"I believe we have found the problem. Your brother is having an allergic reaction." Mimura-san announced, looking very pleased with himself.
"You didn't answer my question." Omi pointed out. "And I could tell that. He stopped breathing after he ate the rose petal pudding. Although I suppose he could have been choking."
"Technically he was choking. His throat did swell shut." Mimura-san noted.
Omi gasped and started whimpering again. "Is there anything you can do about this?"
"Oh goodness no, I'm not qualified for anything like that. I'm just an aid. You'll have to talk to his doctor. Ichi-sensei will be by shortly, but first you need to fill out these forms."
"I'm going to fill out forms while my boyfr-er…my brother dies. Can I at least see him?" Omi asked.
"Heavens no. We can't actually treat him until you fill out these forms. In duplicate. You see, this hospital has been issued so many malpractice suits as of late we're in debt up to our ears, so we've been advised against treating patients until they waive certain…rights." Mimura-san explained.
"'If patient dies from rubber glove left in chest cavity, the undersigned promises not to sue'." Omi read aloud.
"You'd be surprised what can happen with these interns. I saw someone accidentally sew someone to the bed when they were trying to sew them shut. Everyone had a good laugh. Well, not the lawyers at least." Mimura said.
"What's this about the doctor sewing his initials onto the patient?" Omi asked.
"That went out of style ages ago. Honestly, those lawyers are a bunch of killjoys. We could sew his girlfriend's name into him if you'd like. Just initial there-" Mimura said, pointing to a spot on the form Omi was holding.
"No! Just treat him!" Omi squeaked, thrusting his hastily finished form back at the aid.
"Right. I'll zip these on over to the office and we'll have him breathing again in no time." Mimura said cheerfully. "Unless he's already dead. Which, since you signed, we're not responsible for."
Omi glared as he left the waiting room, then muttered to himself. "Note to self, ask Persia to look into possible dark beast status of Magic Bus Hospital."
Meanwhile at da Schwarz House
"Where the fuck is Nagi?" Crawford cursed loudly. "Farf, did you fix the bathroom? They can't know Nagi was living out of it."
"It still smells like bad milk." Farfarello informed Crawford. "Should I wear my normal work clothes, or my straight jacket? I don't know if you want me to play up my crazy or just go silent and glare."
"Eh, go with the mood. Remember, we need the extra money that's supposed to be going to your prescriptions." Crawford muttered.
"But I still get my prescription drugs. D-don't I?" Farfarello asked.
"Yes." Crawford said, but it was far from comforting. "Oh what's the difference where they come from so long as they work?"
"You're not giving me that Chinese crap, are you?" Farfarello asked in a panic.
"I can honestly say no." Crawford answered levelly. 'Taiwan.' He thought to himself. "Now take Curt Schilling over to Grau's hotel room. We don't need another puppy-spy fiasco. Where's Schuldig?"
"He's looking for Nagi." Farfarello answered. "If he finds Nagi before I finish packing this shit up, can you make Nagi carry it? Telekinesis would really help. Your hamster has more possessions than anyone else in this house. Especially since you took away my knives. By the by, I am an assassin. How, pray tell, am I to assassinate without knives?"
"Eh. Be creative. Now get on your way, I need to disinfect Schuldig's second bedroom." Crawford said, hoisting a gallon of bleach into the second bedroom.
"Found him!" Schuldig announced, flinging open the front door. He plopped himself onto the sofa and started channel surfing.
"That is not Nagi." Crawford said in an even tone as he poked his head out of Schuldig's second bedroom door.
"Pigtails are a dead giveaway." Farfarello pointed out. "Nagi has never worn his pigtails like that."
"Nagi doesn't wear pigtails!" Crawford yelled.
"Where's my candy?" The little girl asked, sitting down next to Schuldig.
"Um…the guy with glasses has your candy." Schuldig said.
The little girl walked over to Crawford. "Where's my candy? The clown promised me candy."
"C'mon neo-Nagi. We gotta drag this crap over to Grau." Farfarello said, depositing a bag of hamster toys into the little girl's arms.
"Will I get more candy if I help?" She asked.
"Sure. We can stop at the store on the way back. I'll get you a slush." Farfarello said cheerfully.
"Yay!" The little girl cheered as the two left the apartment.
"Will this work?" Crawford asked, looking desperate.
"You're the precog." Schuldig answered.
