I am... so sorry I made you wait for so long for such a short chapter. Seriously, I'm ashamed of myself. And then I thought I would have the last chapter of "Game of Life" ready this week too. Guess that was just my wistful thinking :'(

This is also what I get for believing I got a hold of the story. The plot always twists around whenever I think I know where it's going.

Still. I hope you enjoy the chapter just as much. Thanks to all of you who're still waiting and reading.

Kirill Mertvye and Mogami Kyoko

In the middle of the pavement near TBM stood a tall, blond man with an upturned face. On his arm sat a girl who looked very small against his chest, she too looking at the sky. People passing them all stared and tried to see what they were looking at. The man had sunglasses though, so it was hard to see if he was actually looking at the sky or just enjoying the early spring sun.

"Can you feel it, Zoya?" Kirill asked.

The girl's hands gripped his shirt tighter.

"Relief, gratefulness and then shame." The man lowered his head and looked forward. "And now back to nothing."

They continued to walk in the direction of the sorce of the voice of nothing. To be honest, Kirill had no idea to where he was heading. He could only follow the sound of the heart that over-voiced all the other hearts in the area.

Then there was suddenly something else there. Kirill stopped, muscles tensed and legs slightly bent. Zoya pulled his shirt for attention, but he only hid her in his arms. This feeling was too familiar. The voice was familiar. They were being watched.

On the other side of the street stood a tall man in jeans and a black leather jacket leaning against a wall in the shadow, his eyes also covered with sunglasses. Kirill answered the hatred he felt from the man furiously, and the man on the other side of the street reacted with an angrily scrunched up nose.

A truck broke their eye contact, and when it had passed the stranger was gone.

Kirill stood still, searcing with his inner ears. The fury and hared was moving away.

He straightened up.

"Sir, are you all right?"

Kirill blinked and looked down at a small police man with a worried expression. The Russian man smiled calmingly. It was really a bother to be this tall in a country with such small people. His mere size was intimidating for the Japanese.

"No worry. Only thought I see an old enemy."

"I see. But please don't cause a scene in the middle of the street. We don't want the civilians involved."

Kirill cast a look around, seeing that people avoided him as much as possible. And wasn't he a civilian himself? He smiled at the police man again.

"I will behave."

The man left them and Kirill continued on his way. The Nothing they followed had increased in size, but Kirill's thoughts were on the man they had seen. He was so familiar.

"I met him during the war," Kirill told his foundling. "We will probably meet him again sooner or later."

Yashiro Yukihito could only admire his charge for the brave front he pulled for his fans and co-workers. The manager knew Ren was more worried than anyone about Kyoko-chan, but still he wouldn't ask anybody about her, and if somebody questioned him he would calmly reply he didn't know anything either.

But that brave front only lasted until the star was back in his lounge. There he sat heavily, ignored his lunch and tiredly drew his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Otsukare-sama," Yashiro sighed and sat a cup of tea on the table beside the man. "How many times have you tried to call her?"

Ren took a deep breath and looked up from his hands. "Only once."

The manager's anger rose quickly, but he pushed it back. It was very rare for Tsuruga Ren to actually admit that he was thinking of Kyoko-chan without being fooled to it. That only meant that the star was seriously worried about the girl.

They hadn't heard a word from Kyoko-chan since that incident at L.M.E. After coming back from talking to Kyoko-chan's mother, Ren hadn't said a word. If questioned he just shut up. It worried Yashiro. Tsuruga Ren always answered. Sometimes it was a straight lie, and sometimes it was a distracting manoeuvre. He never answered with silence.

"Have you tried contacting the mother again?"

Ren's head snapped up. "I beg your pardon?"

Yashiro pulled back from the look Ren gave him. "I just thought... Well, whatever you spoke about. Mogami-san was angry at you on Kyoko-chan's behalf, right?"

Ren glared at him. The darkness inside him filled the room and probably also spilled to the corridor outside. Yashiro stood frozen.

"I wouldn't talk to that woman again if I got paid."

