Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Yohji's Bad Day ❯ Yamamoto's ( Chapter 3 )

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

So now we are in my car, as usual. Heading to a club, which including Ken in the formula, is not so usual.

The ride is silent, except for the occasional question by Ken about the "mission."

"What's the target's name?" He asks.

Time to improvise! "Uh…Naito…Taro…Taro Naito, that's right."

"And what's he look like?"

"Look like?" I echo.

"Yeah."

"He's, uh…tall…and has…green hair…."

"Green hair?" Ken muses, "That's good. He should be easy to spot then."

"Yep!" Please don't ask any more questions, please don't ask…

"Anything else distinctive?"

Damn! "A…tattoo! He's got a tattoo…on his back!"

"Oh great!" Ken persists, "What's it of?"

OhforChristsake! I panic and look out the window for inspiration.

"A tree!"

"A tree??" Ken looks surprised. "That's an unusual symbol for a criminal to pick. Trees seem so peaceful.…"

"It's a tree with skulls on it!" I cut in. A tree with skulls on it?! What the hell am I thinking?! "It's the gang symbol!"

"The gang symbol?"

"Yeah. Because the drugs come from plants…and cause death…and…stuff."

"Oh." Ken seems to be thinking about something. "That still seems awfully weird…Heh, maybe the gang was high when they came up with it."

"Yeah, that's probably it!"

I want to drive my car right off the road. What the fuck is wrong with me tonight? That was the lamest job of lying I've ever attempted to pull in my life. Why did I suddenly get so nervous?!

Ah well, no use worrying about it now. Ken bought it, and has thankfully gone back to his thoughtful silence….

Well, he did for about ten minutes, anyway.

"So what's the plan?" He asks.

"Plan?"

"Yeah, How are we supposed to deal with Naito? Do we take out just him, or more of the gang too? Do we need to pick up information? Evidence? Did Kritiker give any special instructions?"

What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Shit Ken, since when were you ever this thorough?

"We just watch for him, and establish that he's the right target. He frequents this club, but there's no knowing if he'll be there tonight or not. Very low profile, you know?"

"'kay."

Brilliant! There's no way we'll see anyone who matches that description! I can just pretend he didn't show, and tomorrow Kritiker will conveniently 'call the mission off.'

Damn. Remind me to never try lying to Ken again….

I am beyond relief when the blinking neon of 'Yamamoto's' pulls into view.

"And here we are!" Ugh, my voice sounded entirely too cheerful just now. I need a drink.

Ken innocently follows me into the club. We have barely even made it through the front door before we are already confronted by a pair of skanky guys making out by a plastic palm tree. Ken just glances at me and raises an eyebrow. Thankfully he doesn't say anything. I neglected to mention to him that Yamamoto's is a gay club, you see.

We go straight to the bar. Ken thinks it's so we can quietly watch for suspects. It's really because I think I'll have a nervous breakdown any second now if I don't get some liquor in me.

"Scotch, straight up."

"And for you sir?" The bartender turns and looks expectantly at Ken.

Ken seems caught off guard. "I'll have…er, what he's having….but with ice."

Ken, drinking scotch? This ought to be good.

Our drinks are quickly presented, and I watch with great interest as Ken takes his first sip. His eyes go a bit wide, and he signals for the bartender to come back. He blushes and asks for more ice. God, he can be so adorable sometimes.

An hour passes, and we have barely even said anything to each other. Ken's too busy scanning the room for traces of Naito, and I…well I've been watching Ken. So far he hasn't spent any prolonged amount of time looking at anyone. Not even when this shirtless stud sat next to us at the bar! How am I supposed to figure out what his type is like when he doesn't even check anybody out? This is hopeless.

I glance at the counter in front of us. I have accumulated around six or so empty glasses. Ken is still working on his first one, not to mention a cup of melted ice (I think the melted ice is getting two sips to every one of scotch.) I had better do something before I order another drink and pass out.

"We ought to be holding a conversation." I tell him, "It'll look less suspicious then us just sitting here staring around the room."

"Oh, you're right! Sorry, I was too caught up watching for him to think of how we might look!"

Now, if only I could come up with something to talk about.

"So…."

"Yeah…umm…"

Ther e's a few seconds pause. Ken seems to be concentrating on something.

"Did you know that 'A-r-r-r-g' is not a playable word in Pro Scrabble, but 'A-a-r-g-h', 'A-a-r-r-g-h', and 'A-r-r-g-h-h' are?"

"Um, no…I can't say that I did."

"You can't play the word 'Crackheads' either. Weird, huh?"

I don't even want to know how he knows that. Time for me to take over this conversation.

"What type of movies do you like?"

He thinks for a second. "Hm, I don't watch movies too often…but I think I like comedies best."

"Hey so do I!" Score! Something in common (that's not related to killing people I mean.) "I saw this great comedy last week! It was called 'Keitaro's Finger' or something like that…This guy was fighting a league of evil villainesses, and he had to kill them by having sex with them! Only they couldn't show his essentials, if-ya-know-what-I-mean, so they super-imposed this picture of him in a dog suit over his crotch! It was hilarious! And whenever he got turned on, the man in the dog suit would sit up and beg--"

"Yohji!!!" Ken is turning red again. "That isn't a comedy, it's a porno!"

"It was too a comedy! What, have you seen it?"

"NO!!!" Ken looks really uncomfortable. "I mean, I don't…er.…" He coughs a bit and then falls silent.

I think I've messed with him enough for the moment. I'll give him a few minutes to himself.

I'm surprised when Ken breaks the silence before I do.

"Um, Yohji?" He looks particularly fidgety at the moment.

"Yeah?"

"Er, judging by the type of place this club appears to be and all…."

Uh-oh…. "Yeah?"

"Does that mean…we're supposed to be…posing as…" His voice is steadily dropping lower, "…a, er, couple?"

I throw my arms around his neck. "OH! Kenken, I thought you'd never ask!!!"

Seriously, he looks like he's about to sink into the floor. You'd think he would have gotten used to my sense of humor by now.

In a much lower voice I add, "It's your call. If you'd rather get hit on by strangers, it's ok with--"

"No! I mean, it's ok. I'm fine with…you know. Just wanted to get it out in the open, that's all."

As if to prove his point, he scoots his stool a bit closer and grabs a hold of my arm. He's actually hanging on a bit too tightly. I think the suggestion of the other people at this club hitting on him was a bit unnerving. This place is a bit seedy.

Another long stretch of uncomfortable silence….

"So…you wanna dance?"