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f a l l e n a n g e l s
part five
Aya slowed his pace somewhat. He needed a little time to think, a little time before he got back
to the others so he could try to gather what information they had, and try to make a little sense
out of what was going on, and what exactly he and the other three ex-assassins were supposed to
be doing. As he passed a large office building, a sudden commotion on the opposite side of the
street grabbed his attention.
Someone let out a gasp, loud enough to almost be called a shriek, and although Aya couldn't see
from his position what was in it, there was a widening circle around a space on the sidewalk.
Steeling himself to prepare for, Aya began to run across the street towards the crowd; weird
things tended to usually end up involving him and the rest of Weiß, so he might as well try to stay
ahead of things.
As he reached the crowd, he pushed his way through the shocked-seeming onlookers with little
resistance. They didn't seem so much afraid of whatever was in the middle of the circle, just
frightened by it, or what was happening to it. Aya reached an opening and shoved through to it,
until he could see inside the circle.
A young boy, younger even than Omi, was leaning heavily against the brick wall and clutching his
head, muttering something desperately under his breath. Aya's mind drew a blank as to what to
do-- as he stood there, staring at the figure, the boy lifted his head and looked at him for a
moment. Even as Aya watched, he could see a sickly yellow color fading in and out of the boy's
eyes before the boy's head dropped again. And suddenly, Aya knew what to do. Without pausing
to think about it, he said loudly, "Ay-Ayatetsu! Otouto-san, how could you leave without your
medicine this morning?" The boy ignored him, but several people looked over at him, blankly.
Again, Aya took a deep breath and said, "Sorry, my brother is always forgetting his medicine.
Without it, he always gets like this."
Grateful for someone to take care of the situation, the speechless tension of the crowd relaxed,
and one middle-aged man actually stepped forward to offer his help. "No, no," said Aya, "I have
to do this for him a lot. It's alright."
He stepped over towards the boy and tried to talk to him. "It's alright, you're fine--" The boy
didn't seem to acknowledge his words at all, but reached forward and clutched Aya's arm with a
vice-like grip, his eyes wide and staring. "No . . . no, no, no," he moaned, trying to push Aya
away from him as if getting rid of him would get rid of the thing trying to take him over. "G-get
away, iie, leave me alone--" He lashed out with his foot and free hand, catching Aya square on
the shin, as well as scratching a line across his face.
Aya tried to shake him, but nothing happened; the gold intermingled in the boy's eyes was getting
stronger, as if he were being possessed by some sort of demon. Aya bit his lip. Maybe he could
guide the boy to the hospital? No-- what if the demon fighting in him took hold? The possessed
boy could easily kill dozens of helpless people there. Then where . . .
A change in the grip on Aya's arm made him look back down at the boy's face. The gold was
almost completely solid in his eyes. Slowly, the corners of his mouth drew up into a smirk, one
that Aya recognized easily. "Schwartz!" he said out loud, his eyes widening slightly. " F . . .
Farfarello?" The demon-boy's smile grew wider, it opened its mouth to speak . . . Aya could feel
its filthy presence on his mind . . .
GO!
Suddenly, as Aya mentally tried to shove the demon's presence away, the demon-thing flew from
his arms and hit the wall behind him. There was a sickening thunk and immediately the gold in the
boy's eyes disappeared, just before they rolled back into his head and he slid to the ground. How
did I do that . . .? Aya swallowed, shoving his questions to the back of his mind. He unclenched
his fists, noticing with surprise how slick his palms were with sweat. His heart was pounding
painfully in his chest, and his breath was coming raggedly. He straightened up and wiped his
hands on his jeans, and tried to look calm despite the mindless, baseless, raw fear coursing
through his veins. For that brief second, he could feel the demon's mind on his, and for that
briefest of moments, Aya had felt his will draining away, and had almost let himself go . . .
For once, it was hard for Aya to regain his composure. He reached down and picked up the boy,
surprised at how light he felt, almost as if he wasn't completely there. He touched his cheek
where he'd gotten scratched gingerly, and his hand came away slightly bloody. Vicious little boy,
Aya thought to himself absently as he tested his weight on his injured leg. He'd be limping a little
for a few hours from that kick, and it'd leave a bruise on his pale, easily marked skin for weeks.
