Roses in Rain
a Weiss Kreuz fanfiction by laila

Part 9 – Uptown Girl

The mission briefing didn't even start well.

At first, it seemed nothing but standard, if only Youji didn't glance at the other end of the sofa where Ken usually sat. There was the basement, there was Manx, cool and beautiful and impassive, and always just slightly beyond his reach; there was the team, perched expectant as cinema-bound children on couches and chairs. The lights were snapped out, as ever and, as ever, there was Persia silhouetted against a glowing ground with his hands folded before him, and "Men of Weiss," he was saying, "this is a mission solely for agents Abyssinian and Calico."

There: ten seconds in and already Youji was thrown. Abyssinian and Calico? What, alone? He started, raising his head, and glanced about himself sharply, gazing first at Omi, then at Aya – he found nothing.

Nothing. Neither of them came anywhere near to sharing his surprise. Omi just nodded, as if he expected nothing less; Aya didn't so much as blink. It was as if they considered it perfectly ordinary for Kritiker to decide before the fact precisely who should take part in a specific assassination, and who should sit out. As if there were nothing unusual about Persia assigning a team a mission which their own leader could take no part in. This was strange, this was fucked-up, and nobody else even seemed to think it odd, God damn it! What the Hell was going on here?

"This is Michael van Haal," Persia said, carrying on oblivious to Youji's unease, "owner of GeneTech, a reputable American company specializing in genetic engineering. GeneTech opened its first laboratory in Japan eight years ago, but we have learned their Japanese branch was created to perform genetic experiments on humans and, since their real program began, they have been responsible for scores of disappearances and deaths. van Haal even used his own adoptive daughter, whose name we were unable to discover, as the subject of his twisted experiments. She died in a car crash age fifteen while trying to escape his laboratories three years ago. It was believed Van Haal's experiments stopped after his daughter's death, but we now know he restarted the program. Eliminate van Haal and Doctor Rei Ikaji, his top scientist, during the GeneTech company dinner and the experiments will be stopped for good. Hunters of Light, deny these dark beasts their tomorrow."

The image on the screen winked out and, wordlessly, Manx snapped on the lights. Opening the manila folder, she spread its contents across the table. The usual sheaf of personal data on the targets, a set of architect's blueprints, and a program of events for, and a pair of tickets to, the GeneTech dinner. The tickets themselves were oversized things, printed on thick, creamy paper elaborately engraved with flowing, elegant kanji, and bordered with thick gold leaf.

Picking up the invitations, Youji gave a long, low whistle. "Wow. Looks like it's time to dig out the white tie, Aya."

Yet he was thinking thus: if Persia wanted someone to fatally crash a fancy party, why tell Aya to do it? Sure the guy looked top-drawer, but he couldn't mingle for the life of him and that damn sword of his was hardly discreet, and as for Calico… no, as for Rain if the last mission had been anything to go by her penchant for big, dramatic entrances hardly made her an ideal candidate for undercover work, either… damn, he had a bad feeling about this mission. Something was going to go very wrong, he could feel it in his blood.

Why, Youji wondered, couldn't I have done this? It would have been easy. Go in, rub shoulders with the great and the good, quietly strangle van Haal in the gents when the alcohol started to get to him then run out shouting 'he's had a heart attack!'… simple. And, if he really needed an escort, there was always Ken. Get the kid so wired on painkillers he didn't even notice he was wearing a dress and he'd do just peachy. He'd be more reliable than Rain, at least.

Manx cleared her throat slightly. "There is one final detail. The dinner in question is tonight… in about three and a half hours, to be precise. Abyssinian, will you be ready in time?"
"Of course," Aya said coolly. "You may tell Persia I accept this assignment."
Omi turned toward him, his cheeks pale. "Will you and Calico be okay by yourselves, Aya-kun?"
"The mission is ours," Aya replied, "and it will be completed."

Plucking the tickets from between Youji's fingers and tucking them discreetly in his pocket, Aya walked to the stairs and back up and out, to the shop, to Rain. Omi, after gathering up the blueprints and the data and slipping them back into the folder, followed closely behind – Youji hoped to head to his bedroom to make a start on the planning – and he'd have to with only a scant couple of hours to do it in, what did Persia think he wasplayingat? – not to wander blithely out into the Koneko casually carrying mission data like it was his latest class assignment. Hard to tell these days…

Leaving Youji himself behind with Manx, who for once didn't seem inclined to move. Sitting down in Omi's vacated chair, she pulled out a notebook and pen of her own, then turned to face him. I'll see you after the briefing – it felt like being kept behind after class by his favorite teacher. Youji gave her a wide, cheerful smile and settled back contentedly against the cushions.

