The soccer ball sat quietly on the bed, waiting, waiting. Waiting for someone to pick it up and kick it. Someone to use it to play soccer. Anyone, anyone at all. Just waiting.
Sunlight streamed through the closed window. It was a fair day in September, and the leaves were just beginning to turn colors. The blue Gentian leaned towards the bright light, absorbing energy. Its radiant colors were the joy of Ken's hard work. The soil around the young stem was brittle, and it stood, waiting for the water that would quench its thirst. Ken never neglected to water his prize. And so it waited.
But where was Ken? The soccer ball didn't know. And certainly the flower in its white and blue clay pot did not know. Not even Aya knew. The motorcycle, Ken, and some of his belongings were gone. Not a trace of life was left in his room.
"Station 4," Ken told the cashier at the gas station. Paying for the gas, he left to the open road. Only he knew where he was going, and he didn't even know why he left. Things were getting to him, the nights, the days, the work. Everything. And he didn't know why.
Goggles on, gloves on, bike on, he cruised down the seemingly interminable narrow road. There were no others for quite some time. The last vehicle, which was a blue station wagon, passed him in the other direction about fifteen minutes ago. He paused near a sign, then sped off.
Omi checked his email constantly, waiting for a message of some sort to come in from Ken. Then he would get off and wait for a phone call. He only had one line, but Ken could always call Yoji or Aya. Yet Omi wasn't so sure he would try that if he didn't want to talk to them. They had had a row the other night on a mission. Omi thought perhaps that was why he left. Nevertheless, he knew he would forgive them in a moment's time. But why hadn't he returned?
Aya was in his room, staring dully out into space. He didn't know why Ken had left, either, and also had the guilty feeling that it might've been his doing. He did not touch the phone, and waited, as the soccer ball, the flower, and Omi had waited.
Yoji had lain down on the sofa about an hour ago, smoking a cigarette and watching tv. He complained to himself that it was too quiet, and grudgingly admitted he was part to blame. He also noted the paucity of good shows on tv at this hour in the morning, and the fact that they were all starving. None of them had eaten breakfast that morning.
By some kind of mutual agreement, Omi came out around 1:30pm in the afternoon and made some lunch that consisted of sandwiches, salad, and a watermelon. At around 2pm, the other two were at the table, eating the ham n' cheese on wheat bread sandwiches. Aya sliced the watermelon, which fortunately was seedless. [who knows where the seeds would've gone had it been seeded]
Around 5:45pm, Manx visited. Her visits were rare, but the three left were still in the clouds. Even Yoji wasn't his normal self. She noted that their performance was not superior at all without all members present. Their weakness would not be shown to Schwarz. It must be concealed.
Manx shook her head at the three sitting at the table, either stirring coffee idly, drinking highly caffienated drinks, or smoking cigarettes by the box. "Schwarz will eat you alive if you stay like this," she remarked.
Aya silently agreed and promised to himself he would shake himself out of this…when Ken came back.
"What can we do? We're a team," Omi retorted, a little upset by the little concern she was showing.
Yoji looked at Manx. Omi was right, of course. Could she reply?
"If your team is not together, what do you think the departed team member would want you to do? Kill yourselves? What then if he came back and found you all dead? Have you ever thought of that?" she said, astonished at their lack of philosophy and consideration.
They sighed as one. They had forgotten. They sat for about ten more minutes, and the clocked struck 7:30pm. Aya got up to get his katana, and Omi left to scour his room for his darts, arrows, bow gun, and crossbow. Yoji sat, wire-wristwatch permanently on, smoking his last cigarette from that particular box.
"How many boxes did you do today?" Manx questioned, a worried crease forming on her forehead.
"Two," Yoji answered, amused.
Manx sighed. They had to get away somehow, she reflected. "Promise me you won't open any more today, Yoji, please?" she begged, afraid for his health if he continued to do as he was doing now.
Yoji was laughing inside, pleased with this new type of attention, but he didn't show it to Manx. He had smoked a long, long time now, and no one could get him to quit. But Manx asked with such earnesty that she had never shown before so he promised to give it some deliberation. "Maybe."