He slung the unconscious boy over his shoulder and began back the way he came, towards the
hospital. The crowd parted for him as he went, staring at him, but Aya began to concentrate on
not being seen.
Don't look at me . . . I'm not here, this boy is just a shadow on the wall there. Go on with what
you were doing. There's nothing here. Nothing interesting happened. Just forget it all. It was just
a little misunderstanding. Don't look here . . . I'm nobody.
He didn't look back, but behind him Aya could hear the voices and city noises start back up again
and begin intermingling, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened
Ken's fingers holding the folder with the death certificates trembled slightly as he looked down at
the four photographs attached to the papers. "Us?" he said, still looking completely blank. Then,
as he stared at the slips of paper, he seemed to get it. "Oh. Our death cert . . . ificates . . ."
Youji hadn't even looked at the papers. "I . . . don't suppose we could pass this off as the
psychologically produced images of an over-worked, under-payed, and sleep-deprived mind?" he
said, without much hope.
Reika just stared at them. Omi glanced towards the doors. "Okay," he said worriedly. "We can
try to explain this later. Right now, we think that Aya-- Ran-- the guy we were talking about,
right, we think he's in trouble." He took a deep breath. "We really, really need to know where he
is."
Reika had no sooner opened her mouth then the doors opened so forcefully that the glass rattled
slightly. In the doorway stood a bedraggled, wide-eyed, bleeding Aya, carrying something -- or
someone -- over his shoulder.
For a moment, no one moved, not even the other people in the hospital lounge. Then, all at once,
there was a flurry of movement. Reika slammed her hand down on a little button near the
computer, which began to flash red. Almost immediately, a group of hospital staff hurried in,
bringing a stretcher-bed with them. Aya seemed almost reluctant to relinquish the boy slung over
his shoulder, but once they did set the unconscious boy on the stretcher and wheel him out and
away from the lobby, the red-haired young man took a few limping, swaying steps forward.
The other three members finally started moving, and each went about their tasks. Youji said
firmly, "I'll take care of the people in the lobby. Go to Aya." Ken hurried over and started talking
to Aya, surreptitiously looking him over for any wounds other than his leg and the minor scratch
on his cheek, while Omi went to the water cooler on the far side of the lobby and got Aya a glass
of water.
Youji paused in the center of the room, glancing around as if gauging how many people he had to
deal with. His calculating sweep of the room stopped, however, when his eyes fell upon Reika.
Her hat had fallen off in the commotion, and the bobby pins holding her hair back had come
loose, letting her short black hair fall around her face. Youji stared at her for a minute, as if he
couldn't remember who she was, a look of shock on his face. Then, his face hardened slightly and
he jerked his head in the direction the staff had taken the unconscious boy. "Go," he said quietly,
for her ears alone.
Reika blinked, frightened by the sudden change in the three boys' manners. Youji, who had been
so easy-going and light-hearted, was now completely grave and even brusque. "Wh-what? But
what about Ran-- Aya, what if he's--"
"Just go!" said Youji sharply, his eyes narrowed. "In a few moments, not a single person in this
room is going to remember what just happened." Exasperated, he added, "Look, if you want to
forget everything that's been happening, go ahead and stay. I won't make you leave, but it's the
only way you'll remember all this. I'm doing you a damn favor by telling you to leave." He
paused and then took a breath, as if to calm himself. "Now, get the hell out of here!"
And so Reika got out, so fast that she left the doors swinging behind her. Youji swallowed, eyes
closed, trying to erase the image that had superimposed itself on Reika's face for an instant.
Finally, he focused his attention and felt, without knowing how he was doing it or even what he
was doing, he went along the room without moving physically and felt for their minds. When he
had found them all and had gotten the feel of them in his own mind, he told them, "You don't
want to remember us. We're not interesting, the four of us. We weren't ever here, right? Because
it's easier on you if you just forget any of this ever even happened." And with that, every person
in the room blinked and returned to their previous conversations without hesitation. A couple of
them glanced blankly in Youji's direction, or in Aya's, but they didn't register what their eyes
saw.