"Do you think," Manx asked, "that there was anything at all suspect about Siberian's attack?"
Youji nodded. "Definitely. Rain's trying to sell it as an attempted abduction on herself which Ken tried to break up alone, but the pattern's wrong. When we showed Rain had a wounded arm and Ken was out cold. If Schreient genuinely planned to abduct her, she should have been the one knocked out. Even presuming the abduction scenario holds true, at the very most Ken was the one Schreient wanted and she broke it up. If I wasn't inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt—"
"You'd say that she was with Schreient all along," Manx said. "Correct?"
"Correct. Once she realized I was nearby she covered her tracks by getting one of her teammates to scratch her up a bit and going to stand by Ken, then screamed to get my attention."
Manx nodded briskly, tapping her chin with her pen. "Plausible, but where's the proof?"
"That, I'm afraid," Youji said with a sigh, "is where it all falls down."

Which meant it got them no nearer a solution to the problem that was Rain.

Which meant there was nothing for it. Manx simply sighed, and pushed the thought aside. It wouldn't do. Not by itself, not with no evidence and no reliable witnesses, and nobody who wasn't already predisposed to dislike Rain would take Ken's word over hers. She was, after all, easily beautiful and talented and special enough for Weiss's enemies to have taken an interest in, and her adoptive father was a rich and powerful man: Ken was just Ken, and often acted recklessly.

"As for this mission," Manx said, "it strikes me as extremely unwise to send two of you in undercover and unsupported while three other team members stand idle. I planned to ask Siberian to watch their backs, but he'd never have been ideal even without the injury… I'm going to need you, Balinese, to go in after them."
Youji nodded. "Done."
"I thought you'd agree. You'll need…" She broke off, tugging a disc from inside her jacket and handing it to Youji. "I copied the mission data Persia sent Calico. Please ensure you destroy the disc as soon as you're done, and keep yourself hidden during the dinner. I don't want you to make yourself known to Abyssinian or Calico unless it's plain they need the support, but if things do go wrong I want them to have competent backup, and…" She hesitated again, just for a moment. "And I want you to report back to me regardless. The more we know of her movements the better."
"Understood," Youji said. "You can count on me, Manx."

Aya rendezvoused with Agent Calico at a Kritiker safehouse in Meguro, an elegantly-furnished apartment he had never had call to visit before. The girl invited him in over the intercom, and offered him a drink. Aya declined, taking a seat in the minimalist living room while his mysterious new teammate completed her toilette in the next room. He was running a little late, and he was annoyed that the woman wasn't ready to leave yet. He could only thank the Gods that it was always better to arrive at these events a little late than show your face too soon, but all the same, he hadn't expected to have to wait. When Agent Calico finally showed her face, he thought he would give her a piece of his mind.

Then Calico stepped into the room, her gloved fingers fumbling with her sparkling necklace, and Aya's jaw dropped.

He had thought Calico a beauty that night at the warehouse, when she had killed Kawamata; tonight, dressed in a low-cut purple evening gown, her hair in an elegant updo, the young girl was absolutely gorgeous! Good thing Youji wasn't here; the playboy would have been unable to keep his hands to himself, faced with such a breathtakingly beautiful companion. Even for a gentleman like Aya it was an effort not to gawp. Watching her fumble with the necklace's recalcitrant clasp, he scrambled to his feet, his coat slipping to the floor, took the necklace from her gloved fingers and, tucking a loose strand of her jet-black hair behind one of her ears, he drew it about her neck himself, and carefully fastened it, and left it to fall.

"What should I call you?" Aya asked her as he led her down the stairs toward his waiting Porsche. "I can't introduce you as Agent Calico of Kritiker all evening."
The girl's full lips, painted a glossy plum that perfectly complemented her shining amethyst pools, curled upward, and she smiled a slow, coy smile as she held out one delicate hand for him to take. "You can call me Raven," she said in a sexy, musical voice that made Aya go weak at the knees. "Doctor Raven Himura. I'm a pediatric emergency surgeon."
"Very well," Aya said, with a warm smile. "Raven it is."

