Disclaimer: Once again, this is going to get weird. Possibly weirder than Silent Messiah. I just hope that if you're reading this, you like weirdness. Then again, if you didn't, you definitely wouldn't be reading this. Right. Anyway, none of these characters belong to me. Damn. No monies for me.

Silent Storm
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix
Chapter Three

The tea swirled in the cup before her as she pulled her spoon out of it.

Tot reckoned that she had added enough sugar to her cup to keep her awake for days. It didn't matter, though. She liked her tea sweet. Especially when she was upset like she was tonight. As she took a sip, the sweetness of the brownish-orange liquid relaxed her, causing her to let her eyes drift nearly shut. Carelessly, she freely swung her legs back and forth in her chair, her feet barely dusting the surface of the floor. Even as sugary as it was, the sweet tea erased some of her worries and put her back in the mood to sleep.

"So," a male voice came from across the table. A slurping noise followed it shortly, as her companion took a sip of his tea. Tot looked up for the first time since sitting down. The man across from her wore a half-unbuttoned green shirt, his messy red hair falling into his glittering, scheming blue eyes. Schuldich smirked a bit as he lowered the mug of tea from his mouth.

Tot regarded him, a look of general apprehension on her face. She really didn't know what to say to him, or if she should say anything at all. She definitely didn't know if she should tell him about Nagi and how weird he had been acting lately. And she knew most of all that she shouldn't let him know how scared she was right then; Hel had always told her that she should never let anyone she wasn't comfortable with know she was scared. They might use it against her.

"Why don't you tell me what happened with Nagi a little while ago?" Schuldich suggested, following Tot's look of surprise with his eyes, "I thought I heard him yell." It creeped her out sometimes, how he could seem to follow right along with what she was thinking. Nagi had told her that he had some sort of powers too, like his telekinesis, but Tot hadn't really been paying attention; she couldn't remember exactly what he was supposed to be able to do.

"Uhh," she hesitated. Tot found that she couldn't look him in the eye and still talk to him. He just made her too uncomfortable. "He, uhh," she started quietly, staring at the tea swirling in her cup as though it were the most interesting thing in the world, "He tried to grab me in bad places. And… and… He got into bed without any clothes on. Nagi-kun doesn't ever do that. Not ever." Schuldich smirked a bit. It almost looked like he was mouthing the words "That's my boy", but Tot couldn't tell for sure.

"So, he tried to make a move on you," Schuldich said, loud enough for Tot to hear. She glanced shyly at him for a second before returning to her tea, blushing furiously. "Did it scare you?" he pressed on, almost as if he knew which buttons to push. A sneaky grin still painted his lips, which unnerved Tot even more.

"I guess," she said quietly, "I didn't think Nagi-kun would do things like that. But… he's different now. I don't like it." Schuldich sat his mug on the table with a small 'clank', causing Tot to look up at him again. He knitted his fingers together and rested his chin against them as he leaned forward.

"Well, Tot," he began, his voice soothing at the same time as it was sort of creepy, "It could be that Nagi's growing up." Tot considered this for a minute, but it didn't seem to be right for some reason. His behavior was a little stranger than that.

"What do you mean?" she asked, finally, casting her glance away from Schuldich.
"When boys grow up," Schuldich explained slowly, pausing to take a sip from his mug, "They begin to want to do grown-up things. Like touching their girlfriends." Tot winced. "You don't like being touched?" he asked, casting her a sideways glance. His tone of voice suggested that he already knew the answer to that question.

"It's creepy," Tot replied, huddling into her over-sized pajamas. Schuldich raised an eyebrow and sat his mug down again. Tot still didn't meet his eyes.

"It's part of growing up," Schuldich said firmly, "Doing grown up things with Nagi and letting him touch you… it's all part of growing up." Another glance at Schuldich let her know that he was staring intently at her. Tot then began to look intently at the floor.

"If that's what it takes to be a grown up," Tot said softly, "I want to be a kid forever." Schuldich rested his chin on his hand and smirked.

"But you really love Nagi, don't you?" he asked, leading her on. Tot nodded silently, staying focused on the floor. "If you really love him, then," Schuldich continued, "You'll help him become a grown up, even if it's scary." Without looking up, Tot reached out and placed her cup on the table. It seemed to her that something about Schuldich's line of reasoning wasn't quite right, but she just couldn't articulate it. Loving someone didn't mean she had to be scared of them, or uncomfortable around them, did it?