A strange surge came over Youji, an energy that left him exhausted and made him giddy at the
same time. With a strange sigh, he turned and rejoined the other three, who had made their way
towards a corner of the room and found a seat for Aya. Now that the commotion was over, the
red-head looked a lot better, if exhausted. And of course, his cheek was still slightly bloody.
"But Aya," Omi was saying, "if your arms were both taken with carrying that boy, how did you
open the doors like that?"
Aya looked at him blankly. "Eh? Like what?"
Omi blinked. "Aya, the doors opened so fast that the glass almost broke."
Aya glanced back over his shoulder towards the doors, his brow slightly furrowed. "I . . . don't
know. I don't remember, exactly. I needed the doors to open, so they opened. I guess I told them
to."
Youji snorted. "Ah, great. To sum up: Omi can move computer mouses, Ken can get headaches,
and Aya can talk to doors. Just look at how talented we are . . ."
They only just seemed to notice he had come back, and looked around the lobby at all the people,
who weren't even looking in their direction, much less at them. Ken blinked. "We're not even
concentrating, or anything . . . Youji, what did you do to them? Has your talent manifested too?"
Youji frowned. "Hm? I just told them to forget all this, and that we're not all that special, and
that they shouldn't look over here. It's the same thing we do when we're being "invisible," I just
focused it on them in particular as opposed to letting it spread thin, all around. It's a lot stronger
when you compel them directly to forget instead of working to surround yourself with a general
sort of casing of invisibility."
"You . . . you sound like you've done this before."
Youji shrugged, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. "It worked a lot better than the old
way, so I did it."
Ken's eyes widened slightly. "You mean . . . you never did it before?"
Youji opened one eye a crack. "What's wrong with that? It's not as if had the opportunity to
practice it a bit."
"But-- Youji, you can't just play with people's minds like that, using this talent! What if . . . I
don't know, what if you accidentally told them to stop breathing or something? Then we'd have a
lobby of dead people on our hands. And I don't think you could get a bunch of police
investigators to ignore us if they start searching the room."
Youji paused for a minute, and then said thoughtfully, "Actually, I think I could."
"That's not the point!!"
"Calm down, Ken," said Aya, in his usual cool voice. "He did what he had to do, it worked
without problems, and he knows to be careful next time. Just let it go."
Youji glanced curiously at Aya. "I didn't catch exactly what happened back there. Care to
enlighten me?"
Aya told him, the other two listening gravely as well. As he finished, he said quietly, "I think the
demon was trying to take him over. And that smirk-- it was Farfarello's smirk. You know how
distinct it is. How insane-looking."
Youji's eyes were narrow as he peered intensely at Aya. "You're sure?"
Aya stared back coolly, inwardly repressing a shudder at the memory of the taste of Farfarello's
mind probing his. "Positive," he replied coldly.
Ken sighed, thoughtfully. "So why would Schwartz be trying to possess this boy?"
Youji put in, "You remember how that video clip we saw showed that they were sort of
shadows? That they didn't have real bodies? Maybe there's something they have to do that they
need real bodies for, so they have to possess people."
Aya raised an eyebrow. "But that still doesn't explain all the coma victims. Are they just being
malicious?"
Omi cut in, speaking slowly. "I think . . . put yourselves in their shoes. If you had to possess
someone, it would have to be someone with the same sort of mind as you. Or-- in Schwartz's
case, maybe people who have the same capability to have the same sort of mind." He paused, and
when no one said anything, he continued, even more hesitantly. "So . . . maybe they have some
sort of time limit, so they don't have time to be careful. Which means that they'd just take over a
promising-looking boy, see if he's compatible, and if not, they just drop him like an empty sack."
Youji grimaced. "Testing them like computer hardware, for compatibility. 'Whoops, this ain't
Microsoft, sweetheart. Don't bother taking it back to the store, just toss it . . ."