Inside, Rain Akegata wanted to cheer. Her disguise was perfect!

He drove them through clogged city streets and through the winding byroads of the suburbs out into open country, out to a foursquare Victorian manor house standing in the middle of a patchwork of rolling fields, its heavy doors thrown open and all its windows ablaze with light. She took his arm as he escorted her up the gravel drive. A large sign that reached almost to Rain's bare shoulder stood by the door, reading 'GeneTech Welcomes You to it's Fifteenth Annual Company Dinner' in elegant Roman script, betraying its founder's Western origins. Beneath that, the company motto was printed: 'Uncovering the Unique for a Different Tomorrow'.

Rain hesitated at the top of the sweep of the stone stairway, shivering slightly as she gazed at the sign. Aya glanced down at her in sudden concern, and she colored, and struggled to smile, drawing her coat more closely about herself as if she were feeling the evening chill. She couldn't let him know what was on her mind… not when their whole cover depended on their being taken for a normal young couple on an evening out.

A valet took their coats, and the pair of assassins were ushered into the ballroom by a besuited flunky. Heads turned as the couple walked inside; Rain, feeling the gazes of every man in the room upon her, flushed self-consciously.

"Ayato Fujiyama," the man beside the door intoned, "and Doctor Raven Himura."

Formal dresses had always been much too fussy for Rain's taste, and the elegant gown that had been foisted upon her by her handlers tonight was no exception. It was far too revealing for her taste, with a form-fitting bodice with a dangerously plunging neckline, which left almost the entirety of her pale back exposed. The skirts were full and floor-length, with a filmy overskirt; a pair of long purple gloves with lace-trimmed edges and high-heeled shoes completed the ensemble. When Birman had showed her the shoes, delicate deep purple ankle-strapped sandals with intricate black beadwork, she had demanded to know why she couldn't simply wear her mission boots as nobody would see them beneath her fussy skirts, but the old bitch had been adamant…

They hadn't even let her wear her hair loose, or perhaps in a simple bun. Instead, her long, glossy, raven-black hair had been piled fussily on top of her head and held in place with small sparkling pins in the shape of butterflies, with only a few small curls left loose to frame her heart-shaped face, which had been beautifully made up so she looked like a goddess. Her heliotrope occuli were lined with mascara and kohl, her full lips painted a gorgeous shade of plum. Amethyst and diamond pendants shone at her ears, and a sparkling necklace of the same precious stones graced her slender throat.

She had to hope she wouldn't have to run anywhere tonight; she wouldn't get very far in this nightmare of an outfit. There hadn't even been room in her tiny clutch for her butterfly swords, and she'd had to settle for a stiletto in a thigh-mounted holster. The color was the only thing Rain liked about the dress; it was a deep, deep purple which in some lights looked almost black, and the bodice was embroidered with black and silver designs that at first appeared random but which, if one looked closer, revealed themselves to show the coiling, sinuous form of a dragon, surmounted by wind-blown roses.

In the corner, a tall redhead in a green sport coat raised his head to watch as the girl and her partner stepped inside.

"So that's the cute new kitten?" he murmured to his American companion. "It's going to be fun to play with her!"

Rain didn't like the hunger in the men's gazes. She flushed deeper, clinging tightly to Aya's arm, and wished she had her blades with her. If it hadn't been so important to the mission that she stay discreet, she would have hunted down every last one of those drooling creeps and taught them a lesson they wouldn't forget about keeping their eyes to themselves!

Their partners, older and dowdier makes almost to a woman, must have known they couldn't compete. They turned hostile backs upon her, bristling and murmuring resentfully among themselves – unless, of course, one were to glance in the direction of a certain Miss Kitada, gazing flatly and assessingly at the girl and her escort like a scientist might peer down the barrel of a microscope, at a specimen pinned to a slide.

"I think," she murmured to her stunned partner, "I'm going to get some air."

She made some minute adjustment to the fall of her own dress, a slim, dark affair in a 'fiftiesish cut, which didn't so much reveal everything she had as hint in an undertone about the promise of revelations to come. Stepping into the garden, she withdrew a slim cigarette from a silver case, tapping it once against the lid before slipping the case back in her handbag.

"Good evening, Kudou-san," she said to the empty air.