Tot sat quietly for several minutes, thinking about everything that Schuldich had just said. Finally, she decided that she didn't want to talk to him anymore at all; all of the confusion he was causing her was making her more tired than any tea ever could.

"I think I'm sleepy again," Tot said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "I'm going to go sleep on the couch now. Thank you for the tea." Schuldich followed her with his eyes as she stood and bowed politely to him. He watched her shuffle out of the kitchen, her houseshoes scuffling quietly against the wooden floor as she went.

Schuldich looked across the table at the half-empty cup of tea Tot had left behind. It was child's play for him to tell that both her and Nagi's resolves were weakening. He gave them both a week before one or the other of them broke down and let the Beast have his way. And even if they didn't give in so easily on their own, when Nagi found the other piece of the demon, it would all be over anyway.

Schuldich smirked to himself. Stubborn children could be so much fun to play with.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Across town, a silvery-white hatchback came to a slow stop in front of a well-lit, creme-colored house. Satisfied with his parking job, the driver pulled the parking brake up and shut the headlights off. He then took his foot off the brake and shut the car off. A street lamp now filled the dark car with its dim light. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he reached down and released his seat belt.

Looking over into the passenger's seat, Aya could see the outline and fuzzy features of the flower arrangement he'd brought with him. The street lamp's pale orange light reflected off of the leaves and petals of the flowers he'd used to make it, their violet and shell pink colors dimmed to silvers and blues in the darkness.

Carefully, as not to jostle the blooms too much, he placed his hands on the sides of the polished metal bowl he'd used for a vase, and lifted the bouquet out of the car seat. Thankfully, it looked as though the flowers were none the worse for wear after their car trip. He had been worried that the ride might break some of the stems.

Aya didn't want anything to happen to this arrangement. After Manx's visit the night before, he had spent the rest of the night and most of the following day creating it. Only now, on the evening of the next day, was he confident that it was ready to be given away.

Beside where the flower arrangement had been sitting, on the other side of the car seat, sat a small cardboard box wrapped in plain white paper. Aya carefully tucked the bowl of the flower arrangement under his left arm as he picked the box up with his right hand. Tucking it under his right arm and setting the flowers on top of it, he began to worry a bit. Aya's face remained calm, but as he held the box, he couldn't help but wonder if it was acceptable.

When he was younger, Aya's mother had instructed him that if he should ever go to visit anyone in their house, he would be expected to bring them a small present. To do otherwise would be considered quite rude. As little as Aya normally cared how rude he appeared to be, he didn't want the Tomoe family to think of him as disrespectful. Not only would it give them a bad impression of him, it would make them believe that his parents hadn't taught him anything. He most definitely did not want to dishonor their memory like that.

The box contained a small ceramic teapot that Aya had bought on his way there. He had bought it for about 500 yen at a store not far from where the RV was parked. He knew it wasn't the best present he could have found, but he really didn't have much of a clue what he was supposed to bring; he obviously wasn't used to the formalities of calling on people in their own houses. Even so, he knew there was no way that this family didn't have a teapot of their own.

Opening the car door, Aya stepped out into the street, being careful not to damage the flowers he held in his arms. Feeling the chilly wind brush against his face, Aya was suddenly quite thankful he'd taken an extra moment to grab his woolen peacoat as he left the RV earlier that evening. He shut the car door with a 'snap' and buttoned the top button of his coat with his left hand. In addition to being quite cold, he could also tell that it was rather overcast out tonight; the sky was the gray color of moonlight reflecting off of rain clouds. More than that, the air was heavy with humidity and it felt as though rain would begin to pour down in torrents at any moment. The wind even carried with it the thick smell of impending rain.

As Aya walked toward the Tomoe house, past the fence that separated it from the street, his apprehension returned. It occurred to him that two and a half years of being a killer hadn't prepared him in the least for the social intricacies of meeting a girl's parents. He didn't even know why he should be nervous in the first place. It wasn't as though he was ever going to see her, or her parents, again. An unsettling thought made its way through Aya's mind then; if he did see either Sakura or her parents again, it was likely to be at her funeral.

