Edited: 3:20 PM 1/27/2005 - I had a few majour changes to make before taking the story any farther.
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz or Weiss Kreuz: Glühen, and if you think I do, I won't deny it again.
Warnings: AU, timeline: 1890's, mild language
The Missing
By Seph Lorraine
Prologue
"Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk.
That will teach you to keep your mouth shut."
- Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961)
It was nearing one o'clock in the morning and he had all but plastered himself to the grimey sidewalk outside of Alkohol, a local pub. His usually well-groomed brown hair hung wetly in his eyes, unable to stay behind his ears due to the metal of his peculiar shaded lenses, blocking his view of the dimly lit street. His grey suit and camel-coloured knee-length coat were rumpled, giving him a weary, fatigued look.
Kudou Youji was most definately drunk, in any case.
The pub's owner, a rather firey redheaded immigrant from Germany, whom called himself Schuldig, had been kind enough to his favourite customer during his four hour visit, but had finally booted the lanky brunette out of his now-closing establishment; for the night anyways; with the amount of alcohol Youji was consistantly purchasing and the constantly raising tax rates of the City, he couldn't afford to ban him for good.
Youji, however, was simply of the impression that Schuldig was a silly person.
Wondering mindlessly at why the street had chosen this particular time to become a verticle wall, Youji could feel something broad and damp pressing against his front, and the right side of his face. In fact, he seemed to be getting wet for some reason or another. He groaned, thinking that both the world and Schuldig were simply silly people.
Then he realised he had fallen down and was now laying on the soaking, filthy sidewalk.
He raised his lithe form blunderingly and began to stumble off down the darkened sidewalks towards, what he hoped was home. Of course, it wasn't.
Slumping listlessly against the wooden door of his office, Youji sighed. His pale shaking hands roamed through the pockets of his coat-- now badly in need of washing-- for the keys. This wasn't home, but it would have to do for the night. He doubted he would even be able to make it home at this hour. Asuka would be angry, of course, but it was better than letting her know he was drinking again.
He glared through the dark lenses of his glasses, nearly opaque in the null lighting, at the gold print etched into the frosted glass pane of his office door, still reaching for the keys.
Kudou Youji, P. I.
Private Investigator
Appt. #156
Due to his frequently exercised alcoholic tendencies, Youji had become quite good at operating while inebriated. If it weren't for the foul stench of the substance on his breath, he could easily down half a bottle of rum and remain a beautiful example of man in perfect working condition. He had experience.
Finally, after fumbling with the keys for a while, the door was unlocked, and he entered giving no thought to the still open doorway behind him. He trudged through his assistant's tidy desk-space to an adjacent door at the back of the room. The office was dark, but he didn't bother with any lights. He knew his way around well enough, having been in the business for a while.
"Kudou Youji, I presume?"
Youji frowned, glaring at the coat-stand on his right, "Did you just say something?"
A girlish giggle seemed to lighten the darkness. The small green desk lamp came to life with a small click, illuminating the small room and revealing a young girl. She was still quite young, perhaps in her late teens, and of considerable height for a girl with obvious Asian heritage. She had long dark hair parted at the side, nearly consealing one of her dark almond-shaped eyes; it was swept over one shoulder stylishly. Her skin was pale and creamy, concealed beneath a black fur-coat and beneath that, a strikingly bold red dress. The coat was open revealing the stretch of her midsection, the dress pulling down into a deep v-neck line and clinging to every subtly visable curve of her body.
Every possible retort that could have been spoken came to a grinding standstill as he felt his mouth numb entirely. It was times like these, when he was caught alone in his dimly-lit office by an exotic-looking girl (No, woman. Only a woman could wear a dress like that.), his hormones raging in their drunken haze, that he wondered why he had bothered getting married. Nevermind that he had no idea as to how she had gotten in, or what her intentions--
'Wait a minute. How did she get in here?' He frowned, removing the obstrusive glasses for blocking the view of the lower-half of the aforementioned specimen.
