Force of Habit: Part Three

Author's Note: In an answer to the rallying cry that has gone out to all Yohji and Aya fans, I have produced the next chapter. Vive le Resistance! Plus kudos to my beta-reader for providing all the alcohol, take-out and assorted other bizarre requests to prevent me from leaving my computer until this was finished. Editing above and beyond, sweetie.

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Ran opened his eyes and saw Manx sitting to his side. The young man rolled his eyes and would have sighed if it weren't for the sudden stabbing pain in his chest region when he tried to inhale deeply. The redheaded woman looked over at the hiss of suddenly indrawn breath and smiled at the Kritiker agent. "So, you're awake. Congratulations are in order."

Ran painfully released his breath and drew in another before looking towards the woman in a complete loss of understanding. "What for? Getting mangled on my first killing assignment?"

"Mangled may not be an accurate description. According to the doctors, you suffered a punctured lung from the stab wound to your ribs that created an air cavity in your chest. Ironically, this is what saved you. The bullet that later hit you simply passed through empty air as opposed to your lungs and therefore was substantially easier to repair."

Ran narrowed his eyes. "So I failed twice and am not cut out to be a Kritiker assassin, right? I fail to see how this merits celebration."

"Ran – your enemy were Schwarz. None of our other agents has survived an encounter with them. And more than that, you rendered one of them unconscious."

The violet eyes narrowed further as Ran searched his memories and found hazy recollections of gathering the last of his strength to fling his katana after a retreating shadow. "You mean I actually hit him?"

Manx positively smirked. "You did more than that. You allowed us to capture Void."

Ran tried to sit up, but the flaring agony forced him to remain where he was. "Capture? You didn't kill him? Why not?!"

"Please try to calm down, you're in no condition to exert yourself physically right now. Kritiker has a new assignment for you"

Ran glared Manx. "Just how am I supposed to be able to carry out an assignment like this? I'm not going to be capable of any kind of physical exertion for quite a while."

"The assignment we have for you draws upon your medical knowledge, not your assassin training."

Ran raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Manx smiled and pulled a wheelchair over to the bed. "Come on and I'll show you what we have in mind."

Ran grudgingly allowed the woman to help him into a seated position in the chair. Once settled, he was smoothly wheeled out of the room and down a series of corridors that were almost identical in their sterile blankness. Only Ran's detailed knowledge of the hospital where his sister lay enabled him to keep his bearings. He frowned as they left the wards and travelled towards where the pathology and research labs lay. Security was high here and each of the rooms protected by a baffling array of computerised locks and I.D card readers. Ran twisted his head to look at Manx, but the woman stared straight ahead – her expression revealing nothing. The Kritiker assassin sighed. "Why do I get the feeling I know what you're taking me to see? Or, rather, who?"

"Patience, Abyssinian, we're almost there." True to her words, Manx brought the chair to a stop outside another anonymous door and keyed in a series of combination codes before swiping her Kritiker card and opening the door. "Meet your new project."

Ran glanced around the room, letting his eyes take in the wall of computers and monitors, all wired into the silent and unmoving form that rested on the bed in the middle of the room. The sight of that figure caused Ran's hands to involuntarily clench before he forced a shaking breath into his constricted chest, feeling the burn of wounds that had been caused by the man he now stared at. Struggling for something to say that would not give away the churning sensation Ran felt in the pit of his stomach, he noticed the man's head and felt his eyes widen in surprise. "He looks different without the hair."

Manx nodded as she too regarded the unconscious assassin. Void's blond hair had once fallen almost to his waist, but had now been mercilessly removed to allow the crowding of electrodes and wires that linked the Schwarz agent's innermost mental signals up to the blinking computer screens. Ran found the loss of the hair somewhat comforting. At one point in their struggle, Void had found himself momentarily without a weapon and had improvised by wrapping the silken coils around Ran's neck in an attempt to choke him. Now the man looked strangely harmless and almost vulnerable.

With an irritated sigh, Ran slumped back in the chair – hissing slightly as his chest protested against such casual movement. From the corner of his eye, he saw Manx's mouth twitch in a smirk and tried to recover by adopting his iciest tone of voice. "I assume you brought me here for more than an identification?"

The woman smiled, unaffected by either Fujimiya's glare or tone of voice. "Kritiker do not want Void killed. His brain activity is highly unusual and further study of Void is highly desirable."

Ran snorted. "At the moment there's not much to study, and I wouldn't want to try it when he wakes up."

