Disclaimer: Okay, *this* is the last chapter. I promise this time. Really. And none of these characters belong to me. So, without further ado, welcome to the nightmare that is the last chapter!
Silent Storm
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix
Final Chapter
Not far from the clearing that Aya and Nagi stood talking in, there were ample places to disguise oneself among the dead trees. The light of the lamps only extended so far, reaching less than a meter into the cold woods. Beyond that, there was a rich darkness, one that seemed to swallow up everything because of the lack of any moonlight.
It was for this reason that Ken had pulled his goggles on over his eyes as soon as he left the path to follow Aya. The strange yellow tint they had been given was more than a fashion statement: they also served as a weak substitute for night vision goggles. While they had nothing resembling the precision that the military models displayed, they at least allowed him to see through the nighttime forest.
From his hiding place crouched behind a large tree trunk, Ken could clearly see the moderately-lit clearing. However, he already knew from experience that if he turned to look over his shoulder into the night, that his eyes wouldn't adjust very quickly. He would be temporarily night-blinded. This was another reason he'd pulled on the goggles; they'd help filter that lag time out.
"Che," Ken breathed, watching as Nagi stepped up to Aya. What in the world were they talking about? He wished he was close enough to hear. Being a spectator was a lot less exciting than he'd imagined. Secretly, he even almost wished Schwarz would come out and make their presence known; at least that way, he'd have something to do other than be cold and watch.
A few more minutes passed by in relative quiet, the conversation between Aya and Nagi continuing civilly. At least that's what it looked like to Ken, from his vantage point. The rustling of branches or the whisper of the wind would occasionally act as the soundtrack for their conversation, but he couldn't actually make out what they were saying.
A small snap momentarily broke the aria the wind was determined to conduct. The sound was the sound of a small, dry twig breaking, or a dry leaf being crushed or scraped against other dry leaves. It was almost nothing, a faint noise, probably made by a feral cat or a small fox. Ken unsheathed his claws, a small smile forming on his face. He knew better.
In a reflexive motion, he spun around on his knees, crossing his claws high above his face. A second later, the sound of steel on steel rang through the airy, dead trees. The light from the clearing reflected off of the long, thin blade of the main gauche that had struck Ken's bagh nakh and was still pressed against them, vying for superiority. Beyond the blade, white hair, pale skin, and a single gold eye stood out against the darkness of the trees, drinking in whatever light was available and reflecting it back at Ken's eyes. If he had worried about being able to see before, he wasn't now. His smile grew wider.
"Nice to see you again, too, Farfarello," Ken remarked, pressing up with his claws as he stood, "Still giving God a hard time?" Ken's grin was met with Farfarello's.
"It is always my desire," Farfarello hissed, glee coloring his voice, "To show the denizens of this world that their loving God has abandoned them. Do you believe He will save you now?" Oddly enough, Ken could almost understand the lunatic's joy at meeting him again. It had been a long time since he'd had an opponent this tough. It would be a good workout.
"I don't believe He needs to," Ken remarked arrogantly. Another second passed before he buried his foot in Farfarello's stomach, sending the lanky, white-haired man flying backwards into a nearby tree trunk. He slammed into it hard, causing the bare branches to rattle and scrape against each other, and causing dry, dead leaves to fall from their stems.
Ken himself was knocked back a few paces. He found himself hitting a tree trunk as well, although nowhere near as hard as the other man had. It really only served to steady him.
"We'll see about that," Farfarello replied, sounding a bit as if the wind had been knocked out of him, "I've been told not to interfere with Nagi's fight. So I'll have to have my fun with you tonight." Ken knew better than to believe that he had injured the other man; he might have gotten a good first lick in, but it was nowhere near good enough to make his masochistic opponent feel pain. He would just have to try harder.
"Same here," he replied, wearing a wicked, lop-sided grin.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
Not far from Ken, another member of Weiß stood, watching the scene between Aya and Nagi unfold. He heard the beginning of a scuffle further back in the forest, but knew it was unwise to compromise his position and interfere. From the sounds of metal striking metal, he could tell Ken had found someone. There had to be more out there skulking about in the darkness, Youji reasoned.
Youji's position, unlike Ken's, was closer to the better-lighted clearing. He was only just out of the circumference of the light the lamps cast, sticking just close enough to the light to see, but not near enough to be spotted. He hadn't wanted to stray too far from the path; while Ken and Omi had their goggles to help their night-vision, Youji had no such luck. His tinted glasses actually held a weak prescription; he'd rather go without a bit of extra night-vision than to sacrifice the accuracy of his vision.
Youji glanced around the side of the tree he was using as cover to see what Aya and Nagi were doing. He could occasionally catch little snippets of their conversation, but not enough to make any sense out of it. To all appearances, it seemed as though Aya and Nagi were still talking calmly, albeit quite closely. And as inherently absorbing as all that was, it was boring Youji out of his skull. Worse, he was really craving a cigarette; the last one he'd had had been back at the RV while they were waiting on Aya.
'What the hell,' Youji thought, reaching into his left pocket and pulling out his pack. He knew well and good that lighting one would blow his cover to anyone nearby not standing in the clearing. But, he reasoned, if they wanted to fight, it'd be better than just sitting around watching people talk. Hell, it might even draw some of the heat off of Ken's backside. Suppressing a chuckle, Youji pulled one of the cigarettes out of their pack and pressed it between his lips. He fished a lighter out of his pocket, cupped his hand to shield the light from the wind, and lit the cigarette.