"I'm pretty sure they have it in their records that Nagi's a boy." Crawford muttered.
"So we cut her hair. I think she'd do it for an ice-cream. Besides, the guys inspecting us aren't Japanese, are they?" Schuldig asked.
"No. So…"
"So us Westerners can't tell the difference between Japanese people until we've been firmly immersed. Remember when we first got Nagi? Remember Brad? Remember when I lost him and brought home that fat kid, and it actually was an accident?" Schuldig asked.
"It took me two days to notice. And that kid could have eaten Nagi." Crawford muttered.
"Could have eaten ten Nagis. So we cut her hair and pop her in Nagi's clothes. Oh, and hope they don't ask her too many questions."
"Or ask her to move something with her mind." Crawford pointed out.
"Farf and I can distract them. You know how we are at attracting attention. For once it will be a good thing." Schuldig said. "Just relax, will you?"
"I can't relax! This is our funding we're talking about. You know we aren't working with this Takatori clown for much longer, and once we don't have his penthouse and money to fund us, what do you think's going to happen? I'm not going back to the outhouse life."
"You're putting a lot of pressure on yourself." Schuldig noted. "You're going to get an ulcer. Just stop cleaning things. If it's too nice then they're going to think we're set for money."
"But if it's too crappy they won't think we're worth investing in. It's a tightrope between shitty and swanky."
"So shanky?" Schuldig asked.
"Just understand that this is important and please don't mess it up. If we blow another inspection they might…Schuldig they might send us back you know where for retraining." Crawford said hesitantly.
"I'd die before going back there!" Schuldig shouted, jumping to his feet in alarm. "I had my incisor hollowed out, and I've got a pill in there in case they ever take me back to the hap-happiest place on Earth. I can swallow it and die instantly. I almost broke and used it in Disneyland."
"Calm down, you're going to hyperventilate again. If all goes well that won't have to happen. Just don't screw…" Crawford's eyes unfocused suddenly and Schuldig could tell he was getting a vision. After it passed, Crawford's eyes widened. He calmly walked over to the table and unplugged the phone.
ELSEWHERE
Yohji was lying in the rafters of the old abandoned mill, a video camera lying next to him. The group below him was doing all his work for him by going through their evil plan step by step in extreme amounts of detail. This allowed him the chance to space out and examine his thoughts.
Fucking Aya. If Aya didn't swing a sword like a golf club, he have been able to tell Schuldig something, anything. If he was quick enough, he could even have skated around the topic.
But now he wasn't going to get that chance, because the next time Schuldig saw him he would be dead. Not just dead, but dead and mangled. From pliers.
'Not only did I piss off an assassin, but a telepathic assassin with an insane Irish friend who revels in inflicting pain on others. They'll dissect me then kill me. No, they'll do something embarrassing first so I can suffer on multiple levels.'
At some point his ability to speak would come back though. What would he say? He needed it to be good…and quick, as he'd probably only get about three seconds to say it.
'Should I waste precious seconds with apologizing? Maybe I could have Omi go in first and soften them up. They like Omi…he made them fudge. Omi never made me fudge, not that I like fudge or anyth- back to the point! Or I could lie…yes! That's the ticket, lie to the… telepath. That'll work well.' Yohji rubbed his temples.
'Okay, Schuldig…I know that you love me but…I'm straight. Which is why I slept with you twice. And then another time. Well I was drunk the first time, and he was drunk the second time. That doesn't help me at all. Damn.'
Yohji paused for a second, tapping his fingers on his arm. 'I love you like a friend…with benefits. No, he'd definitely kill me for that one. Okay…I love him like…like…like I like cats. But I don't really like cats that much. I'm just in it for the sex. No, anyone would kill me for saying that. Come on man. Think of a way to break this off!'
Then something started forming in Yohji's mind. A crazy thought. Did he really want to break this off?
Yes. Yes he did. Schuldig was insanely annoying and being around him tended to make Yohji feel like an asshole. Although he was fun to pick on…Yohji liked trying to see if he could make Schuldig's face match his hair when he got him going. And the sex was great, no complaints there. And Schuldig's cuddle mechanism was absolutely adorable. And the way he got all embarrassed whenever he did something…human. Like the Christmas present. It was both thoughtful and somewhat invasive.
He did want to keep Schuldig close…as a friend. Or did he? Maybe he did like him…well what did he love? 'I love soup.' Yohji thought to himself. 'And I love chocolate. And those little plastic swords you get in your drinks. And I love sex. Sex. Schuldig. I love sex with Schuldig. I love Schuldig.'