Manx glared at him, obviously irritated by his attitude, but unwilling to let it show too much and risk letting her professional manner slip. "Precisely, Abyssinian. Void is first and foremost a highly dangerous killer: completely unpredictable and impossible to defend against, until you managed to fight him to a standoff. Observation of such a man while in an alert state would be tantamount to suicide. However, without Void conscious and reacting to external stimuli in a normal fashion, we can only gather half the data we need." The flame haired woman paused for a moment, searching Ran's face for understanding. "What we need is to remove the kitten's claws, as it were."

What the Kritiker agent was saying finally sunk in and Ran turned to face the silent Void in shock. "You want to mess around with his head and reprogram him? Wouldn't that just suppress his unique abilities and render him normal?"

"Not necessarily. We have reason to believe that the Schwarz assassins received training only to refine and hone their abilities, not to become aware of them. It follows that Void's will remain after he regains consciousness."

"So they'll be out of control? Sounds almost as dangerous as just letting the bastard wake up normally."

"If he forgets he is Schwarz, he'll forget all about his special talents. They'll be dormant. Harmless to those around him, but present in his mind and therefore there for us to examine." Manx crossed over to the side of the bed and looked down at Void's slack features. "Kritiker want you to use your knowledge of psychology and conditioning. We want his memory erased, Schwarz, his profession, his past – all of it. We also want a new personality, an outgoing, sociable disposition that will make it easier for us to get Void's cooperation in any tests we wish to carry out."

The demand had caused Ran's mouth to drop open in shock. He quickly recovered as a cold wave of anger gripped him. "And if I refuse?"

"Your sister's medical care will be withdrawn, as will our subsidy of the bills she is currently incurring by simply sleeping her life away."

Ran gritted his teeth. "You do realise there's no way of knowing if the memory blocks will hold? Or if the process won't simply render him catatonic? You could end up with a mindless vegetable on your hands."

"In addition to the one upstairs? That's a risk we're willing to take." Oblivious to the violent rage that was flaring in Ran's violet eyes, Manx walked past him, dropping a security I.D card into his lap. "Your assignment begins as of now, it'll give you something to do while you're regaining your strength. Sleeping quarters have been arranged for you next door. You leave this room to sleep only, everything else you need is provided in here. When you wake up, this card will allow you back into the room. Once you are finished, I expect to be contacted immediately."

Ran turned to watch her leave before refocusing his attention once again on the unconscious man who had nearly killed him. Wheeling his chair closer, Ran could see the white bandages wrapped around the man's shoulder where the katana had pierced through flesh and skin to skewer the already stunned blond. The shock of the wound must have been what finally caused Void to lose consciousness, Ran reflected, trying to suppress the urge to simply reach out and strangle the man as he lay completely at the redhead's mercy. Ran sighed in defeat and turned to the computers. A sociable and outgoing personality, huh? One that would comply with everything Kritiker wanted? Ran baulked at the idea of creating another puppet for Kritiker to use. Bad enough that they could control his every move through implied threats to his sister: but to expect him to place someone else in exactly the same situation? Ran felt a small smile flicker across his face as he considered ways in which to vent his frustration at both Kritiker and Void. He'd make the arsehole sociable all right. So damn sociable Kritiker would never be able to find him at home.

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Yohji stretched out his arms and yawned. God, it felt good to have a decent size bed to stretch out on instead of that nasty, narrow little hospital bunk. His mouth felt extremely dry, obviously from the alcohol consumed the evening before. Testing the extent of his hangover, Yohji eased himself up into a seated position and was vastly relieved to find himself troubled only by the overwhelming urge to drain Tokyo Bay of water. It seemed his alcohol resistance was higher than he'd thought it would be from such a long stay in hospital, perhaps the result of the same high metabolism that kept his body in such good shape? Yohji shook his head with a rueful smile as he clambered out of bed and headed towards the kitchen. First things first, he needed something - anything - to drink.