Ken was looking rather sick. "Did you have to put it like that?" he asked Youji.
Just then, a few vans began pulling up to the front of the hospital, and out climbed a man in a suit,
and a few more people with technical-looking equipment, including a microphone and a camera
case. "Damn reporters!" said Youji irritably, even as more vans pulled up. "I hate reporters."
Omi sighed. "Looks like not even Youji's tampering kept news of this from getting out."
Youji looked reproachfully at Aya, who returned to scowling at the three of them. "You just had
to make such a dramatic entrance, didn't you?"
Ken suddenly leveled a sharp glance at Youji. "Speaking of dramatics. What were you thinking
when you made up that long story about Aya being some sort of derelict thief to tell that nurse?"
Aya paused in mid-scowl. "What's this?" he asked, dangerously.
Ken ignored him, continuing his tirade. "We could have slipped in, asked her what we needed to
know, and gone back out again, and she wouldn't have thought twice about us. You gave her
enough time to realize who we were, and now she's been involved long enough that trying to do
your thing with the memory twiddling probably won't even work with her."
Before Youji could do more than open his mouth, Omi said urgently, "Look Ken, you can yell at
Youji all you want later--"
"Hey, I think I should have some say--" Youji began, but Omi talked right through him for once.
"But right now, we've got another problem." He gestured towards the reporters, who were
already talking with the replacement nurse at the desk, who was giving them puzzled looks.
Ken let out a groan. "You're right . . . but wait, what about what's-her-name? Rika?"
"Reika," Youji murmured, distracted by the reporters.
"Reika, right," replied Ken. "What about her? We can't just leave her here. She might talk."
"Mm," agreed Omi, "And she's probably really confused. There's no way we're leaving her here
without some sort of explanation."
Youji shook his head. "No, let's just go. She's fine."
Omi frowned. "But we can't--"
"Yes," Youji said a little sharper than he was meaning to. "Yes, Omi, we can. We can, and we
will."
Ken sighed. "Youji, I don't know what's wrong now, but just listen to reason for a second--"
"Look, you know how we're all getting these mighty, magical, mystical powers all of a sudden?"
Youji asked heatedly. "Well my thing is telling me we should leave her! The sooner the better! I
was the one that talked to her the most, and I don't trust her!"
There was silence for a moment. Youji had finished his speech almost yelling; almost, but not
quite loud enough to attract the attention of the reporters-- yet. "Y-Youji . . ." said Omi,
bewildered.
The slight squeak of a shoe against tile sounded into the quiet, as if someone had come to an
abrupt stop. All four ex-assassins looked up, to see Reika standing only a few yards away, within
easy hearing distance. She backed up a step, her face shocked for a moment before her expression
hardened. "Sorry," she murmured coldly. "I didn't realize you were being confidential over here.
S-s-sumi masen." Her voice trembled on the last note, like someone on the verge of a hysterical
breakdown, avoiding it only by clinging desperately to reality. The problem was, Reika's normal,
comfortably logical reality was slipping away faster than sand in an hourglass.
Almost as one man, all of the group except Youji turned and shot him a murderous look. Youji
didn't even notice their looks as he sat staring coldly back at Reika. With an almost amused air,
Ken waved a hand in front of Youji's face. "Hey. Stop that and apologize to her."
When Youji didn't respond, except with a low growling noise in his throat, Aya crossed the room
to where Reika stood, and inclined his head. "Look, I don't know what's wrong with him, so
someone's going to have to apologize for him since he's unable to do it for himself." The others,
Youji included, turned to stare at Aya. Aya? Being social? To a woman? They didn't speak, in
case he did it again. Aya continued, his face grave and completely serious. "As I said, I don't
know what's wrong with him. He's usually very friendly, really. We've been considering taking
him to the vet to get him fixed--"
Youji made a strangled squeaking noise, and began to splutter angrily. Reika stared at Aya's
grave countenance for a few moments, before she began to laugh, helplessly. Aya glanced back at
the others, his cool expression never slipping even once. "So that's settled. Shall we go?"