…
'I love Schuldig.'
'Schuldig. Schuldig loves me.'
"I LOVE YOU TOO!" Yohji yelled, finally recovering his voice and realizing something he should have noticed a long time ago.
"Gee thanks, that was sweet. And thanks for giving away your position. And thanks for killing my dad you dumb Weiss assassin." Kidney doctor jr. said pleasantly, aiming a gun at Yohji's head.
"Shit."
"You know Weiss, I do believe this windmill is on a nonstop track to hell."
"Jesus that sounds corny. We gotta stop using that." Yohji muttered. "Manx needs to hire a writer."
MEANWHILE
"Hmm. This place is absolutely shanky." The inspector, a middle aged American noted.
"Told you it was a word." Schuldig gloated to Crawford.
"Can it." Crawford muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Now, where are the other two?" The other inspector, a Russian woman, asked.
"Others? What others? Crawford, you've been keeping something from me, haven't you!" Schuldig mock-accused.
"I believe there is supposed to be a…telekinetic and a young Irish…what's his power anyway?" The American asked.
"He doesn't feel pain." Crawford answered.
"Jesus that's lame." The woman noticed. "He can't, like blow up buildings or anything?"
"He enjoys blowing up buildings with the proper equipment." Schuldig explained. The two inspectors frowned and started scribbling on their notepads. Crawford shot Schuldig a death glare.
"Back! I'll be in the shower." Farfarello announced, walking hurriedly through the room.
"Why are you covered in blood Mr…Jei?" The man asked, glancing at his clipboard.
"Extra credit?" Farfarello supplied, glancing at Crawford who was waving his arms and shaking his head. "Splinter. It was a really bad one."
"Ah." They both said, then continued to scribble furiously.
"You must be Nagi." The American said pleasantly to the little girl.
Thankfully, Farf had given her a haircut and a change of clothes. She was contentedly sipping a large slush puppy.
"Whatever." She answered. "Do you have candy"
"Quite a sweet tooth he's got there." The American said affectionately. "I hope my Japanese is up to par. Ko-ni…cheewa."
"Gesundheit." The little girl said. "Ba-ka nin-gen…deska."
"He's sweet." The American gushed. The Russian lady rolled her eyes.
"I'm going to have a look around. Jenkins, interview the team." The Russian lady ordered. As soon as she was out of earshot, Jenkins turned to 'Nagi'.
"Hey kid, why does Snoop dogg carry around an umbrella?"
"What's a snoop dog?" The girl asked.
"Fo drizzle."
"Please stop talking to me."
"Isn't he just adorable?" Jenkins asked.
"Sure. Like a stomach pump." Schuldig answered. Jenkins frowned, then scribbled some more. Crawford elbowed Schuldig. "A stomach pump of love and happy!"
Jenkins considered. "You are an odd man." He turned to Crawford. "Are you sure this child should be exposed to him?"
"He's just eccentric. Oh look! The crazy Irishman is wearing a straight jacket! Look! He's doing something crazy!" Crawford yelled, pointing.
Farf was sitting in a corner humming to himself. "What? Oh, right. Blah-de-blah-deblah!" Farf yelled, waving his arms frantically. Or, as frantically as possible in the straightjacket. "I'm crazy and we need more money to sedate me! But I'm not so crazy I can't attack the right target! Blehblehbleh! Cows toaster president!"
"Poor wretch. But what can you do? Runs in the blood I suppose." Jenkins muttered. "My grandfather was Irish. Total lunatic. Kept talking about how the nurse was stealing his money and his fruit cup. Poor fella."
"Hey! Don't you talk shite about my country! Ah kee you! Ah kee you good!" Farf yelled, lunging for Jenkins. Schuldig and Crawford dove forward to restrain him.
"Poor, poor wretch." Jenkins muttered, scribbling some more.
"Well I've inspected the rooms. Everything seems up to scratch except for that odd smell coming from the bathroom. I'd get that checked out. Can't be healthy."
"We think something may have gotten stuck in the walls and died." Crawford lied.
"Yeah, Nagi's laptop." Schuldig muttered, before being kicked in the shins.
"I'll need to see a demonstration of your powers now." The lady said.
Crawford paled.
"Got this covered." Farf said happily, wriggling out of his straight jacket. He waved his hands to indicate a collection of knives he'd laid out on the table (with special permission from Crawford).