After a long drag, Youji thought he heard what sounded like a chuckle coming from his right. Drawing the cigarette away from his face, he looked over. Sure enough, there was a tall figure leaning against one of the trees. The light from the clearing cast shadows over the person's face and figure, but Youji could make out an outline and some dim features. He could see shaggy hair and the sparse light reflected off of starched white pants and the pair of aviator sunglasses that were perched on his head.
"Bored, pretty boy?" a nasal voice came from the shadowed figure, causing Youji to smirk. He took one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stamping it out with his foot.
"Not now," he replied, looking over the rims of his glasses at the other man as he stepped into the light. Youji could see the smirk he remembered, as well as the shock of nearly-orange red hair. He believed this man's name was Schuldich.
"Aww, you flatter me," Schuldich replied with a mocking tone, bending one arm under his chest as he gave a bow, "But isn't there so much more we could be doing than watching those two talk?" He winked at Youji as Youji held his left hand up in front of his face. Graceful, slender fingers from his right hand traced up his wrist before flipping a small metal piece away from the edge of his wristwatch. He pulled a thin wire out of the edge of the watch between his index and second fingers.
"You read my mind," Youji remarked, smiling wryly. Another second passed in quiet before he flung the wire from his wrist toward its target. The wire fell flat, though, Schuldich seeming to disappear before Youji's very eyes. He'd seen this sort of thing before. He knew it wasn't entirely an illusion; Schuldich was fast, and the fact that he had the power to read and control minds only complimented his speed.
The red head reappeared a second later, more than a meter to the left of where he had been. If possible, his grin had gotten even wider.
"Can't kill me if you can't catch me," he taunted, suppressing a laugh. Youji grinned, more out of irritation than actual amusement. If he didn't hit him the first time, he could always try again until he got it right.
Once again, Youji sent his wire flying towards his target, and once again, it fell short. As soon as Schuldich reappeared, laughing merrily, he tossed it in that direction. And as soon as he threw his wire out again, it missed its mark again. Smirking as he sized up the situation, Youji decided that this was going to need a little more class and style than taking out an average, everyday thug.
Using the fingers of his right hand to control the scope of the wire, he flung his left hand out in a wide arc. The long fingers moved deftly between the different folds of the strand of wire his watch produced, in almost the same manner a spider weaves a web. The wire appeared to be no more than graceful strands of light suspended in mid-air, the dim light from the park reflecting off the metal string. At the end of the arc, Youji turned his left hand over, grabbing the ends of the handful of wire he'd sent out, and yanked hard. Much as he'd anticipated, he felt resistance.
Looking up, Youji could see that he'd caught Schuldich squarely about the neck, his wrists having become bound up in some of the subsequent strands as he'd tried to pry the wire from his throat. There were other pieces, too, reflecting light off of his thighs and mid-section, but they were nowhere near as debilitating as the wire that was now strangling him.
Youji smirked to himself. He loved it when that trick worked.
A good ten meters back into the forest away from where Youji and Schuldich were fighting, the soft noise of a gun being cocked broke the relative silence. Set against the noise from Youji and Schuldich's fight, it was hardly noticeable to anyone that wasn't standing quite close to it. Pale light from the electric lights in the distant clearing reflected dimly off the polished barrel of the gun, as well as the large glasses on the face of the man holding it.
Crawford's eyes narrowed as he watched Schuldich struggle against Youji's garrote wire. He'd be damned if he'd let Weiß kill one of his men that easily, especially Schuldich. He leveled the gun, taking aim. It really didn't matter to him where he hit the blond, or if he survived it or not. As long as he dropped the wire, that was all that mattered.
A small smile began to tug at the corner of Crawford's mouth as his finger began to grow more tense on the trigger. As he began to apply pressure, however, he felt something small, round, and very cold press against the back of his neck. Even though he instantly knew what it was, the second he felt a familiar 'click' reverberate through his spinal column, his assumption was confirmed.
So caught up in taking aim at Youji had he been that Crawford had completely ignored the nagging warnings his subconscious had given him. He realized then, too late, that he'd not heeded his instincts. It was that, and it was also the fact that the person pressing a gun into the back of his neck was a random element, something that did not normally fit into the scheme of things. Crawford damned himself silently.
"I can't let you kill one of my boys," a husky, teasing female voice whispered, "I would much prefer you to sit this round out. I'm sure your compatriot will do just fine." Crawford lowered his gun stiffly, glaring as he turned his head to see who had taken him off-guard. "Besides," she continued with a wink, "Only cheaters bring guns into the fight."
"Cute," he muttered, turning to see the outline of a shapely woman in a mini-skirt. Her hair framed her face with large red ringlets, her keen eyes reflecting some of the light from the clearing back at him. He recognized her as the secretary he'd seen with Prime Minister Takatori's brother, the Police Commissioner, several months prior, and then later at the Estet's summoning ceremony. The red head was hard to forget, if for no other reason than her impressive cleavage.
Their attention was drawn back to the scuffle between Youji and Schuldich, however, when Youji let out a yelp of pain. Both Manx and Crawford turned to see the blond fall to his knees, clutching his head. His wire went slack, Schuldich grinning as it dropped from his wrists, freeing them up to tear off the wire at his throat. Before he could do anything else, though, Youji lunged for him, knocking him to the ground. Crawford reasoned that whatever Schuldich had just done to the lankier blond's mind must have been particularly nasty.
