Disclaimer: Whew, that last chapter was long! But I finally finished it! Hopefully, this chapter won't be as long, though. Anyway, these characters don't belong to me. They belong to someone else. Lucky jerk.

Silent Storm
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix
Chapter Four

The nearly powdered glass made a tinkling sound as it fell like snowflakes to the ground. The lamplight streaming in through the broken door and the tattered curtains reflected off the chips, making them sparkle as they fluttered to the ground. In the midst of this lightshow, a black-haired boy with strange, glowing gold eyes looked down with a detached, condescending stare at the two people sitting in the floor beneath him.

Aya looked up at the boy defiantly, ignoring the sting of the glass that had embedded itself in his skin during the door's explosion. The girl in his arms looked up at the boy as well, only her stare was far blanker than Aya's. He tightened his grip on Sakura, drawing her closer into his chest. He would sooner see hell freeze over than let this boy have her.

"Step aside," Nagi ordered with a small wave of his hand, taking another step into the room as he did so. The glass crunched softly beneath his feet as it ground into the carpeting on the floor. Aya continued to glare at him.

"No," he replied, loosening his grip on Sakura and pushing her behind him. Aya could feel the anger against those who had hurt his sister flare anew, fresh with the sight of one of their number. Another second passed, and Aya had sprung from his place on the floor, hurling himself at his enemy. Even though he was unarmed, he was still sure he could do considerable injury to that kid.

He had no more than crossed half the distance between himself and Nagi before Aya was proven wrong. A strong force weighing down onto his back reminded him of what had made Schwarz so difficult to face in the first place: their superhuman abilities. It suddenly occurred to him that the boy before him had been gifted with telekinesis, which he had so brutally demonstrated against Omi several months ago. Aya then hit the ground face first and felt himself being pinned there, several new scrapes forming on his cheeks.

"Bastard," he hissed, managing to raise his head from the floor to look at his opponent, "Stop playing games!" The boy standing above him looked down with a satisfied smirk.

"I'm not the one who's holding you down, fool," Nagi replied coolly, "Why don't you look behind you?"

Slowly, Aya managed to turn his head under the oppression of the force pinning him to the floor. He could see Sakura, arm outstretched as though she were reaching for something. Her eyes glowed and her face was strained from exertion. Did that mean she was the one holding him down? Had she developed those powers as well?

"Don't interfere, Aya-san," she said softly, her voice having acquired an ethereal undertone, "Please... I don't want to hurt you." Aya pushed against the floor to no avail; instead of pushing himself up, he simply ground his palms into the glass shards on the carpet. Grimacing, he finally capitulated and did as he was told.

He watched silently, a cold and furious look painting his face as Sakura stood. Instead of being as shaky and unstable as she had been before, however, she rose gracefully, almost ghostlike. Aya watched as she began to walk towards Nagi, her feet barely touching the glass-littered floor. He could hardly see her eyes, in such an uncomfortable position as he was, but he could see that they looked vaguely empty. In a hazy way, her eyes seemed to focus on Nagi, and his on hers. Aya had no idea what it was, but he knew there was definitely something transpiring between the two of them. It almost looked as though Nagi was calling her to him.

What happened next reminded Aya of a Noh play in some eerie way. The ghostly, delicately graceful, and yet horrible images began to imprint themselves in his mind. Sakura stepped up to Nagi, her sheer slip of a nightgown fluttering behind her as she neared the broken glass doors. Blank-faced, she stared up at the boy for a mere moment before falling to her knees in a reverent bow. For a second, Aya wondered if she hadn't fainted; she looked as though she were a marionette whose strings had been cut.

"My lord," she said breathlessly. At the sound of her voice, Aya knew that she was still conscious.

Without actually touching her, Nagi ran his hand along the top of her head, and down the side of her face. A finger traveled underneath her chin and tipped it up, causing her to look directly at him. Aya saw him smile; it was a smile that didn't rightly belong on a human being.

Two white, trembling hands moved from the floor to embrace Nagi's hand as Sakura pressed her cheek against it in reverence.

"Are you ready to be delivered?" he asked, his voice barely more than an airy whisper.

"Yes." Aya barely heard her say it; it was almost as if she'd breathed the answer instead.

"Then stand," he commanded softly. Sakura released his hand and once again seemed to float to a standing position. As she waited, Nagi's left hand traveled to his belt. Aya could barely see the glint of a knife as he pulled it from the waist of his pants. Once again, he felt as though he were watching the events of two and a half years ago all over again, only in a different place. And yet again, he was trapped, unable to do anything; the only thing he could do now was to watch.
The blade of the knife, much to Aya's surprise, sliced across the palm of Nagi's right hand. It left a solid black line over the width of his hand. Then, after tucking the knife back underneath his belt, he lifted his oozing palm toward Sakura. As if by instinct, she lifted her own left hand and placed it against Nagi's, their fingers coiling together.