"This one's my favorite. I named her SuEllen. She's swell." Farf gushed.
A few minutes later…
"We believe you! We believe you! Just stop!" The two inspectors begged.
"You're no fun anymore." Farf complained. "Whoa. I'm getting dizzy."
"I'll get the first aid kit." Schuldig volunteered.
"Wait, Nagi's got to do his thing first. It's amazing. He takes the knives, right, with his mind? We worked out this whole act ourselves, it's great! First, he slides them through my abdomen, just missing all my vital organs. Then the fun begins, he twists them just right so you can see-"
"That won't be necessary. We have it on file that Nagi is a telekinetic. We would like to see a vision from Mr. Crawford if we could though. Go on, predict something." Jenkins said.
"Does it work like that?" The Russian lady asked curiously.
"Gimme a second." Crawford muttered. His eyes unfocused and refocused quickly. "Nagi's going to get his stomach pumped…"
Jenkins smacked the slush out of the girl's hand, and she promptly burst into tears.
"Wait…something else just came. The cowboy's going to be dissected." Crawford said.
Schuldig's eyes widened. "What! Where! Details man, give me details!"
Everyone stared at him, startled at the outburst.
"Not that I care or anything…he owes me money." Schuldig said lamely.
"Who is this cowboy exactly?" The Russian lady asked.
"Er…" Crawford thought it would be less than prudent to say one of their rival assassins. 'Quick man, think. What gets dissected.' "Frog. From…Nagi's school."
"The frog owes you money?" Jenkins asked Schuldig. But Schuldig wasn't paying attention.
"So, he's going to survive the dissection, right?" Schuldig asked, sounding near hysterical.
"I don't know, I can't pick what I see!" Crawford snapped.
"Most frogs don't survive." Jenkins said gently, patting Schuldig's arm. "If memory serves, they're usually dead before they get dissected."
"I need to go." Schuldig said suddenly, heading towards the door.
"Excuse me, but this inspection is far from finished." The lady snapped.
"Yeah well. Yeah." Schuldig said, before slamming the door behind him.
The lady eyed Crawford darkly, before underlining something on her clipboard.
"It's against his religion, dissection." Crawford said lamely. "He really likes that frog."
MEANWHILE
"So…I'm allergic to flowers?" Nagi asked weakly. "That's good to know I suppose. Glad we found that out before something serious happened."
"You don't think having your throat swell up and needing your stomach pumped was serious!" Omi squeaked.
"I've been through worse." Nagi answered truthfully.
He was lying in bed looking very pale and clammy, but otherwise fine. Omi, on the other hand, was a disheveled wreck. He'd gone through a box and a half of tissues. His face was red and blotchy from crying, and he'd vowed never to make rose pudding again.
"Nagi I almost lost you!" Omi squeaked before hugging Nagi fiercely.
"Omi I'm fine, I…I'm getting short of breath again. Omi!" Nagi gasped. Omi let him go, and he coughed a bit before returning to normal. Omi frowned. He leaned in close to Nagi, who started wheezing, then backed away and Nagi was fine again.
Wheezing.
Fine.
Wheezing.
Fine.
"Oh my God you're allergic to me!" Omi wailed.
"Omi no! It's something else, it's got to be! It's…wait a minute, you're a florist! I'm allergic to flowers Omi." Nagi realized.
"But it's never been a problem before." Omi sobbed.
Then he remembered something. That morning Aya had been grumbling something about the pollen making his eyes red and itchy.
"It's the season. Oh Nagi, what are we going to do? You're going to have to dump me for the next few months." Omi whimpered.
"Oh, because that's the most logical solution!" Nagi snapped. "Just hop in the shower after work. That should do it."
"Right."
ELSEWHERE
"Alright Yuki, what do we need?" Kidney doctor jr. asked. He'd knocked Yohji out and sliced him open. They would torture and kill him after they harvested anything they needed. He was a doctor after all.
"We need a lung." Yuki said, reading off a list.
"Alrighty…let me see here…Jesus! We can't use either of these things. Our clients will demand their money back."
"Fine, then sew him back up." Yuki said.
"But I made a perfect cut already. It would be such a waste. We've got a spare lung lying around, let me do a transplant."
"Why? I thought you hated this man."
"For shits and giggles. It's been awhile." The doctor said. "Besides, I want to see if he'll survive. I've never done a transplant on a non-cadaver before."
