*****2*****
Are you awake yet?
Take a nice, long swallow of fear, and perhaps it will rouse you from your naive existence. Perhaps not. But - caution now - maybe you'll be clued in on how fragile that existence truly is.
The tiniest, most minuscule change in the common pattern of your life can change everything. Imagine, then, what would happen if you suddenly woke up to find yourself in a whole new world. Frightened. Hopeless. Aging into dust...
Scared? Hoping someone will come to your rescue? Some guardian angel?
Most messengers of the light are filled with a certain gnawing peace, a comforting, motherly tendency to look on the bright side. This, however, is not always true. Light can be corrupted, it can fade, it can change shape and color, it can even darken until it becomes a voidless black. Then, most definitely, that impure light is prone to mistake. It may even forget how to be the very thing it is meant to be:
Hope.
Such a familiar word. Yet, who really remembers what it means anymore, what it stands for? Hope is dying fast, dear friends, and light cannot save it alone.
Light & Dark. Good & Evil. Right & Wrong. Love & Hate.
It's all the same. One can never exist without its counterpart. Never. A million faces the world over see things like darkness and hatred as a plague to be cured. Not so. They are merely facts of life, part of the cycle we are all caged into.
So what of the middle ground? What of the happy medium? Does such a thing even exist; do we search in vain for the extreme of one end or the other when we have a simple combination of both without even trying?
Meaningless.
No written words can express the truth of questions like that. One can only find the answers within themselves - as long as they bother to look.
Oh, yes, hope is dying fast, obscured as it is entombed beneath the earth. What can be done to salvage it? Who can be called upon to change the Fates of both light and dark?
Perhaps...perhaps...they are already fighting...
*****
A deafening silence cascades over the room. There is not a single sound wave; nothing to echo the drop of a pin - if one should dare to fall. No. Utter quiet. Not the calming peace of a rainy day, or the cryptic comfort of a library bookshelf. Not that sort of silence. Something far more unbearable.
Stepping into the room, one transports to a jungle thick with threatening distortions. Padded walls like constant tree bark and tropical leaves closing in around you. A cold, metal floor - oddly damp - like the humid air of a rainforest, ripe with disease. Nothing could survive in such a place unless it had become one with the very walls and metal textures themselves. Only a beast of prey, a monster in the night wind, some unholy creature - yes! Only a being that had merged with its earthly sins - through its own free will - could possibly live here.
What being? What creature? One that not only tolerates its home, but thrives in it. One that adores the fear dripping from the walls; loves every breathe of putrid air...because...he has to...
Farfarello lays stiff and immobile on his even stiffer bed. There is an incredible crick in his back from the rigid position. Not pain - he is far beyond that now - just a sensation he rather enjoys. He would have preferred the floor, actually, but Crawford had insisted on putting the damned thing in his room.
"You're not an animal. You can at least sleep in a bed like a real person." their leader had said, not bothering to hide his obvious disgust for the aforementioned albino. "Besides, you'll be recovering for quite a while with that wound, and I want you ready when our time comes."
Remembering, Farfarello lifts a bandaged arm to trace the faint line stretching across his neck. It had been a handsome scar once the bleeding stopped, but it continues to fade as the mark heals, and soon there will be nothing left but memory.
A tawny, golden eye blinks, pondering. (Siberian...I won't forget...a feeling...almost like pain...so sweet...)
During Schwartz' last encounter with the members of Weiss - paired off as usual - Farfarello had instinctively gone for Hidaka Ken, the rash, young...hero?
(...they are like us...we have no allegiance or feeling...we simply...are...)
Moments before the battle's end, Ken had slashed his buknuks across Farfarello's throat, a wound which normally would have been fatal. Even against Farfarello it would have been, but Crawford had taken care of that.
(...Fujimiya...)
Using Fujimiya Ran's sister, Aya, Schwartz was able to perform an incantation which borrowed the girl's inner youth, making them near invincible. It was not meant to last forever, but it did its duty. Farfarello recovered, and Aya suffered no effects, other than being awakened from her long sleep, that is.
Months later, the spell has nearly run its course, and when it ends, the mark on Farfarello's neck will stop fading - if it has not already disappeared. He can't help wondering; will it leave any remnants before time runs out...?
"Better say your good-byes, Farf. I'm afraid this one's not sticking around."
No need to look; Farfarello recognizes the nasal, taunting voice all too well. "I'll make up for it...later..." the Irishmen thinks aloud, remaining in his frozen position on the bed. "This recovery lasted too long...I have much to make up for..."
Schuldrich furrows his eyebrows quizzically. He is standing just inside the door, leaning his lithe figure against the metal frame. Farfarello hadn't even noticed when the German unlocked the door, prying it open. Funny - it makes such a delicious creak.
"Recovery's over. But..." the red-head begins, stepping over to the bed. It is pressed up against the right wall, with the headboard facing the door. As Schu approaches, he leans over the back, peering at Farfarello from above. "...I don't think Bradley's going to let you play for awhile. Not the way you're looking forward to, anyway. Though it does seem we may be getting a few new playmates." He grins, jade eyes glittering in the shadows as an eerily yellow one stares back.
"Playmates...?"
Schu grins wider, leaning far over the bed, his face nearly brushing against the ghostly skin of his fellow team member. "Playmate, come out and play with me..." he whispers.
Farfarello knows this game, and finishes the phrase. "...hang...from my apple tree..."
"That's right, Farfie." Schu laughs. "Let's go play."
*****
"We're just playing! Don't be so melodramatic."
"Then go kick that thing around outside! *Not* in the shop!"
Light trespasses through every window and crack of the "Kitty in the House" flower shop; a new day on the rise. How soon the night withers - how bittersweet - when there are no dead knocking down your door.
"Demo, Oniisan, we'd be out in the street if we went outside." Aya comments logically, bending down to recover the soccer ball she'd been passing to Omi and Ken.
Ran scowls in her direction while slipping his apron over his head, a few scarlett strands disrupted out of place. "Out in the street is where we'll *all* be if we don't start running this business seriously."
"Damnit, Ran, we don't open for another 45 minutes! Will you stop taking your agressions out on the rest of us?! I've had enough of this!"
The stern red-head snaps his attention towards the extremely defiant ex-J-leaguer who has spoken so abruptly, glaring at the young man in angered surprise. Ken, not even remotely unnerved, stalks his way over to Ran, looking far too ready for a fight.
The brooding red-ead's fowl disposition the day before had only escalated throughout the night. Scornful words and sour looks became more than any of them were able to tolerate, and Ken was in no mood to begin another day the same way.
Ken - mournful, big brother to every misfortunate, neighborhood kid. He was the only one who would dare stand up to Ran in such a way without flinching.
Youji? He prides himself on smooth-talking his way out of any sticky situation. Omi? The bright-eyed youth has no taste for confrontations amongst friends.
Friends. Life's most abrasive contradiction.
"I'm sick of this game." Ken hisses. "Pretending so hard every day we're not really feeling what we're feeling. Aren't we past all that? Haven't we earned the chance to be ourselves again? Haven't we?!"
"It's only a soccer ball, Ken-kun. It doesn't matter." Aya's urgent voice breaks through the torturous static.
"This is about more than some stupid soccer ball!" Ken cries, far too harshly. "Don't we suffer enough already...Abyssinian?" he finishes, stressing the codename boldly.
None of them have ever spoken about anything concerning their true occupations in Aya's presence - until now.
Ran is furious. "How dare -!"
"Stop this!" Aya calls desperately, dashing between them to separate her brother from Ken. "Stop...please. How silly to get so upset over nothing." The ripples in her voice betray her anxiety, but she laughs it off, hoping to heal these growing fissures before they can no longer be repaired. "You over-reacted, ne?" she continues, directing her statement at Ken as she looks over her shoulder with beseeching eyes only he can see. "Stressful day yesterday, that's all. You understand why Ran would ask us not to play inside. Right, Ken-Ken?"
A fatal blow.
(She could melt the snow with those eyes...) Ken weakens, instantly changing face for the sake of his friends, and the sake of his soul.
"Of course, Aya. You're right." the brunette concedes, his mask pulled tightly back in place with a false - yet believable - smile. "Baka! I'm getting worked up over nothing, and the day hasn't even started yet. Gomen nasai, Ran. I had a restless night."