Aya watched, aghast, as an inky black spike protruded from the back of Sakura's hand. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving Aya to wonder if the boy actually had enough control over his own black blood to use it against another person as a weapon. He stopped wondering, however, when he felt a few of the icy drops from the gash on Sakura's hand land on his cheek. The blood was so cold that it almost burned.

Slowly, he could see the black gash on the back of Sakura's hand try to heal itself. The edges began to seal quickly, but began to slow suddenly before stopping completely. The black, tar-like blood began to become more viscous, a few drops sliding down the back of her hand. The fluid continually became thinner until it was the consistency of normal blood, flowing freely down Sakura's forearm and dripping from her elbow. As it poured from the gashes on either side of her hand, the blackness seemed to drain out of the blood, replaced by a deep maroon color. This, too, slowly faded to a dark, deep red.

As her blood returned to normal, Sakura's face lost its blank, pale stare. Aya could see a barely noticeable wince at first, only to watch her slam her eyes shut against the pain a second later. She gasped and began making a shrill noise deep in her throat. Her eyes snapped open as the small, shrill noise rose to a scream. There was a progression as fast as quicksilver, but Aya saw every millisecond of it; her pupils took up nearly every fraction of her large, golden eyes. They quivered for a second before being nearly reduced to mere pin-pricks. The irises shrunk as well, returning to their normal, round shape. Sakura's eyes quickly faded through a spectrum of colors, first pale yellow, then green, then light blue, and on to their normal pale violet color.

Aya watched, paralyzed, as her eyes fell shut and her body fell to the floor. Only now, instead of being as graceful and light as she had appeared before, Sakura's body looked leaden and clumsy as she fell. It nearly seemed as though time had slowed, replaying those same events from a similar night years ago. There was a sickening, almost wet 'thump' when she hit the floor. Blood began to soak through the carpeting as the wounded hand that was currently folded beneath her continued to bleed.

Finally, Aya could no longer feel the force that was pinning him to the floor. To test this, he extended his arm to Sakura, reaching out for her. Yes, he could move now; he grazed the back of her head with his fingertips.

The sound of heavy breathing and grunting snapped Aya's eyes away from the broken girl on the floor. A few feet away from her, the boy was standing with his head in his hands, clutching his hair. He stumbled backward, making those familiar crunching noises with his footsteps.
Suddenly, his head snapped up, his freakish golden eyes flickering from beneath unruly black bangs. Aya realized as their eyes locked that there was nothing even remotely human in them anymore. Only looking at those eyes placed an icy touch at the base of his spine. Aya continued to stare, frozen, as the boy's posture straightened and a maniacal grin began to spread across his face.

"Don't look so sad, Weiß," Nagi said, his voice nearly completely changed into something very close to a hollow echo, "We'll see each other again soon." It almost seemed as though his ethereal smile lingered behind him as he turned and walked toward the glass doors. His footsteps crunched with broken glass until he reached the balcony. Aya saw him jump up, but before he could see where he'd gone, it was as though the sky had decided to open up and pour torrents of cold rain just at that second.

The noise of the pouring rain brought Aya back to the present. Scrambling to his knees, he approached Sakura carefully, nearly afraid to touch her. He could see, though, that her hand was bleeding badly, forming a damp, dark red puddle on the carpet underneath her. Kneeling above her, Aya quickly assessed that the only injuries she had were those she'd been given on her hand. Almost instinctively, he knew he'd have to stop the bleeding, though.

Carefully, he rolled Sakura over onto her back and then gathered her onto his lap, leaning her head against his chest. Quickly surveying his surroundings, Aya grabbed the first large piece of cloth he saw, a piece of the tattered curtains, and pulled fiercely at it. The damaged cloth tore easily, giving Aya something he could apply pressure to Sakura's hand with. Several fluid seconds passed by in which Aya quickly wrapped her hand up tightly, pulled it above her heart, and began squeezing the pressure points on her wrist.

The frantic sound of the bedroom door slamming open barely registered with Aya. The shrill scream that came from the doorway, however, managed to get his attention.

"Ennosai-san!" he said, snapping his head around to look at her. Ennosai was indeed standing in the doorway, her skin having paled to a stark, ivory color. She leaned back against the doorframe, slowly sinking to her knees, her little white hands trembling violently in front of her face. Her eyes were almost inhumanly wide with fright, the pupils reduced to tiny specks.

"I - I tried to get in... when I heard the noise," she stammered softly, "The door was stuck... I... Oh, God..." Tears began to slip silently down her face as her knees finally hit the floor and Aya watched her uncertainly.

