Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Walking Your Own Path ❯ Burning Embers, Hidden Trap ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter 3: Burning Embers, Hidden Trap.

On the outsides, things did not seem to change. Yohji smiled and chatted with animated charm that dazzled women of all ages, while a stoic Aya systematically arranged flower bouquets and handed them to his customers, usually doe-eyed girls with blushing, adoring, smiles. Omi was still unable to show his face, bruised and marred by angry red welts and lacerations, so he stayed in his room, much to the dismay of the younger girls that crowded anxiously around Yohji, demanding an explanation for this unprecedented disappearance. The excuse was, Yohji explained, that 'poor Omi-kun' was out with a bad strain of the flu, and thus unable to receive visitors; instead, heaps of 'get well' flowers and cards were sent to him in a profusion of fragrance and crackling plastic wrappers.

So on the outside, things didn't seem to change…Omi sighed, carefully inspecting a dart with careful precision, testing the gleaming point of the thin blade before slipping it into a hidden pocket at his sleeve. He wouldn't be going into the viper's pit unarmed, at least, Omi thought grimly. Secreted on various parts of his person were an assortment of darts and thin stilettos that could easily slice through flesh in one smooth, clean thrust. Satisfied that he was as heavily armed as possible, he turned to examine his face in the mirror and felt the first twinge of unease.

In Japan, a blonde with blue eyes was far too conspicuous, too exotic. Aya would help make some subtle changes on his appearances, a touch of brown dye in the hair, gray contacts; in fact, he should be here any minute. There was a quiet knock at the door and without waiting for an invitation, Yohji walked into the room, his usual grin slightly forced. "Omi, sit down. I'm going to do a makeover on you."

"Nani?!" Omi asked, a little suspiciously, "What happened to Aya?"

Yohji shrugged before gesturing the younger boy to sit on the floor as he explained, "Aya doesn't feel comfortable with you going into the building without a little more background information-"

"But I already checked on the background info and layout yesterday!" Omi protested vehemently, a little hurt. "What, you guys think I've lost my mind too?"

Yohji glared at him, stilling the resentment that was evident in Omi's face as he reminded, "You haven't exactly been acting normal around here, Omi! Can you blame Aya and me for being a little worried about you? Especially since you insist on going without us…we're going to make sure you're as safe as possible…and it's not like Kritiker gives a damn what happens to any of us, anyway." Yohji added, a trifle cynically.

"If Aya were going on the mission alone-"

"Then what would you be doing the whole night before?" Yohji challenged, "You forget; you're talking about people that actually know you, kid. I don't recall you getting any sleep the night before Aya decided to try his hand at human chess! And didn't you hack into Takatori Reiji's scheduling plans so that Aya would know precisely where his target was when the time came? How long did that take you, three days?"

Omi dropped his eyes from Yohji's penetrating gaze, a little ashamed at his own selfishness. He had been so concerned about his newfound independence, trying so hard to show Aya and Yohji, and maybe even that little part of himself that was always wondering, that he wasn't just any little child any more, that he was as good as any of them. But in he had forgotten one very important thing: there was more to Weiss than missions and teamwork. Weiss was family.

And family took care of one another.

"Yohji…I-"

"Omi no baka…" Yohji muttered, but his voic e held no rancor in it as he tipped up Omi's bowed head. "You may be all grown up, Omi, but we're not used to it yet, so at least pretend that you still listen to Aya and me, okay kid? Hell, the only one that may have noticed it was Ken, and he didn't say anything... though everyone sorta guessed by the way he was staring at you outta the corner of his eye." Yohji chuckled slightly, "Damn kids. And they say that us older guys have trouble expressing our emotions…"

The door creaked open, causing the two blondes to turn guiltily under Aya's violet-eyed glare as the redhead stepped into the room. Frowning slightly, Aya folded his arms at his chest. "You haven't started?"

"Yeah, well…" Yohji grinned and leapt to his feet, giving Aya a sound slap on the back. His clown's façade was back in place as he shrugged and waved cheerfully, walking out the door. "I figured if I waited a few minutes, you'd be up here anyway, so we wouldn't have to worry over whether I accidentally screwed up the hair dye and turned the kid's hair green instead of brown. Meanwhile, no one's minding the shop…and all those pretty ladies are just waiting to meet my acquaintance, so…Aya, I leave Omi to your tender ministrations."