"We'll think better of it next time, Ran-niisan." Aya beams, spinning around to face the slowly calming red-head. "No more soccer inside. Forgive us?"
Buried in the depths of Ran's better judgment, he recognizes the scene as artificial. But what does he care of falsity? He is no more ready to face reality than they are. "Hai. It was a senseless argument." he replies. "We're up early, anyway, and the shop doesn't open for awhile. You can play with it, I suppose. But *don't* make a mess!" he turns around then, picking up a misplaced pot of magnolias on his way to the front.
"I don't think I'm up for soccer anymore." Omi declares, at last stepping away from the wall he'd gradually been backing up against.
"Well, there is something we haven't done yet." Ken realizes, a cunning smirk brightening his features. "Someone has to wake up Youji."
Omi stiffens, blue eyes widening in fear. "I *still* have nightmares of pillows and alarm-clocks flying at my head from the last time I went into his room before 9:00! *You* do it!"
Ken takes a step back, shaking his head fiercely, while Aya is overcome with giggles. Listening in half-heartedly, Ran continues to move about the shop - placing this plant here, that plant there - and settles the quarrel himself. "Go get him, Omi. This shop won't run itself."
Clearly appalled and indignant towards Ran's blunt decision, Omi is about to protest, when...
"Ohaiyo! Lovely morning, ne?"
The door leading down from their upstairs apartment has opened, a bright-eyed and fully dressed Kudo Youji standing in the doorframe. Every last person in the shop is completely taken aback.
Kudo? Up before noon?
"Yotan! We were just about to come wake you." Aya exclaims with a smile.
Ken crosses in front of her, whacking Youji on the back. "No date last night, Youji? You must be losing your touch." he kids.
Just then, a tall, older woman, black hair slightly tousled, makes her way down the stairs and slips passed the others with a shamed blush. All are quiet as she discreetly makes her way outside, but Youji is a smirk from ear to ear.
"But...you're up." Ken mumbles, stating the strangely obvious fact.
"And why not?" Youji asks, taking his apron from its hook and casually slipping it over his head. "It was easy to get a good night sleep..." He pauses for affect. "...since we wore ourselves out so quickly."
Groan. Different story; same old ending.
"Let's get to work." Ran states, obviously not amused.
Another day is set back on track through the comfort of familiarity. We are all creatures of habit, after all. We cling to our common schedules, to our dull, remembered lives. Why? Would the mere hint of change crumble the foundation and walls around us?
"Matte." Aya begins, an idea swiftly forming in her head. "We still have half an hour, don't we? Let's take advantage of it."
Omi walks up to her, a bundle of violets gathered in his slender arms. "What do you mean?" he asks. "You can't do very much in just 30 minutes."
Sly girls have answers to every question. "I know one thing." she counters, pointing a white finger across the street. "Kitten's Cafe opens at 8:30. We could be their first customers!"
"What a great idea, Aya-chan!"
"Don't get too excited." comes Ran's baritone voice. "There's alot of work to be done around here before *we* open at 9:00."
"Then why don't just you boys go?" Aya inquires quickly. "I can get everything ready."
As expected, Ran is quite hesitant about the idea, but since he doesn't reply immediately, there is the smallest chance he'll give consent.
(Say yes, say yes, say yes.) Aya chants. (It would be so good for you to get your mind off the shop. Besides, with you gone for a bit, I could -)
"I think it's a great idea!" Youji announces, taking his apron off even faster than he'd put it on. "I'm dying to know who's over there."
"Me, too!" Omi agrees, inching towards the door. "What do you say, Aya-kun? Can we go?"
"We promise we'll come back in time to open." Ken adds.
Pathetically pleading eyes of all colors look to Ran in earnest. Would a little change really make that much difference?
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to look the place over...if Aya takes care of everything here."
(Yes!)
"Wonderful, Oniichan!" Aya beams. "You can tell me all about it when you get back."
"You don't mind staying behind, Aya-chan?" Omi questions.
"Not at all. I'll go some other time. Besides, you guys deserve a break."
On that favorable cue, Ken, Youji, and Omi are out the door in a flash, barely stopping for traffic as they cross the street.
"We won't be long, Aya." Ran speaks calmly, not bothered by being left behind as he slips his apron off in a fluid motion like running water, tossing it with skill behind the counter. "You're sure you can handle everything alone?"
"You worry too much, Ran." she smiles, setting herself to work even as she answers him. "I can handle this just fine. I'm surprised, though. I didn't think you'd want to go."
Pause. Ran stands in the doorway leading to the outside, his features proving for a split second...that he is about to lie. "Just curious...I suppose." he answers, and is out the door before she can reply again.
(Something is not right with this new shop.) stir Ran's pensive thoughts as he crosses the street. (What lies in wait behind those painted walls...?)
*****
What cries in vain behind those painted walls? What beckons so invitingly, yet brings about such spirits to dance along your spine?
"Hurry up, Youji-kun! It's starting to rain!"
"Hold...on...Omi." the winded blonde retorts, lagging behind. "Let's wait for Ran."
Ken and Omi stand sheltered beneath the overhang of "Kitten's Cafe", impatiently tapping their feet upon the sidewalk.
"Wait for Ran? He could leave ten minutes from now and *still* beat you here." Ken laughs, rolling his eyes. "I think it's about time you gave up your cancer sticks, Youji."
Joining them in front of the shop, the taller man raises his eyebrows at such a horrifying statement. "You bet, Ken-Ken. Right after I swear off alcohol and declare I'm coming out of the closet."
These words send Omi into a fit of giggles. "It's about time you finally admitted it!" he squeals.
Youji's eyes narrow angrily, but before he can carry out any deadly intentions...
"We have less than 30 minutes." comes an abrupt voice. "And we are *not* opening late. Unless you want to waste this time, I suggest you head inside."
Ran has stepped onto the curb after crossing the street, and is now looking impatiently at his fellow team mates. No further prompting is needed as they take his "subtle" hint, and the anxious, young men hurry to the door with Ran following close behind.
A pulse of warm, scented air - like vanilla and spice- as the freshly stained, wooden door opens. There is an instant wave of comfort, something so foreign, so pleasing to the senses, one feels at home, safely tucked away. Though the shop had appeared parallel in size to "Kitty in the House", it now proves to stretch much deeper in the back as they enter. Hardwood floors, a towering ceiling, and paraphernalia of wide variation come into view. Bookshelves line the right side; cards, gifts, and other miscellaneous items are along the left; a music section looms from the back; two checkout counters bookend near the front; and surrounded by it all sits a circular bar-like station, giving off an array of mingled scents.
Such peace in this place. Such an odd, overwhelming peace...
"Ohaiyo!!"
Broken from their brief moment of nostalgia, the four florists are startled unexpectedly by a bright and energetic voice. Previously hidden and crouched behind one of the counters has popped up a small, young woman, wearing an extremely cheerful smile.
"Welcome to Kitten's Cafe!" she goes on, tossing her raven hair over her shoulder. This is by far no mean feat, for the dark mane ripples down her back, and there is a curious lock of silver from her temple down the entire length of the straight, beautiful strands. "I'm Yawarakai Amaya. Please feel free to ask me any questions as you enjoy our establishment. Customer satisfaction is number one with us!"
She pauses...smiles brightly...and...
"Phew! I didn't think I could get through all that without losing it. Don't you just *hate* formalities?"
The boys have been absorbing all this with varied responses, barely understanding the girl's frantic speech. But - shaking off their stunned amusement - nearly all break into smiles; Ran struggling to keep the corners of his mouth at bay.
"I couldn't agree more, my dear." Youji begins suavely, leaning over the counter as he steps towards her. "They just get in the way. Personally, I'd be happy never speaking a word...as long as I had *your* body language to keep me company."
The ice has broken.
Omi stifles a laugh; Ken shakes his head, slipping off towards the books discreetly; and Ran has already disappeared.
The young woman, Amaya, comes around from behind the counter - still with a smile - her deep, emerald eyes sparkling. "You know, being this short has some advantages..." she begins, walking up very close to the arrogant womanizer. She is in fact even shorter than Omi. "...so you better watch yourself, pretty boy. From this angle, I've got a nice, clear shot."
Youji throws her a sideways smirk. "What, you're going to punch me in the stomach for that harmless remark?"
"No." she replies, grinning all the more sweetly. "Lower."
Ouch. A low blow - very low.
