Disclaimer: Witch Hunter Robin is not mine, it belongs to Sunrise and Bandai, I am the ruler of a tiny country known to the world as "Pfffffft." Standard disclaimer here. Move along. ;)

======

Three hundred and twenty years have passed

Since the Coven sank in the dark.

Accidents.

A rising power.

Words of good luck.

A power left uninvestigated can be the most dangerous of all.


Chapter 2: Porcelain and Plaster

CRASH!

"Dammit, Sakaki!"

Morning light filtered through the window of Raven's Flat, stretching across the floor to where a freshly broken teacup lay glistening. Before that interruption, the morning had been a peaceful one in Robin's eyes-- Michael typing peacefully on the computer, Amon off in another meeting with Zaizen, Karasuma enjoying a late breakfast of yogurt. Even Doujima was there, sitting backwards in her chair as she watched Sakaki attend to the broken cup. "Sorry," he mumbled. "My arm's a little clumsy right now." The young hunter raised his right arm, which was encased by a white plaster cast, and waggled his fingers at Kosaka.

The bald chief made an irritated noise into his mustache. "That just makes it worse! We pay enough for your medical bills already. If you break another cup, I'm docking your pay."

Halfway across the room, Hattori's face peeked out around a stack of receipts. "Chief? I thought you listed those cups as a business expense. Along with--"

Kosaka slammed his fist down hard on Michael's desk, causing a second teacup to fall to its splintery death. "It's the principle of the thing! Anyway, as I was saying--" Here he paused for a moment, a puzzled look crossing his face. "What was I saying?"

"'Hunters who continually endanger or become endangered on Hunts do not deserve the title of Hunter in the first place.'" Doujima, ever the helpful one, continued to lean forward on her chair and grin.

"Thank you, Miss Doujima. Sakaki, stop glaring at her."

Obediently, Sakaki turned his head away from the blond Hunter and towards the last bits of shattered porcelain. "Why do you always yell at me? Doujima was the one who bailed on us last night."

Leaning her head on the back of the chair, Doujima closed her eyes and gave a little smile. "I was busy, what can I say?"

"Busy?" Having collected all the teacup shards, Sakaki stood up and made his way over to the trash receptacle. "What could have possibly been that important?"

But Doujima's smile only became more irritating. "It was a very busy night. A very /private/ night, I might add." As if to emphasize her point, she twirled her orange cell-phone on one finger, causing the assorted key chains to whirl around in a dizzy circle.

"Private?! What sort of a moron--"

"That's /enough/. Sakaki." Chief Kosaka was clearly irritated that the two Hunters had managed to ignore him for even a few seconds. "I'm warning you. If you messing up Hunts and breaking things, I might have to suspend you." Here his face seemed to soften somewhat, and he rubbed the back of his head. "For your own sake."

"My own sake." If anything, those words seemed to hit the brown-haired Hunter worst of all. "My own sake," he repeated. "Right."

An awkward silence fell over the room, a silence interrupted only by the sounds of typing and muffled techno music. "Anyway," said Kosaka finally, "I need some tea. Hattori?"

"It's over on the table, Chief."

"Thank you." With that, Kosaka walked rather stiffly back to his desk, taking his cup of tea with him. Once he was gone, Robin watched as shuffled towards his desk and plunked down unceremoniously in his chair. Although he said nothing, the slightly sullen look on his face expressed far more frustration than his words ever could. Poor Sakaki, she thought. He really does have a lot of bad luck.

A blur of motion to her left drew Robin's attention to Doujima, who was walking over to the male rookie. "How bad is it, anyway?" she asked, one manicured hand reaching out to pat Sakaki's cast. "Did you run into something on your motorcycle?"

"Catwalk." He jerked the injured arm away from her, knocking over a stack of files in the process. "Dammit!"

Doujima chuckled at this. "You ran into a catwalk?"

"More like it ran into me." Wincing slightly from the memory, Sakaki rubbed at the plaster cast. "These things itch like crazy, you know."

"I wouldn't know. I'm not quite as unlucky as you are." Although her voice was as teasing as ever, Robin thought she saw a hint of concern in Doujima's eyes. "Is that your Craft? Being unlucky?"

He shrugged ruefully. "Maybe. Who knows?"

"Hmmm." Doujima's eyes reflected the off-white color of Sakaki's cast. "Maybe I can help."

"Help?" A slightly panicked look crossed Sakaki's face--Doujima's "help" didn't sound like it would be very helpful at all. "What kind of help?"

The blond woman reached for her purse with a grin. "An American custom." When Doujima drew her hand back out of the purse, Robin had to hide a smile- -Doujima was holding a hot pink permanent marker. "If someone breaks their arm, you're supposed to sign the cast. For good luck."

At that moment, Sakaki looked as if he'd rather have the other arm in a cast than let that marker get anywhere near him. "Doujima, I don't think-- oww!" As Doujima pulled his arm towards her, the male Hunter yelped and rammed the other appendage into a stack of files sitting near his elbow.. "That hurts, dammit!"