Apprehension was replaced by a cold, creeping dread that Aya hadn't felt in a long time. As he reached the door of the house and lifted his free hand to ring the doorbell, he realized that he didn't want to attend another funeral. Especially not Sakura's. As he pressed the doorbell, a small, buzzing noise came from inside the house and Aya swore to himself. Why was it always the innocent ones who had to suffer?

On the other side of the door, Aya could hear the scuffle of stockinged feet coming toward the door. There was a rattle of a doorknob and the door creaked open a bit. A second later, the door swung open entirely. What was on the other side made Aya feel woefully underdressed.

The door had been opened by a sweet-faced, brown haired woman in her late thirties or early forties. She was wearing an expensive-looking, powder blue kimono that was decorated with dark purple plum blossoms and nightingales. The obi holding it together was made of dark purple material as well, and if Aya had to guess, he would have definitely thought it to be tied in some impossibly difficult knot in the back. The well-dressed lady's brown hair was pulled up onto the top of her head in an intricate bun, in the style that had been fashionable during the late Edo period. Even though she smiled when she saw her visitor, her large, round, violet eyes looked sad and tired. Aya was so taken aback by the lady's elegant, if somewhat exhausted, appearance that he had no clue what he should say.

"G-good evening," he tried, now somehow very grateful that he'd bothered to stop and pick up the small gift he held underneath his right arm on his way there. The lady smiled sweetly at Aya, bowing a bit as she did so.

"You must be here to see Sakura-chan," she said softly, "Please don't stay on the door step. Come inside." Still a bit startled, Aya bowed in return and stepped through the door. As the brown haired lady shut the door, Aya set aside the box and the flowers and stooped to remove his boots.

"I apologize for the state the house is in," the older woman said, her smile now holding a bit of embarrassment, "It's a bit of a mess right now since I just came home from work." Aya looked up from his shoes; nothing could be further from the truth to his mind.

The house was so clean that it didn't even look as though anyone lived in it. There wasn't an out-of-place piece of clothing, dish, cushion, or shoe anywhere in sight. Even though the structure of the house was reminiscent of most western houses, the wall hangings, furniture, flower arrangements, and other decorations were decidedly Japanese. Aya could see all the way through the living room and into the back hallway of the house, but it was still spacious and larger than the house he and his family had lived in several years ago.

Adding that to the open kitchen he saw off to the left of the living room, he also knew there was a second story and that Sakura's room was on it. This told him that at some point, Sakura's family must have been quite well-off. However, the fact that the woman standing before him had just come home from her job also told him that that point in time had probably long since passed.

"I should probably also apologize for startling you," the older woman continued as Aya picked the box and the flowers back up and stood up, "I haven't had time to change out of my work clothes yet. Here, take a pair of houseshoes, and let me take your coat." Aya did as he was told, slipping his feet into a spare pair of houseshoes that had been left beside the door. This time, he found a nearby end table and placed the box and the flowers on it before he began to take his coat off. Beneath the coat was the same orange sweater and jeans he'd been wearing since Manx's visit the night before.

"Work clothes?" he asked reflexively, handing his coat over. Aya had several ideas as to what sort of job would require a woman to dress so formally, but they were so disparate and different that he couldn't place her profession for certain. The one that readily sprang to mind was geisha, but he knew geisha wore white makeup. Besides that, he could never ask the woman that was probably Sakura's mother if she was a geisha. The older woman hung his coat on a rack by the door and turned to face him again.

"Yes," she replied, "I work as a mistress of tea ceremonies. Otherwise, I wouldn't be dressed so formally." She motioned toward the flowers as Aya went to pick them up again, her sleeves brushing her waist as she did so. "But you're not here to hear about me, are you?" she asked sweetly, "You're here to see Sakura-chan." Aya turned to face her again, holding the white box out to her.

"Uh, yes," he said slowly, "But this is for your family." Clearly flattered, the lady took the box and gave Aya another small bow. "I know it's not much," he said, shifting his gaze to the floor, "It was all I could do on such short notice, though. I hope you'll accept it."

"Thank you very much," she replied, smiling warmly, "I'm proud my silly daughter has attracted such a handsome and considerate visitor." A small blush crept across Aya's face as he tried to think of what he should say next. "I suppose you'd like to see her now?" the older woman asked, turning toward the living room. Aya could now see that his first impression of her had been at least partially correct: the obi on her back was tied in an impossibly intricate design meant to look like a large flower.