"I'm so sorry!" the manager squeaked. Now he knew; whatever was said between those two had hit Ren-sama in a really sore spot. It is possible that Mogami-san even told Tsuruga Ren to stay the hell away from her daughter.

There was a knock on the door. The darkness of Ren-sama slowly returned to where he was usually hiding it. Yashiro went to open.

"Excuse me, we're ready. Tsuruga-kun must be on stage in ten minutes."

"He'll be there," Yashiro promised. The assisting director nodded, a bit pale-faced, and left.

Yashiro closed the door and prepared himself for turning around. The look on the assisting director's face had told him he too could feel the dark aura of a man ready to kill you in the blink of an eye.

"You heard," he said and turned around. Ren was facing down so his face wasn't visible in the mirror either. "Ten minutes, Ren."

The star looked up. "Okay. Let's go."

He was back to normal. Yashiro only hoped that the feelings his charge tried so hard to suppress wouldn't be too much. If they could only get a hold of Kyoko-chan.

Kirill was facing trouble.

In front of him was a TV house, and the one he sought was inside. Only guests and staff are allowed into a TV-house, an international rule. So he being neither, couldn't go in there.

Thinking about the problem, Kirill stood still, looking up at the building. Zoya had fallen asleep so he couldn't ask her for advice either.

Then a memory surfaced. In the first of two TV-shows he had been to there had been a girl in a chicken suit that had rushed out in a sudden panic. That should be the girl he was looking for now. That meant she was a staff and would probably use the back door.

The Russian crossed his fingers in hopes he was right and rounded the building. He didn't have time to search for this girl all day. Sooner or later someone would come to his hotel looking for him, and only his band knew his cell phone number. Yuni would get worried, Elexa scared and Malin angry. The last member's reaction he didn't want to think about.

Ivy was not going to be happy with him.

Kyoko didn't have filming today. Dark Moon was over, Box 'R' was now filming the last scenes and Natsu would only be needed once more, for the prom scene. She had been looking forward to that scene ever since she heard of it, only because it meant that she would be able to wear a beautiful dress. Always a child was right now filming all the scenes in school where she wasn't needed, and tomorrow they would film the scenes between Aiko's mother and father. In two weeks they would go on location again, to shoot some scenes from Aiko's childhood. Those scenes were supposedly right after the separation between the parents and everything in the house was reminding Aiko about her happy moments.

Kyoko had heard the girl who would act as little Aiko was the daughter of a great actress, but she couldn't remember which one. Japan sported with a lot of great actors and actresses. Shiva-san was definitely one of them.

Sighing Kyoko opened the door to face the man who had asked her to organize the documentation of a newly finished drama series and deliver them to the storeroom.

"Ah, Mogami-san. Are you done already?"

She bowed. "Otsukare-sama." With a deft hand she picked up the Love-Me stamps and book. "Here you go. Please sign your name and what you asked of me as well."

"All right." He took the book.

Kyoko stood (e)motionless as he choose how many points he was going to give. Around them people whispered, but she didn't care. What the hell did these people know anyway?

"It didn't take you that much time," the man started. "It makes me suspicious. I haven't heard from the storeroom that the documents are delivered either. They would have contacted me the moment the documents arrived. You are very untrustworthy."

A woman to Kyoko's left whispered. "But they did..."

Somebody hushed her.

The man stamped -10 points and handed the book and box to Kyoko with a sneer.

"Don't come here again, whore."

The room fell into silence, and not because of the man's choice of words. The temperature was dropping swiftly. Kyoko's narrowed eyes looked like they were glowing. The room filled with whispers, and not from living beings.

"Don't worry," Kyoko said, her voice so deep and cold it made everybody hearing it shiver. "I only came for a Love-Me quest from one of the directors of L.M.E, you only grabbed me, and as a Love-Me member I do my work, wholeheartedly."

It was like cold hands were gripping onto them. The cast in the room had fallen under an evil spell and couldn't move. A spell that lasted long after Mogami Kyoko had left the building.

Kirill's ears perked up as a sound of anger was lightened in the centre of the nothingness. A sound that grew in volume until the voice turned into an almost unbearable howl of hatred, contempt and pure anger. How could one person's emotions scream so loudly? It was a wonder that nobody else could hear it. He wondered if it was just the voice affecting him or if he actually saw demons flare out of the roof.

