Disclaimer: Any Weiß Kreuz related characters in this ficcie belongs to me not.

---### Reflection ###---

Chapter 1

It's been so many years since I last set my feet on this land. "Japan, here I come again," I whispered slowly between my nostalgia as I stepped out from Narita International Terminal building. I looked up to the sky and felt relieved that scene greeting me still felt familiar.

High rise buildings perched on the horizon, reaching up to the grayish sky above. Meanwhile under the concrete canopies, thousands of people in business suits walking about with their leather case in hands. On the same site of the city, girls and boys with the latest styles of fashion buzzing in and out of shopping malls and recreational areas, shouting and screaming with their perky voices.

"Japan, here I come again," I repeated my sentence when it was my turn to take the taxi.

The cab took me to a five star hotel in downtown Tokyo. Along the way I couldn't stop myself from looking to my left and right. There was not much change. Of course there were many new buildings rising up here and there and there were already many old ones demolished. It's already many years now. How many? Let's see, ten… nine… yes, nine years since I left this country. Yes, it's been 11 years since we turned down Eszet and it was 2 years after – after the Koua incident – that I decided to leave for my own country.

Japan has always been my favorite country rather than my own home country, the US. And Tokyo still stands out as my most favorite place to be rather than New York City my home town (though I know that NYC is by no means close to the term "town"). It beats out many places in Germany where I grew as Eszet's most unflappable pet, or even Spain where I often spend my holiday when I was still in my Rozenkreuz days – also the place where I first got laid and all. It strangely turned down LA where I live now. All of those places had their own memories to remember, but nothing resembled the ones I had in here, for this country is the place where I found my reason to live.

The car finally stopped. I handed several Yen notes to the driver and told him to keep the change. He seemed surprised at my flawless Japanese. Well, he is not the only one to be surprised. I myself am surprised too. It felt strange to hear myself talking with that tongue again. Somehow nine years of absence in using the language didn't make the ability whither away. I simply stopped using it ever since I decided to fly back to America. I even started to speak to Schuldig in English then, making him pissed, though I don't know whether it was because of the language or the fact that I was going to leave.

Yes, I finally left everything behind. Everything. I left my assassin life. I left Schwarz. I left Schuldig – who now has a ranch where he lives in seclusions, save from the company of several hundred sheep in New Zealand. I left Nagi with his own decision to follow the new Persia. Well, actually it was he who first left, but it doesn't really matter now.

I didn't leave for New York. I flew to LA instead. I wanted to start something new in a place where nobody knows my name. To tell the truth, my reason was because I had this premonition that Fujimiya Aya was going to NYC. Strangely enough I decided to not come across his way and had my own peace.

I quickly found quite a decent job at an insurance company. Now you might say that I was acting ridiculous if you know that I started out as a salesman. The money was small, but who cares, I've got a fine sum of money, precious papers and solid gold in a hidden account in Swiss. It was the job that I wanted. Now I understand why Schuldig always said that I was a workaholic. I really can't live without it. And since being a salesman was not easy and needed a lot of work, I knew I would enjoy the job.

It wasn't a surprise to see my career turning out well. Although my colleagues at the office called me as "Bad Apple Dealer" – because I came from New York and my appearance was just typical New Yorker, they somehow had to admit that I sold more. Soon I became the branch sale manager. And up and up again. Now I am assigned as the advertising division for the Pacific Region.

It's such an irony, isn't it? The villain Brad Crawford had died and is replaced by a middle class working man like me. Of course I still keep my secret account, but I barely ever touch them. I never was a posh person and am never will be. I've got a good career and my income can be considered high. I can still live a quite extravagant life to keep my face with the new income and even can still save up some. Not that I want to be an Uncle Scrooge, but I just decided to keep any unused money I have.



A nice looking lady greeted me in my front desk. Her English was stained with Japanese dialect.

"Gu-to evening," she said while bowing a little to show respect to her guest. "Can I he-p you?"

I can't prevent myself from smiling. The Japanese has their own way of speaking English. When I first came here fifteen years ago I would have to concentrate hard in order to understand them speaking English. It was even easier to understand them in their own native language. Now I just find the Japanized English cute.