"Yohji?"

The taller man paused, turning his head slightly. "Yeah, kid?"

"Arigato…"

For a moment, there was silence before Yohji merely shrugged, pushing his shades up as a slight grin played around his mouth. "Whatever."

***

The victims are picked up on the dark streets and alleyways at night in a large white van…usually in the Fukagawa District…notorious for its yotoka, prostitutes of all ages. Children that choose this life are those that have been disowned or orphaned…so they will have no family or friends to note their absence and demand an investigation. The only ones that know what happens are the others that roam the streets with them, but when they try to file reports, authorities refuse to do anything. After all, who will listen to a whore?

Omi shuffled through the dim street, pulling his tattered jacket closer to his body against the biting winds that whispered against his bare face. His disguise had not been hard to make. Hair dye had turned his smooth locks of platinum blonde to a dirty chestnut color and contacts had dulled gleaming cerulean eyes to an insipid brown. Instead of his usual black on black, he had on jeans, torn and ripped in variety of places, a once-white shirt that stunk of fertilizer and a few things that Yohji had advised, "You don't want to know, so don't ask," and a ratty jacket that had so many holes that it did not block out the wind at all. The rest was easy. They had not even had to fake the shadows under his eyes or the gaunt look about his face and body; three months of tears and recriminations had done their job for them.

Yohji had still been disturbed by Omi's less than hideous appearance, afraid that he would be kidnapped off the streets until, Omi reminded them patiently, that was what they were trying to do after all. Still, it had been quite an uphill battle refusing to let Yohji hide the delicate bone structure of his face with pounds upon pounds of makeup and he might not have succeeded at all, until Aya finally stepped in and told the playboy assassin very firmly, "No."

And that was that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Omi could see a slow moving car coming behind him, the engine chugging lazily and he shuddered involuntarily, pulling the tattered jacket closer around his frail body. It was white, and the driver was driving much too slowly…Was this the one? It must be…it could be no other.

"Oi, child!" Omi stopped obediently, as the car sidled to a halt by the side of the road. He schooled his face into features of complete exhaustion, forlorn sadness, as if the light of hope had been extinguished from his very being.

Turning his head slightly, he mumbled, "Hai, de gozaru…what pleases you?" He didn't even have to feign the hoarse, cracked quality of his voice as he peered up through his tumbledown bangs at the taller man. He was not a heavyset man, perhaps of even slender. Yet there were slight bulges of muscle and hard calluses on his fingers that gave lie to his deceptive appearance of defenseless sincerity. Even his smile was wide, seemed genuine, almost as if he was really sympathetic and concerned for this random child on the streets. But the eyes always told the truth.

And this man…his eyes were as dead as stagnant water.

"Child, you are far from home tonight!"

Omi shuffled slowly around, keeping his features hidden as he ducked his head, seemingly in defeat. "I have no home, de gozaru. These streets are my room, my house, and the benches, my bed. The sun, the moon; they are my only lamplight so that I may sell my wares. Do I interest you?"

He didn't even have to turn around to hear the sliver of revulsion, disgust that the other man could not conceal quickly enough. "No…no, you do not. I mean, not in that way…"

"I am not too young, de gozaru. I have been taught how to pleasure a woman. Or a man." Omi let a measure of desperation steal into his voice as he moved forward, gripping the other's spotless sleeve with his dirt encrusted hands. "It is cheap, sir; only a few yen-"

"Stop!" The other man yanked away, causing Omi to stumble a few steps, eyes wild with feigned fright, but in his mind's voice, he was chanting a different tune entirely. Please let him believe me. Please let this work…it has to work! Please let him believe me…and the unspoken plea would loop into another circle. Omi forced his feet to step back, one at a time, when all he wanted to do was force this man to take him to the Black Hand, but he could not seem too eager.

The fly had to come to the spider.

As he hoped, the man recovered quickly, putting out a detaining hand on his shoulder and smiled, his kindness more forced than before, Omi noticed privately. "Oi, did I scare you? I apologize, child-"

"Not that much of a child, sir." Omi reminded in a small voice.