The kitchen was empty when he wandered in, though the half-eaten bowl of cornflakes in the sink indicated that Omi had left for class in somewhat of a rush. Yohji headed over to the fridge and pulled it open, examining the contents for anything drinkable. A large carton of orange juice seemed particularly appealing, and the lanky blond grabbed it, knocking shut the door with an elbow while his free hand groped for a glass to pour the juice into. From somewhere deep in his mind, the faint wisps of a song fluttered up to his consciousness and the blond began to absentmindedly sing along, pronouncing the English words with unconscious ease. "Make a whole new religion, a falling star that you cannot live without. And I'll feed your obsession; there'll be nothing but this thing you'll never doubt. It is hard to resist and I'll never miss. I can take you all out with just a flick of my wrist." Turning away from the counter, and pausing in his singing to gulp down most of the juice, Yohji sprayed out what remained of his mouthful at the sight of a silent Fujimiya staring at him with an expression akin to alarm on his porcelain features.

Yohji spluttered and coughed as he fought to keep the acidic juice from sliding down his windpipe and into his lungs. "Fuck! You scared the shit out of me! Mind making some noise when you move?"

The violet eyes only narrowed in answer. "You were singing."

Yohji blinked at the coldness in tone, he'd never seen the man being what any normal person would call friendly, but the hostility he now showed made his earlier interactions with the blond seem positively affectionate. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't realise that was against the house rules." Yohji almost regretted the sarcasm in the reply, but he was getting really tired of the redhead's attitude. If he had done something to deserve this treatment, he might be able to comprehend it, but as he had been unconscious until a couple of days ago, Ran's behaviour was irrational and completely unreasonable.

"And just how is it that you can claim to have total memory loss, yet recall song lyrics?" There was an undeniable note of accusation in the question, and from the distrustful look in Fujimiya's purple eyes, it seemed that he wanted the blond to admit to something.

Yohji lost it. He slammed the glass and carton of juice down on the counter and whirled to face the smaller man, his green eyes blazing with anger. "I don't know how I know it, I just know it! I don't see why that should be a criminal offence! And in any case, you're the arsehole with all the medical knowledge so you tell me! And while you're at it, maybe you'd like to fill me in on exactly what it is I've done to offend you?"

Ran actually went pale at the sight of Yohji's anger, his hand clenching into a fist as though closing around an object. The redhead opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out.

Yohji advanced on the man, his anger giving way to frustration. "What is it with you? I can't work you out. You seem to be able to barely stand my company, yet you hardly ever leave it. Can you see my confusion here?"

Ran flinched, his weight shifting to one leg as though about to take a step back, away from the older man. He appeared to catch himself, and closed his eyes, drawing in a long, deep breath. He released the air equally slowly before opening his eyes and meeting Yohji's verdant gaze. "Your shift starts in twenty minutes. You should get dressed."

With that statement, the redhead turned and left the kitchen. Yohji watched his departing back in baffled silence.

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"Oi, Ken. Can I ask you a question?"

"They're called roses, Yohji. Christ, even you should know that one."

Yohji frowned for a moment, before noting the handful of red and yellow flowers he had been in the process of stripping the thorns from. "Very funny. This isn't about work."

Ken's head appeared above the large arrangement of flowers he was carrying over to the counter. "Oh?" His dark eyes regarded the distracted blond. "What's up?"

"It's Fujimiya. Do you have any idea why the guy hates me so much?" Yohji watched as Ken frowned in thought, absently chewing on his lower lip.

The brunette sighed and rolled his eyes. "Ran's main problem is that he hates being around other people. The only thing I can think of is that he might resent the way the hospital bullied him into letting you stay here and is determined to hate you. He can be stubborn like that." Ken paused and suddenly noted Yohji's withdrawn expression in alarm. 'Hey, don't let it get you down. So what if the guy's behaving like a bastard, it's fairly normal to him and anyway, Omi and I are really glad you're here."

Seeing the concern on the younger man's face caused Yohji to force a smile onto his own features. "Thanks. I just had this feeling that we'd met before and had this big rivalry going on or something."

Ken sniggered. "Judging from Ran's behaviour, the two of you must have been trying to kill each other or something." He shook his head in amusement, brown strands swinging in front of his eyes. "Nah, the guy's just an arsehole. Best just to get used to it."

Yohji laughed. "Thanks for the advice. I'll see if it helps any the next time he starts bitching at me."

Ken grinned, before pausing to glance at the clock. "Uh, that could be sooner than you'd like. He's due to start his shift in about ten minutes." The young brunette sighed and readjusted the flowers in his arms. "Better get back to work and not give him any excuses to start on us."

Yohji turned his attention back to the roses. "Since when did that guy need a reason to start on me," he muttered to himself.

A shadow fell over the pile of roses awaiting his attention and Yohji glanced up to find himself staring into a familiar pair of violet eyes. The blond groaned and rolled his eyes. "What do you want now?"

