Groggily the dark headed boy kicked back the covers of his bed at the sound of a pounding at the door of his home. At first he had thought he was experiencing a very bad headache, but found soon enough that this was not so when an impatient voice came from the other side of the front door. The pounding continued giving Ken Hidaka the motivation he needed to get up and out of bed to answer the door. Dressed only in boxers, his hair in total disarray, Ken padded out into the cold hallway, hands rubbing away the sleep from his eyes and stifling a yawn. He opened the door.
The reception he got from the brooding person on his doorstep caused Ken to smile sheepishly. His cute grin failed to even crack a ghost of a smile onto the face of Aya Fujimiya. Instead the redhead scowled and glared at the younger boy. He raised an inquiring eyebrow at Ken's current state and what he wore - well, what he barely had on. Giving a nervous laugh, the dark headed boy grabbed his dressing gown that hung conveniently at the coat stand behind the front door. Hastily he donned it on and stepped to one side to allow Aya in. The older boy did not budge and continued to glower mutely at him.
Ken rolled his eyes impatiently, crossing his arms across his chest. "OK, OK, so I overslept," he said. Still no response from the guy. "What?! It's a weekend. I need a decent night's sleep," Ken objected as though Aya had said anything.
"You were meant to go with Omi to deliver those Rhododendrons," Aya prompted accusingly. He was not impressed when he saw the very slow recognition appear on the younger boys face. Clearly it had slipped his mind.
"Damn! I forgot," Ken said, slapping his forehead and smiling lamely. Aya blinked once before turning towards his car.
"Obviously," came the flat, dry response. "Just get to the store when you've sorted yourself out," he instructed, getting into his white Porsche and starting the engine.
"Uh, right," Ken called, but by then the Porsche had sped away down the road leaving a trial of smoke as the tires burned rubber.
Meticulously he rolled the sleeves of his shirt roughly up to his elbows, delving his hands into a large bag containing compost and applying it to a tall plant beside him. A soft rustling sound caught the attention of his highly trained ears. Instantly his hand came to where he hid his weapon. Eyes darting back and forth, Youji Kudou tightly gripped his harigane, silently listening, waiting. The rustling sound continued from behind a dense mass of rose bushes. His honed instincts timed the assault accurately, stunning his supposed assailant, deftly holding the wire against his neck.
Omi gave a yell of surprise, reaching into his short pockets for his darts. "Youji-kun, it's me!" he said, struggling to be free from the position Youji held him it.
The tall assassin cursed in disgust and put his weapon away. "The hell's wrong with you, Omi?!"
"I dropped my pruning scissors amongst the rose bushes, so I deserve to be attacked?" the high school boy replied acidly. "Gee, I wonder who fell off the wrong side of the bed today?"
CONTINUE OR DISCONTINUE