I tell her I can speak a little Japanese also and I want to practice a bit before actually using it for tomorrow's meeting. She looks delighted and somehow gives me the best service she can give. I know I can never understand the feeling to be delighted to hear one speaking in my mother tongue. English is a language that somehow has become an international tongue and somehow every child in any country is taught to speak. But I have seen the same delighted face when I speak Spanish, Cantonese, or Korean. I don't count French, German or Russian, because being a man of many blood myself, sometimes it's pretty hard to differ me from any other north European – be it be Gaelic, Normans, or Bavarian.

Of course being able to speak a little Japanese is a big lie since Japanese is my third language after English and German. There are many compulsory languages in Eszet. And since I was assigned in Japan, it's no surprise that I master the language. I can even read the newspaper – something that out of the Schwarz members only I and (of course) Nagi could achieve.

I suddenly find myself ushered to a suite on the 15th floor and being left alone with a king size bed ready to soothe me from the cursed jet lag. Without bothering to unpack or wash myself, I lay my body on the soft bed sheet and close my eyes. It's been nine years since I last set foot on this land. I first came here when I was as young as 23 and now I am 38.

"Japan, here I am again," I whisper to my self just as sleep takes me in.



Morning comes a bit too late for me. Coming from a region that rises logically earlier – though by calendar being late for almost a day, I have been lying around on bed with my eyes open. I cannot blame it all on jet lag; my excitement plays almost fifty percent of it. Schuldig would have laughed to death if he had known I'm being this excited on coming back to Japan. But since that German is not here I just can ignore that thought.

Breakfast is nothing unusual. I have my canonic portion of toast, scrambled egg and a cup of black coffee. My business associates will come in any minute now. He told me that he would see me in the dining room at breakfast. Since breakfast hour is from 6.30 to 9.00 I think I will be stranded here until whenever that man shows up.

After breakfast I really don't have anything to do. I never am such a slow eater and I was done eating by seven. I don't see any reasons to stay in the dining room so I stroll myself to the lobby instead. Anyone who comes to this hotel will surely have to go through the lobby first.

I find a nice corner where I can sit and get myself the morning paper. Since the English papers are all already gone, I take the Japanese one. Let's see what's going on around in here.

I found a very familiar face printed on the first page. The big round eyes struck me with surprise. I never thought he was going to be that big. I remember him as a little boy who could be twisted around by Schuldig. I remember his rage towards his father and brothers. It's such a surprise to see him following the exact track of life. Being the head of the Takatori Enterprise and also walking in and out of the political scene.

That little boy has grown up into a seemingly cold man. Perhaps the me I am today is not as stern and austere as the little boy I see in the papers. Shame he has to have such a personality. I don't think a stoic and cold person as this new Tsukiyono Omi alias Takatori Mamoru is fun to play with. Or not? But I know I won't be able to just come into his office and fool around just like what Schuldig usually did in the past. Ah well, the future bears too many questions even for an oracle like me.

A shadow of a man way behind that Takatori Mamoru made me smile – I don't know why but I seem to be more relaxed lately; perhaps mingling with the "good people" has had some kind of positive effect. That's a face I am looking forward to see. Naoe Nagi. So, he is still with that Takatori now. I wonder if I can come to him and have a little talk for old time's sake. But I realize that he might still be living as a non-existent entity the way we did. If he was the legal body guard of this Mamoru-sama, he would not have to take his position in there.

Nagi, are you contented with what you are doing now? I am not going to ask if you are happy or not, that feeling was erased from our book a long, long time ago. I know I am contented with my new living. I know Farfarello is too, at least that's what he told me when I took a visit to his place two years ago. I know Schuldig is contented because he found a place where he doesn't have to bother putting up a mental barrier but still be able to live a civilized life. You are the only one I lost contact with, but I know you're still watching us from a far. I know you will keep your promise that you will always belong to Schwarz, and I know I can trust you.

"Mista- Kurafo-do?" a voice pulled me back to the ground.

I lifted my face and found a young Japanese standing before me. Hearing my name pronounced in such way really brings back a lot of memories from this land. The old Takatori also called me that way. Nagi did too when we were first met. Of course I succeeded in changing the boy's English into a flawless American accent.