"How is she?" he finally asked, following Sakura's mother through the living room and toward the back hallway.

"She's resting right now," she replied quietly, a bit of hesitation showing in her voice, "I don't know if she's sleeping or not. I can't tell anymore. She's not opened her eyes since she came home from the hospital, but sometimes she talks." She turned to smile sadly at Aya. "I'm sure she'll be well enough to talk to you, though," she said softly, "You're Fujimiya-san, aren't you?" Aya was startled once again by the blue-clad woman.

"Yes," he replied, "She mentioned me?" The older woman turned to the left and stepped into the hallway. She was facing a set of wooden stairs that led up to the second floor.

"I couldn't get her to speak of anything else for weeks after she met you," she said, smiling as though she were remembering something amusing. "Ah, it's really not any of my business," she continued a moment later as she stepped onto the first stair on the staircase, "But are you by any chance apologizing to her for something?" Once again, the older lady had managed to surprise Aya.

"I... What makes you ask?" he asked, wondering how she would be able to figure something like that out.

"Those flowers," she answered, pointing to the arrangement he was carrying, "The sweet peas mean 'thank you for a lovely time', and the purple hyacinth mean 'I'm sorry that I can't be with you'. Right?" Aya looked at the arrangement. In addition to the pair of hyacinth and the tendrils of sweet peas that Sakura's mother had pointed out, there was also a carpet of striped purple and white carnations and purple zinnias. In the center of the arrangement stood one thornless, blood red rosebud. Together, the entire arrangement was meant to be an apology and a goodbye. Dumbstruck, Aya followed her up the stairs.

"Do you study ikebana?" he finally asked, seeing it as the only reason she would know all of that. She shook her head and continued up the stairs, once again smiling sadly as she went.

"No," she replied, "My husband did. He worked as an instructor, so I picked a little bit up from him. Did you make that arrangement yourself?"

"Yes," Aya responded, following the older lady off of the stairs and onto the second floor. Unlike the first floor, the second was dimly lit and barely decorated at all. There were a few doors lining the landing, which opened off to the left; Aya knew Sakura's room was behind one of them. He had been there once before, several months ago, to deliver his safe-box key to her, but he didn't use the front door that time.

"Ah, where did you study?" she asked, leading him to the second door from the right, "Perhaps you studied under my husband?" Aya shook his head.

"I don't think so," he replied, "I studied ikebana at a school in Sendai." Much like the flower shop Aya ran with the rest of Weiß, the flower arranging school in Sendai had served double duty. It was actually part of one of Kritiker's programs, serving as a post for some of their investigators. In addition to learning flower arranging there, Aya had also learned more useful, deadlier skills there as well.

"Sendai?" Sakura's mother asked, her kind smile breaking for a second to reveal a strange expression that Aya couldn't quite place. It looked somewhat worried, but before Aya had a chance to properly figure out what it was, the familiar sad smile was back in place. "My husband always spoke highly of them," she said finally, resting her hand on the door of the room she now stood before, "He had wanted to teach there before he passed away." Aya reasoned that if her husband had wanted to teach at Sendai, there stood a fair chance that this lady knew what was actually taught there. Perhaps, he thought, that was why she had given him such a strange look when he mentioned it.

"I'm sorry, Tomoe-san," Aya said softly, not really sure of what else he should say.

"Oh, not Tomoe-san anymore," she said, still smiling, but obviously hiding a great deal of sadness, "I go by my maiden name now. I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself properly. My name is Ennosai Sumomo. Yours is Fujimiya Aya, right?" She bowed again, causing Aya to do the same in return.

"That's right," he said awkwardly. Ennosai smiled at him and turned to open the sliding door that led to Sakura's room. Before she did so, however, she stopped and turned back around to look at him again. For a second, Aya thought she looked as though she were appraising him for some odd reason.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "You are very much like him. Very quiet and thoughtful. No wonder Sakura likes you so much." Aya felt his face get warm again, and as Ennosai turned to open the door, he thought he heard her chuckle a tiny bit.

The thin, wooden door slid back in its tracks to reveal the room Aya had visited almost a year ago. It was lit only by a small lamp on Sakura's chest of drawers, which stood between the doorway and her futon. The dim light fell across the neat, pale purple futon and the girl that lay inside it, her covers pulled up to her chin. On the other side of the futon sat a desk, school papers scattered untouched across it. A calendar and a few posters decorated the walls, and along the far wall, curtains were drawn across the sliding glass door that Aya had stood outside the last time he visited; they opened out onto the small patio outside Sakura's room.

