***Technically, this is set during 'Side B', but it's difficult to get a decent translation these days and I can't read Japanese, so the actual details are a little sketchy. But this is probably going to be mostly from Yohji's (well, "Yohji's" *finger quotes*) point of view, so the Krypton Brand team won't have all that much to do. And, in my apparently-typical fashion, I decided, 'Fuck it. I'm gonna do it the way I want.' That's why none of the new characters will act the way they do in the manga…because I don't exactly know how that is, though I can hazard a few guesses.

Also: a large portion of the post-Gluhen fics I've read refer to Yohji as having taken the name Itou Ryo. I realise that the Itou is shown to be Asuka 3.0's surname, but is there any canonical backing to the Ryo? I'm going to run with it anyway.

This fic is rated for future developments…*cough yaoi cough* ahem…plus my swearing. I just can't help it. And maybe some violence, just for good measure.***

Itou Ryo's index and middle fingers instinctively lifted to his lips, a nervous habit that he just couldn't stop.

Asuka said that he'd been a smoker before the…accident, because his lungs apparently showed some serious damage. She thought that his little subconscious habit proved that he'd once like to light up when worried. Now, though, he had no craving for cigarettes and he wasn't about to start again and give himself lung cancer.

He'd been given a second chance; if the accident he'd been in was bad enough to destroy his adult memories and most recollection of his teenage years, as well as his bank of names and places, then he was lucky to be alive.

Well, actually, he was lucky in more ways than just that. The fact that he still had some vague memories, ones that went up until the time when he was about fourteen, meant that his recollection of the world around him hadn't disappeared. He still remembered his family, even if the memories weren't entirely favourable and their names were always one step away. He'd even been able to figure out that he had turned twenty-nine in March, just a few months earlier.

And then there was the silver lining of the car crash that had taken his more recent memories: the fact that he was now married to the pretty nurse who had taken such good care of him in the hospital.

Ryo smiled absent-mindedly as he thought of the woman he'd recently made his wife. She was beautiful, with long hair and dark eyes…such a caring person, both at home and at her job…

And there, Ryo thought, lies my current problem. His hand now drew up to twist the ends of his short, dirty blonde hair, and the stray thought flittered through his mind that his fingers shouldn't have had to move so far up. Frowning a little, Ryo assumed that his brain was holding onto another old habit; maybe his hair had once been longer? Would it look better if it grew out a bit?

Shaking his head a little, Ryo returned to his main stream of thought. How on Earth was he going to break the news to Asuka?

When he had been called into the boss' office at work, Ryo had been assuming the worst. After all, he wasn't all that good at his job. Sure, he got by without too much conflict, but he always felt that office work just wasn't for him.

But it had been the only company willing to take a chance on a man with no references, job history, prior record…He could have been a psychopathic child killer, for all they knew.

He couldn't have afforded to lose his salary. They couldn't live on just Asuka's wage.

But, within a minute of the meeting's beginning, it had become clear that Ryo wasn't being fired.

Technically, he was being promoted.

The issue was that, in addition to a higher pay rate, better working hours and more job security, he was getting a new office.

An office in London.

His boss had assured him that he might only be overseas for a month; and when he returned, his pay and hours would remain at the better levels.

Ryo had been immediately conflicted. Asuka loved Japan, and she loved her work at the hospital. He couldn't drag her away from all that, and he didn't know if he could leave her behind; even for just thirty days.

Obviously, Ryo's uncertainty about moving had shown on his face, and his boss had been quick to mention that this trip wasn't optional. The blonde could move for an indeterminate amount of time, or he could leave the company altogether.

Then and there, Ryo's decision had been made for him. He didn't know how Asuka would take the news, and he didn't particularly want to leave Japan, but…they both had jobs because they couldn't live comfortably on one salary.

Now, he had to break the news to his wife, who was waiting patiently at home so that they could have dinner together.

He felt horrible…it was all his fault. If he'd been a normal man, then it wouldn't have been so much of a hassle to find a new, better job; one that let him stay where he was.

But no. He was the man without a past who had simply adopted the name Itou Ryo- they had decided that it was better to allow Asuka to keep her name, rather than making her take the one Ryo had made up, off the top of his head, when it became clear that his real name was beyond him. He'd never be able to give Asuka the life she deserved, and this was a prime example.

Sighing, Ryo traipsed the last few steps along the street to his and Asuka's apartment. He was going to have to face this problem now…he was leaving in a week.

At least the company had taken the liberty of setting up a place for him to rent in England, an apartment that would easily be big enough for two.

Opening the front door to his home, Ryo was immediately greeted by Asuka's pretty face, radiantly happy with a bright smile. The expression fell, though, as she noticed the tension running through her husband's body.

"Ryo, darling…what's wrong?" The worry that Asuka showed just made what Ryo had to say that much harder. She loved him enough that they'd make it through this, but…it was going to hurt her.

"Sit down, Asuka. I have something that I really need to tell you."

She gasped, and Ryo took her gently by the forearm as he led her to the couch, sitting down so that they were eye-to-eye.

"What happened? Is it…are you sick?" Asuka reached out to take Ryo's hand, and he smiled sadly. She was just so loving…

"No. It's nothing like that. Rather, I…they told me today at work that I'm being promoted."