"Told you he'd do just fine," Manx quipped, lowering her gun and backing away quietly.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
Through the binoculars he held to his goggles, Omi could see everything that was happening in the clearing between Aya and Nagi. Even though from a distance they might have looked civil, Omi had spent enough time around Aya to know when he was beginning to become quite angry. He watched Nagi draw quite close to Aya, knowing that the two of them might start fighting at any second.
Omi edged out further along the sturdy tree limb he had spread himself out on, wanting a slightly better vantage point in case one of Schwarz tried to jump into the brawl. As he crept along the branch, his hand slowly lowered the binoculars, causing him to look down momentarily. Something strange suddenly appeared on the periphery of his vision, making Omi blink and stop moving. He steadied the binoculars, following the odd movement he'd seen out of the corner of his eyes.
Sure enough, behind some scraggly bushes off to the right of his vantage point, Omi could see the back of a girl's head, her bright blue hair pulled up into two buns. She was kneeling behind the bushes, peeking anxiously out at the two men standing face to face in the clearing. Omi recognized her as the youngest member of Schreient. How she had survived their last encounter, let alone wound up working with Schwarz, was a total mystery to him, though. He knew he'd seen her stabbed through the chest; something about that just was not right.
Thinking she might try to interfere, Omi notched his crossbow and watched her carefully. If she made a move to attack Aya, he would have to engage her. However, after watching her watch them for at least five minutes, he became convinced that she was no immediate threat to anyone. He felt certain that if he could see her face, he'd see a worried expression there.
Silently, or as near to it as he could manage, Omi let the binoculars dangle from their strap around his neck, swung down from his tree limb, and softly landed on the leaf-strewn ground. He looked over to see if he'd startled the girl. No, she was still absorbed in the drama that was taking place in the clearing. Trying not to crush the leaves and twigs beneath his feet as he walked, he approached her, his crossbow at his side, but ready at a moment's notice.
"Hey," Omi said softly, finally near enough to her to be heard and not have to speak loudly. The girl started, a small, frightened gasp escaping her mouth. She whirled around quickly, leveling her yellow parasol at Omi's face, the lamplight glinting off of the sharp tip. He raised his hands, pointing the crossbow straight into the air.
"If you don't try to hurt me," Omi said slowly and quietly, "I won't try to hurt you. I'm only here to keep you from interfering with those two." The girl blinked and nodded, reluctantly lowering her umbrella.
"Nagi-kun doesn't want anyone to stop them from fighting, either," she said quietly, "But we didn't trust you. You're Weiß." Omi nodded, lowering his hands and kneeling to come face to face with the girl.
"Yeah," Omi agreed, "I'm one of Weiß. You're one of Schreient. Why are you here, anyway?" She blinked at him, drawing her umbrella close to her chest.
"Because I don't want anyone to hurt Nagi-kun," she responded huffily, giving him an angry pout, "If Nagi-kun wants to fight, I won't stop him. But I won't let Weiß gang up and pick on him like you did to Papa and Hel and Neu and Schoen." Omi watched her scowl, knowing that her description of the events of the past was not only extremely colored and biased, but quite wrong. He didn't think she realized that, though; to her, her words were heart-felt and honest. Now wasn't exactly the time to contradict her, either.
"Let me ask you something," Omi said quietly, wrapping his arms around his knees, "Nagi-kun... he's different now, isn't he?" The girl at first looked surprised, but that look faded into sadness in quick succession.
"Yeah," she said softly, "Nagi-kun acts weird now. Schuldich-san said he's growing up, and that I should help him. But it's really scary." Omi nodded. Hopefully, by lending the girl a friendly ear, he'd be able to get a few more clues as to what was actually going on.
"So it's not just his eyes that are strange?", Omi asked, trying to lead her on. She looked away from him, studying the ground and holding onto her parasol for dear life.
"No," she whispered, "He doesn't act like Nagi-kun anymore. Sometimes Nagi-kun wakes up screaming or crying, and sometimes he doesn't sound like Nagi-kun at all." Her words were almost too soft to hear, but something about them clicked with Omi.
"Wakes up... screaming?" he asked, glancing back out into the clearing at the boy in question and his own teammate, "So... what do you think is wrong with him?" The blue-haired girl's eyelids drifted lower, her long lashes almost shading her eyes entirely.
"Well, I used to hear this voice," she replied, her voice falling so low that Omi could barely hear it, "I know it sounds silly, but I really did! It would talk really nice to me, but sometimes I would start doing something and then I would wake up a few minutes later, or I would suddenly be doing something else. Then I got really sick, and I don't remember much that happened then." Omi looked at her, remembering what he'd been told about Sakura the night before. It was starting to sound like the exact same thing.
"Did you cough a lot?" Omi asked, trying to sound as sympathetic as he could, given the situation, "Did you ever cough up any black stuff?" The girl looked up at him, her eyes as wide as a startled deer's.
"Yeah," she said, nodding vigorously, "I don't remember a whole lot, though. I got better because Nagi-kun cut my hand." Again, it sounded to Omi to be ominously similar to Sakura's situation. The younger-sounding girl pulled the cuff of her fingerless gloves up from the base of her fingers to her wrist, showing Omi the palm of her left hand. There was a long, red scab across her palm, indicative of a wound not fully healed yet.
"Nagi-kun cut both our hands," she continued, "I think he pulled the bad stuff out of me, like you do with a snakebite. And I didn't hear that voice anymore after that." Omi nodded, taking this all in.