There was a soft thump from somewhere behind her; she turned to see Youji, stood behind her as calm and easy as if he had been there for the last ten minutes. Smiling, he held out his lighter, the flame dancing at the element. Manx stepped over to him, holding her cigarette out for him, then placed it to her lips and gave a long drag.

"Of all the bars in all the world," Youji said, lighting his own cigarette with a flourish, "you had to walk into mine."
"Quite," Manx said, raising one eyebrow in a silent statement. "And, while we're on the subject of old films, I liked this story a lot better when it was called Pretty in Pink…"

The choking noise that accompanied that remark sounded, to her ears, remarkably like Youji Kudou just about managing not to swallow his cigarette. She smiled.

"You," Youji managed, through an ungraceful fit of coughing, "have seen Pretty in Pink?"
"Why do you think I started curling my hair?" Manx asked dryly.
Youji chose to ignore this. There was such a thing as too much information. "Well… I can see why you'd say that," he said, recovering slightly. "Unfortunately, our leading lady is no Molly Ringwald and the story we've fetched up in would be most accurately titled Worship Rain: The Musical."
"Quite. If I didn't know better, I'd say this entire event had been stage-managed for her benefit."
"You can say that again." Youji took a drag on his cigarette, camouflaging a heavy sigh as an exhalation. "Any sign of the target?"
Manx glanced back over her shoulder as if she were hoping to see van Haal watching her from a clump of bushes. No luck there, the shrubbery stayed disappointingly clear of lurking Dutch-American businessmen. "None as yet. Still, he's got to be there for the dinner…"
"Manx," Youji said almost plaintively, "tell me something. What would it hurt if I just quietly dealt with the target now? Does it really matter who takes him out as long as he's neutralized?"
"To Persia? Unfortunately it rather seems to." She sighed again, taking a calming draw on her own cigarette. "I have no idea what the man thinks he's playing at, but apparently he promised Agent Calico that she alone would be allowed to deal with van Haal. One of the pre-conditions of her agreeing to throw in her lot with us, I believe, and yes I think it's ridiculous too."
"Really? Man, we can do without help like that."

Manx took a final draw on her cigarette, then tossed it casually to the ground and stubbed it out with a single quick, sure motion of the foot. "Sadly," she said, "that is the material we're working with. Stay away from van Haal, Balinese. Persia's given Agent Calico quite enough rope with which to hang herself. With any luck she'll do so in such a spectacular fashion even he can't justify keeping her on. If all else fails we can say she was a lone maniac."

Well, Youji thought, it would at least be a more accurate description than most of Kritiker's cover jobs.

Rain knew she should have told Aya the truth.

All the way here she had been on the verge of blurting out her secret to him… but how could she, when if he only knew the truth he would certainly have taken her off the mission? Rain had to do this – she just had to! She'd waited so long for her revenge, and now, after all the long years of pain and suffering… finally, that shithead would get what was coming to him!

It had been a shock to see him in the flesh after so long. The sight of his cruel, scarred face had left her trembling, feeling like a scared little girl who had been dragged from a dark, filthy basement so the man who insisted she called him father could beat her again. She had almost turned tail and ran, but Aya's comforting presence by her side had kept her strong.

"Raven," Aya said in sudden concern, "are you all right?"
Rain nodded. "I'm fine," she said bravely.

There he was, tall and fair, sat at the head of the table basking in the adoration of his colleagues and friends with that bitch Ikaji draping herself all over him. Ikaji was wearing far too much makeup and a very tight, low-cut dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was appalling to realize that a cheap little skank like that could ever have replaced her own mother. He looked so pleased with himself, sitting there smirking like nothing was wrong while his slutty girlfriend batted her eyes at him. He hadn't even noticed her, had he? After all the pain and suffering he had put her through, every terrible thing he had done to her, he hadn't even noticed that she was there!

Michael van Haal.

That's right, Rain thought, angry amethyst occuli shooting fire at him over the rim of her wine glass. Smile it up, van Haal. You couldn't control me and as soon as I fooled you into thinking I was dead you thought you were safe. You think with me gone that nothing can stop your twisted plans. Well, aren't you going to be in for a surprise!