In his arms Zoya awoke to the sound of anger and started crying.

And then, just as it had started, the anger subsided into nothing, leaving only a faint hint of weariness. The voice of nothing had grown in size too. Whoever it was giving off the voice, she was in serious need of psychical help and support, even more than he was.

"What could have happened?" he whispered to himself. "What could have happened that made her voice so loud?"

It took a moment, but suddenly Kirill realized he could follow the movement of the owner of the voice with his eyes. He couldn't see anything but wall and windows, but he was still, somehow, able to follow her. She was moving towards the back door where he waited.

Sounds died away the closer she came. The voice of nothing, a great silence of emptiness, was drowning every other sound. It was just like he was about to become deaf. Kirill swallowed. His mouth felt dry and his hands were sweaty.

The owner of the voice came out of the building wearing a pink overall. Everything was silent. The soft buzz of voices was gone. The ever present noise from the traffic couldn't be heard. The wind was dead. The birds were mute.

The girl went to where a group of bicycles stood in a messy row. She picked out a red one, unlocked it and skillfully turned it around and led it towards a space where she could mount it without hitting anyone.

Then she suddenly turned her head and they made eye contact.

Something happened. It can't be described by simple words. The simplest way to somehow explain what happened is that Kirill and Kyoko saw each other. Not the way a person sees with his/her eyes. More like they saw into each other.

Kirill saw multicoloured eyes under a hue of brown, black hair, a frail heart broken many times over.

Kyoko saw eyes holding so many unshed tears they had turned blue, a body covered with scars caused by family, friends, strangers and enemies, a heart that couldn't heal.

In their hearts they both were screaming mutely.

And then, by an outer force, the contact was brutally cut. Both their heads flew backwards like they had been hit in the forehead. Kirill still had Zoya in his arms and she cried out when Kirill fell backwards. Kyoko fell over her bicycle that fell over with her on top, unconscious.

Zoya cried loudly out of fear and tears ran down her reddened face in streams. People gathered, wondering what happened, worried about the unconscious pair and the crying child that refused to let go of the man she stood by. A cell phone was picked up to call the ambulance when suddenly a sharp voice cut through the chaos.

"Please wait. That's my brother."

People turned to a tall, lanky guy with originally blond hair that hadn't been dyed in a while, dressed in jeans, a leather jacket and sunglasses. He walked up to the fallen man and crying child.

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance? He just fell. What if he hit his head. And what about that little girl?"

"His daughter," the guy said and heaved the unconscious man up over his shoulders and took up the four-year-old crying girl with one arm. "I will take care of things from here, but could I ask you to call a taxi? Ask for the Chinese guy. There's only one here."

A man holding a cell phone in his hand looked at it and then nodded dumbly.

"What about this pink girl? Do you know her too?"

"I know who she is. I can take her home. Leave the bike, I can pick it up later."

The tall guy went up to the girl in pink, put the child down, threw the pink-clad body over his brothers and picked up the child again.

"The taxi is coming with your guy," the man with the cell phone said.

"Thanks a lot," the tall guy said and walked around the TV-station.

The taxi took only a minute to arrive and the chauffeur helped the guy in leather jacket to place the unconscious people in the car before he went back to the driver seat.

"Where do you want to go, Goddess?"

In the back seat beside the unconscious, the Black Goddess took off the sunglasses to reveal her flashing green eyes.

"Home."

Zoya was still crying loudly and Goddess hushed at her, hugging her and let her rest against her shoulder.

"I thought you didn't kill children," the chauffeur stated calmly as he navigated through the busy traffic.

"I don't. Although that other girl is already a target of mine."

"And the guy?"

"Stage name Kirill Mertvye, birth name Kirill Lasmotjka. Forced to enlist as a soldier and survived the internal wars of Iran."

The chauffeur chuckled. "That's so like you, Goddess. Forced or not he's still a soldier. How are you going to kill him?"

"Depends on how cooperative he is and how much his information is worth."