"Sakura-chan," Ennosai said softly, obviously not sure if her daughter was sleeping or not, "You have a visitor." When no reply came, the older lady turned to Aya and smiled sadly.

"She may be asleep," she said apologetically, "I'll go back downstairs so you can visit with her, though. I'm sure she'll appreciate it when she wakes back up." Ennosai bowed one last time, causing Aya to do so once again in return. He stepped through the doorway, watching the girl in the futon as her mother closed the door behind him.

Aya took a few steps to stand in front of the chest of drawers and then placed the flower arrangement on top of it. The metal container made a small 'clunk' against the wood of the dresser, but he barely registered it. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts. He couldn't help but see the similarities between the girl laying in the futon on the floor and his own sister laying in her hospital bed two and a half years ago. It was something he didn't relish thinking about, but that he knew couldn't be avoided. She looked just the same, just as peaceful. It made Aya feel very cold.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice almost inaudible, "I know it's not a good arrangement, by any standard. Even I could have done better." Aya turned to focus instead on the flower arrangement sitting before him. He could hear her breathing, unsure of whether he'd woken her or not, and not wanting to look at her again to find out.

"That's not true," a small, languid voice came from the floor, "I'm sure if you made it, it's wonderful. The smell of the hyacinth fills up the whole room. Aya-san." Looking over again to the futon, Aya could see that even though it looked like she was still sleeping, Sakura had turned her face toward him.

"You're awake," he said, stepping over to kneel beside the futon.

"I knew you'd come back," Sakura responded, her voice wavering as though it were trying to get stronger, "I told Manx-san you'd come back." Tears squeezed out between her shut eyelids and slid down the sides of her cheeks. Hesitantly, awkwardly, Aya reached out to wipe one of them away. The second he touched her face, though, he almost recoiled in shock; Sakura's skin was as cold as ice. Puzzled, Aya continued to touch her, his fingertips resting lightly against her cheek. He had never felt a person this cold before, especially not one that was still breathing. He could understand a cadaver being frozen, but he knew there was no way that a living human being could stay this cold in a well-heated house. By rights, he figured that the girl laying before him should not have been living.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't eat any of the mochi you sent," Sakura continued, feebly sliding a hand out of her blankets to grip his, "Manx-san said you wanted us to share, but I left it all with Aya-chan. Please don't be mad." If the girl's hand hadn't been so cold and distracting and downright creepy, Aya might have been tempted to be angry at Manx for lying to her - he had never said anything about having his sister share that gift. At the moment, though, he was more concerned with the fact that it felt as though his hand were being held by a corpse.

"Sakura," he said, trying to keep his voice down, "What happened to you?" She seemed startled for a second, laying quietly with her hand covering his.

"I don't know," she answered hesitantly. Aya's eyes narrowed. He knew it wasn't that simple.

"How long have you been sick?" he asked, a bit of impatience peeking through in his voice.

"It's only been this bad in the past few weeks," Sakura replied weakly, releasing his hand and rolling onto her back. Aya could now tell that she was trying to avoid the question.

"How long?" he asked again sternly, causing her to flinch.

"Since... since that time," she replied shakily, "That time those strange foreigners kidnapped Aya-chan. At first I just felt a little weak, so I didn't complain." Aya felt his body stiffen at the mention of the kidnapping. He fought back the memories of that night and the ritual they had tried to perform and focused on Sakura. What had they done to her then, anyway? He hadn't thought much about what had happened to her before now, instead having preferred to think about his sister. Now, though, he was beginning to regret his inattention.

Aya could tell that she was scared, but he didn't know why exactly. Was it the illness that was causing her to act so fearful, or was it something else? Could it have been her own memories of what had been done to her? It made the guilt he had been feeling sting again; somehow, he felt that if he'd come back sooner, this could have been avoided. Even though he knew it was irrational, he couldn't help that feeling. Even worse than that, though, there was the deeply ingrained notion that if she had never become involved with him, she wouldn't be laying ill right now. Aya reached out to touch her again, this time brushing some of the hair away from her forehead and leaving his hand there when he was done.