She had at least been spared the ordeal of trying to maintain an impassive demeanor in front of the boys. Rain slipped away from them soon after they returned from their briefing and headed to the Meguro safehouse where her own handler, Siamese, had been waiting for her. Siamese, a slender yet shapely young woman, was sitting on the couch in the living room dressed in a neat white skirt suit on top of a black open-necked blouse with black high heels, and the rich mahogany hair which reached her mid-back was currently pulled up into a neat bun, held in place with a pair of golden hair sticks. Her face was delicately made-up, and a small gold pendant dangled at her throat.

"Calico," Siamese had said, getting to her feet and handing her a buff folder, "it's time."
"Time?" Rain had stretched out one hand to take the folder from her, then hesitated. "GeneTech?" she asked.
The older girl nodded. "It's GeneTech."
"Oh, my God."

Rain had taken the folder and opened it, delicate fingers trembling as she withdrew a black-and-white photograph of a scarred blonde man. For a moment she simply stared at it then it, like the folder, slipped from Rain's hands and tumbled to the floor. The girl had just about made it to the couch before her legs gave way, and she slumped heavily back into the cushions, tears brimming in her beautiful indigo orbs. Siamese had looked at her in concern, worried for this beautiful young girl who had become a younger sister to her. Sitting down by Rain's side, she had taken the girl's hands in her own.

"Calico," she said, "are you sure you still want to do this?"
And the violet-eyed girl had blinked back her tears, and she had nodded. "I have to, Siamese," she had said. "For Ichigo."

Now, as she picked at the remains of her meal, Rain surreptitiously watched van Haal through her bangs, and wondered if he even remembered Ichigo. Probably not. If he couldn't remember her, there was no way he would remember Ichigo. Even in life, Ichigo had been nothing to him but a disappointment…

The awareness she was being watched cut across her thoughts. Gasping, Rain raised her head and looked around to discover who was staring at her, meeting the eyes of a tall, narrow-eyed redhead sat next to an ugly old man who looked like a constipated koala. She couldn't have missed that very distinctive head of hair, or the green sport coat that encased his slender body. Him again? Any ordinary girl might have presumed that the man was staring only because he found her attractive, but why would any man think that about a girl as unattractive as Rain? She shivered slightly, uncomfortable at being regarded so closely.

"Aya," she whispered, nudging her partner slightly with one elbow, "That man won't stop looking at me."

Aya followed her gaze, starting when he realized who she was talking about. Schuldig. Schwarz!

From the instant the girl walked into the room, Schuldig had been unable to think of anything else.

It had been, until then, yet another unremarkable evening spent trapped in an overcrowded room full of tedious little minds buzzing with all their tedious little concerns. A bunch of dull old farts wishing they were back in the office, pouting bimbos preening and tousling their hair and batting their over-made-up eyelids at the richer-looking men while the sour-faced old frumps the men had shackled themselves to seethed by their sides… this shower didn't have a single original thought in their empty heads. Even their little dramas were petty, playing themselves out in all the usual painfully predictable ways. The idiots weren't even worth the bother of messing with.

Schuldig had been half-considering making a play for one of the girls (a cute, if dull American whose sole salient features were nice breasts, a head of very thick claret curls and toenails painted the kind of purple much beloved by twelve-year-old girls and precisely nobody else) and giving her precisely what her thoughts told him she claimed she was looking for, but that had been before her. Shit, she'd probably saved that little redhead's life…

Her: Doctor Raven Himura.

Well, well, he said into Crawford's mind, looks like we'll be getting a new kitty to play with.

For a moment Crawford almost seemed baffled – but then his face cleared, amber eyes narrowing as he gazed intently at the girl and her escort. I wouldn't underestimate her, Schuldig, he thought back coolly. She's clearly quite different from the rest of her litter… to say nothing of all those little hookers you chase.

Different: yes, that was it. Crawford, once again, had put his finger on it. Raven, with her glossy black hair and her slender yet nicely curved body, and sparkling amethyst orbs full of mystery and promise which shone with the secret fires of their owner's resolve… no, Raven was clearly not like the other girls; there was something different about her, something so strange and remarkable that he couldn't at first tell what it was any more than generally. All he knew was Raven was something special. She would be a far more interesting target than the silly child with the painted toenails. Schuldig smiled evilly to himself. This girl would be something to linger over, to slowly savor. This girl would be a challenge.

It wasn't until they sat down to dinner that he had realized what was so strange about the pretty new kitten.