At that, Manx stood up abruptly. "I have to go now," she explained. "Oyasumi nasai, Yoji." She walked out briskly, and disappeared into the obscure and slightly foggy light.
The sun was setting, and clouds played across the sky, threatening fog and drizzle for the night. The temperature dropped drastically, and soon it was dark. The rain came as predicted, accompanied by a little sparse lightning and thunder.
By this time, Ken had stopped at the nearest motel he could find. He wasn't too enthusiastic about staying at this dump, but where else would he stay in this rain? [Yes, he thought it was a dump. It certainly looked like a dump, a real junk yard] [Waahhhh, doesn't Ken deserve a 5-star hotel with awesome food and waiters and waitresses and room service and maids?]
The roof, made of aluminum shingles, was patched here and there in different colors. It looked leaky. It was an old motel, and what used to be white/cream aluminum siding was now reddish in certain areas with rust and wear and tear. The doors were brown and the paint was stripping from them, revealing a mustard color that probably was the original color. Ken hopped off the bike and walked to the first door on the left. A little sign with painted letters, "Welcome, Hiker Motel" "Front Desk," hung above the little blue and red door. Before he reached it, however, a little girl about ten years old came hopping out.
Her hair was light brown, sort of like Omi's but it was longer and in pigtails. She had green eyes and fair skin, and she was very thin.
"Hi! My name is Misato! How do you do? You're our only visitor!" she giggled, and beckoned him inside. "My mother will be happy to know we have someone staying!"
Ken nodded, overcome by this odd welcoming. He went inside, and a woman in her late thirties greeted him. "I see you have met my daughter. My name is Sachiko Migasushida. We live humbly enough in the house 'round back. Welcome to Hiker Motel, we hope you enjoy your stay, although there is nothing here that is pleasant at all. Would you rather stay in one of the rooms in our house or here in the motel itself?"
Ken was still a little confused by this strange atmosphere and the class of speaking these people used. Obviously they did not grow up here. They were well bred and seemed to be pretty well off. They must have had money before, and run a good motel. "I am sorry, but may I ask, which is better?"
Mrs. Migasushida smiled sadly. "Well, the motel is in a worse condition that it looks, I must say. After my husband's disappearance, we've been at all ends trying to keep it running and still put food in our stomachs."
Ken suddenly remembered Weiß. He brushed the thought away as he told Mrs. Migasushida that he'd like to see the motel rooms first before making a decision. She had Misato show him the rooms, one by one.
"Aya, do you think Ken will come back?" Omi asked him around 9pm. Aya nodded, but did not answer. Yoji was silent. They sat in the car, mute, waiting for their orders from Manx. They were supposed to go to a dance club to crash the Schwarz hideout underneath. Even Yoji did not look forward to the mess they would be in within the club, though he went to bars and the like very often.
Manx's voice came through the comset. "You need to find the back door. Be wary and as quiet as possible. There may be guards you'll have to put out."
Aya listened closely as the others strained to hear. "By 10:30pm you need to be clear of the bombs. There will be no people due to a misleading "closed" sign for remodeling. You'll need the points on the screen as to where to place the bombs. They are already set and ready to go."
Aya murmured, "Perfect. Takatori, you are going to die!" and then checked the screen for the map. He spoke into the comset, "Manx, we read you. End of transmission."
"Wait!" Yoji whispered urgently. It was too late. The connection to Manx was closed and erased. They would not be able to trace back to her unless she called in again. It was a secure line. Only the four Weiß members would be able to use it due to passwords, codes, and info data inserts.
Omi glanced at Aya. He was putting the comset in the interior of his lapel. It almost seemed as it he didn't hear Yoji, but of course he did. They went on to the back of the old, neglected building to begin their mission.
It was dark and foggy. A few lights along the alley were on, but that was all. Piles of garbage and other foul-smelling goods littered the narrow pathway. Papers of all types and bags drifted awkwardly across, snagging here and there and sticking. It was an awful alley.