"My name is Fujimiya Aya." She gave a small smile, not quite reaching her eyes.
"What are you doing in here?" Youji mumbled, still somewhat puzzled, as he continued to examine the girl's shapely stocking-less legs, and small petite feet strapped in chic red heels.
Obviously noticing the object of his gaze, she turned away for a moment, taking a seat in brown leather chair situated before his messy oak desk, "I came to request your services, of course."
"How did you get in?" He questioned, finally feeling the set of keys still firmly placed in his palm. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't actually used them to get in. He had been fumbling with them for a minute or two before he had just simply opened the door. Had he forgotten to lock it?
The woman smiled in amusement, her dark eyes twinkling, "I have my ways. I was only in here to write you a note on the matter and leave it on your desk. However, now that you're here, I suppose I shall be able to formally introduce the matter." She paused to gesture to the seat behind his desk, "If you'd please take a seat, Mr. Kudou."
Slightly unnerved, but not really in the state of mind to ponder the matter, the weary and still intoxicated investigator did as he was told. Who was he to deny a beautiful woman, however sketchy her methods seemed? Taking a deep breath and putting on his business face, despite the odd hour of the night, he faced her, "How may I help you?"
The small smile that had danced upon her full red lips vanished, her face seeming to elongate itself as her empty eyes turned their gaze to a city map tacked up to the wall opposite her, "I want you to find someone, or find out what happened to someone... I'm not quite sure which."
The P. I. furrowed his brows quizzically, "What do you mean?"
"It means, he may or may not be alive. I think he is..." She drifted off for a moment, "At least that's what I've been telling myself the last five years. But when faced with the reality of the situation, I'm not so sure..."
He waited patiently for her to continue, blinking now and then to clear his hazy alcohol-induced vision. The small light created an eerie luminescence about the desk, giving the geometric features of the office a fuzzy glow.
"His name is Fujimiya Ran. He should be about 24 years old, now. He vanished during an accident of sorts-- five years ago." She turned her gaze back to the man before her, "Can you find him?"
Youji leaned back in his desk chair and thought for a moment, pulling out a cigarette from one of his coat pockets; they tended to help him think, and it was rather difficult to do so at the moment. He struck a match from his desk drawer and lit it, taking a long draw, "Well, if he's in the City, I don't doubt that I can find him, or his grave-- if that be the case. What can you tell me about him?"
His words seemed to strike an encouraging chord with her, and she leaned forward in her seat a bit, "He disappeared only a few kilometres outside of the City. It was nighttime, and we were on our way to our parents' funeral when our driver..." She bit her lower lip, drifting into silence for a moment.
Taking a keen note of everything she said, he began to analyze her mentally. He may have been a fairly enigmatic person himself, and currently intoxicated, but he had never been a fool. If there was anything that Youji excelled at it was: women, alcohol, and reading people. No one ever got a secret past Kudou Youji, which was why he was good at his job. He was the best known P. I. in the City
"What happened to your driver?" He asked the question automatically, wondering what kind of response he would gain from the girl. She dressed for mystique, but her mannerisms-- the way she was currently twisting a string of her long ebony hair with one hand and fumbling with the hem of her skirt with the other, the way she bit her lip, leaned forward in her seat, looked anywhere but him when trying to recall something from memory-- all suggested anything but that cooled confidence of someone whom was experienced at shadowing themselves. Aya was not a naturally discreet girl.
She hesitated. "At the time, it seemed like we had simply had a collision of sorts. The horses were frightened or something, and the carriage lost balance on the bend of the road. It was only later that I found our driver had been shot. I was badly injured and hospitalised for nearly two years. Ran simply vanished. They found no body, or any evidence of where he could have gone or who could have taken him. Or why..." She sighed deeply, her eyes gluing themselves to the name plate at the edge of his desk. She had obviously long pondered over where her brother had disappeared to..