He had expected the woman to be furious that he'd let her daughter fall into harm's way, or more likely, to simply be hysterical from all the mess and blood and excitement. Instead, he almost thought it seemed like she was traumatized. Her reaction reminded him vaguely of someone undergoing a panic attack.

What seemed like several minutes passed, Aya uncertain whether he should say anything to her or not. Finally, he scooped the unconscious girl up in his arms and stood, trying to keep the pressure on her hand as best he could.

"We need to get her to someplace warm," he said softly, walking toward Ennosai. The older woman responded with an upward look, snapping out of her daze and nodding.

"Put her in my room," Ennosai responded, her voice shaky.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Aya stared out at the wet road in front of him. The windshield wipers of his car moved at an incredible rate of speed to try and keep up with all the rain they were being forced to contend with. Streetlights flashed one after the other into the car, only to pass back out as quickly as they'd come. Aya shifted gears and pressed the gas harder. Gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles had turned white, Aya stubbornly kept his eyes on the road. He turned the events of the evening over in his mind, remembering what had happened before he left the Tomoe house.

Once Sakura had been laid in Ennosai's bed and properly bandaged, he had turned to study the woman. She had kept her distance, trailing after him like a specter as he carried her daughter into the bedroom. Her face kept that disturbing pallor all the while, her little hands shaking to accompany it. Delicately, she continuously dabbed at her forehead with a small handkerchief.
Finally, Ennosai had noticed he'd been looking at her.

"I..." he began, not quite sure what to say to her. In some way, she reminded him of his own mother; seeing her so upset had struck a chord with him. "I'm sorry."

"Fujimiya-san," she said softly, padding over in her stockinged feet, watching the floor as she did so, "Tell me..." Ennosai lifted one of her pale, slender hands and grabbed the sleeve of Aya's sweater, tugging it pleadingly. "The school at Sendai," she breathed nervously, "These sorts of things follow people who've been there... You're not just a florist, are you?" Aya remained calm outwardly, but inside he finally knew his suspicions had been correct. She knew about Kritiker.

"You should try to keep her warm," he said quietly, avoiding her eyes as he placed a hand on Sakura's forehead. It was no longer cold; instead, her skin was pleasantly warm, just shy of being feverish. At the touch of his hand, her eyes opened a crack and focused on him.

"Aya-san," she whispered, slowly lifting her uninjured hand to touch his, "When did you get here?" So she didn't remember what had happened that night clearly at all. He wondered how far back the gap in her memories extended. Hesitantly, he leaned closeby over her, closing his eyes.

"Go back to sleep," he ordered softly, "You've been through a lot. You need your rest." He placed a light kiss on her forehead as her eyes fell shut in compliance.

Aya looked out at the road, the wipers failing to clear the heavy rain completely off the windshield. He gripped the wheel tighter, glaring, angry with himself. Sometimes it seemed as if his mere presence brought tragedy. Moreover, he had failed to rid himself of his feelings for Sakura. Instead of giving him absolution, his visit had only made things worse.

She was safe now, though. He reminded himself of this, and that he now had no need at all to go back. She never had to be involved in his world again. She was once again safe, just like his sister.

Even so, he could feel the hatred of that black haired boy coiling around his heart again. He wasn't sure if he was all that angry at him for what he'd done with Sakura tonight; in all actuality, he was vaguely aware that the boy's actions had saved her life in some way. But the hatred of that boy festered, nonetheless. He figured it mostly had to do with what Schwarz had tried to do with his sister several months ago.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Aya reached up to the visor above his head and pulled a cell phone that had been clipped there down. Barely bothering to glance at the keypad, he pressed several buttons in rapid succession, their keytones piercing the quiet of his car. As he lifted the receiver to his ear, he could hear the rings that meant the call had gone through. They stopped suddenly to let him know that someone on the other end had picked up.

"Hello?" a husky female voice came through the phone.

"Manx, it's Abyssinian," Aya said firmly.

The recipient of the call, meanwhile, was a few districts away in the flat she shared with a co-worker. She had just emerged from the shower after making a quick detour through the kitchen for a bowl of mango ice cream. As a matter of fact, she was still dressed in her bathrobe, a fluffy, white terrycloth thing, with her bright red hair twisted into a towel on top of her head.

"It's a little late to be social, isn't it?" she asked, shouldering the phone as she emerged into a small but well-lit living room. The pristine white walls matched her robe and were lined with tidy shelves loosely decorated with knickknacks, books, cds, and dvds. A few paintings and prints were hung about the room, coordinated to match the black couch that lined the wall and the gold-plated light fixture that hung from the center of the ceiling. Across from the couch was a flat-screen television connected to a dvd player, and upon the couch sat another woman. This one was also clad in a bathrobe, her wet black hair unfettered by any towel. She looked up from the television screen as Manx entered the room. As she waited for her caller to reply, Manx tucked a small spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"It's not social," Aya corrected stonily, "It's about what we talked about last night."