His pride injured, Youji regains his composure with a short laugh, letting the girl's comment roll right off his back. "I think I need a cup of coffee." he states plainly, and long strides carry him away as he heads for the cafe stand.
"Don't mind Youji." Omi mends, coming up next to the witty, young woman. "He's a bit crude, but we love him anyway."
Amaya grins playfully back at the blue-eyed boy, apparently intrigued by those words. "Love him?" she inquires, a trace of humor in her tone. "So tell me, bishounen...which one's on top?"
Instantly, Omi's cheeks blush sunset-red from embarrassment, and he fumbles for words to dispel such a belief from her eager mind. "No! I didn't mean...we don't...I wouldn't...uhhh...ummm..."
Musical laughter sounds from the joyously blunt girl at Omi's reaction, and she roughly hooks her arm with his. "You're cute!" she announces happily, pulling him towards the gift area. "How 'bout I give you the "deluxe" tour?"
"Uhhhh..."
Say your prayers. Everyday, please. You never know when you'll need a few extra angels on your side. Then again, some people always seem to be looking for trouble.
Youji is walking around the circular, cafe island, searching for signs of life. A good excuse or not, he actually does want a cup of coffee, but there doesn't seem to be anyone at the station. The wooden contraption is rather large, with stools lining the outside, and a smooth counter on top just waiting to be used by famished customers.
An antique-looking cappuccino machine is slightly blocked from sight on the other side, with strange, sputtering noises emanating from it. Curious, Youji works his way around to the murmuring machine, peering over the counter as it comes into full view. Bent at the waste, with her head hidden behind it - is a shapely, young woman, wearing a tiny apron over a dangerously mini, mini-skirt.
(Hello...) Youji thinks with a sly grin. (I knew there was a reason I wanted to come here today.)
Apparently, the woman is trying to turn the machine on, but judging from the constant stream of muffled curses, Youji concludes she isn't having much luck.
"Need a hand?" he asks abruptly, sitting himself down on one of the nearby stools.
Caught completely off guard, the young woman jumps at the sound of his teasing voice, clanging her head against the piping above her. "Itai!" she cries, pulling herself out from behind the cappuccino machine as she straightens up, and rubbing her injured head.
She isn't very tall, only an inch or so taller than Omi, and though she is still turned away from him, Youji has a lovely view of long, blonde hair in waves down to her elbows.
(So far, so sexy...)
"Sorry, about that, sweetheart. I didn't mean to startle you."
Her head turns, and she glares at him over her shoulder, exposing fierce, snow-blue eyes. "Sweetheart?" she repeats in a low, angry tone.
(Oooo, I think I made her mad.)
"Well, *Sir*..." she begins sarcastically, walking up to the counter with prowling steps. "...at "Kitten's Cafe" the customer always gets professional treatment. But..." Her full lips curl into a dangerous smirk. "...since you haven't paid for anything yet, you're *not* a customer."
"That's some twisted logic ya got there, *honey*." Youji retorts, leaning right in her face with his own menacing grin. "You seem a tad touchy to get upset over an innocent pet-name."
She leans closer still over the counter. "Maybe I don't like pet-names."
He leans even closer. "I guess I'll have to pay for something then, so you don't treat me unprofessionally." Emerald eyes lower a moment as he looks her over. "What's *your* going rate?"
Ah, the thrill of the hunt. Even the most intelligent of creatures sometimes forgets the common rules of catching their prey, losing themselves in the excitement of danger when faced with a worthy adversary.
The space around the cozy cafe suddenly feels a few degrees warmer in the anticipation between moments. Youji and the young woman are frozen in mirrored positions, nearly nose to nose, and eventually, one of them will have to break.
(She'll either give in, or deck me into next week.) Youji contemplates, tracing her every curve with his eyes. (Either way...it'll be well worth it.)
"You know what *I* have to say to that, big boy?" she asks in a seductive whisper, moving her mouth within centimeters of his ear.
"Your place or mine?" he inquires hopefully, believing he has cleverly won her over.
"Not quite..."
Unbeknownst to the egotistical playboy, the voluptuous blonde has picked up a steaming coffee pot from under the counter. With him distracted, she has slid it up over the countertop, and now has it poised above his extremely vulnerable lap.
"I was going to ask..." she begins, slowly pouring the contents from the pot. "...one lump or two?"
Those same emerald eyes widen instantly from the incredible and unexpected pain, with Youji producing a sound much like the squeak of a young boy going through puberty, which - somewhere between humiliation and defeat - has gotten caught in his throat.
(This just isn't my day...)
But - to quote a cliché - there is always tomorrow. Too often, however, do people focus on the future, forgetting the importance of the moment. The now. Luckily, this is a hindrance Hidaka Ken knows nothing about.
Lost within the shelves of books, Ken is taking every advantage of the few minutes he has in this newly opened shop, searching for a particular remnant from his past to be revived in his present.
(Come on, they have to have it here somewhere...) he thinks impatiently, scanning each section with penetrating scrutiny. (I never get the chance to just relax with a good book anymore.)
A solemn smile touches his lips.
(Heh. If I told the guys how I used to read two or three a week when I was younger, they'd probably never believe me. All they see me as is some hot-headed jock who never reads anything but soccer magazines...)
Fool. The gnawing of an aching twinge - reminding him of words he was forced to keep from speaking - pulls on his heartstrings, and takes his smile down with it.
(They don't really know me at all...) he sighs, the books forgotten, though his feet continue to carry him through the stacks. (I know what Aya's trying to do, but how long are we supposed to live this way? Omi sees us all as friends, but what friends only have one thing in common?)
He turns a corner blindly...
(What friends consider lurking in back alleyways and murder quality time?)
...lifts his head slowly as his thoughts stir...
(Are we even human enough anymore to deserve friends? Or - )
...and his eyes fall upon something so unexpected, it shatters those thoughts like so many shards of glass.
Pleasantly hidden between two brimming shelves, a small step-stool rests, supporting a tall, young woman as she slips misplaced books into their proper positions . There is a silent grace about her movements - bewitching.
An ashen-grey dress flutters around her ankles and stretches in long sleeves down slender arms. Ken's attention, however, is drawn to her pale, expressionless face, with navy curls framing it as they fall just past her shoulders. A simple pair of eyeglasses rests on her delicate nose, and from her profile, he can just make out the hint of silver behind the glass.
"What do you want?"
The voice that speaks is abrupt and hard despite it's feminine pitch, and Ken suddenly realizes the girl is looking at him - she has spoken - and he is broken from his trance.
"Errm...I...I was looking for a book..." he fumbles, feeling childish and afraid.
"Ask Amaya up front to help you." she states bluntly, stepping off the stool.
Ken realizes she is about to leave, having finished her work, and thinks quickly for a way to keep her, though he doesn't quite understand why. "Wait...!" he begins, grasping for words when she turns rudely back to him. "...why...why can't *you* help me? You do work here, right?"
The navy-haired girl sighs heavily in annoyance, keeping her distance. "Technically...yes."
"Then...why can't - "
"Look." she cuts him off. "I have...work to do. So, why don't you take those scrawny, little, legs of yours back up to the front, and ask Amaya or Hiromi at the cafe stand to find your book. Which - I'm quite certain - is probably some droll action comic with big-breasted women who fall for idiot, macho underlings like yourself!"
Yikes. Ken stands at an absolute loss, pushed back by the very contemptible tone of the girl's words. "I was only asking for -"
"I don't care!" she interrupts again. "How clear do I have to be? Yes, I work here, but I am *not* a clerk."
By now, Ken has regained his severed back-bone, narrowing his eyes indignantly as he steps closer to this embittered, young woman. "Gee, you think maybe that's on account of your people skills!?" he retorts, his sharp temper getting the better of him. "I was only asking nicely for a little help, and you practically jump down my throat, you...you..."
"My *name* is Kei Nori." she states, not backing down. "And I don't care *what* you think of my people skills! So unless you're planning on buying something, GET OUT!!!" Having flung those final words right in Ken's face, the girl leaves, turning briskly on her heels.
Ken is abandoned feeling drained and upset, the color rushing to his flushed cheeks. (What the hell was that?!) his mind cries frantically. (Either I just met a harpy, or Youji was right. Someone *did* clone us...and I just met Ran's.)
The distinction between Fujimiya Ran and a harpy is not that great, actually. In fact, considering the manner in which he now stalks the racks of music at the back of the shop, one could easily mistake him for one.