The three Weiß members crept along that dirty and gloomy alley and turned at the end. It was even narrower here; only one person could go at a time. Aya went first. They passed three apartment doors, then onwards to another building complex. Heavy music and greasy smells of food, alcohol, and gasoline filled the air around them. Omi winced, knowing this type of atmosphere a little too well for his liking.
Aya opened the heavy door and they all stepped inside. What they saw was beyond belief. And boy, were they in hot water.
Misato pulled at Ken's hand, urging him along towards the house. It was cleaner and more neatly kept than the motel, though it was also rather run-down. It had new white aluminum siding, which was much brighter than that of the motel. The deep green shutters around each of the many windows stood out against the white. It was a two-story victorian home, with a beautiful wrap-around porch and carved designs above and around the pillar-posts. The shingles were a grayish color with a greenish tint, and the door itself was dark green to match the shutters.
"I wanted the shutters green because it would be just like Anne's house in Anne of Green Gables," Misato explained proudly, for she was only ten and having read such a big book was a great achievement to her. "Isn't it beautiful?"
Ken nodded. He had read that book in school when he was younger, and he remembered the green shutters and the pale green paint on the house. And it did look very nice against the open fields of grass and dirt. "Did you own a farm here once?" he inquired, looking out to the fields that had become overgrown with weeds.
Misato grew somber. "That was before my daddy left to find work in the city. We used to have the farm and the motel for our helpers. By the way, what is your name?"
Ken was a little startled. "Ken…Ken Hidaka." He ended abruptly, not knowing what else to say.
"Ken. I used to know someone named Ken." Her eyes drifted, and she did not smile. Then she whispered, "My father's name was Ken."
Of course, no one could think of something to say after such a statement. So Ken just looked at her and kept his grim look. Whatever could he say, anyway? He remained silent. Misato did not seem to mind.
"I am sorry. I should not have spoiled your day. I suppose you'll want supper, right? I'll go tell mama. If you want to stay in the motel go right ahead and choose a room. If you want to stay in the house, gather your belongings and place them on the porch. We'll meet you sometime soon." With that, she skipped off, singing a little song. Ken walked towards the porch, glad that he had found a place to stay for the night with such kind and generous people.
Sunlight streamed through the closed window. It was a fair day in September, and the leaves were just beginning to turn colors. The blue Gentian leaned towards the bright light, absorbing energy. Its radiant colors were the joy of Ken's hard work. The soil around the young stem was brittle, and it stood, waiting for the water that would quench its thirst. Ken never neglected to water his prize. And so it waited.
But where was Ken? The soccer ball didn't know. And certainly the flower in its white and blue clay pot did not know. Not even Aya knew. The motorcycle, Ken, and some of his belongings were gone. Not a trace of life was left in his room.
"Station 4," Ken told the cashier at the gas station. Paying for the gas, he left to the open road. Only he knew where he was going, and he didn't even know why he left. Things were getting to him, the nights, the days, the work. Everything. And he didn't know why.
Goggles on, gloves on, bike on, he cruised down the seemingly interminable narrow road. There were no others for quite some time. The last vehicle, which was a blue station wagon, passed him in the other direction about fifteen minutes ago. He paused near a sign, then sped off.
Omi checked his email constantly, waiting for a message of some sort to come in from Ken. Then he would get off and wait for a phone call. He only had one line, but Ken could always call Yoji or Aya. Yet Omi wasn't so sure he would try that if he didn't want to talk to them. They had had a row the other night on a mission. Omi thought perhaps that was why he left. Nevertheless, he knew he would forgive them in a moment's time. But why hadn't he returned?
Aya was in his room, staring dully out into space. He didn't know why Ken had left, either, and also had the guilty feeling that it might've been his doing. He did not touch the phone, and waited, as the soccer ball, the flower, and Omi had waited.
Yoji had lain down on the sofa about an hour ago, smoking a cigarette and watching tv. He complained to himself that it was too quiet, and grudgingly admitted he was part to blame. He also noted the paucity of good shows on tv at this hour in the morning, and the fact that they were all starving. None of them had eaten breakfast that morning.