"So, you think it's the voice that's making him do this?" Omi asked, leaning forward. The girl nodded eagerly.
"But I can't give up on Nagi-kun," she said with a soft determination, "Even though he doesn't act like Nagi-kun anymore, I can't give up on him. It's not his fault." Omi reached out toward her, patting her shoulder. He realized that even though this girl and her 'sisters' might have done some despicable things, it wasn't truly out of malice or wickedness; for this girl, it was out of loyalty. Even though he knew that she had been on the wrong side of things, Omi admired her absolute devotion and single-minded loyalty in a way.
"Maybe we can find a way to help him," he said quietly, smiling at her in hopes that he could cheer her up a tiny bit. She smiled sadly back at him over the handle of her umbrella.
"You're nice," she said sweetly, "Even though you are one of Weiß."
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
The electric lamps on the walkway buzzed softly, their pale light falling over the two men standing in the park clearing. A cold, crisp wind cut between the two of them, tousling the brown-haired boy's messy hair. He gripped the hilt of his shining black dao and turned it upward and around in his hand, into an offensive position. The tip pointed down the walkway at the other man standing in the clearing, the one in the black trenchcoat, with red hair.
The redhead glared sharply, crouching into a defensive posture. His right hand instinctively shot to the hilt of the Japanese sword that was latched to his belt, hanging against his left hip. Aya waited, crouching, keeping his eyes locked on his opponent.
A small smile twisted up the lips of the brown-haired boy as he stepped forward slowly and steadily. "You are always so guarded," Nagi remarked, "Not that this is a bad thing. It is simply a sign of your skill. However..." He drew within a sword's length of Aya, who had neither straightened nor relaxed his posture. The taller man still glared at him.
"In this case," Nagi continued, coming to a stop, "It is wholly unnecessary. I am only going to prove a point to you." Aya remained silent, his eyes intently upon Nagi. The boy smirked for a second before his hand twitched, bringing the dao up sharply. Faster than Aya's eyes could register, the boy had slashed upward with the sword, twisting his wrist under to bring it up cleanly. The entire process took less than a fraction of a second and resulted in Nagi holding the sword vertically before his face. He continued to smirk at Aya, a small chuckle building in his throat.
Aya looked at the boy curiously, not understanding why he'd done something so strange. He had been close enough to cut Aya's face, that much he was sure of, but he hadn't felt a thing. As it was, Aya was rather worried that the boy could move that fast.
"Look down," Nagi said, a sinister note coloring his voice.
Taking his eyes from the other man momentarily, Aya looked down at the nearly-white pavement beneath his feet. As he did, he could see small black droplets dappling the path he stood on. He could feel cold fluid on his lips, puddling where Nagi had cut him. His eyes widened as he watched one more drop fall from his face and hit the ground, the other drops slowly fading away to nothingness. There was a tingling on his lips, underneath the cold liquid, and he could feel the wound closing itself. He straightened from his defensive position, wiping his mouth with the back of his black gloved hand in disbelief.
"Lies," he whispered, turning his eyes back to Nagi, who still had not quit smirking, "Liar! Damn you, what are you playing at?!" Nagi lowered the dao, the tip pointing to the ground, as Aya glared at him.
"I am not playing at *anything*," Nagi said, laughter hiding beneath the surface of his voice, "How do you think I removed myself from Tomoe Sakura in the first place?" Aya continued to watch him intently, his angry eyes speaking volumes that his voice would not. When Aya did not answer, Nagi continued.
"It was through her blood," Nagi continued, "That black ichor is my essence. It is my only real physical form at the moment. Outside of a human body, it does not hold any sway over anything. It merely dissolves, returning to the nether realms that I was resurrected from. However..." There was a malicious glee in his eyes now, a look that told Aya that perhaps what he feared was indeed true. He dared not think it, though.
"When blood that I inhabit is passed from one individual to another," Nagi went on, his gold eyes twinkling wickedly, "So am I. I and my power grow inside of that new host, until I can eventually overwhelm them. Nagi received my essence from Tot. He kissed her bloody mouth the night that he invited me into her body by mistake. Eventually, he took all of me that was inside of her into himself." Aya watched as the boy began to pace, keeping his disturbing gold eyes ever fixed on him. If what he said was true, then how could he have received that same black essence?
"It was all very noble of him," Nagi carried on, not waiting for Aya to respond to him, "And also very stupid. With this body, I took into myself the piece of me that the Estet had mistakenly placed inside Tomoe Sakura. Now, let me ask you something. Last night, her blood touched you when I cut her hand, did it not?" Instinctively, Aya's right hand flew up to his face, touching the cheek that her icy blood had come into contact with. A cold, high laugh cut through the clearing at Aya.
"I thought so," Nagi continued, his laughter tapering off, "Did you not wonder why, in a room full of broken glass, you came out without a scratch? When I cut her, you had already scraped your arms and face. That blood found its way into one of your cuts. I am inside of you, too, now." Aya stared at the golden-eyed young man, his look of anger and hatred having faded into a numb shock. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew that what the boy had said was true. He remembered the glass on the carpet grinding into his face and palms, the shards of thick glass from the initial explosion having gouged his arms and hands. Later, he had not even taken the time to notice that all of those tiny cuts had mysteriously healed themselves.
"Then you..." Aya said haltingly, "You were responsible for that dream. It was you." His face began to take on the same angry air that it had held only minutes ago. Once again, he could feel hatred wrapping icy fingers around his heart as he looked at the smirking boy standing before him.