Doujima only clicked her tongue at him. "Stop whining. It's only a little marker."

"You just about tore my arm off! Lemme go!"

Ignoring his pleas to release him, the female Hunter began to scrawl a message in English; Robin could not understand what it said, although she recognized the alphabet being used. "You whine too much, you know that?"

That quieted him quickly. "I wasn't whining, was I?"

"Close enough. There." Moving her hands so that Sakaki could gape in horror at the pink lettering, Doujima studied her handiwork with pride. "What do you think?"

". . ."

"Well?"

"It's. . .pink." Frowning slightly, Sakaki turned his arm this and that as he tried to read the message the blond had written. "What's it say?"

After a brief giggle on her part, Doujima replied, "If you don't know enough English to read it, then you don't deserve to know what it means." She patted the cast. "Way to go, Sakki-chan!" may not have been a traditional get-well-soon phrase in English, but it was certainly an amusing one. Especially when the victim was left wondering exactly what the hell was written on his arm. Still looking vastly amused, Doujima got to her feet and held the marker in the air. "Anyone else?"

"Doujima!"

"I'm doing this for you, Sakaki. Anyone? At all?" The marker waggled invitingly in midair.

"I will."

Both Doujima and Sakaki looked surprised as Robin stood up. With a slight swish of her black skirts, the honey-haired Craft-user stepped towards Doujima and held out her hand for the marker. "If you do not mind."

Although he had turned his face away from her, Robin could see a faint red tinge appear on Sakaki's face. "S-sure. Why not?" He held plastered arm out for her perusal.

Unlike Doujima, Robin took care with the marker, allowing each delicately scripted letter to sink neatly into the plaster. Once she had finished, she handed the marker back to Doujima and laid one slim hand on Sakaki's arm. The brown-haired teen looked for the second time that day, once more uncomprehending of the words written in plaster. "Is that English too?"

In response, Robin shook her head. "I don't know any English either. This is Italian." She gently moved one finger along the letters, saying each syllable as she came to it. "Guarisci presto." Robin looked up at him, connecting her delicate green gaze with his. "Get well soon."

Another silence fell over the room, although this time Michael's fingers were oddly silent as well. How long they stayed like this, Robin could not tell; it was only with the entrance of Amon that their peace was interrupted. "Michael," he intoned. "Karasuma. Sakaki. Doujima." A slight pause; Robin felt as if her heart had skipped a beat. "Robin. We're having a meeting."

"Right." Slowly removing her hands from Sakaki's arm, the red-headed Hunter got to her feet. Amon, however, did not wait for her; he was already moving into the meeting area for the STN-J. With a faint rustle, she turned back towards Sakaki. "Do you need...?"

"Help? Naah. I'll be fine." Although he clearly struggled with coordinating the cast, his legs were more than strong enough to get him standing without help.

Doujima was already walking away from them. "Just don't knock anything over, okay?"

This drew an irritated sigh from Sakaki. "Doujima, I'm not that clum--"

CRASH!

"Sakaki!" Kosaka's head appeared over the top of a stack of files. "What did I tell you?"

"I didn't even touch it this time!" Strangely enough, it was true. At least, Robin thought it was true. She had been staring straight at this particular cup and had watched Sakaki's arm miss the cup--but it had toppled without any contact at all. Even now, as she watched the brown- haired Hunter's efforts to pick up the mess, she thought she could feel something emanating from him--

"Hey, you coming?" Michael was standing behind her, one arm cradling his pocket computer. With the glare on his glasses the way it was, she could not interpret the odd expression she saw on his face. "I'm sure he's got it taken care of."

"Thanks a lot," muttered the floor.

"Any time. Robin?"

"Right."

As both Michael and Robin left the room, Sakaki was left alone for a few moments. By now, his arm was aching badly--he'd forgotten to take his pain medication that morning. Fortunately, he had not forgotten to bring the medicine, and the bottle was sitting where he had left it on the desk. Not wanting to get up just yet, he reached with his good arm, but the bottle was just out of reach. Dammit, he thought as he strained his fingers, why does the world hate me today?

As if responding to his question, the bottle gave a slight quiver before shooting off the desk entirely. Startled, the brown-haired rookie jerked back just in time for the object to fly past him, missing his face by millimeters. What was that? he thought as he watched the medicine roll under a desk. "Karasuma?" He hadn't seen her leave--maybe she had touched it.

But Karasuma was nowhere to be seen. What explanation did that leave him?

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about it at all.

======

A/N: Well, it's been a while since my last chapter, eh? I've been a busy bee with other projects, unfortunately. This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one, but not by a whole lot. Not much action either, but hopefully the humor should make up for that. :)

To Simpson-Girl: Maybe, maybe not. We'll just have to see how things work out, yes? ;)

To Darkened Sakura: Thank you for the criticism. I've tried to do better with synonyms this time around.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. You're making this writer feel very warm and fuzzy inside.

--Manny PenPen