"I owe you an apology, Kudoh-san."

Yohji's eyes flew back to examine the face that was so close to his own. The redhead's clipped and determinedly neutral tone were definitely at odds with the way that amethyst gaze kept flickering away from his face and then back again. And was that hesitance in those eyes? Yohji paused in his task, bringing his hands to rest lightly on the table as he stared at the pale man in amazement.

Ran's back was ramrod straight, and the tension in his body gave the appearance that he would fall over and shatter should Yohji happen to push him with as much as a finger. The blond's eyes flickered around the room, idly wondering where the gunman forcing Fujimiya to apologise was located. "I was out of order this morning and I am very sorry, Kudoh-san. Of course I am delighted you are regaining your memories and recovering from your ordeal. Please forgive my rudeness."

Yohji gave the man a long appraising stare before shrugging. He wasn't one to bear grudges – at least he didn't think he was. "Fine. Apology accepted. And it's Yohji. Leave all that Kudoh-san crap to the doctors, yeah?"

Ran nodded stiffly before turning and walking over to the till where a crowd of young girls was beginning to gather. He glared at schoolgirls, the uncertain attitude of moments ago abruptly replaced by the more normal glacial aloofness. "If you're not going to buy anything, get out."

Yohji caught Ken's eyes from across the room and the pair exchanged helpless shrugs. It seemed that Fujimiya was going to remain an enigma for the near future.

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Yohji entered the living room to blink in surprise at the piles of CDs that were scattered around the room. "Omi, what are you up to? Fujimiya's going to have a hissy fit when he sees this mess."

The teenage blond looked up from his seated position in the midst of all the chaos and grinned at the other man. "It's ok, I already told him about this and he said it was ok!"

The taller blond ran a hand through his honey-coloured hair and sank down onto the couch. "And just what exactly is 'this' anyway?"

Omi grinned again and began to rummage through the piles of discs, pulling out a random selection and placing them into the stereo. "Well, you can't remember anything about yourself, can you? Like what you like and don't like. It must be really frustrating so I figured maybe if we played you lots of different types of music, you could work out what bands you used to listen to and then, maybe, you wouldn't feel so bad about not knowing anything else as you'd at least know what kind of music you liked. And then we could try the same with food, and films …"

Yohji laughed at the youth's enthusiasm. "Well, it'd be a start, I guess. What if I had really bad taste in music though, and just never admitted it? I could be ruining my image here."

Omi pulled a face. "Oh please, as far as we're concerned you have no image to maintain. And if a band's really awful, then I promise to warn you before I play the music so you'll know to look like you hate it." Omi regarded Yohji with blue eyes that gleamed in amusement. "But seeing as that's all the stuff Ken likes, at least you wouldn't be alone in having really bad taste."

Yohji leaned back against the sofa and adjusted the cushions so that they rested underneath his head. "Sounds like a plan. Play away."

It was fairly quickly realised that whoever Yohji was, he was someone that appreciated a strong beat to his music and preferably guitars as well. Yohji was vastly relieved by this discovery, having been unable to shake the fear that he was a J-Pop or American boy band fan on the quiet. He turned to wink at Omi, who was still playing random snippets of songs. "You know, when I first woke up, I thought I might have been a guitar player. I have these grooves on my fingers that look like they could have come from playing one of those. I guess if that was true, then I would like that kind of music."

Omi nodded thoughtfully, tapping an empty CD case on his chin. "It definitely seems a possibility. Do you think you played in a band?"

Yohji frowned and searched the blankness. "No idea. I like the idea of being in a group, but that doesn't mean I was." He let out a wry laugh. "You know, you could put a guitar in front of me and I doubt I'd even know how to play a chord."

Omi frowned. "I wouldn't be so sure. Some things are instinctual. You do them so often they become automatic gestures, like force of habit. Your body would remember even if your mind didn't."

"Like flinging your alarm clock at the wall every morning?"

The young blond laughed. "I think so."

Yohji smiled back at Omi, but felt his features freeze as Ran entered the room. Omi glanced over at the redhead and hurriedly began to place the loose CDs back into their cases. "I was just about to tidy this up, Ran. Honest."

To Yohji's surprise, the redhead didn't seem to mind, but simply sat down in one of the empty chairs with a simple, "Hn." Ran looked over at Yohji, an inscrutable expression in his eyes, "Have you come to any conclusions?"