Asuka's eyes suddenly lit up, and she squeezed Ryo's hand. "Oh, that's wonderful, honey! I th-…"

"The promotion involves me being transferred to London." Ryo cut his wife off, unable to bear her excitement.

"Wh-…But…"

"They don't know how long I'll be there, but it might be as short as a month…or as long as a year or two. You can come with me; the company has provided for that."

Asuka was silent, her eyes wide and bottom lip trembling. "I don't…I can't…I can't just leave my job like that, Ryo. I can't just drop everything and leave; I have responsibilities, patients…You didn't say yes to this yet, did you?"

The man let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "I don't have a choice. I'll be fired if I say no, and I won't be able to find another job. Not with my…condition."

Ryo tried to meet his wife's gaze but she refused to make eye contact, instead preferring to stare at the ground. "When are you leaving?"

Pain ran through Ryo's heart. "A week from tomorrow."

Nodding, Asuka stood up. "I could need more time than that to decide and put everything in order. You might need to leave on your own, if this really is your only choice. I may choose to meet you later."

Ryo's breath caught, and he reached for his wife as she walked towards the kitchen. "Asuka…I'm so sorry."

There was a slight falter in her step, but she didn't look back towards the sad man on the couch. "Your dinner will be getting cold."

The blonde dropped his arm and clenched his hands together, watching the way tendons flexed and shifted under scarred flesh. There were unexplainable old wounds all over his skin, but his hands and fingers held more marks than anywhere else on his body. He didn't remember getting any of them, and he couldn't help but think that it was somehow related to his utter unsuitability for office work.

Really, as his boss had informed him, the only reason he had been picked for the transfer was his near-fluency in English. That was yet another mystery about his past, along with the scars and the odd tattoo that adorned his left bicep: one day, he had picked up a book of English poetry that Asuka owned, and realised that he could understand a large section of the language.

After a few quick lessons with his then-girlfriend, it had been discovered that he had obviously learnt the language at some point, rather comprehensively at that. He didn't know why he would have needed it, though.

Then again, Ryo vaguely remembered times as a child when people had whispered that his Japanese father hadn't been the one to impregnate his Japanese mother. The blonde hair he'd woken up in hospital with had been clearly dyed, but the regrowth was still too pale for a normal Asian man. It was entirely possible that his true father had been American or British. Maybe that was related to why he knew English.

Ryo sighed as he realised just how irrelevant that thought was. His parents were both dead, and he had more pressing problems in his current time. As much as he wanted to remember something about the missing years, he had a lovely wife who was clearly hurting.

He owed it to her to try and stop worrying about irrelevant shit, and focus solely on making this transfer as easy as possible for the both of them.

When Ryo eventually made it to the dining room, the meal was lukewarm and the atmosphere was tense. He couldn't help but wonder if his good fortune was finally running out, eighteen months after he'd woken up to the woman he had later married looking after him.

Barely another word was spoken for the remainder of the night, and the couple slept back-to-back.

The lights and sounds of a London evening felt an eternity away to Aya, stuck as he was in the cramped ceiling space of a warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

When he'd been stabbed on the street and left to die, he had expected release from this life. The last thing he had been anticipating had been to be drafted into a new team.

He'd been ready to go to Hell. It might have been preferable to another life of killing; and maybe he would have been able to look up at Aya-chan from the next world, and watch her living her life as fully as she was able.

A tiny, sad smile appeared on Aya's face as he thought about someone else who was probably in Hell right there and then: Kudoh Yohji, the member of Weiss who hadn't survived to laboratory's collapse. Surely Kudoh would be making the most of looking up at the world from below; he was probably standing there right now, trying to look up as many skirts as possible. The pervert.

A tiny pang of grief ran through Aya at the thought of Yohji and women. Aya had admired him from afar after he had been able to clear his mind of revenge, and had watched the blonde suffer through so much. He had never been in love, but Yohji had been the person in the world that Aya liked the most, apart from his sister. His death, as relayed by the new Persia, had been enough to actually let Aya feel.

Maybe when Aya finally got sent to Hell, he would be able to tell Yohji how he felt.

Then again, 'Kudoh the Womaniser' would probably be too busy with the upskirting of beautiful women to pay any heed to the freakish redhead he'd ignored for so long.

Aya couldn't help but wonder where all these thoughts were suddenly coming from. Maybe it was the fact that nothing was happening beneath him that had sent him into a reflective, melancholic mood; the lack of a focus point was causing his mind to wander.

He almost missed the old days, when he seemed to have a limitless amount of direction and he was nearly impossible to distract.

But now, Aya-chan was safe and Takatori Reiji was long dead. Yohji was probably finding a way to enjoy Hell, Takatori Mamoru had taken on the 'responsibilities' of his filthy name, and Ken was…

Ken was speaking to him through his earpiece.

"Target approaching, three guards. Seven seconds to mark."

Clearing his head, Aya drew his katana and ensured that his mask was in place.

Silently, he dropped through a small hole in the ceiling and proceeded to slaughter the four unlucky men beneath him, a little of their blood splashing on his coat and gloved hands.

Wiping his sword on one of their shirts, he stood up straight and walked quietly towards the rendezvous point.

The deaths didn't even come close to bothering him anymore.