By some kind of mutual agreement, Omi came out around 1:30pm in the afternoon and made some lunch that consisted of sandwiches, salad, and a watermelon. At around 2pm, the other two were at the table, eating the ham n' cheese on wheat bread sandwiches. Aya sliced the watermelon, which fortunately was seedless. [who knows where the seeds would've gone had it been seeded]
Around 5:45pm, Manx visited. Her visits were rare, but the three left were still in the clouds. Even Yoji wasn't his normal self. She noted that their performance was not superior at all without all members present. Their weakness would not be shown to Schwarz. It must be concealed.
Manx shook her head at the three sitting at the table, either stirring coffee idly, drinking highly caffienated drinks, or smoking cigarettes by the box. "Schwarz will eat you alive if you stay like this," she remarked.
Aya silently agreed and promised to himself he would shake himself out of this…when Ken came back.
"What can we do? We're a team," Omi retorted, a little upset by the little concern she was showing.
Yoji looked at Manx. Omi was right, of course. Could she reply?
"If your team is not together, what do you think the departed team member would want you to do? Kill yourselves? What then if he came back and found you all dead? Have you ever thought of that?" she said, astonished at their lack of philosophy and consideration.
They sighed as one. They had forgotten. They sat for about ten more minutes, and the clocked struck 7:30pm. Aya got up to get his katana, and Omi left to scour his room for his darts, arrows, bow gun, and crossbow. Yoji sat, wire-wristwatch permanently on, smoking his last cigarette from that particular box.
"How many boxes did you do today?" Manx questioned, a worried crease forming on her forehead.
"Two," Yoji answered, amused.
Manx sighed. They had to get away somehow, she reflected. "Promise me you won't open any more today, Yoji, please?" she begged, afraid for his health if he continued to do as he was doing now.
Yoji was laughing inside, pleased with this new type of attention, but he didn't show it to Manx. He had smoked a long, long time now, and no one could get him to quit. But Manx asked with such earnesty that she had never shown before so he promised to give it some deliberation. "Maybe."
At that, Manx stood up abruptly. "I have to go now," she explained. "Oyasumi nasai, Yoji." She walked out briskly, and disappeared into the obscure and slightly foggy light.
The sun was setting, and clouds played across the sky, threatening fog and drizzle for the night. The temperature dropped drastically, and soon it was dark. The rain came as predicted, accompanied by a little sparse lightning and thunder.
By this time, Ken had stopped at the nearest motel he could find. He wasn't too enthusiastic about staying at this dump, but where else would he stay in this rain? [Yes, he thought it was a dump. It certainly looked like a dump, a real junk yard] [Waahhhh, doesn't Ken deserve a 5-star hotel with awesome food and waiters and waitresses and room service and maids?]
The roof, made of aluminum shingles, was patched here and there in different colors. It looked leaky. It was an old motel, and what used to be white/cream aluminum siding was now reddish in certain areas with rust and wear and tear. The doors were brown and the paint was stripping from them, revealing a mustard color that probably was the original color. Ken hopped off the bike and walked to the first door on the left. A little sign with painted letters, "Welcome, Hiker Motel" "Front Desk," hung above the little blue and red door. Before he reached it, however, a little girl about ten years old came hopping out.
Her hair was light brown, sort of like Omi's but it was longer and in pigtails. She had green eyes and fair skin, and she was very thin.
"Hi! My name is Misato! How do you do? You're our only visitor!" she giggled, and beckoned him inside. "My mother will be happy to know we have someone staying!"
Ken nodded, overcome by this odd welcoming. He went inside, and a woman in her late thirties greeted him. "I see you have met my daughter. My name is Sachiko Migasushida. We live humbly enough in the house 'round back. Welcome to Hiker Motel, we hope you enjoy your stay, although there is nothing here that is pleasant at all. Would you rather stay in one of the rooms in our house or here in the motel itself?"
Ken was still a little confused by this strange atmosphere and the class of speaking these people used. Obviously they did not grow up here. They were well bred and seemed to be pretty well off. They must have had money before, and run a good motel. "I am sorry, but may I ask, which is better?"