He couldn't read her mind.

Schuldig hadn't really realized that he'd been searching for the shape of the girl's mind all along before it had dawned on him that he couldn't find her anywhere. There the girl was, sat at a table in the center of the room, sipping a glass of chilled champagne with the redheaded Weiss kitty hanging on every word she spoke – and she might as well not have been there at all. He couldn't reach her mind. She was an oasis of perfect calm, a single blank spot in the center of the image that might have come upon the teeming canvas of thought by accident.

What? That simply couldn't be possible, could it? Not unless she was—could she be like him? Schuldig redoubled his efforts, but everything he tried, every single approach was repelled as easily as if he had never had powers at all! There was a wall, thick and quite unscaleable, about her mind. There wasn't so much as a chink in her mental armor. No matter how hard he tried to topple her mental defenses, the pretty new kitten's mind pushed back twice as hard. Don't even think it, some little voice seemed to be whispering: it was a woman's voice, musical and sexy and in control, and full of sheer resolve. I won't let you defeat me. Don't even think about fighting me, or you'll regret it…

Crawford, he murmured into his companion's mind, we have to have that girl.
I agree, Crawford thought back in reply, She is far too valuable an asset to let Weiss have her. With her on their side, they'll be unstoppable. We'll take her for our own – and soon.

Schuldig grinned an evil grin. Just you wait, sweet little Weiss kitty. Just you wait.

Youji's heart had sunk when Rain pointed Schuldig out of the crowd. Schuldig and the American guy and, next to them, the big guy himself: Reiji Takatori, resplendent in a dinner jacket and white tie, quietly eating sashimi and looking faintly bored by the whole proceedings. No wonder he'd had a bad feeling about this: this was just the kind of event which rich guys like that would get invited to! Why hadn't he thought of that one before? Now here he was trapped helplessly in the rafters, able to do nothing but watch as Aya gave the entire mission the finger to try and cut the guy to pieces with a butter knife—

And then he didn't. It was as if he hadn't even noticed Takatori. Aya just sat there drinking rather bad white wine, nodding sympathetically in all the right places as Rain talked far too intently about who knew what. For a moment Youji wondered what they were talking about, then decided he'd rather not know. It was probably all about Rain, as usual.

What's wrong with this picture apart from everything?

That wasn't the worst of it, though. Not by a long chalk. The worst of it was what happened after the meal: after the last of the places were cleared away, with a dozen black-clad waitresses making their way along the lines of the tables carrying oversized coffee pots and plates of wafer-thin mints. At the end table, a couple were getting to their feet: a distressingly attractive woman in a black cocktail dress, and a tall, fair-haired American. Those, Youji supposed, would be Ikaji and van Haal – in other words, they were the targets – and Aya and Rain were really leaving it awfully late to deal with them.

As Youji watched from his perch in the rafters, van Haal made his way to the small stage at the far end of the hall through the usual slight shower of polite post-prandial applause. Mounting the stairs, he headed for a cloth-draped lectern bearing nothing more sinister than the usual carafe of water, behind which stood a large display stand bearing the GeneTech logo and motto. Ikaji waited a few feet beside him, her hands clasped behind her back, as he tapped the microphone.

"Good evening," van Haal began, formally. "And may I say what a pleasure it has been to see you all tonight—"

And from there on in Youji could have been watching anime. An exceptionally daft anime about a hot teenage superspy who thought the only problem with James Bond's MO was that Bond was far too discreet.

"Stop right there, van Haal!" Rain shouted, leaping suddenly to her feet and sending her coffee cup flying. "I swore I'd make you suffer for what you did to me! Now it's time for you to pay for your crimes!"

If there had been a wall within shooting distance, Youji was sure he would have banged his head against it. As it was, he made do with groaning – the downside to which, of course, was that he remembered everything that happened next. At least with stupid anime a guy could get up and change the channel…

There was a crash as Rain's chair pitched to the floor behind her; another, louder series of clatters and bangs as she leapt straight up and onto the table and from there somersaulted toward van Haal, her skirts flying, her pinned-up hair somehow working its way loose, cascading out in a waterfall of glossy raven curls. Two shining blades appeared in her hands as she leapt, gleaming like glass shards in the overhead light. Landing elegant as a gymnast on the ball of one foot, Rain pivoted and sprung for Ikaji, slashing open the woman's throat with a single, deadly blow. Ikaji fell dead without so much as a cry.