(There has to be something here...) he thinks suspiciously, surveying every corner and shadow as if it holds some hidden monster, waiting hungrily for him to turn his back. (This feeling...I'm not paranoid...I know there's something...)
The serene and soothing presence in the air sears his lungs with every breath. Someone is trying to create a false atmosphere - or so Ran believes, rapidly making his way down each aisle - and it pulses an edgy fear through his veins. He is so overwhelmed by the itching feeling something is wrong with this place, he doesn't even notice...
(Why do I feel like I'm being - )
...the box of unshelved CD's at his feet.
Ran jolts forward, falling hard to the wooden floor. The overly pleasant air rushes out of his lungs as his chest takes the brunt of the impact, stunning him. A moment of darkness suspends him out of time, until the force of air filling him once again brings him back. Ran shakes his head to clear it and tries to push himself up, hearing the soft shuffle of feet approaching him.
"Are you alright?"
It is a gentle and deep female voice that calls to him from above.
"I'm sorry about the box. Nori must have forgotten it."
Sitting himself up somewhat on his knees, Ran lifts his head towards the voice with slightly blurred vision, and discovers he is looking into a mirror. Electric, violet eyes, blood-red tendrils of hair, lily-white skin, and...a kind smile?
"Do you need help getting up?" the voice asks, seeming to come from Ran's own lips in his reflection. "Hello?" it continues, littered lightly with laughter. "Kitten got your tongue, or are you just shy?"
The mirror ripples away as Ran's vision clears, and he realizes it was never his reflection at all. A young woman, with coloring to match his, though her hair is all one length down to her chest, is crouched down beside him. If she were to stand upright, she would be just about his height, too, but with clear eyes Ran scolds himself for mistaking her for him. Her face and figure are far different. Lovely even...
"That fall must have really knocked the wind out of you, ne?"
Such patience in her tone.
"...yes." he replies at last, regaining himself. "I wasn't watching carefully enough where I was going, it seems. The fall...surprised me."
The girl stands, widening her smile as she extends a rather small hand down to him. He accepts it cautiously, feeling her surprising strength as she pulls him to his feet.
"Well, I certainly hope it won't keep you from coming here again." she states, every syllable filled with friendly charm. "I'm Rosuto Aiko, one of the owners of "Kitten's Cafe"." With Ran's hand still grasped in hers, she shakes it in introduction.
"Fujimiya Ran, from - "
" 'Kitty in the house', the flower shop across the street. Right?"
Her knowledge catches him off guard. "How do you -"
"I watched you walk over from my room upstairs." she says, cutting him off again as she releases his hand gently. "I hope you don't think we're trying to steal your name idea. We must think alike."
Whatever uneasiness Ran felt before, it is only growing more powerful with each minute in this girl's presence. It is not that she seems superficial or fake, but that she is so truly genuine. The world doesn't give birth to many like that anymore.
"An odd coincidence, isn't it?" he questions with narrowed eyes. "Who exactly -"
"There you are, Aiko!"
A piercingly familiar voice sounds from behind him, interrupting his chance for interrogation. Ran begins to turn, but is roughly pushed to the side as the energetic girl from the front bounds past him with Omi attached to her arm.
"These are the boys from the flower shop! Isn't this one a cutie?!"
Omi looks to Ran with wide, blue eyes, silently screaming for help. Clearly the girl believes she has acquired a treasured, new possession.
"Definitely, Amaya." the red-haired woman laughs. "I hope she isn't being too abrasive for you?" she asks, turning her attention on Omi.
"Uhhh...no...not really..." Omi mumbles, trying hard not to sound unappreciative. "She was nice enough to show me around your shop. It's very homey."
"I'm glad you feel that way." the young woman replies. "We want people to feel comfortable here."
"Then you better hire a new waitress!"
This angry baritone voice has erupted from down the aisle, and as the group turns towards it, they discover a furious Youji heading their direction with a dark stain on the front of his pants. A stain which - judging from his awkward steps - wasn't put there by a very pleasant experience.
The raven-haired girl, still clinging tightly to Omi, giggles. "Looks like you got on Hiromi's bad side, too. Huh, 'Mr. Smooth-talker'?"
Youji is not amused. "Listen, you little -"
"I'm very sorry about this." the red-head mends quickly, sweeping past the others towards the angry young man. "We'll give you a weeks worth of free coffee if she caused you any discomfort. At "Kitten's Cafe" every customer is treated -"
"Professionally." Youji finishes with a snarl. "I know."
The young woman, Aiko, smiles sympathetically, and Youji instantly feels ashamed of his bitter tone. After all, he never could bring himself to hurt a woman's feelings. At least, not on purpose.
"It's ok. Really." he dismisses, happy to ease the girl's embarrassment. "It's about time we headed back to our shop, anyway, so I can easily get a clean pair of pants."
Amaya walks up to him on those words, with Omi dragging behind, and smirks evilly. "And what about your burnt -"
"Amaya!" the red-head reprimands, shooting her a disapproving glance. She smiles at Youji then, turning a bit to smile back at Ran as well. "How about I show you boys out? I think it might be safer that way."
All three florists like the sound of that very much, Omi desperately trying to wrench his arm out of Amaya's grip.
They begin walking to the end of the aisles of CD's and sheet music, heading for the front, when Youji suddenly remembers the missing member of their quartet.
"Anyone know what happened to Ken?"
Dramatic pause.
"Let's get the hell out of here!"
Cringe. A new, greatly angered voice echoes over the shelves, bouncing off the high ceiling. Ken has emerged from the book area, still with his temper flared, and the group meets up with him beside the cafe stand.
"Oh dear, Hiromi didn't spill something on you, too, did she?"
Fierce ocean eyes burn into the red-head as Ken turns to answer. "No, but the blue-fairy of death gave me a nice welcome! Can we get out of here, please?"
"Yes, I think it would be best if we started for the shop now." Ran answers plainly, still eyeing his semi-twin warily. His look, however, only causes her to smile more sweetly back at him.
"I understand." she states. "Hopefully you'll come again some other time."
"Yeah, that'll happen..." Youji grumbles under his breath.
Just then, a beaming, blonde Hiromi comes out from behind the cafe, with an unforgettable, swiveling step. "See ya around, hot stuff." she winks.
"Maybe we'll come by *your* shop some time." Amaya adds, at last allowing Omi to free himself from her grasp.
Omi and Youji attempt feigning enthusiasm as the boys head for the door, with Ken storming ahead of them, and Ran lagging behind, looking back at the girls as he slips outside.
(Something's not right...I can feel it...but what...?)
The disturbance in the air from so many raging emotions stills, and the three, young women watch the boys cross the street with intrigued smiles. There is something indeed. Something in their eyes, in the silence they allow to blanket over them.
"So, how do you think it went?" Amaya's bright voice breaks through the stillness.
"*I* certainly had fun." Hiromi replies, hopping up onto one of the stools.
Aiko stands more reserved, contemplating the encounter objectively. "They weren't what I expected, that's for sure." the red-head speaks slowly, a clever grin playing across her pale features. "What do *you* think...Nori?"
Silently, the navy-haired young woman - whom Ken had the pleasure of meeting - appears from the back. Aiko's question is clearly directed at her, though she couldn't possibly have seen her coming.
"I think we're wasting our time." Nori answers sharply. "I don't understand why we're even bothering with Weiss. Why not go after Schwartz directly?"
"You know why." Aiko replies, still in a gentle, motherly tone, sensing Nori is just behind her, but keeping her eyes on the shop across the street. "I pledged to destroy both, and *that* is what we are going to do."
Nori sighs in contempt, looking to each of her friends for support, but both Amaya and Hiromi shake their heads sternly as she does. There is no going against Aiko's wishes. They owe her everything.
Deep down, Nori knows she wouldn't defy their leader even if the others *had* been on her side. Sour-disposition or no, Nori considers all of them her closest friends, and it is through their bond that they will succeed in their mission.
"When do we begin?" the harsh, young woman asks in concession.
At long last, Aiko turns back to her friends to answer Nori's question, the anticipation of a long wait - finally put to rest - shining in her violet eyes. "Tonight."
*****A/N***** 2 parts up and running! Please, tell your friends, and keep reading. This story will deal with everything, and appeal to everyone in one way or another. As for details, you will have to read to find out.