Mrs. Migasushida smiled sadly. "Well, the motel is in a worse condition that it looks, I must say. After my husband's disappearance, we've been at all ends trying to keep it running and still put food in our stomachs."
Ken suddenly remembered Weiß. He brushed the thought away as he told Mrs. Migasushida that he'd like to see the motel rooms first before making a decision. She had Misato show him the rooms, one by one.
"Aya, do you think Ken will come back?" Omi asked him around 9pm. Aya nodded, but did not answer. Yoji was silent. They sat in the car, mute, waiting for their orders from Manx. They were supposed to go to a dance club to crash the Schwarz hideout underneath. Even Yoji did not look forward to the mess they would be in within the club, though he went to bars and the like very often.
Manx's voice came through the comset. "You need to find the back door. Be wary and as quiet as possible. There may be guards you'll have to put out."
Aya listened closely as the others strained to hear. "By 10:30pm you need to be clear of the bombs. There will be no people due to a misleading "closed" sign for remodeling. You'll need the points on the screen as to where to place the bombs. They are already set and ready to go."
Aya murmured, "Perfect. Takatori, you are going to die!" and then checked the screen for the map. He spoke into the comset, "Manx, we read you. End of transmission."
"Wait!" Yoji whispered urgently. It was too late. The connection to Manx was closed and erased. They would not be able to trace back to her unless she called in again. It was a secure line. Only the four Weiß members would be able to use it due to passwords, codes, and info data inserts.
Omi glanced at Aya. He was putting the comset in the interior of his lapel. It almost seemed as it he didn't hear Yoji, but of course he did. They went on to the back of the old, neglected building to begin their mission.
It was dark and foggy. A few lights along the alley were on, but that was all. Piles of garbage and other foul-smelling goods littered the narrow pathway. Papers of all types and bags drifted awkwardly across, snagging here and there and sticking. It was an awful alley.
The three Weiß members crept along that dirty and gloomy alley and turned at the end. It was even narrower here; only one person could go at a time. Aya went first. They passed three apartment doors, then onwards to another building complex. Heavy music and greasy smells of food, alcohol, and gasoline filled the air around them. Omi winced, knowing this type of atmosphere a little too well for his liking.
Aya opened the heavy door and they all stepped inside. What they saw was beyond belief. And boy, were they in hot water.
Misato pulled at Ken's hand, urging him along towards the house. It was cleaner and more neatly kept than the motel, though it was also rather run-down. It had new white aluminum siding, which was much brighter than that of the motel. The deep green shutters around each of the many windows stood out against the white. It was a two-story victorian home, with a beautiful wrap-around porch and carved designs above and around the pillar-posts. The shingles were a grayish color with a greenish tint, and the door itself was dark green to match the shutters.
"I wanted the shutters green because it would be just like Anne's house in Anne of Green Gables," Misato explained proudly, for she was only ten and having read such a big book was a great achievement to her. "Isn't it beautiful?"
Ken nodded. He had read that book in school when he was younger, and he remembered the green shutters and the pale green paint on the house. And it did look very nice against the open fields of grass and dirt. "Did you own a farm here once?" he inquired, looking out to the fields that had become overgrown with weeds.
Misato grew somber. "That was before my daddy left to find work in the city. We used to have the farm and the motel for our helpers. By the way, what is your name?"
Ken was a little startled. "Ken…Ken Hidaka." He ended abruptly, not knowing what else to say.
"Ken. I used to know someone named Ken." Her eyes drifted, and she did not smile. Then she whispered, "My father's name was Ken."
Of course, no one could think of something to say after such a statement. So Ken just looked at her and kept his grim look. Whatever could he say, anyway? He remained silent. Misato did not seem to mind.
"I am sorry. I should not have spoiled your day. I suppose you'll want supper, right? I'll go tell mama. If you want to stay in the motel go right ahead and choose a room. If you want to stay in the house, gather your belongings and place them on the porch. We'll meet you sometime soon." With that, she skipped off, singing a little song. Ken walked towards the porch, glad that he had found a place to stay for the night with such kind and generous people.