…
"Alright, what now?" The doctor asked.
"Liver. We need a liver." Yuki read off.
"Holy shit. That thing's the size of a basketball! That's gotta go!"
"Hattori, are you trying to save this man or kill him? I mean, I could understand the lung thing. We had an extra male lung lying around, our client wanted adolescent female lungs, but this is too much. We need that liver for Madam Methuen."
"Come on…I feel like this is a mission. Hum some mission music for me Yuki."
"Dum dee dum…we're gonna lose our jobs…dum dee dum…you're a crazy nut…dum dum…I'm sleeping with your wife…ba bum-"
"What was that last part?"
"Nothing, here's the liver."
LATER
Yohji woke up slowly with an odd ache in his side. Somehow he felt much better, despite the ache and an odd nauseous feeling. His breathing was nice, he felt like he'd just recovered from a bad cold and was finally breathing right. And for some reason, his liver was excellent.
'Hmm…didn't know I could feel my liver.'
"You must feel twelve pounds lighter. Jesus, that thing was huge." Schuldig snapped.
"Schuldig?" Yohji blinked stupidly, then noticed his surroundings. He was in a bedroom, his abdomen was bandaged up and felt quite tender. Schuldig was sitting on a chair pulled up next to the bed, looking grouchy yet also concerned. "You look like crap."
"Well you slept in my bed last night. That's what you look like when you get fifteen minutes of sleep in a damned uncomfortable chair." Schuldig snapped.
"I'm sorry."
"The chair wasn't that bad-"
"No, I mean about before…see, I couldn't talk because Aya almost castrated me with a chocolate covered katana. So when Omi handed me the phone-"
"That is a terrible lie." Schuldig said, cutting him off.
"I'm not lying! For this one time only, I give you permission to read my mind. That's what happened, really!" Yohji insisted.
"Your mind is a terrifying place. I've no intention of going back there." Schuldig scowled.
"So then you'll believe me?" Yohji asked.
Schuldig glared at him.
"Er…thanks for…rescuing me from the kidney doctor." Yohji said awkwardly. "And sitting up with me…"
"Yeah well…yeah. I was planning on staying up all night and getting a cramp in my back anyway. It was just convenient for me. Now get out of my damn bed." Schuldig said, avoiding looking at Yohji.
'Say it.' Yohji snapped at himself. 'Say it now.'
"Schuldig…"
"Please, just go."
"But…but-"
"Get out or I will castrate you. I am damn tired." Schuldig said forcefully, looking at a spot just above Yohji's head.
"O-okay. See you around then."
END
Epilogue
Beep
"You have seventeen new messages."
Crawford frowned, expecting only the worst from his voicemail.
"Message one. Hello, this is Takatori. I was just calling because my daughter thought she heard voices outside her window. She's staying the night here, and she'd feel better if someone checked it out. Beep"
"Message two. Takatori again. Saw some men outside. Probably nothing serious, but still. Wouldn't mind you looking into it. You are supposed to be my bodyguards after all. Beep"
"Message three. Alright, this isn't funny anymore. Pick up the damn phone! You are supposed to be working for me! Ouka's sure she heard something this time. Beep"
Crawford frowned. He skipped several of the messages.
"Message nine. Takatori again. There are men at the door. They're tinkering with something and…(BOOM!) Dear lord! They've blasted the damn thing open-Beep"
"Message ten. We've barricaded ourselves in my office. Get your asses over here now and kill these psychos. They're scaring my angel. If anything happens to her I will personally see to your dea-no! They've found us! Beep"
Slightly alarmed, Crawford skipped ahead again.
"Message fourteen. We're in the closet now. We got my hunting rifle. I swear by everything that is sacred you will die if you do not help us. Beep"
"Message fifteen. We've made it outside! I gave Ouka the gun and had her run for help. Look for me on the grounds. Beep"
"Message sixteen. I've been wounded! I need medical attention! Answer your goddamn phone for crissakes! Beep"
"Message seventeen. Lord, if I survive this ordeal I swear I will donate fifty…twelve…five percent of my net worth to the church. He-e-e-e-e-lp…Beep"
Crawford hung up the phone, then went to look for his coat.
Authors' Note: Once again, the End is a misleading sort of thing. Fourteen chapters are quite a lot. We'll be continuing this series under a new fic heading. Happy something people!
eMu & Chikin