"I don't think it's fair to place the blame for that entirely on me," Nagi said, mischief playing at the edge of his voice. Aya snorted derisively. "You yourself were responsible for that dream," he continued, his smile growing broader as he began to pace a bit again, "The only part I played was to take your own hate, violent tendencies, heartlessness, and lust, and to reflect them back at you. It was all within you to begin with. You cannot blame me if you do not like what you see in yourself." Aya felt his blood run cold as he seized the hilt of his sword with his right hand, pulling it free of its sheath. He'd had more than enough.
"You sick bastard!" he roared, charging the smaller man. He no longer cared if he showed his emotions to the enemy. His only thought at the moment was to make the young man who was grinning before him pay for trespassing on his mind.
In one smooth motion, Nagi side-stepped him and caught his blade with his own dao. As he deflected the glinting steel with ease, his cold, high laughter began to ring through the clearing.
"Temper, temper, Ran-kun," he taunted, forcing Aya away from him with his blade, "You'll get sloppy if you get too angry. I should like to see a real fight." As Aya backed away, preparing for his next strike, Nagi drew the dao back over his head, adopting a distinctly odd fighting style. It barely registered with Aya, as angry as he was, but he knew he'd seen that stance used in some kind of Chinese fighting style.
Another second passed before the two of them launched themselves at one another again, every thrust being parried, the sounds of the fight reverberating throughout the naked trees. Even though Nagi had never exhibited it before, his speed now was uncanny, allowing him to dodge or deflect every one of Aya's attacks. Through all of it, the brown-haired boy kept that mocking grin on his face, his gold eyes full of malice. Aya could only reason that whatever was inside of him and Nagi knew how to fight.
The sounds of the frenzied sword fight echoed through the vicinity, causing all who were waiting in the wings of the forest to watch from their particular vantage points.
Omi and Tot stopped talking and watched from behind the scraggly bushes they had been using for cover. As engrossing as the fighting was, Omi spared a glance over at Tot's face. The worry he saw there was almost enough to make him physically ill. She looked as though she were about to burst into tears or burst into the clearing, whichever happened first. He didn't want to, but he knew that if she tried to interfere, he'd have to stop her.
Omi really hoped he wouldn't have to stop her.
Schuldich heard the commotion, both with his ears and with his mind. He had been busy trying to pry Youji's hands off his throat and throw the lanky blond off his stomach. As the sounds of the battle reached them, stalling Youji while he turned to look, Schuldich took the opportunity to land one last sucker punch and toss Youji to the side. The two of them looked at each other for a second before nodding an unspoken agreement. Taking a vantage point behind different trees, both of them turned to watch the proceedings.
Not far from those two, Crawford stood watching as well. He had lowered his gun, knowing that Manx had slipped back into the forest, probably moving off to a different hiding spot to watch the fight. Even though he had promised Nagi that he wouldn't interfere, watching the two of them go at it like whirling dervishes made Crawford wonder if he could really stand by and watch if his young charge was defeated.
A smirk began to form on his face. He knew that even if Nagi was injured gravely, the Beast would come out on top in the end. Even though it was a small consolation, it was really all that mattered at the end of the night. And he had no doubt that Nagi would be just fine, no matter what.
Further back into the forest, Ken was drenched in sweat, the cold night air cooling his body rapidly. He and Farfarello weren't done by any stretch of the imagination when the sounds of Aya and Nagi's battle reached them. Breathing heavily, he sheathed his claws, regarding the lankier, white-haired man.
"Time out," Ken muttered, "The fight's started." Farfarello sneered at him, drawing his blade back.
"That's your misfortune," Farfarello spat, raising his main gauche to strike.
"Settle down!" Ken yelled, no longer in the mood for playing. In one smooth motion, Ken aimed a high kick at the other man's head, both his feet coming off the ground with the grace that only a soccer player can muster in mid-air. His heavy boots connected with the spiky, white head, knocking Farfarello back as spit flew out of his mouth. Ken knew he'd heard a crack when his kick landed, but he failed to worry about it - he knew from experience that whatever he did, Farfarello could take it.
Still standing, Farfarello took a few steps back, shaking his head as he wiped his mouth. A twisted smirk painted his face as he watched his opponent.
"We'll finish it later, then," he muttered, joining Ken in watching the fight that had begun without them.
Close to the very edge of the clearing, a black-haired woman with a tape recorder watched the fight intently. A redhead with large curls crept up beside her, not even causing her to flinch.
"You get anything good?" Manx asked, watching the two men in the clearing engage each other. Birman nodded, leaning against one of the deadened trees.
"I think I've been able to gather most of what's been going on with these two up till this point," she replied quietly, "I'll have to play it for you when we get home." They both watched the scene in the clearing as they spoke, engrossing as it was. Neither looked down as white fingers peeking out from beneath a long, red sleeve reached out and brushed against the hand holding the tape recorder.
"It's that bad, then?" Manx asked softly, watching the battle rage on. The sounds of steel connecting reached them loudly, even in their seclusion.
"It looks to be even worse than we thought," Birman replied, one of the fingers wrapped around the tape recorder stretching out to take one that had grazed it. "It looks bad for all of us," she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper.
In the clearing, Aya continued to try to get a clean shot at the boy who moved quickly before him. Every thrust was blocked, every strike parried. Not only was it extremely frustrating, Aya found himself desiring the kill more than he ever had. The thought repulsed him, but further inside than that, he couldn't bring himself to care. That, to him, was more frightening than the thirst for blood could ever be.