"You didn't see what happened?" Youji took another long draw on his cigarette.
"I was unconscious." She mumbled, as if ashamed of the fact.
"I see. Please, continue."
"I really don't what else to say other than, he's rather tall with dark hair like mine that I had always known him to keep in braid, and the most peculiar eyes. He used to be fantastic with a katana. At the time of the accident he was in temporary residence in one of the pension houses in the City, studying at the university. However, the accident has caused me to forget many small details from my former life, such as where exactly the house was." She returned her gaze to Youji's own green eyes and slid to the edge of her chair, "Please tell me you'll try to find him! I would be so grateful. I can pay you directly, in cash. Whatever amount you want, just name it!"
The P. I. lifted an eyebrow slowly in inquisition at her sudden urgency of voice, stubbing the remainder of his cigarette in the ash tray on his desk, "And if I were to request, say... somewhere near a million?" Of course he would never do such a thing, especially not to such a fine woman as Fujimiya Aya, but he kept his eyes open for her reaction (expecting that she would surely scoff at such a price).
"Anything!" Her voice was slightly strained and her gaze hardened, "My fiançé is the very wealthy owner of a foreign imports industry. Perhaps you've heard of it, Takatori Enterprises, owned by CEO Takatori Mamoru. I can get you whatever amount you want."
He could tell she was obviously somewhat desperate, by now. He was also somewhat surprised to hear her news of engagement, though he shouldn't have been (with a figure like hers), and to one of those corporate business tycoons, no less. That must have been quite a remarkable story. He made a mental to note to ask her about it sometime, after all she was his newest client, so he would surely have the time to do so.
"Well, Ms. Fujimiya, fortunately for you, my rates are not quite so expensive" He sighed, heavily, remembering how tired he was quite suddenly, "I'm rather proud to inform you that I have never failed a client. In the eight years that I've been in this business, all that come to contact the great Kudou have been well pleased by the great Kudou," he winked, smirking at the ambiguity of that statement. "I shall find your brother, or I shall find what happened to him."
Aya's red lips parted in a wide smile as she stood energetically, "Thank you, Mr. Kudou. I'm so happy to have you helping me on this. I am very grateful."
"It's perfectly alright." Youji smiled, before he continued, pulling out a sheef of papers, "Now you might want to situate yourself. It's time for the boring part."
After filling in many basic forms required in the investigational procedure, Youji finally approached the last page, "Alright, now I'll be needing your contact information. Address? Work place, if you have one?"
The woman was silent for a moment, "I can give you an address where I might possibly be, should it be urgent for you to locate me. Though I must ask that you only use it for emergencies. We, fortunately, do have a telephone, though, but I must ask that if you call, you do not do so between eight in the evening and nine in the morning, or at noon."
Youji gave her a puzzled look, writing down the address she then provided, "Anything I might need to know about these peculiar arrangements of yours?"
"Oh, no. I just live with some very shrewd ladies whom don't quite approve of the extent of my phone usage. It's only there for emergency purposes, so they shall be upset with me if they were to find me using it for any other reasons than possibly to phone a doctor or policeman." She paused before adding, "I would also like to keep them out of this... They have a way of snooping, you might say."
"Aa, I see." The brunett chuckled to himself as he watched her. She wasn't meeting his eyes, again. Lying, no doubt. "Well, that's about it, then. Thank you for your business, Ms. Fujimiya. I hope to see you with information on your brother as soon as possible."
She smiled and nodded, standing once more and heading towards the door, "I shall come by every Monday and Thursday evening, if it is possible for me, and check up on your progress. Good night, Mr. Kudou."
He nodded to her, returning the sentiment, but caught himself before she could leave, "Wait, Ms. Fujimiya!"
She stopped, turning to look at him in obvious questioning, "Yes?"
"Your brother... He's been gone for five years, you said?" Youji stood, eying her one last time, this time her overall posture and appearance, rather than the figure hidden by the seductive red dress.