The Chinese chauffeur chuckled again and pulled to the side of a calm road in the run down parts of Tokyo. "We're here."

"Thank you." Goddess looked down to Zoya whom she had managed to send to a quiet sleep with the sleep powder she always had on her shoulder. "Take these two to restaurant Daruma-Ya, last but one window to the left at the back."

Malin had returned to the hotel in between practice and the meeting for The Dead Saints' album that would be released in a month to check on Kirill. Yuni didn't have time since she first had a photo shot for a new series of earrings and would turn up to the next meeting ten to fifteen minutes late depending on how much help she got in finding the places.

"Why do they put everything in the afternoons?" Malin complained to herself and knocked on Kirill's door. "Kirill, it's Malin. Are you awake?"

No one answered, so Malin shrugged her shoulders and went down to the reception.

"That's not your room," the receptionist said hesitantly.

"I know. Kirill Mertvye lives there, but he didn't feel very well this morning, so I have to check on him."

The receptionist looked down at the sockets under his desk where the keys were kept.

"I'm sorry, but he's not in. I think he left two hours ago. He is that really tall, blond guy, right? With tattoos in his face?"

Malin's eyes widened. "Um… did he have Zoya… a little girl about four years old with him?"

"Yes, I think so."

The bassist stood stock still. Kirill wouldn't just leave for no reason, especially not if he had Zoya with him, even less without telling Yuni. Two hours ago they were practicing and Yuni always had her phone around her neck, like all of them.

What the hell was going on?

"Thank you," Malin said slowly and turned.

She tried to walk with as much dignity as she could, but being on the edge of panic made it hard. Only when she was outside and on her way back to the car she had borrowed she fished out her own cell from her shirt, put the handsfree in her hear and then sat debating if she should call Kirill or Yuni first.

She decided upon Kirill. No need to disturb Yuni when she was working if there was nothing wrong.

The Black Goddess had just placed the Russian star on her bed when the buzz of a cell phone was heard. Kirill was still out cold, so she roamed his pockets until she found it, in a band around his neck of all places.

The display said; "Malin calling."

Goddess picked it up.

"Yes."

There was a long sigh on the other line.

"Kirill, where are you? I went to the hotel and they said you left two hours ago. Are you alright now?"

The voice that spoke was smooth, albeit sharp around the edges of the words. A female voice speaking big city Russian.

"Kirill? Are you there? Kirill?"

"I'm here," the Goddess said, using a deeper tone of voice than usual, speaking softly like she was asleep. "Things have become a little complicated."

"Complicated? Should I come pick you up? Where are you anyway?"

"You don't have to pick anyone up," the Goddess said with her normal voice, still speaking softly. "I won't let Kirill leave for a while."

There was a long silence on the other line, the sounds of annoyed traffic being the only sounds heard.

"What have you done to Kirill? And Zoya?"

"The child is safe. You can pick her up at Daruma-Ya whenever you like."

"Daruma what?"

"A restaurant. The owners will take well care of her, rest assured."

Silence.

"And what do you want with Kirill? Ransom?"

The Black Goddess chuckled quietly. "Don't take me for an idiot. I earn my money by killing unwanted people."

"Kirill isn't unwanted," the woman over the phone said, and now her voice was shaking with emotion.

"I know," the Goddess said calmly. "Kirill Lasmotjka is a survivor from the wars of Iran ten years ago. So am I."

"We all are," the woman on the other line said, her voice raising and shaking even more. "All of us, everyone of The Dead Saints survived those wars. What do you want from Kirill? I can give it just as much."

The Black Goddess was silent for a long moment, her eyes examining the man on her bed. The cloths undoubtedly covered unholy scars that still burnt. Everlasting remains of the past, left to remind the bearer that he was alive, and someone else was dead.

"No. I will keep him for a while. If he cooperates, you can have him back later."

And then she hung up around the pleading voice of Malin and turned the cell off.

"How are you going to kill him?"

The man on her bed flinched slightly, like he heard the voice in the Goddess's mind. His head tried to roll over, but fell back and he was once again motionless. The Black Goddess watched.

"It depends," she whispered.