Everyone just stood there, that was the thing Youji remembered. They all just stood there and watched.

van Haal was staring. His eyes wide, his cheeks pale, he stared between the extinguished form of his assistant and the girl who had killed her, her violet eyes blazing with fury and her twin blades smeared with Ikaji's blood.

"Who are you?" he whispered – yet even from the rafters Youji heard him perfectly.
The girl took an angry step toward him, blades raised. "Can't you remember?" she spat. "The Akegata family! The family you ruined!"
"Akegata?" In spite of himself, van Haal blinked. He looked almost confused. "I've never heard of any Akegata—"
"Liar!" Rain shrieked. "How dare you dishonor her name like that!"

And yet he wasn't lying; Youji could see it in his face. His confusion was simply too genuine. van Haal really had never heard the name before…

He didn't have time to think on it further. A shot cracked out, harsh and flat, and from their places in the audience a group of burly black-suited men were climbing to their feet, drawing guns from their jackets and pointing them straight at Rain. They were a day late and a dollar short, but Youji supposed they had to be seen to make the effort all the same.

"Step away from the President!"
"How dare you threaten her!"

Yup. Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any messier there was Aya, right on cue, clearly wounded in his nonexistent chivalry by the men pointing guns at his girl.

Jumping to his feet, Aya drew his katana (where had he been keeping it?), striding forward and cutting down the nearest of the bodyguards while Rain leapt from the stage, blades flashing in the light, bearing another of the men to the ground. The guard just about had time to scream before Rain's butterfly swords found his heart, the girl springing gracefully back up and cutting down another guard who had drawn a bead on Aya. The crowd, suddenly remembering that they had legs and voices and could use them both, screamed and ran for the doors, shoving and elbowing one another in their desperation to get away from the crazy people with the guns and the swords.

And van Haal did likewise. As soon as Rain's attention was safely on the bodyguards, van Haal, of course, did the smart thing and made a break for it, rushing for the rear doors flanked by another brace of besuited mooks. Rain turned just in time to see his back vanishing through the doorway, swallowed up by the darkness of the night!

"van Haal's getting away!" she cried. "Stop him!"

She quickly dispatched the last of the guards and bolted for the door, kicking off her high-heeled shoes on the way, Aya sheathing his sword and following in her wake.

Well, if Kritiker ever wanted to make a training video on How Not To Kill Dudes In Public, all they'd have to do was re-enact this mission. Pause the tape every time a trainee would've done something differently; an essay question at the end for any would-be Omis on how they'd plan things to avoid that confused and injudicious farce. Youji dropped from his perch in the rafters and picked his way through a tangle of fallen chairs, broken crockery, trampled centerpieces and the occasional stray ladies' shoe. Manx, waiting by one of the doors and looking barely less spare than the forgotten name labels that marked the place settings, met his eyes, shaking her head and giving a sad little sigh. Youji thought he knew the feeling.

"You'd better go after them," Manx said in reply to the question he hadn't asked.

Youji arrived outside just in time to see the taillights of a car – a black executive sedan, by the looks of it – receding into the distance. Aya had hesitated a short way down the drive, one hand on the hilt of his sword: Rain had run farther and now stood, the wind whipping at her loose hair and setting the skirts of her elegant gown billowing as if she were straining at an invisible leash, her shoulders heaving as she panted for breath and stared after the car in desperate rage.

"He's going to escape!" Rain was crying. "We've got to go after him! We've got to stop him!"
"It's too late, Calico," Aya said, stepping to her. "We'll never catch up with him now."
"Y… you don't mean that! We can follow him, and—"
"No," Aya said gravely, placing one hand on her shoulder. "We've lost him. I'm sorry, Calico. It's my fault"
"Don't touch me!" Furiously, Rain slapped his hand away, watching helplessly as van Haal's taillights rounded a bend in the drive, vanishing into the darkness. "He's gone…" she whispered. "He's gone. No…"

Tears sprang to the girl's amethyst orbs; her legs gave way beneath her and she fell to her knees on the asphalt. The twin swords clattered from her gloved hands as the first tear trickled slowly down her alabaster cheek.

"Nooooooooooo!"

This was it: Weiss had officially hit rock bottom. Now they were starting to dig.