"Yes, you must be Akimoto-san." I stood and we had a formal handshake. We had a little "how was your flight – did you have a good service from the hotel – how was breakfast" sort of chat. I began to get used to such questions after I entered the insurance company. When I was still serving Takatori here, nobody bothered asking us about how we were doing and that was good. I still find those questions annoying but that's the price you've got to pay.

I then tell Akimoto-san that I have to put the key at the deposit before leaving to his office. We walk our way there. My briefcase is already at hand. I decided to bring it down with me for breakfast. I don't like wasting my time going up again to fetch a mere bag.

At the front desk I saw a lady carrying a basket full of flowers. Her posture somehow reminds me of someone but I just can't recall.

"Excuse me," she said to the man at the front desk, "This is a flower delivery for Mrs. Liu Ping Lian. She is in room 1209. Could you please give it to her?"

"Ah the madam is just coming out of the elevator. You see the woman over there with fur coat. That's the one," the receptionist gestured to show the person he mentioned. And as the lady turned her face to see the woman she bumps into me and realizes that I am standing behind her.

She looks up to my face instead of the woman. Her lips trembles and she drops her basket full of flower to the floor. Daisies and lilies, roses and baby's breath decorating the marble. "You are…."

"Do I know you?" I ask her. But yes, I know I know her just I cannot recall who. I look into her scared raven eyes. They were black and deep. And her hair was also black, divided into two long plaits. I remember her somehow from a very long time ago. "Fujimiya…." I let out the name, "Fujimiya Aya desu ka?"

"H-hai." She muttered and then she snapped to see her flowers were all scattered on the floor. "Ah, the flowers! I have to go back to Koneko and make a new arrangement." She ducked down and gathered the flowers.

I follow her example and help her putting the flowers back into its basket. How can she remember me? Wasn't she in comatose when I made use of her? I heard that even in comatose one can still feel the presence of others but I never really believe that.

"Do you know me?" I asked her after we finished gathering the flowers.

"I… I don't remember," she answers. "It's just when I saw you I felt somehow scared, but now the feeling is gone. I don't know why I'm acting this weird. I'm very sorry."

"It's all right," I say. I don't know how I can be so nice towards a person who knows my past. If she somehow remembers and start talking around, my background can be revealed.

"But you know my name. Have we met before?" she asks rather shyly.

I nodded, "Yes, a very long time ago. But you were still in comatose."

She steps back. "Are you…?" She doesn't finish her question. It hangs in the air until Akimoto-san suddenly reminds me that we have to go.

I assume she recalls a story about this strange cult willing to make her as a sacrifice. I cannot blame her if she throws all the flowers on me and run away but she never does so. She simply stands in there in silence with both eyes plastered on me.

"Yes, I am," I give her the only answer I can talk about and then I reach out my hand for a hand shake. "Brad Crawford."

She looks astonished to hear my introduction but she smiles in return and answers my hand shake. "Fujimiya Aya."

"You are not going to sue me for anything, aren't you?" I ask her in a rather dry tone of humor. I have to act out somehow so that Akimoto-san will not ask me anything. I see the questions are already popping in his head and surely I will have to answer all of them on our way to his office.

The lady shakes her head.

"Then can we meet again sometime? I have three days before I have to fly to Taiwan. I think I need to clarify many things to you."

She nods. "You can find me at…."

"Koneko no Sumuie. The flower shop," I cut right through. I remember that place. "Is it still at that hook building near a coffee shop and a book store?" I still have the shop clearly pictured on my head. I never really went there but I know.

"Yes."

"Fine then. I will make a visit around 5 o'clock. Is it still open?"

She gives yet another nod and then I have to follow Akimoto-san who starts to flood me with his questions.

"I never know you are a fluent Japanese speaker, Kurafo-do-san. Who is that woman? Is she your friend? She looks pretty nice for my point of view. What's her name again? Fujimiya Aya? Such a sweet name, isn't it?"
Now this is going to be a long, long drive to the office.

- to be continued -

Nya!! What is this???!!! A fic about old Braddy boy!!! Hehehe... Isn't 38 old? He's almost 40!!!! But still I find Brad quite amusing when he gets to his 40's... well, Pierce Brosnan and Mel Gibson are also old, but they're still hot. Nya nya nya!!

So...? Comments? Reviews? Simply hit the small button and I'll thank you.... ^____^