"Yes." She nodded, dark eyes watching him carefully, trying to read what he would ask before he could do so.
Crossing his arms and feeling the lines of concentration creasing in his brow, he continued, "Why did you wait five years to try and locate him?"
She seemed a bit unprepared for this question and paused, her eyes drifting to the chair she had previously occupied, "Well, I was in the hospital for almost two years, as I said before," she paused again, "Other than that, I tried a bit on my own, but I guess I just didn't have much time with building my new life and all." She shrugged lightly, and headed out, calling one final time, "Good night, Mr. Kudou."
He watched her leave without response, noticing absentmindedly as she stepped over a stray umbrella resting in the pathway through his assistant's office. Had he knocked that over coming in? He simply sat for a few minutes after she stepped out (closing the still opened door behind her) thinking.
There was definately something off key about the woman in the red dress. There was information being with-held, he was certain, and she had given him very little material to work with. Nagi was going to be livid when he received the forms tomorrow morning.
He sighed at the thought of tomorrow morning and reached forward to cut the light off, leaning back in his chair. He was going to have a hangover from hell when he awoke.
Outside the rain was pouring down onto the streets, and he wondered when it had started, vaguely recalling a wet sidewalk from earlier that evening. He slowly realised his hair was also wet and sticking to his scalp (strangely it hadn't seemed so obvious when the rum was still pumping through his bloodstream). He probably looked like death. Slowly the thoughts ceased, and sleep claimed his tired body.
Well... I guess I just didn't have much time with building my new life and all.
Nagi was confused. Desperately confused.
And annoyed. Unbelievably annoyed.
He was also a bit angry.
And if there was one thing he did not care about right now, it was hearing Crawford bark obscenities at him for calling at three in the morning.
He entered his resident boarding house in a flurry, not minding as he slammed the door behind him. The land lady would surely have heard, and as usual, he would undergo another sufferable lecture on the matter of respect for others and how damned ashamed he should be to show his face, being one of those "foolish young people". If Ms. Momoe had it her way, her generation would have been the last, and the only people she would put up with would be Ms. Tauber down the hall and her growing collection of cats.
However, Ms. Momoe's nonsensical rubbish had no place in his mind at the moment. He entered the downstairs hallway, heading straight for the telephone perched on the small oak table in the midst of the long white room. He lifted the receiver from the tall stand, not heeding the handwritten notice posted above him.
Phone calls for tenants only. Calls be approved by Momoe before made.
He tapped his foot impatiently until the operator picked up, "Where would you like to direct your call?"
"Number thirty-six on Third Avenue." His response was curt.
"District?"
"Why don't you guess."
"Um... City, sir?"
"You're quick." Sarcasm.
"Er... Just one moment, please," the voice squeaked before cutting off.
The line fell into silence, before the sound of ringing was audible from the other line. Three rings sounded before a sharp voice responded, "Crawford." Always prompt, even in the early hours of the morning.
"There's an agent on my territory." Nagi's voice held for direct answers, "I was not informed. I want to know what she's doing there."
"Calm yourself, Prodigy." The voice was commanding. "If you break the vase you'll be finding a new living arrangement tomorrow. She's already upset about you slamming the door."
As Crawford spoke, the vase set beside the receiver was shaking. Threatening to tip, as if being threatened by some invisable force. The young man reached forward to hold it still, attempting to calm himself. It was always like this when he became upset, and there was no doubt Crawford had already Seen this. That was probably why he had been so prompt to answer the phone.
"I want to know what the hell Birman's girl is doing on my territory."
"Meet me on Fifth and Vine. Usual place." Without waiting for response, the line went dead.
Nagi stood for a moment, trying to control his anger, hanging up the receiver when the perky voice of the operator appeared again, "Would you like to place another--" He was out the door in seconds.
The vase was still again.
To Be Continued...
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