Even though he knew he should be exhausted by now, though, Aya didn't feel tired. He didn't even feel winded. If he had a spare second to devote to it, he probably would have decided that this, and his thirst to spill Nagi's blood too, was the Beast's doing. As it was, however, he simply wasn't thinking about it.
"Harder!" Nagi cried, blocking another attack, "You have to strike with more force! How do you expect to kill in that manner? You are not focusing!" He cackled, enjoying Aya's anger even as he heightened it. As a result, the stabs and thrusts became harder, more ferocious. Nagi's eyes glittered even as his defense began to slow. It was hardly noticeable to the untrained eye, his speed only reduced by a few fractions of a second. Aya, however, did notice. A maniacal grin began to tug at the corners of his mouth as he gave a particularly hard thrust.
The katana's aim was true. Nagi had turned his dao to block the tip of the sword with the width of his blade, but so powerful was Aya's strike that the dao shattered. In a hail of the liquefying pieces of Nagi's weapon, the katana pierced the shorter man's chest, directly below his right breast. As the steel sank into his flesh, darkness seeping out around the wound, Nagi turned his face up to meet Aya's grin with one of his own.
He laughed for a moment, a gleeful, wicked cackle, causing Aya to drive the blade further in. A second later, however, his eyes went wide, quivering as his laughter ceased. There was a cough, then a ragged gasp for air as his eyes met Aya's.
"You idiot," Nagi whispered, his voice flat and normal, "You just did what he wanted."
His own grin fading quickly, Aya looked down at his blade. Nagi's black blood oozed out of his wound, wrapping around the katana as though it were alive and trying to pull it in further. Aya's own eyes widened as his hands slid up the hilt without his consent; it was as though someone were pulling them forward. Another second passed and his hands had traveled across the sword's tsuba and onto the blade itself. A look of shock and horror quickly forming on his face, Aya felt his fingers grip the blade, the sharp underside cutting his palms cleanly. The cool steel pressing into his flesh, the seeping black fluid from Nagi's wound gripped Aya's hands tightly. He could feel his hands go cold as the blood covered them, the coldness spreading up his arms and to his chest. Even though it sounded as though it were coming from someone else, Aya could hear himself screaming.
And then, he felt nothing.
"Nagi-kun!" a woman's scream came from the edge of the clearing. Tot had torn through the bushes she had been hidden behind, no longer willing to sit and watch her beloved die without doing anything. Tears covered her face, reflecting the light from the lamps and glittering as they flew out behind her.
"No, don't!" Omi yelled, chasing after her. He wasn't sure if he should stop her or not, though; obviously, the fight was over. Even so, there was still the possibility that Youji or Ken would come after her. Worse yet, with what he'd just seen and what she'd told him, there was no telling what Aya would do.
It wasn't as if any of that mattered to Tot, though. She had already reached Nagi, throwing her arms around his waist and pulling him away from the blade of Aya's katana. The sword withdrew from his chest with a sickening 'slurp', the reddened blood flying away from his body. Tot fell to her knees, cradling Nagi's battered body in her arms.
"Nagi-kun, don't die!" she cried, frantically pressing his face into her chest and rocking him back and forth, "Don't die, please don't die! Don't leave me alone!" One of his hands moved up to his wound, clutching at it and causing Tot to relax her grip on him. She let him move away from her a bit, resting him on her knees as he looked up at her, smiling. His eyes were now their normal blue color and a small trickle of very red blood wound its way out of the corner of his mouth.
"It's okay, Tot," he said, struggling to get the words out. He was obviously having trouble breathing, the katana probably having struck one of his lungs. "It's okay," he repeated, his face taking on a strained look, "I can mend some of it myself. We can be together now - so don't be sad, okay?" Tot watched in horror as Nagi shut his eyes and his face began to look even more strained. Tears slid down her whitened face as she began to sob quietly. He coughed a bit, expelling some of the blood that had gathered in his mouth onto Tot's shirt.
Soon, though, Nagi's face relaxed. Tot saw this and held him tighter, wailing at the top of her lungs.
Omi stared at the two of them, standing a few meters back, not knowing what he should do. He looked over to Aya, who had begun to stir again. The redhead hadn't moved from the spot that he had been in when he'd stabbed Nagi. He seemed to be staring at the gash on his left hand, although Omi couldn't see his eyes clearly. After what seemed like minutes of listening to Tot wail and watching Aya stand there staring at his hand, the redhead's shoulders began to shake vigorously. A few seconds later, Omi heard him cackle, then saw him throw his head back in a fit of laughter.
With wide eyes, Omi watched as Aya turned to look over his shoulder at him. A wide grin had spread across his face, blood red hair spilling into his eyes, making him seem more demented and wicked than Omi had ever imagined Aya could look. With his turning, Omi could also now see his hand; the glove covering it had been split squarely across the palm, but the skin on his hand was yet unbroken. Perhaps the most disturbing of all, though, were his eyes: now, in the place of the deep violet they'd always been was a shining golden hue rimming long, reflective, cat-slit pupils. They were exactly like Nagi's had been when he was possessed. Omi knew what he had to do.
In the blink of an eye, Omi reached into his right vest pocket, drawing out four darts, holding them between his fingers and his thumb. With a speed that astounded even him, he surmised the distance between himself and his target, calculating how fast and at what angle he'd have to swing his hand to have them hit the desired target. Somehow knowing that if he didn't take him out soon, he'd never have the chance, Omi threw his darts.