Yohji blinked at the question, surprised at the apparent attempt at civility. "Rock music good, pop music bad. Haven't been able to narrow it down to any bands yet." Yohji looked over at the pale man and noted there was definitely a wariness in his expression that he was desperately trying to hide. The reason behind this seeming uneasiness of the older blond baffled Yohji, but he decided to not to question it. He already knew enough about the man to realise that questioning him on his behaviour would only trigger an even bigger argument than the outburst this morning.

Ran shifted under Yohji's apprising gaze and turned his attention to Omi. "I have to go out tonight. Manx wants to see me at the hospital, so I could be back late."

Omi nodded. "If you run into problems, leave a note under my door and I'll cover your morning shift in the Koneko. You'll have to work the afternoon with Yohji."

"Aa," Ran rose to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Yohji watched him leave then glanced over at Omi. "That Manx sure is a slave driver. What could she want to see him about at this time of night?"

Omi busied himself with the CDs. "It is a hospital, Yohji. Patients don't just exist between 9 and 5. Perhaps an interesting case has come up that Manx-san thinks would be a useful learning experience for Ran."

Yohji nodded. "Yeah, you got a point." He leaned back against the cushions, only to jerk upright as a new song began to play. "Shit! I know that! And I mean, like, really know it!"

Omi hurried over to the stereo to work out which CD was responsible for the slow pulsing beat that filled the room. "Um, it could be Portishead, I guess." A moment later he was shaking his head as a low, rasping and undeniably male voice began to snarl lyrics. "Scratch that, they have a female singer. I think it's off one of the compilations I grabbed from Ran's collection."

As the young blond continued to mutter and rummage through CD cases, Yohji relaxed back against the couch, singing along to the words.

"I'm so haunted, tormented and torn

By this vast void of memories

Touch my heart you can feel the stone

You can scratch it but it will not bleed"

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The loud bass beat caused the glass of water that sat next to the glowing computer monitor to steadily jerk its way across the desk. It teetered on the edge for a moment or two before tipping over at the exact instant its owner noticed it. "Shit!"

The glass hung in the air, the water suspended by an invisible force until it was manoeuvred into the waiting hand. A large pair of blue eyes gazed at it for a moment, before marching out of the room. "Schuldig!" The loud music emanated from behind a locked door that burst open as the young brunette approached it. "Turn it down!"

The long-haired redhead glanced up from his sprawled position on the bed. "Show some respect for your elders, kid." To emphasise his lack of concern over the boy's anger, the man glanced at him from green-eyes that were narrowed in amusement. "Anyway, it's about time you were introduced to something other than that genki shit you keep listening to." The eyes closed again and the elder of the pair began to sing along. "You can scratch it but it will not bleed.

I will not bleed

This phantom love, this phantom love

I will not bleed."

The sound suddenly cut out as the stereo flicked off. "You're so full of shit. You never played this Marilyn Manson crap that loud when Void was around."

Schuldig glared at the kid. "It's Soundisciples, chibi. They're not even American. And anyway, Void never used to bitch in the little girl way that you do."

"He didn't have to. You were scared shitless of him."

The German snorted. "He was an even bigger psycho than you and Farfie put together. You should have heard some of the stories that went 'round Rosenkreuz about him." There was a moment of quiet as Mastermind scratched his head before yawning. "Any way, he's dead now so what does it matter? Piss off, Nagi, and download porn or something."

Nagi glared at him, but stormed out of the room. Schuldig smirked and reached out to switch the music back on again.

"Mastermind. I need to see you in my office now."

The redhead rolled his eyes dramatically as he rose to his feet. "What now Bradley?" He looked over to the doorway, where the American leader of Schwarz stood. "And this had better be good."

Crawford turned away without answering, triggering a muttered stream of abuse from the German as Schuldig followed him into the office. Lacking the ability to see the future himself, he had no way of predicting the fist that swung straight at his face the minute the door was closed. Schuldig ducked, causing it to graze alongside his cheek instead of knocking him to the floor. "Shit! What was that for?"

"You told me Void was dead. You told me you searched for his mental thought patterns and couldn't find any matches. I do not appreciate being lied to."

Stunned Schuldig gaped up at Crawford's unyielding expression. "What? That was the truth! There was no trace of the guy."

"So perhaps you would then care to tell me exactly how a dead man is going to shoot you in a few months time?"

The German gaped. "Eh?"