Are you awake yet?
Take a nice, long swallow of fear, and perhaps it will rouse you from your naive existence. Perhaps not. But - caution now - maybe you'll be clued in on how fragile that existence truly is.
The tiniest, most minuscule change in the common pattern of your life can change everything. Imagine, then, what would happen if you suddenly woke up to find yourself in a whole new world. Frightened. Hopeless. Aging into dust...
Scared? Hoping someone will come to your rescue? Some guardian angel?
Most messengers of the light are filled with a certain gnawing peace, a comforting, motherly tendency to look on the bright side. This, however, is not always true. Light can be corrupted, it can fade, it can change shape and color, it can even darken until it becomes a voidless black. Then, most definitely, that impure light is prone to mistake. It may even forget how to be the very thing it is meant to be:
Hope.
Such a familiar word. Yet, who really remembers what it means anymore, what it stands for? Hope is dying fast, dear friends, and light cannot save it alone.
Light & Dark. Good & Evil. Right & Wrong. Love & Hate.
It's all the same. One can never exist without its counterpart. Never. A million faces the world over see things like darkness and hatred as a plague to be cured. Not so. They are merely facts of life, part of the cycle we are all caged into.
So what of the middle ground? What of the happy medium? Does such a thing even exist; do we search in vain for the extreme of one end or the other when we have a simple combination of both without even trying?
Meaningless.
No written words can express the truth of questions like that. One can only find the answers within themselves - as long as they bother to look.
Oh, yes, hope is dying fast, obscured as it is entombed beneath the earth. What can be done to salvage it? Who can be called upon to change the Fates of both light and dark?
Perhaps...perhaps...they are already fighting...
*****
A deafening silence cascades over the room. There is not a single sound wave; nothing to echo the drop of a pin - if one should dare to fall. No. Utter quiet. Not the calming peace of a rainy day, or the cryptic comfort of a library bookshelf. Not that sort of silence. Something far more unbearable.
Stepping into the room, one transports to a jungle thick with threatening distortions. Padded walls like constant tree bark and tropical leaves closing in around you. A cold, metal floor - oddly damp - like the humid air of a rainforest, ripe with disease. Nothing could survive in such a place unless it had become one with the very walls and metal textures themselves. Only a beast of prey, a monster in the night wind, some unholy creature - yes! Only a being that had merged with its earthly sins - through its own free will - could possibly live here.
What being? What creature? One that not only tolerates its home, but thrives in it. One that adores the fear dripping from the walls; loves every breathe of putrid air...because...he has to...
Farfarello lays stiff and immobile on his even stiffer bed. There is an incredible crick in his back from the rigid position. Not pain - he is far beyond that now - just a sensation he rather enjoys. He would have preferred the floor, actually, but Crawford had insisted on putting the damned thing in his room.
"You're not an animal. You can at least sleep in a bed like a real person." their leader had said, not bothering to hide his obvious disgust for the aforementioned albino. "Besides, you'll be recovering for quite a while with that wound, and I want you ready when our time comes."
Remembering, Farfarello lifts a bandaged arm to trace the faint line stretching across his neck. It had been a handsome scar once the bleeding stopped, but it continues to fade as the mark heals, and soon there will be nothing left but memory.
A tawny, golden eye blinks, pondering. (Siberian...I won't forget...a feeling...almost like pain...so sweet...)
During Schwartz' last encounter with the members of Weiss - paired off as usual - Farfarello had instinctively gone for Hidaka Ken, the rash, young...hero?
(...they are like us...we have no allegiance or feeling...we simply...are...)
Moments before the battle's end, Ken had slashed his buknuks across Farfarello's throat, a wound which normally would have been fatal. Even against Farfarello it would have been, but Crawford had taken care of that.
(...Fujimiya...)
Using Fujimiya Ran's sister, Aya, Schwartz was able to perform an incantation which borrowed the girl's inner youth, making them near invincible. It was not meant to last forever, but it did its duty. Farfarello recovered, and Aya suffered no effects, other than being awakened from her long sleep, that is.
Months later, the spell has nearly run its course, and when it ends, the mark on Farfarello's neck will stop fading - if it has not already disappeared. He can't help wondering; will it leave any remnants before time runs out...?
"Better say your good-byes, Farf. I'm afraid this one's not sticking around."
No need to look; Farfarello recognizes the nasal, taunting voice all too well. "I'll make up for it...later..." the Irishmen thinks aloud, remaining in his frozen position on the bed. "This recovery lasted too long...I have much to make up for..."
Schuldrich furrows his eyebrows quizzically. He is standing just inside the door, leaning his lithe figure against the metal frame. Farfarello hadn't even noticed when the German unlocked the door, prying it open. Funny - it makes such a delicious creak.
"Recovery's over. But..." the red-head begins, stepping over to the bed. It is pressed up against the right wall, with the headboard facing the door. As Schu approaches, he leans over the back, peering at Farfarello from above. "...I don't think Bradley's going to let you play for awhile. Not the way you're looking forward to, anyway. Though it does seem we may be getting a few new playmates." He grins, jade eyes glittering in the shadows as an eerily yellow one stares back.
"Playmates...?"
Schu grins wider, leaning far over the bed, his face nearly brushing against the ghostly skin of his fellow team member. "Playmate, come out and play with me..." he whispers.
Farfarello knows this game, and finishes the phrase. "...hang...from my apple tree..."
"That's right, Farfie." Schu laughs. "Let's go play."
*****
"We're just playing! Don't be so melodramatic."
"Then go kick that thing around outside! *Not* in the shop!"
Light trespasses through every window and crack of the "Kitty in the House" flower shop; a new day on the rise. How soon the night withers - how bittersweet - when there are no dead knocking down your door.
"Demo, Oniisan, we'd be out in the street if we went outside." Aya comments logically, bending down to recover the soccer ball she'd been passing to Omi and Ken.
Ran scowls in her direction while slipping his apron over his head, a few scarlett strands disrupted out of place. "Out in the street is where we'll *all* be if we don't start running this business seriously."
"Damnit, Ran, we don't open for another 45 minutes! Will you stop taking your agressions out on the rest of us?! I've had enough of this!"
The stern red-head snaps his attention towards the extremely defiant ex-J-leaguer who has spoken so abruptly, glaring at the young man in angered surprise. Ken, not even remotely unnerved, stalks his way over to Ran, looking far too ready for a fight.
The brooding red-ead's fowl disposition the day before had only escalated throughout the night. Scornful words and sour looks became more than any of them were able to tolerate, and Ken was in no mood to begin another day the same way.
Ken - mournful, big brother to every misfortunate, neighborhood kid. He was the only one who would dare stand up to Ran in such a way without flinching.
Youji? He prides himself on smooth-talking his way out of any sticky situation. Omi? The bright-eyed youth has no taste for confrontations amongst friends.
Friends. Life's most abrasive contradiction.
"I'm sick of this game." Ken hisses. "Pretending so hard every day we're not really feeling what we're feeling. Aren't we past all that? Haven't we earned the chance to be ourselves again? Haven't we?!"
"It's only a soccer ball, Ken-kun. It doesn't matter." Aya's urgent voice breaks through the torturous static.
"This is about more than some stupid soccer ball!" Ken cries, far too harshly. "Don't we suffer enough already...Abyssinian?" he finishes, stressing the codename boldly.
None of them have ever spoken about anything concerning their true occupations in Aya's presence - until now.
Ran is furious. "How dare -!"
"Stop this!" Aya calls desperately, dashing between them to separate her brother from Ken. "Stop...please. How silly to get so upset over nothing." The ripples in her voice betray her anxiety, but she laughs it off, hoping to heal these growing fissures before they can no longer be repaired. "You over-reacted, ne?" she continues, directing her statement at Ken as she looks over her shoulder with beseeching eyes only he can see. "Stressful day yesterday, that's all. You understand why Ran would ask us not to play inside. Right, Ken-Ken?"
A fatal blow.
(She could melt the snow with those eyes...) Ken weakens, instantly changing face for the sake of his friends, and the sake of his soul.
"Of course, Aya. You're right." the brunette concedes, his mask pulled tightly back in place with a false - yet believable - smile. "Baka! I'm getting worked up over nothing, and the day hasn't even started yet. Gomen nasai, Ran. I had a restless night."