"Ah," she replied, swallowing the cold lump of ice cream, "So you went to see her?"

"Yes," Aya said, his tone icy, "I saw one of the Schwarz there." Manx dropped her spoon into the bowl of ice cream with a 'clank'.

"Our intelligence concluded they were all dead," Manx said, regaining her composure and narrowing her eyes.

"It was the same boy," Aya answered pointedly, "The youngest one. I need you to meet me at the trailer. We need to talk about this."

"I'll get dressed and be right over," Manx said, stirring the quickly melting ice cream.

"See you there," Aya said, pulling the phone away from his ear and ending the call.

Manx took the phone from her shoulder and pressed the button that would hang it up. She gave the woman on the couch an apologetic look.

"Duty calls, Kyoko," she said with a shrug, spooning more ice cream into her mouth. The black haired woman smiled.

"So much for movie night," her roommate answered, "Want me to tag along?" Manx removed the spoon from her mouth, her countenance becoming more serious.

"With what Abyssinian just said, it might be best," she said, placing the bowl of ice cream on the low table that sat in front of the couch, "He saw one of Schwarz." The black haired woman's expression didn't change much, but Manx noticed it; she could tell the other woman was surprised.

"We'd better get dressed," Birman finally said.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

The blue-haired girl had been lying in bed for several hours now, but still had not managed to fall asleep. Her mind was too full of distracting thoughts. Nagi had said that everything would be over after tonight and she wouldn't have to worry anymore. She couldn't figure out what he'd meant by that, but it worried her that it was so late and he wasn't there. She had even left the desk light on for him so he could see when he came back. But it hadn't done any good - it was quite late and he still wasn't there.

If he were simply in the other room, playing on the computer like usual, she wouldn't worry in the least. Instead, she had no idea where he was. What if he wound up like Hel, Schoen, Neu, and Papa? What if he just never came back?

Tot felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes again. It wasn't the first time that night, but she hoped it would be the last. She hated this waiting. She hated not knowing what was going on around her. It was starting to make her feel sick. She hugged Rabbi-chan tighter and wished Nagi-kun would come home soon.

'If Nagi-kun comes home,' Tot thought to herself, 'I don't care what he's like anymore. I just want him to come back. I'd let him do whatever he wanted - I'd even let him touch me - if he'd just come home!'

Tot began to cry softly. A few seconds later, however, she was interrupted by the sound of frantic footsteps in the hallway outside her and Nagi's room. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and looked over to the door. Sure enough, she could see shadows dancing in the sliver of light coming from beneath the door.

Without further preamble, the door burst open and Nagi ran through the frame, a look of crazed delight on his face. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, grinning a lop-sided grin at Tot. Confused, but relieved, Tot sat up in bed, wiping her tears on the back of her pajama sleeve.

"Nagi-kun?" she asked, not quite sure what was going on.

"Tot, it is!" he said, his voice almost cracking with laughter as he spoke, "It is me! I'm myself again!" Tot's earlier confusion was replaced with fresh fear. Regardless of what he said, Tot could tell that Nagi was not quite himself.

"Nagi-kun, what's wrong?" she asked, apprehension starting to show in her voice. In one quick motion, Nagi sprang from the door, ran to the bed, and grabbed Tot, kissing her deeply. Nervously, she kissed him back.

"Nothing!" he gasped as he pulled away from her, "Nothing and everything! He's still... he's still here, inside of me, all of him, but... He finally shut up! I satisfied him!" He kneeled in front of the bed and stroked Tot's loose hair as he talked, his gold eyes widening with joy. "He said it's a reward," Nagi continued, his voice trembling ecstatically, "I can think again, and my mind is quiet - I don't have to fight him!"

Tot looked doubtfully at Nagi. She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she was fairly certain that it had to do with the voice she had started hearing herself several months ago. It had stopped abruptly a couple of weeks ago, but Tot wasn't quite sure why. She was just glad it was gone.

Grateful tears began to slip down Nagi's face as he stared up at her. Quickly, he scrambled into the bed, not even bothering to remove his old school uniform, and clambered onto Tot's lap. She fell gently backwards into the pillows she'd piled up at the head of bed as he curled up against her, burying his head between her breasts.

A small smile crept across Tot's face as she hesitantly wrapped her arms around Nagi. Small tears escaped her eyes as she looked down at him. The way he was curled in her lap reminded her of a little kitten. Maybe it was true? Maybe her Nagi-kun had finally come home?