"Err…of course. However, this life is much too hard on one of your…delicate nature. I work for a business. A business that helps people such as you, gives them a cause to live for. I can take you away from this-" A careless hand waved over the flickering lights and dirty streets of Fukagawa. "-and make you something more."

"Something more, de gozaru?" Longing quavered on knifepoint with healthy suspicion in Omi's voice, and he prayed that the Black Hand agent could not sense the cynicism in the brown eyes he turned back up at the man. Something more indeed; he had seen this 'something more', felt it under Yoko's heavy hand. His bruises and lacerations were from this 'something more' that the agent spoke of.

Ken had left because of it.

"But I-"

"Come come, I don't have much time to waste." There was a steel-edged impatience in the man's voice, a restlessness that was barely hidden by his concerned façade. The fingers on his jacket tightened and began persuasively tugging the younger boy towards the waiting van. "I'll take you somewhere warm; feed you up a little, eh? You'd like that wouldn't you, being that you're nothing more than skin and bones!" Omi nodded slowly, dragging his feet unenthusiastically as the man pulled open the heavy doors of the van with a rusty squeal.

"Here boy, get in!"

Omi only had time to see wide, terrified eyes staring out at him from huddled forms before he was yanked back, his cry of alarm muffled by a heavy hand clamping a kerchief around his nose and mouth.

Chloroform, He identified immediately, mixed in with something else…

Then, the world went black.

***

Aoshi grinned in satisfaction as the young boy slump in his arms, slender muscles relaxing under the affects of the drugs.

"That was easy," He muttered, then wrinkled his nose in disgust. This stripling in his arms reeked; how long had he gone unwashed? Someone cried out and Aoshi turned smoldering eyes on the children. "Urasai!" He barked harshly, "Shut up and I won't kill you. Yet." His lips parted in an ugly smile. "You do as I say and we all get along. You do anything funny…"

Sobs were quickly muffled and a girl's voice emerged from the dark shadows of the van. What was once a pretty soprano was cracked harshly, the sweetness of youth steeped with bitterness and quiet defiance. "You aren't very nice. We don't like you…you're a bad man to steal little children. You don't even take care of them. They're afraid, you shouldn't-"

"Shaddap!" Aoshi snarled, the last façade of kindness fading from the harsh lines of his face. He threw his latest catch into the fetid storage, the boy's frail body cracked painfully against the aluminum frame as he was slammed to the van floor. "Just take care that the brats don't scream, bitch. Remember, I don't need them. If I have to kill this pack of squealing pigs, that means that I'll just take more of you trash from the streets. It doesn't matter to me; I still get paid."

Shimmering sea-green eyes filled with tears and the young girl bit her trembling pink lip. "Papa wouldn't have let you do this-"

Aoshi smirked, "Then isn't it wonderful that Papa isn't here to stop me? Even if he was still alive, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it, you little idiot. Now keep them quiet!"

Bodies squirmed frantically away from the looming shadow, converging around the tattered skirts of the slightly older girl in a shuffle of forlorn whimpers and shivers. In response, the girl pulled them closer around her, cooing lightly to them as the van doors slammed, throwing everything once more into the stifling silence. In a moment, the van sputtered to life, jerking its inhabitants roughly around the small space as they made their way through the streets once more.

As the vehicle made its way down the streets, the children gradually quieted under the girl's almost tender croons, curling up into groups of three and four as they attempted to warm themselves in the un-insulated van. When everything was silent but for the occasional sniffle or weeping, the girl finally crawled towards Omi's still form, her eyes curious.

She poked his arm, whispering loudly, "Are you dead?" A muffled groan made her sit back on her heels to think. "Not dead." She decided. She pushed her matted blue hair from her face, then crossed her legs to sit down with a small thump. Carefully, she turned him over on his back, arranging his arms and legs more comfortably in a sleeping position. His face was scraped raw in some places and the girl peered closer at him. A shaft of light peeked through the window on the door, illuminating his face briefly and she gasped, springing back from him, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

"Weiss," She hissed. For a second, she groped for a weapon that she no longer had, then wrinkled her nose when she found nothing but sleeping bodies within her reach. Slowly, she sat back down a ways back, never taking her eyes away from the boy. She giggled suddenly.