"We'll think better of it next time, Ran-niisan." Aya beams, spinning around to face the slowly calming red-head. "No more soccer inside. Forgive us?"
Buried in the depths of Ran's better judgment, he recognizes the scene as artificial. But what does he care of falsity? He is no more ready to face reality than they are. "Hai. It was a senseless argument." he replies. "We're up early, anyway, and the shop doesn't open for awhile. You can play with it, I suppose. But *don't* make a mess!" he turns around then, picking up a misplaced pot of magnolias on his way to the front.
"I don't think I'm up for soccer anymore." Omi declares, at last stepping away from the wall he'd gradually been backing up against.
"Well, there is something we haven't done yet." Ken realizes, a cunning smirk brightening his features. "Someone has to wake up Youji."
Omi stiffens, blue eyes widening in fear. "I *still* have nightmares of pillows and alarm-clocks flying at my head from the last time I went into his room before 9:00! *You* do it!"
Ken takes a step back, shaking his head fiercely, while Aya is overcome with giggles. Listening in half-heartedly, Ran continues to move about the shop - placing this plant here, that plant there - and settles the quarrel himself. "Go get him, Omi. This shop won't run itself."
Clearly appalled and indignant towards Ran's blunt decision, Omi is about to protest, when...
"Ohaiyo! Lovely morning, ne?"
The door leading down from their upstairs apartment has opened, a bright-eyed and fully dressed Kudo Youji standing in the doorframe. Every last person in the shop is completely taken aback.
Kudo? Up before noon?
"Yotan! We were just about to come wake you." Aya exclaims with a smile.
Ken crosses in front of her, whacking Youji on the back. "No date last night, Youji? You must be losing your touch." he kids.
Just then, a tall, older woman, black hair slightly tousled, makes her way down the stairs and slips passed the others with a shamed blush. All are quiet as she discreetly makes her way outside, but Youji is a smirk from ear to ear.
"But...you're up." Ken mumbles, stating the strangely obvious fact.
"And why not?" Youji asks, taking his apron from its hook and casually slipping it over his head. "It was easy to get a good night sleep..." He pauses for affect. "...since we wore ourselves out so quickly."
Groan. Different story; same old ending.
"Let's get to work." Ran states, obviously not amused.
Another day is set back on track through the comfort of familiarity. We are all creatures of habit, after all. We cling to our common schedules, to our dull, remembered lives. Why? Would the mere hint of change crumble the foundation and walls around us?
"Matte." Aya begins, an idea swiftly forming in her head. "We still have half an hour, don't we? Let's take advantage of it."
Omi walks up to her, a bundle of violets gathered in his slender arms. "What do you mean?" he asks. "You can't do very much in just 30 minutes."
Sly girls have answers to every question. "I know one thing." she counters, pointing a white finger across the street. "Kitten's Cafe opens at 8:30. We could be their first customers!"
"What a great idea, Aya-chan!"
"Don't get too excited." comes Ran's baritone voice. "There's alot of work to be done around here before *we* open at 9:00."
"Then why don't just you boys go?" Aya inquires quickly. "I can get everything ready."
As expected, Ran is quite hesitant about the idea, but since he doesn't reply immediately, there is the smallest chance he'll give consent.
(Say yes, say yes, say yes.) Aya chants. (It would be so good for you to get your mind off the shop. Besides, with you gone for a bit, I could -)
"I think it's a great idea!" Youji announces, taking his apron off even faster than he'd put it on. "I'm dying to know who's over there."
"Me, too!" Omi agrees, inching towards the door. "What do you say, Aya-kun? Can we go?"
"We promise we'll come back in time to open." Ken adds.
Pathetically pleading eyes of all colors look to Ran in earnest. Would a little change really make that much difference?
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to look the place over...if Aya takes care of everything here."
(Yes!)
"Wonderful, Oniichan!" Aya beams. "You can tell me all about it when you get back."
"You don't mind staying behind, Aya-chan?" Omi questions.
"Not at all. I'll go some other time. Besides, you guys deserve a break."
On that favorable cue, Ken, Youji, and Omi are out the door in a flash, barely stopping for traffic as they cross the street.
"We won't be long, Aya." Ran speaks calmly, not bothered by being left behind as he slips his apron off in a fluid motion like running water, tossing it with skill behind the counter. "You're sure you can handle everything alone?"
"You worry too much, Ran." she smiles, setting herself to work even as she answers him. "I can handle this just fine. I'm surprised, though. I didn't think you'd want to go."
Pause. Ran stands in the doorway leading to the outside, his features proving for a split second...that he is about to lie. "Just curious...I suppose." he answers, and is out the door before she can reply again.
(Something is not right with this new shop.) stir Ran's pensive thoughts as he crosses the street. (What lies in wait behind those painted walls...?)
*****
What cries in vain behind those painted walls? What beckons so invitingly, yet brings about such spirits to dance along your spine?
"Hurry up, Youji-kun! It's starting to rain!"
"Hold...on...Omi." the winded blonde retorts, lagging behind. "Let's wait for Ran."
Ken and Omi stand sheltered beneath the overhang of "Kitten's Cafe", impatiently tapping their feet upon the sidewalk.
"Wait for Ran? He could leave ten minutes from now and *still* beat you here." Ken laughs, rolling his eyes. "I think it's about time you gave up your cancer sticks, Youji."
Joining them in front of the shop, the taller man raises his eyebrows at such a horrifying statement. "You bet, Ken-Ken. Right after I swear off alcohol and declare I'm coming out of the closet."
These words send Omi into a fit of giggles. "It's about time you finally admitted it!" he squeals.
Youji's eyes narrow angrily, but before he can carry out any deadly intentions...
"We have less than 30 minutes." comes an abrupt voice. "And we are *not* opening late. Unless you want to waste this time, I suggest you head inside."
Ran has stepped onto the curb after crossing the street, and is now looking impatiently at his fellow team mates. No further prompting is needed as they take his "subtle" hint, and the anxious, young men hurry to the door with Ran following close behind.
A pulse of warm, scented air - like vanilla and spice- as the freshly stained, wooden door opens. There is an instant wave of comfort, something so foreign, so pleasing to the senses, one feels at home, safely tucked away. Though the shop had appeared parallel in size to "Kitty in the House", it now proves to stretch much deeper in the back as they enter. Hardwood floors, a towering ceiling, and paraphernalia of wide variation come into view. Bookshelves line the right side; cards, gifts, and other miscellaneous items are along the left; a music section looms from the back; two checkout counters bookend near the front; and surrounded by it all sits a circular bar-like station, giving off an array of mingled scents.
Such peace in this place. Such an odd, overwhelming peace...
"Ohaiyo!!"
Broken from their brief moment of nostalgia, the four florists are startled unexpectedly by a bright and energetic voice. Previously hidden and crouched behind one of the counters has popped up a small, young woman, wearing an extremely cheerful smile.
"Welcome to Kitten's Cafe!" she goes on, tossing her raven hair over her shoulder. This is by far no mean feat, for the dark mane ripples down her back, and there is a curious lock of silver from her temple down the entire length of the straight, beautiful strands. "I'm Yawarakai Amaya. Please feel free to ask me any questions as you enjoy our establishment. Customer satisfaction is number one with us!"
She pauses...smiles brightly...and...
"Phew! I didn't think I could get through all that without losing it. Don't you just *hate* formalities?"
The boys have been absorbing all this with varied responses, barely understanding the girl's frantic speech. But - shaking off their stunned amusement - nearly all break into smiles; Ran struggling to keep the corners of his mouth at bay.
"I couldn't agree more, my dear." Youji begins suavely, leaning over the counter as he steps towards her. "They just get in the way. Personally, I'd be happy never speaking a word...as long as I had *your* body language to keep me company."
The ice has broken.
Omi stifles a laugh; Ken shakes his head, slipping off towards the books discreetly; and Ran has already disappeared.
The young woman, Amaya, comes around from behind the counter - still with a smile - her deep, emerald eyes sparkling. "You know, being this short has some advantages..." she begins, walking up very close to the arrogant womanizer. She is in fact even shorter than Omi. "...so you better watch yourself, pretty boy. From this angle, I've got a nice, clear shot."
Youji throws her a sideways smirk. "What, you're going to punch me in the stomach for that harmless remark?"
"No." she replies, grinning all the more sweetly. "Lower."
Ouch. A low blow - very low.