"I just had a vision. The exact timeframe remains unclear, but the details were sufficient. Void was with that angry young redhead we fought close to a year ago, along with two others who I did not recognise. They were fighting against us and they were not losing miserably. In fact, after Void shot you, they appeared to gain the upper hand." The Oracle glared at Schuldig. "This is not acceptable."

Schuldig rubbed a hand over his cheek, deep in thought. "So we find Void and bring him back before the vision happens. And the best way to do that would be to find that redhead." A cocky smile spread over his face. "Don't worry, I'll find him."

The American drew back slightly. "See that you do, I will not tolerate failure."

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Yohji blinked awake, glancing around the darkness of his room and wondering just what had woken him. His eyes strayed over to the red glowing alarm beside the bed. 4:15. He rubbed a hand through honey coloured hair and groaned quietly. He'd never get back to sleep now, but it was still probably worth a shot. Yohji rolled over and closed his eyes when he heard a sound from below. A thump followed by a low groan of pain.

Fully alert now, Yohji climbed out of bed as quietly as he could and opened the door to the corridor. A faint light from the kitchen provided the blond with sufficient means to make his way down to the kitchen and peer around.

He'd half been expecting burglars or something, so it came as a bit of a shock to see a toned pale back topped by a blazing head of crimson hair. Ran was sat on the kitchen table, facing away from him with his shirt nowhere in sight. Yohji felt a smirk cross his face at some evidence that the cold, standoffish man had a social life, when the missing garment was dropped onto the table at the redhead's side. Despite the shadows cast against the shirt by Ran's body, Yohji noted a dark mark covering most of it. It looked like red wine. The blond bit back a snort of laughter. Obviously Ran's secret date hadn't appreciated his attitude and the boy had ended up getting a drink slung over him. Served him right. Yohji stepped back, ready to head up to his room and the warm and inviting bed, when the redhead shifted his weight with a stifled gasp, causing the kitchen light to fully hit the shirt. In the sudden light that had fallen across the heap of material, it was obvious that the mark was the wrong colour for wine, the only thing it could be was blood.

Yohji felt his breath hitch in alarm as too late he noticed the open first aid kit sat on Ran's other side. Luckily for him, the redhead was completely focused on his chest, and as the younger man turned so he could examine his chest better in the light offered by the hanging lamp, Yohji saw that the redhead was trying to stitch up a narrow gash that ran along his side and seemed to have been caused by a knife of some kind. Blood was oozing from the cut and causing Ran's taut skin to slide between his fingers, making it difficult for him to push the needle through the surface of the skin. From his vantage point, Yohji couldn't help but notice the thick scar that was located a couple of inches further up his chest next to a more circular shaped scar. The blond frowned. What had the redhead been doing to have knife wounds, and what looked like a bullet wound marking that pale expanse of chest? And why the hell wasn't he getting his injuries seen to at the hospital where he worked?

Ran worked silently, hissing his breath in every time the needle was dragged through the ragged ends of flesh, but clearly unwilling to alert the rest of the household to his injured state. The healed scars flexed and winked in the light, pure white marks against already pale skin. When he had tied off the last stitch, the redhead began to wind strips of bandage around his ribs, wincing slightly as his raised arm caused the wound to stretch painfully. Yohji wondered just how the man intended to work a shift in the Koneko tomorrow, shifting heavy pots and the like when it was clear that he was in severe discomfort. Puzzled by this latest revelation about the already enigmatic man, Yohji silently made his way back to his room. Far better to leave now, while the other man was unaware of his presence than to let the redhead catch sight of him when Ran was so obviously desperate to keep his wounds secret. But just what was a medical student and florist doing with that many scars, never mind the current knife wound? Maybe he had simply pissed off some gang members on his way back from the hospital with that attitude of his, Yohji reasoned as he opened the door to his room and closed it behind him as silently as he could, and didn't want to have to admit it to a nurse or doctor that he had to work with on a daily basis. Or maybe the gang members were carrying a grudge and tried to beat him up on a regular basis. The blond sat down on the bed, his forehead creased as he fell deep into thought. Much as the idea of a simple mugging or attack seemed reasonable, Yohji couldn't help but wonder why if that had been the case, Ran would be so anxious not to involve the police. From what he had learned of the man, Ran seemed exactly the sort to demand to see anyone who so much as raised their voice to him behind bars, so the idea that Ran was keeping quiet out of fear was ridiculous. There was something else going on, Yohji decided. And he was determined to find out what.

TBC