All four landed firmly in Aya's shoulders and down his back. He didn't even wince as they entered his flesh, instead giving Omi a disdainful look of disbelief. Muttering a curse to himself as Ken and Youji came tearing out of the shadows of the forest, Omi pulled four more darts from his jacket and aimed them. He tossed them just before he was tackled by the two older members of Weiß. These too, Omi noted as he hit the ground, landed firmly in Aya's back.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Omi?!" Ken yelled, pinning the blond boy to the ground. Youji looked up from Omi, seeing that Ken had him well in hand, and afforded himself a look at Aya.
"Oh, hell," he muttered, noticing the redhead's strange eyes and wicked grin. Omi writhed to break free of Ken's grip, finally succeeding in pushing him away when he looked up to see what Youji was staring at.
"He's possessed!" Omi cried, drawing himself to his knees, "Look at his eyes! They're just like Nagi's were!" Ken and Youji both saw that he was telling the truth.
No sooner had both of them seen this, though, when Aya's eyes fell shut, Omi's tranquilizer darts having taken effect. The redhead fell to his knees, his black leather coat crinkling on the ground around his legs. His limp hand released his sword, letting it clatter to the pavement slowly. Unceremoniously, he fell forward. While the rest of Weiß were distracted, Farfarello and Schuldich ran into the clearing as well.
"This is insane," Omi breathed, standing and brushing his rear off, "Only five darts would be enough to kill a normal man. It took eight to bring him down. He's had enough tranquilizer to kill horse." The clearing was deathly still, excepting the occasional sniffle from Tot.
"This is bad," Ken agreed in hushed tones, "If that says anything about what we're dealing with here, he's going to be hell to deal with when he wakes up." Omi and Youji nodded in agreement as Schuldich rushed over to check on Nagi. The shaggy-haired man in the green coat bent down over his younger teammate, ignoring Tot's whimpers and checking his vital signs.
"We need to get him somewhere safe, fast," Omi went on, walking over to Aya's limp form, "I think Kritiker has a lab or a cell or... someplace secure where we could take him..." He bent down to check that Aya was still breathing, but stopped mid-way when he heard a gun click behind him. Instinctively, Omi's hands shot into the air. "Shit," he muttered underneath his breath, "I knew we forgot one."
Omi slowly turned, keeping his hands in plain view, to see a man in a white business suit and pale purple tie aiming a sleek handgun at him. He recognized the stern-faced man as Schwarz's leader, Crawford.
"That's good," the black-haired man said coldly, "Hands where I can see them. You're not taking the Beast anywhere. He's ours." He took a step forward, then turned his head to his redheaded comrade. "Schuldich," he barked, "How is Nagi?" The telepath looked up, his features calm.
"Pulse is weak and erratic," he said quickly, "Breathing is shallow, but there. If we don't do something soon, he'll go into shock." Crawford nodded his acknowledgment.
"I'll call an ambulance," Crawford replied, his words short and to the point, "Farfarello, collect Fujimiya." From the edge of the clearing to Crawford's far left, a small click came, drawing his attention. Once again, he'd gotten too wrapped up in what was going on around him; she had gotten the better of him again.
"I don't think so," a familiar female voice called, its owner stepping out of the shadows. Red ringlets bounced around a cheery red smile hidden behind a keen, silvery gun. Crawford watched in agitation as the light traveled up a shapely pair of white legs to a short, red mini-skirt, and onto a firm set of breasts. Finally, the lamps illuminated the woman's face. It was unmistakably the woman who had gotten the drop on him in the woods.
"Checkmate," another female voice called out, this one deeper than the other, but not as sultry. There was another gun click as yet another woman stepped out of the shadows with her firearm pointed at Crawford. This one was slightly taller, with legs just as nice, and a short blue and pink dress on. Her messy black hair framed her face, giving her an unkempt, exotic look.
"Gotcha, big boy," Manx said, winking, "We've beaten you to the punch. An ambulance is already on its way for your kid there. And Kritiker should be here any moment to collect Aya." Crawford lowered his gun reluctantly, glaring at the two women.
"What are we going to do, Crawford?" Schuldich hissed, looking up from Nagi, "They'll incarcerate him!" Crawford looked down at his subordinate, rage scarcely hidden behind his thick glasses.
"We'll worry about that when the time comes," he growled, "He needs medical attention. Let's go." Schuldich glared mutinously at him.
"We can't just leave him!" the redhead protested, getting to his feet, "He's one of us!" A cough from behind them reminded Schwarz that there were still two ladies with guns trained on them.
"If you don't all leave soon," Birman said evenly, "You'll all be arrested. And as much as I'd like to spend more time with you lovely gentlemen, I'm sure that would put a crimp in your style." Schuldich spun around to look at them, directing his glare at Manx and Birman. A quick mind-scan told him that she was indeed letting them off the hook.
"What do you gain out of letting us go?" Schuldich asked suspiciously, although he already suspected the answer.
"Why are you looking a gift horse in the mouth?" Manx asked, letting some of her cheek show through, "It's not like they'd let you ride in the ambulance, anyway." This, Schuldich found through a quick probe, was Manx-ese for 'We don't have the resources to arrest you right now. And currently, you are the least of our worries.' Reluctantly, he looked down at Tot.
"C'mon, kid," he said, bending down and grabbing her arm, "We've got to go." Tot shook his hand off and clutched Nagi tighter to her chest, continuing to rock back and forth on her knees.