His pride injured, Youji regains his composure with a short laugh, letting the girl's comment roll right off his back. "I think I need a cup of coffee." he states plainly, and long strides carry him away as he heads for the cafe stand.
"Don't mind Youji." Omi mends, coming up next to the witty, young woman. "He's a bit crude, but we love him anyway."
Amaya grins playfully back at the blue-eyed boy, apparently intrigued by those words. "Love him?" she inquires, a trace of humor in her tone. "So tell me, bishounen...which one's on top?"
Instantly, Omi's cheeks blush sunset-red from embarrassment, and he fumbles for words to dispel such a belief from her eager mind. "No! I didn't mean...we don't...I wouldn't...uhhh...ummm..."
Musical laughter sounds from the joyously blunt girl at Omi's reaction, and she roughly hooks her arm with his. "You're cute!" she announces happily, pulling him towards the gift area. "How 'bout I give you the "deluxe" tour?"
"Uhhhh..."
Say your prayers. Everyday, please. You never know when you'll need a few extra angels on your side. Then again, some people always seem to be looking for trouble.
Youji is walking around the circular, cafe island, searching for signs of life. A good excuse or not, he actually does want a cup of coffee, but there doesn't seem to be anyone at the station. The wooden contraption is rather large, with stools lining the outside, and a smooth counter on top just waiting to be used by famished customers.
An antique-looking cappuccino machine is slightly blocked from sight on the other side, with strange, sputtering noises emanating from it. Curious, Youji works his way around to the murmuring machine, peering over the counter as it comes into full view. Bent at the waste, with her head hidden behind it - is a shapely, young woman, wearing a tiny apron over a dangerously mini, mini-skirt.
(Hello...) Youji thinks with a sly grin. (I knew there was a reason I wanted to come here today.)
Apparently, the woman is trying to turn the machine on, but judging from the constant stream of muffled curses, Youji concludes she isn't having much luck.
"Need a hand?" he asks abruptly, sitting himself down on one of the nearby stools.
Caught completely off guard, the young woman jumps at the sound of his teasing voice, clanging her head against the piping above her. "Itai!" she cries, pulling herself out from behind the cappuccino machine as she straightens up, and rubbing her injured head.
She isn't very tall, only an inch or so taller than Omi, and though she is still turned away from him, Youji has a lovely view of long, blonde hair in waves down to her elbows.
(So far, so sexy...)
"Sorry, about that, sweetheart. I didn't mean to startle you."
Her head turns, and she glares at him over her shoulder, exposing fierce, snow-blue eyes. "Sweetheart?" she repeats in a low, angry tone.
(Oooo, I think I made her mad.)
"Well, *Sir*..." she begins sarcastically, walking up to the counter with prowling steps. "...at "Kitten's Cafe" the customer always gets professional treatment. But..." Her full lips curl into a dangerous smirk. "...since you haven't paid for anything yet, you're *not* a customer."
"That's some twisted logic ya got there, *honey*." Youji retorts, leaning right in her face with his own menacing grin. "You seem a tad touchy to get upset over an innocent pet-name."
She leans closer still over the counter. "Maybe I don't like pet-names."
He leans even closer. "I guess I'll have to pay for something then, so you don't treat me unprofessionally." Emerald eyes lower a moment as he looks her over. "What's *your* going rate?"
Ah, the thrill of the hunt. Even the most intelligent of creatures sometimes forgets the common rules of catching their prey, losing themselves in the excitement of danger when faced with a worthy adversary.
The space around the cozy cafe suddenly feels a few degrees warmer in the anticipation between moments. Youji and the young woman are frozen in mirrored positions, nearly nose to nose, and eventually, one of them will have to break.
(She'll either give in, or deck me into next week.) Youji contemplates, tracing her every curve with his eyes. (Either way...it'll be well worth it.)
"You know what *I* have to say to that, big boy?" she asks in a seductive whisper, moving her mouth within centimeters of his ear.
"Your place or mine?" he inquires hopefully, believing he has cleverly won her over.
"Not quite..."
Unbeknownst to the egotistical playboy, the voluptuous blonde has picked up a steaming coffee pot from under the counter. With him distracted, she has slid it up over the countertop, and now has it poised above his extremely vulnerable lap.
"I was going to ask..." she begins, slowly pouring the contents from the pot. "...one lump or two?"
Those same emerald eyes widen instantly from the incredible and unexpected pain, with Youji producing a sound much like the squeak of a young boy going through puberty, which - somewhere between humiliation and defeat - has gotten caught in his throat.
(This just isn't my day...)
But - to quote a cliché - there is always tomorrow. Too often, however, do people focus on the future, forgetting the importance of the moment. The now. Luckily, this is a hindrance Hidaka Ken knows nothing about.
Lost within the shelves of books, Ken is taking every advantage of the few minutes he has in this newly opened shop, searching for a particular remnant from his past to be revived in his present.
(Come on, they have to have it here somewhere...) he thinks impatiently, scanning each section with penetrating scrutiny. (I never get the chance to just relax with a good book anymore.)
A solemn smile touches his lips.
(Heh. If I told the guys how I used to read two or three a week when I was younger, they'd probably never believe me. All they see me as is some hot-headed jock who never reads anything but soccer magazines...)
Fool. The gnawing of an aching twinge - reminding him of words he was forced to keep from speaking - pulls on his heartstrings, and takes his smile down with it.
(They don't really know me at all...) he sighs, the books forgotten, though his feet continue to carry him through the stacks. (I know what Aya's trying to do, but how long are we supposed to live this way? Omi sees us all as friends, but what friends only have one thing in common?)
He turns a corner blindly...
(What friends consider lurking in back alleyways and murder quality time?)
...lifts his head slowly as his thoughts stir...
(Are we even human enough anymore to deserve friends? Or - )
...and his eyes fall upon something so unexpected, it shatters those thoughts like so many shards of glass.
Pleasantly hidden between two brimming shelves, a small step-stool rests, supporting a tall, young woman as she slips misplaced books into their proper positions . There is a silent grace about her movements - bewitching.
An ashen-grey dress flutters around her ankles and stretches in long sleeves down slender arms. Ken's attention, however, is drawn to her pale, expressionless face, with navy curls framing it as they fall just past her shoulders. A simple pair of eyeglasses rests on her delicate nose, and from her profile, he can just make out the hint of silver behind the glass.
"What do you want?"
The voice that speaks is abrupt and hard despite it's feminine pitch, and Ken suddenly realizes the girl is looking at him - she has spoken - and he is broken from his trance.
"Errm...I...I was looking for a book..." he fumbles, feeling childish and afraid.
"Ask Amaya up front to help you." she states bluntly, stepping off the stool.
Ken realizes she is about to leave, having finished her work, and thinks quickly for a way to keep her, though he doesn't quite understand why. "Wait...!" he begins, grasping for words when she turns rudely back to him. "...why...why can't *you* help me? You do work here, right?"
The navy-haired girl sighs heavily in annoyance, keeping her distance. "Technically...yes."
"Then...why can't - "
"Look." she cuts him off. "I have...work to do. So, why don't you take those scrawny, little, legs of yours back up to the front, and ask Amaya or Hiromi at the cafe stand to find your book. Which - I'm quite certain - is probably some droll action comic with big-breasted women who fall for idiot, macho underlings like yourself!"
Yikes. Ken stands at an absolute loss, pushed back by the very contemptible tone of the girl's words. "I was only asking for -"
"I don't care!" she interrupts again. "How clear do I have to be? Yes, I work here, but I am *not* a clerk."
By now, Ken has regained his severed back-bone, narrowing his eyes indignantly as he steps closer to this embittered, young woman. "Gee, you think maybe that's on account of your people skills!?" he retorts, his sharp temper getting the better of him. "I was only asking nicely for a little help, and you practically jump down my throat, you...you..."
"My *name* is Kei Nori." she states, not backing down. "And I don't care *what* you think of my people skills! So unless you're planning on buying something, GET OUT!!!" Having flung those final words right in Ken's face, the girl leaves, turning briskly on her heels.
Ken is abandoned feeling drained and upset, the color rushing to his flushed cheeks. (What the hell was that?!) his mind cries frantically. (Either I just met a harpy, or Youji was right. Someone *did* clone us...and I just met Ran's.)
The distinction between Fujimiya Ran and a harpy is not that great, actually. In fact, considering the manner in which he now stalks the racks of music at the back of the shop, one could easily mistake him for one.