Ken blinked. "Y-yeah," he said, smiling a little. "Once Youji recovers his dignity enough, that is."
Youji made a little hissing noise. If looks could kill, Ken would have been nothing more than a
little greasy smudge on the floor of the lobby, with maybe a few little tendrils of smoke rising out
of it. "I do not need to recover my dignity." He glanced at Reika, who was still trying to repress
bubbles of laughter. For a moment, his brow furrowed, and then he sighed. "Whatever, I guess
I'm outnumbered. Let's go."
Omi grinned. "Good! Now get your skinny little psychic butt in gear and make those reporters
forget us."
Youji glanced towards the reporters, some of whom were watching them curiously, though the
cameras were still being unpacked. He stuck his tongue out at them, and almost immediately they
turned back to the nurse at the desk, who was more confused than ever.
Ken raised an eyebrow. "You're getting better. That's only your second time using your mind-reading 'talent'."
Youji gave him a sly, almost evil look. "How do you know that today was the first time I'd used
it?" And while the rest of them sorted through that, he sauntered towards the doors in what could
only be described as a Youji-style.
After a moment, Omi murmured, "G-geh . . . that was kind of creepy."
Ken nodded. "Tell me about it . . ." He grinned wryly. "But it looks like his ego bounced right
back up after that blow, Aya."
Aya shrugged, his only comment, and followed Youji out of the hospital, tracked closely by
Reika, who was still grinning to herself.
Sakura hummed quietly to herself as she worked, cleaning the windows of the flower shop; Aya-chan still hadn't trusted her to take care of the flower arrangements. As the last of the customers
left for the evening, she locked up the door and changed the sign reading 'open'. With a weary
sigh, she leaned against the counter.
"Aya-chaaaan," she sighed, "Where's the remote?" Sakura felt the need to catch up with the
day's news.
Aya, who was setting the unused flowers for that day out in the back room to dry, glanced out
the door. "Near the counter, I think," she replied. "Let me know if something interesting is on,
okay?"
"Mm," said Sakura as she searched around the counter for the controller for the television. "Ah,
here." She found it under the edge of the counter, and pressed the on-button.
"Thursday it looks like rain," the weather-man was saying, "But that will clear up by the
weekend, so don't cancel any plans." The screen flipped from the weather report to a young
woman's face. "This just in. At 1:00 today, downtown in the hospital, another unexplained event
has occurred. Yet another of the teenaged victims has been turned up, but this one may have
been saved from the long-term coma by the quick action of the young man who brought him into
the hospital by way of the lobby. Other people present in the lobby when he was reported to
come in claim to remember nothing of this young man coming in, but the hospital staff that came
to collect the unconscious sixteen year-old from his rescuer remember precisely when and where
he was. However, none of them can offer any concrete description of this heroic young man, not
even his hair color, height, or build." The reporter looked up from her notes. "It appears as
though yet another report of this city's group of 'Guardian Angels' has been made."
Sakura's mind froze. That had been where she'd heard the term 'guardian angel'! The news, the
story about the serial murderers and thieves that had been caught and found with moderate
wounds in front of the hospital. That was what she had been trying to remember when Aya-chan
was talking about how she always liked to think that her brother was a sort of guardian angel to
her. And combine that with the fact that she always thought she caught glimpses of all four of the
dead Weiß members, only to find that her mind was playing tricks on her . . . and that she'd seen
Aya's face, and his eyes . . .
She swallowed nervously and turned off the television. She went behind the counter and pulled a
small key ring from one of the drawers. Feeling a little foolish, and not knowing completely why
she was doing it, she crossed over towards the door leading down into the old Weiß hideout, and
locked it with a little key on the ring. Maybe, just maybe, they'd have to come get the key from
her to get in . . .
She laughed then, feeling completely idiotic. And yet, she didn't unlock the door. As she turned
to replace the keys, she caught Aya-chan's questioning gaze. She didn't say anything, but just
looked at Sakura curiously for a few seconds before turning back to the dried flowers. Sakura
took a slow, steady breath. At least now she'd find out for sure if someone was going down into
that basement.