"I won't!" she cried, her eyes screwed shut, "I won't leave Nagi-kun! Not until he's better, I won't let him go!" Schuldich narrowed his eyes, his temper becoming even more threadbare.
"Look, you can visit him all the time in the hospital, if that's what you want," he tried to appease her, "But we need to go right now, or they're gonna arrest you!" Tot shook her head furiously, clinging to Nagi. Frustrated and just plain angry, Schuldich grabbed her arm again, this time putting his full force into it. With one vicious yank, he managed to pry Tot away from Nagi, causing him to fall the short distance to the ground. In another second, she was on her feet, crying frantically and trying to break loose of Schuldich's grip.
"Damn you!" he screamed, shaking her, "Calm the hell down and let's go!" Tot, however, refused to be comforted and continued to struggle against him, pounding his chest with her feeble little fists. Schuldich sighed, exasperated.
"Oh, to hell with this," he finally grumbled, giving her a mind-shock that was perhaps a bit more vicious than necessary, "There." Her eyes flew open for a brief second, and then Tot fell, unconscious, against him. Glaring, Schuldich scooped her limp form up and turned to Crawford.
"Let's go," the black-haired man said firmly. Schuldich and Farfarello nodded to him. Another few seconds passed and they were gone, having vanished back into the forest from whence they came.
"Think they'll really give up that easily?" Birman asked, lowering her gun, watching as Ken, and Youji scrambled to their fallen comrade and Omi to check on Nagi.
"I have no doubt we'll hear from them again," Manx said breathlessly as the sirens of an ambulance drew closer, "They're just regrouping." She lowered her gun as well, looking down at her feet. As she did, small, gray drops began to form on the pavement beneath her feet. A small rumble sounded in the background and the wind picked up. What started as small droplets began to fall in sheets after only a few seconds. The rain had finally begun.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
Epilogue
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
As his eyes fluttered open for the first time in almost two days, the first thing he noticed were the tubes. He was reclining in a chair of sorts, one that he wasn't entirely familiar with, and there were tubes everywhere. Tubes coming out of his nose, tubes coming out of his arms where IVs had been inserted. He also noticed that there were several wires running to patches that had been secured underneath his pale blue gown, against his skin with medical tape, there, he presumed, to monitor his various vital signs. There was the beeping of several machines nearby, some scribbling with tiny needles on tiny sheets of paper to record how his body reacted to various things.
Inhuman gold eyes peered hazily up through bright red bangs at their surroundings. A white room, sanitary, sleek, futuristic. On the far wall, no more than two meters from his spot in the wheelchair, was a darkened glass that reached almost to the ceiling. A one-way window, he presumed. On the wall to his left was a door, although he could barely see it. It was recessed into the wall, nothing more than a pale, thin line against the stark, icy white of the rest of the room.
He could feel the sedatives being pumped into his veins by the IVs, could feel their effect on him. They made his mind slightly hazy and his body feel as heavy as lead. Right now, he could barely lift a finger. But he knew it wouldn't be permanent. They couldn't keep him here forever.
"We can't keep him here forever," a female voice said, safely on the other side of the black glass. Inside a control booth, lit only by computer screens and control panels, two women and several medical technicians watched the redhead awaken. The voice had belonged to the black-haired woman who had her arms folded over her blue business suit. The redhead with the sausage curls to her left nodded in stern agreement.
"I'm afraid of what will happen if he recovers," Manx agreed quietly, "Hopefully, though, we'll never see that day. He's safer here than anywhere else." Birman, her eyes full of worry, turned to her partner.
"I just hope the sedatives are enough," Birman replied softly, looking down at the body of their former charge, Fujimiya Aya, strapped into captivity.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
In a darkened hospital room a few districts away, a brown-haired boy lay comatose. His body was also decorated with intrusive tubes, but unlike Aya's, these were only to help sustain his vital functions. The room was shady and barely lit, the curtains pulled tightly against the sun and the moon. There was one bouquet sitting on the table beside his bed, a small thing, full of white roses and lilies, with a stuffed pink rabbit tied to the vase as decoration.
Humming quietly to herself, a blue-haired girl sat beside the bed in one of the hospital's bulky, uncomfortable armchairs. Her white shirt and pink skirt tried in vain to cheer up the atmosphere of the otherwise dismal hospital room, as did her sad humming. The crinkle of paper also accompanied her, serving as a strange sort of mood music for what she was doing.
Finally finished, she stopped crinkling the paper and held her work out in front of her. Smiling sadly, she looked down at the stuffed white bunny laying across her lap, and showed him the folded piece of paper.
"Look, Rabbi-chan," she said softly, almost as if she were afraid of waking the sleeping boy, "It's a paper crane. Do you think Nagi-kun will like it?" She pulled the beak and tail of the crane, causing its wings to flap a bit as she did.
"'Why, yes, Tot-chan,'" Tot responded to herself, effecting a different voice for 'Rabbi-chan', "'I think Nagi-kun will love it when he wakes up!'" Tot smiled sadly to herself, placing the paper crane on Nagi's sleeping form.
"I heard a story once that said that a girl tried to fold a thousand paper cranes to make a wish for world peace come true," Tot whispered to her stuffed animal, "She died trying because she was sick, but maybe I can do it. And if I do that, then maybe my wish that Nagi-kun will get better and we can be together again will come true."
With a sad determination, Tot picked up her next piece of origami paper.