(There has to be something here...) he thinks suspiciously, surveying every corner and shadow as if it holds some hidden monster, waiting hungrily for him to turn his back. (This feeling...I'm not paranoid...I know there's something...)
The serene and soothing presence in the air sears his lungs with every breath. Someone is trying to create a false atmosphere - or so Ran believes, rapidly making his way down each aisle - and it pulses an edgy fear through his veins. He is so overwhelmed by the itching feeling something is wrong with this place, he doesn't even notice...
(Why do I feel like I'm being - )
...the box of unshelved CD's at his feet.
Ran jolts forward, falling hard to the wooden floor. The overly pleasant air rushes out of his lungs as his chest takes the brunt of the impact, stunning him. A moment of darkness suspends him out of time, until the force of air filling him once again brings him back. Ran shakes his head to clear it and tries to push himself up, hearing the soft shuffle of feet approaching him.
"Are you alright?"
It is a gentle and deep female voice that calls to him from above.
"I'm sorry about the box. Nori must have forgotten it."
Sitting himself up somewhat on his knees, Ran lifts his head towards the voice with slightly blurred vision, and discovers he is looking into a mirror. Electric, violet eyes, blood-red tendrils of hair, lily-white skin, and...a kind smile?
"Do you need help getting up?" the voice asks, seeming to come from Ran's own lips in his reflection. "Hello?" it continues, littered lightly with laughter. "Kitten got your tongue, or are you just shy?"
The mirror ripples away as Ran's vision clears, and he realizes it was never his reflection at all. A young woman, with coloring to match his, though her hair is all one length down to her chest, is crouched down beside him. If she were to stand upright, she would be just about his height, too, but with clear eyes Ran scolds himself for mistaking her for him. Her face and figure are far different. Lovely even...
"That fall must have really knocked the wind out of you, ne?"
Such patience in her tone.
"...yes." he replies at last, regaining himself. "I wasn't watching carefully enough where I was going, it seems. The fall...surprised me."
The girl stands, widening her smile as she extends a rather small hand down to him. He accepts it cautiously, feeling her surprising strength as she pulls him to his feet.
"Well, I certainly hope it won't keep you from coming here again." she states, every syllable filled with friendly charm. "I'm Rosuto Aiko, one of the owners of "Kitten's Cafe"." With Ran's hand still grasped in hers, she shakes it in introduction.
"Fujimiya Ran, from - "
" 'Kitty in the house', the flower shop across the street. Right?"
Her knowledge catches him off guard. "How do you -"
"I watched you walk over from my room upstairs." she says, cutting him off again as she releases his hand gently. "I hope you don't think we're trying to steal your name idea. We must think alike."
Whatever uneasiness Ran felt before, it is only growing more powerful with each minute in this girl's presence. It is not that she seems superficial or fake, but that she is so truly genuine. The world doesn't give birth to many like that anymore.
"An odd coincidence, isn't it?" he questions with narrowed eyes. "Who exactly -"
"There you are, Aiko!"
A piercingly familiar voice sounds from behind him, interrupting his chance for interrogation. Ran begins to turn, but is roughly pushed to the side as the energetic girl from the front bounds past him with Omi attached to her arm.
"These are the boys from the flower shop! Isn't this one a cutie?!"
Omi looks to Ran with wide, blue eyes, silently screaming for help. Clearly the girl believes she has acquired a treasured, new possession.
"Definitely, Amaya." the red-haired woman laughs. "I hope she isn't being too abrasive for you?" she asks, turning her attention on Omi.
"Uhhh...no...not really..." Omi mumbles, trying hard not to sound unappreciative. "She was nice enough to show me around your shop. It's very homey."
"I'm glad you feel that way." the young woman replies. "We want people to feel comfortable here."
"Then you better hire a new waitress!"
This angry baritone voice has erupted from down the aisle, and as the group turns towards it, they discover a furious Youji heading their direction with a dark stain on the front of his pants. A stain which - judging from his awkward steps - wasn't put there by a very pleasant experience.
The raven-haired girl, still clinging tightly to Omi, giggles. "Looks like you got on Hiromi's bad side, too. Huh, 'Mr. Smooth-talker'?"
Youji is not amused. "Listen, you little -"
"I'm very sorry about this." the red-head mends quickly, sweeping past the others towards the angry young man. "We'll give you a weeks worth of free coffee if she caused you any discomfort. At "Kitten's Cafe" every customer is treated -"
"Professionally." Youji finishes with a snarl. "I know."
The young woman, Aiko, smiles sympathetically, and Youji instantly feels ashamed of his bitter tone. After all, he never could bring himself to hurt a woman's feelings. At least, not on purpose.
"It's ok. Really." he dismisses, happy to ease the girl's embarrassment. "It's about time we headed back to our shop, anyway, so I can easily get a clean pair of pants."
Amaya walks up to him on those words, with Omi dragging behind, and smirks evilly. "And what about your burnt -"
"Amaya!" the red-head reprimands, shooting her a disapproving glance. She smiles at Youji then, turning a bit to smile back at Ran as well. "How about I show you boys out? I think it might be safer that way."
All three florists like the sound of that very much, Omi desperately trying to wrench his arm out of Amaya's grip.
They begin walking to the end of the aisles of CD's and sheet music, heading for the front, when Youji suddenly remembers the missing member of their quartet.
"Anyone know what happened to Ken?"
Dramatic pause.
"Let's get the hell out of here!"
Cringe. A new, greatly angered voice echoes over the shelves, bouncing off the high ceiling. Ken has emerged from the book area, still with his temper flared, and the group meets up with him beside the cafe stand.
"Oh dear, Hiromi didn't spill something on you, too, did she?"
Fierce ocean eyes burn into the red-head as Ken turns to answer. "No, but the blue-fairy of death gave me a nice welcome! Can we get out of here, please?"
"Yes, I think it would be best if we started for the shop now." Ran answers plainly, still eyeing his semi-twin warily. His look, however, only causes her to smile more sweetly back at him.
"I understand." she states. "Hopefully you'll come again some other time."
"Yeah, that'll happen..." Youji grumbles under his breath.
Just then, a beaming, blonde Hiromi comes out from behind the cafe, with an unforgettable, swiveling step. "See ya around, hot stuff." she winks.
"Maybe we'll come by *your* shop some time." Amaya adds, at last allowing Omi to free himself from her grasp.
Omi and Youji attempt feigning enthusiasm as the boys head for the door, with Ken storming ahead of them, and Ran lagging behind, looking back at the girls as he slips outside.
(Something's not right...I can feel it...but what...?)
The disturbance in the air from so many raging emotions stills, and the three, young women watch the boys cross the street with intrigued smiles. There is something indeed. Something in their eyes, in the silence they allow to blanket over them.
"So, how do you think it went?" Amaya's bright voice breaks through the stillness.
"*I* certainly had fun." Hiromi replies, hopping up onto one of the stools.
Aiko stands more reserved, contemplating the encounter objectively. "They weren't what I expected, that's for sure." the red-head speaks slowly, a clever grin playing across her pale features. "What do *you* think...Nori?"
Silently, the navy-haired young woman - whom Ken had the pleasure of meeting - appears from the back. Aiko's question is clearly directed at her, though she couldn't possibly have seen her coming.
"I think we're wasting our time." Nori answers sharply. "I don't understand why we're even bothering with Weiss. Why not go after Schwartz directly?"
"You know why." Aiko replies, still in a gentle, motherly tone, sensing Nori is just behind her, but keeping her eyes on the shop across the street. "I pledged to destroy both, and *that* is what we are going to do."
Nori sighs in contempt, looking to each of her friends for support, but both Amaya and Hiromi shake their heads sternly as she does. There is no going against Aiko's wishes. They owe her everything.
Deep down, Nori knows she wouldn't defy their leader even if the others *had* been on her side. Sour-disposition or no, Nori considers all of them her closest friends, and it is through their bond that they will succeed in their mission.
"When do we begin?" the harsh, young woman asks in concession.
At long last, Aiko turns back to her friends to answer Nori's question, the anticipation of a long wait - finally put to rest - shining in her violet eyes. "Tonight."
*****A/N***** 2 parts up and running! Please, tell your friends, and keep reading. This story will deal with everything, and appeal to everyone in one way or another. As for details, you will have to read to find out.