"Stinks," She commented, then cuddled a ragged doll in her arms. The thing was old; one of the black button eyes drooping forlornly from a few threads and the once lustrous fur was oily and dirty from misuse. " For a minute she didn't speak, lost in thought. Then she shrugged prosaically and settled against the jouncing wall of the van, murmuring softly to the doll, "No…we shouldn't kill Weiss, Mr. Rabbit. Not yet. Maybe Weiss can help us get back to Papa…"

And Tot smiled.

***

Ken walked the length of his room, then with meticulous care, made a one hundred and eighty degree angle turn and retraced his steps. He felt like a trapped cat, his muscles tense and coiled to do something. By now, Manx would have gotten the information to Weiss and they would be carrying out the mission at the Black Hand Headquarters. All he could do was wait. He snorted, impatient with himself as he wheeled around again.

And what was he waiting for? Whether Weiss succeeded or not, he would never know. Not unless he went back to the flower shop tomorrow and that was not an option. The memories would be intolerable; memories of the shyly opening geranium buds as they turned in their pots towards the sun. Memories of the spotless, tiled floor and glass display cabinets that housed the newly budded plants…Memories of Aya and Yohji bickering over the care of this plant or that shrub…memories of Weiss.

He sighed, slouching against the wall dejectedly. It's all for the good. He reminded himself silently, trying to ignore the insistent voice at the back of his mind. I can't risk his life again; just being with him is…it's too distracting for both of us. It would have gotten him killed eventually…

It's better this way.

Suddenly the phone shrilled harshly and he lunged at it, grabbing at the receiver eagerly. "Manx?"

There was a nasty chuckle. "No, koi. It's just me." The voice sent chills down Ken's spine, making him grip the telephone tighter in his fist.

"You-!!"

"Now now, don't you want to hear what I'm going to say?" There was a cloying sweetness to his tone, dripping like rancid honey. "I'm missing my wallet; it seems to have gone missing in your friend's little store. How strange…if I didn't know better, I would have thought that someone had stolen it from me and given the information to the other little rats down in their hidey-hole of a flowershop. That would be really annoying; after all, all my money was in there."

Ken gritted his teeth as the man laughed again. Don't you ever stop laughing, you sonofabitch? And how the hell did you find out?! "I don't know what you're talking about," He spat out. "Why the fuck would I give your wallet to a flower sellers?"

"Well, that's a good question; why don't you tell me? But I wouldn't take too long to ponder the question. Your biker friend is maybe getting a little hot under the collar…"

"Stay away from Yuriko!" Ken yelled and the other man exploded in laughter.

"The customer is always right, isn't that what the real truth is? And I am unsatisfied with the service, so I decided to return the package to the little lady…and send her straight to hell."

"NO!"

But Yoko only laughed harder, his voice losing its saccharine sweetness as he taunted shrilly, "Who will you choose, little rat? The girl? Or that charming little boy-toy that my man Aoshi tells me he has found? Do you know he thought contacts and hair dye would change his appearance enough? Little fool, little fool, to trust that information that I planted in my wallet. He will make an excellent ornament chained to my bed, wouldn't he?"

"Omi…"

Savagely, Ken flung the telephone at the wall, causing pieces of wire and chip to spring free from the plastic casing, pelting his face and chest. Already breathing hard, he ran down the stairs and jumped on his bike, speeding towards the bike shop.

It couldn't be.

But it was.

The inferno that used to be the shop cast a shadow of smoke and ash into the air, stirring in the wind like an angry cloud. The bikes, the parts, the shop that Yuriko had so lovingly shone and displayed were black with char and grease, and even as he watched, part of the roof buckled and collapsed, shattering glass and twisting metal with a loud shriek.

"Yuriko!!"

He hesitated. Omi was in trouble. If Weiss had taken his advice, Omi would be walking into a live trap…but he had Aya. And Yohji. Taking a deep breath, Ken plunged into the store, the flames enveloping his jacket like the tongues of a hungry dragon.

Aya, Yohji, take care of Omi…

I'll be right there.

tbc…

Author's note: err…Heh heh…Cliffhanger kinda. Yeah sorry. I haven't had time to write lately…that and no inspiration make for a bad couple. I'll try not to take another few months to write the next chapter tho!! ^_~ Please review minna…*smiles hopefully* arigato.