"But... a month ago," Sakura continued, obviously trying to gather the strength to keep talking, "A month ago, I started hearing things. Like someone talking, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. At first, I just thought it was my mind playing tricks on me, but..." Aya watched her, waiting for her to continue. Was this just another symptom of whatever was wrong with her, or was she delirious? "It started getting louder a couple of weeks ago," she said, starting to tremble a little, "And I started feeling cold a lot. I figured it was just because the weather had gotten colder, but it was all the time. Then the voice got really loud and I started to feel sick a lot. I didn't want anyone to worry and I didn't know what to do, so I didn't tell anyone. I just wanted it to go away!" Tears had begun to slide down Sakura's face again as Aya watched.

"That was stupid," he said softly, "You should have said something to someone." Sakura looked as though she might burst into full-fledged sobs at any moment, save for the fact that Aya didn't really believe she had that much energy left.

"I know," she said, almost choking on the words, "I know. I... Please don't be mad at me, Aya-san!" She had begun to try and stifle her sobs, placing a hand over her mouth and causing her chest to heave.

"Calm down," Aya said, his expression softening, "I'm not mad at you." Sakura seemed to accept this, relaxing a little bit and letting her sobs die down. As she wiped fretfully at her wet eyes, Aya noticed something that seemed out-of-place about her. It was something that had been bothering him the entire time he'd been talking to her but that he had only now been able to put his finger on.

"Sakura," he said, bending over her and causing her eyebrows to arch, "Why don't you open your eyes?" Sakura froze where she was laying, a look of horror nailing her to the cushions of her futon.

"I... I don't..." she stammered softly, her voice slowly fading out, "The light... hurts them." Aya glared down at her.

"Don't lie to me," Aya said, a quiet, deadly tone in his voice, "You've not opened your eyes the entire time you've been talking to me." Sakura shrank into her covers, obviously wanting to escape but having neither the means nor the energy to do so.

"I just... I... I didn't mean..." Sakura continued to stammer, no longer able to form a coherent sentence. Aya looked down at her sternly. He was tired of playing this game with her.

"Either open your eyes," he ordered, taking his hand from her forehead and pressing it down hard beside her face, "Or I'll do it for you." Sakura rolled over onto her side, facing away from him. Small, white hands emerged from the futon to cover her face.

"I don't want you to see!" she cried, mustering more strength than Aya had thought she still possessed, "You'll hate me!"

"Nonsense," Aya answered sternly. He reached out with his right hand, meaning to pull Sakura back to face him by her shoulder. However, just as he came within a hair's width of touching her, she jerked away. Sakura unsteadily pulled herself into a sitting position, revealing the slip she'd been wearing underneath her covers. She sat huddling into herself with her back turned to him.

"Don't!" she said, clutching at her own shoulders as she leaned away from him, "Please don't. I... I'll do it, but please don't hurt me!" Aya watched her silently, an irritated look beginning to creep across his face. He had no idea why she thought he'd hurt her in the first place, let alone hurt her just for opening her eyes. The most likely explanation, he figured, was that her illness had made her unable to think straight. Perhaps she really was delirious?

Even though Sakura sat facing away from him, Aya could see her lift her face up a bit as she stopped huddling. The lousy view he had allowed him to follow the edges of her eyelids as they slowly slid up, but it didn't allow for much else. None of this, however, prepared him for the sight that awaited him as she turned to face him.

Shaded by dark brown bangs, a large pair of strange, watery eyes stared fearfully out at Aya. Even in the dim light, he could tell that they were no longer the soft violet color that they once were. Instead, rimmed by an almost black corona, the irises of Sakura's eyes were a deep, glowing, gold color. That abnormal color filled her eyes far more than her original color did; her irises looked as though they'd been stretched vertically, almost to the point that they looked cat-like. Even worse, the pupils inside had become nothing more than wide vertical slits, dilating and constricting in an attempt to adjust to the dim light in the room.

Aya's expression remained fixed, but inside he was taken aback. Manx had definitely been right; something out of the ordinary was going on. He had no idea what could be causing such strange changes in Sakura's body. Had it been a delayed reaction from an experiment that the Estet had performed on her? An after-effect of their ceremony? A parasite or some kind of possession? Slowly, pity creeping onto his face, Aya lifted a hand to touch her wet cheek. Instinctively, Sakura flinched as he moved. What was she so afraid of?

