lost his mind.

 

“You know I do,” was the short response before both men settled into their meditative stances, preparing their minds for battle that would take place in a few, short hours.

 

TBC

 

AN: I got the descriptions of the first Weiss from the cover of `Dramatic Precious 3rd Stage'. I know I only got to Rindou in this chapter, but I thought I should mention something so I can be corrected if I mixed anyone up. Shion was easy… he was the only one of them on the front cover. Rindou wasn't too hard, because I could tell he was holding a card in his hand, which meant he was the green haired guy. This is where I'm having a problem… Azami and Ayame. The one in the back with pitch black hair looks like he's holding a violin, but I can't quite make it out, so it very well could be a boomerang; that leaves me to assume the guy smoking is Ayame. If someone knows, please let me know. I'm making up their eye colors. Also, I've actually read translations of the Dramatic Precious Albums, and yes, I know I'm fudging a bit on the whole La Mort thing, but this is fan fiction, so…