"God," he breathed softly, finally touching her face, "What happened to you?" Tears began to slip down her face again as he touched her. Nearly a minute passed with her just staring at him, seemingly waiting on him to do something. Finally, seeing that he had made no other moves toward her, Sakura seemed to forget her earlier apprehension. She turned to face him, lunging forward and burying her face in his chest.

Aya had no idea what he was supposed to do with the girl that was now sobbing into his sweater. He looked down awkwardly, watching her clutch at the fabric of his shirt as she cried. This really did make him uncomfortable, but he knew there was no way he could tell her to stop now. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on her back and began to stroke it slowly, almost in the same way that one would pet a distressed kitten.

"I'm sorry," Sakura managed to choke out between her sobs, "I wanted to tell you, but I was so afraid! He said you'd be mad and that you'd think I was evil. He said..." Through her words, Sakura began to calm down a bit. She hesitated, though, huddling closer to Aya as she did so. "He said you'd kill me," she whispered, clinging to him for dear life, "That he wanted you to go away, so that you wouldn't hurt me."

"Who is 'he'?" Aya asked softly. Aya's mouth had become dry again; whoever 'he' was, he had hit a little too close to Aya's thoughts for him to be comfortable. He no longer believed that Sakura was delirious. There were definitely things going on here that he simply did not understand.

"He's the one that keeps talking to me," Sakura whispered, "I don't know who he is, but I can hear him. I didn't tell anyone about him because he said they'd think I was lying." She fell silent again, clutching Aya's shirt tightly as she did. She stayed completely still, so much so that Aya could barely tell she was breathing.

Slowly, Aya moved his hand from her back to her hair and wrapped his other arm around her. He lowered his head, holding her tightly against his chest. His guilt and anger and sadness had faded upon seeing Sakura like this. Even though he couldn't explain it, they had begun to be replaced by a desire to protect the pitiful creature that was currently crying into his sweater. He had no idea how, but he knew he wanted to keep her from being hurt any more because of him.
Several minutes passed before Sakura moved again. When it happened, it was such a minuscule change that Aya barely noticed it. But sure enough, he felt her eyes snap open against the fabric of his shirt. Her fingers slowly uncurled, releasing his sweater as her hands rested against his chest. Aya looked down to see that Sakura looked as though she were watching something very far away. He followed the direction her eyes had moved in, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Aya-san," she said softly, her voice taking on an eerie tone, "It's time for you to go." Aya looked at her, startled, as she gently pushed him away. "He's coming," she continued, "You should go before he gets here." Aya's eyes narrowed as Sakura looked off in the same direction as before.

"Who's coming?" he asked, staring intently at her. Sakura seemed to remember his presence and turned to look at him.

"The boy with the eyes like mine," she replied simply, "I don't know his name, but you should leave. He doesn't want any interference." Aya had begun to openly glare at her now.

"I'm not going anywhere," he stated flatly. Sakura's face began to take on a more panicked expression.

"He'll hurt you!" she protested, almost becoming frantic, "You've got to get out of here! He..." She stopped mid-sentence, turning to look at the curtained patio doors behind her. Aya followed her gaze, watching as a figure silhouetted by the lamplight outside stepped in front of the glass doors.

"He's here," Sakura whispered as the figure reached out to open the doors. There was a jerking noise, shortly followed by the noise of a lock catching the door. Three or four more jerks followed before the figure rested a hand against the patio door.

Aya watched in shock as the glass door exploded inward. Instinctively, he grabbed Sakura, trying to shield her from the flying shards of glass. He could feel several pieces lodge themselves into his arms, a few even flying into his face, as he fell forward, covering the girl with his own body. A few seconds later, Aya heard the crunching of glass being crushed underfoot and looked up. What he saw made his blood boil.

Standing there, in the midst of the ruined door with the tattered curtains billowing in the cold, winter air behind him, was a boy no older than sixteen. His unruly, straight black hair whipped around his face, barely serving to conceal his disturbing, golden eyes. But it was his outfit that gave him away; the dark blue school uniform he wore confirmed his identity to Aya. Even though he couldn't remember his name, Aya knew that this boy was the youngest member of Schwarz.

"I am only here for the girl," he said, his soft voice belying deadly intent, "I have no quarrel with you, Weiß. Don't interfere."