Darkness hides the evil that haunts you
Born of blood
Shed
By enemies
Shed
By friends
Shed
By you
But Darkness also hides a protective Angel.

~*~*~

Ran put down the book he was reading and rubbed weary violet eyes. A glance over at the clock told him that he'd been reading far too long. He had to be up to open the book shop in about four hours. Aya-chan was going to kill him if he overslept again.

The Fujimiya's owned a small bookshop in a town not too far from Tokyo. Ran had been reluctant to be so close to so many memories- mostly bad, but Aya had been insistent that they remain within easy driving distance of the city. The redhead would be the first to admit that he was usually a pushover when it came to his sister. He'd never been able to deny her anything before the hit and run that had left her coma-bound, never mind after she'd woken up.

That was why he found himself co-owner of a new and used bookshop.

That morning, seven years before, Manx had shown up at the flower shop, not with a mission, but with Aya-chan and four small non-descript envelopes that had contained their new lives.

The new boss of Kritiker had retired them and passed on quite a tidy little sum of 'hush money', as their liaison had called it. All their debts had been taken care of and the vigilante assassins formerly known as Weiss had been free to move on with new lives.

His sister had been completely oblivious to the fact that he was no longer the smiling aniki she'd left behind. They were all the family they had left, she'd insisted.

Luck or fate had sent them a newspaper with an add about an old man selling his bookshop.

There was a school nearby where Aya-chan had taken up where she left off and graduated. She'd decided against college despite the fact that there was still plenty of money left over for it. She wanted to spend time with her aniki. She wanted to help him find himself again.

And she had, to some extent.

He'd never be as carefree as he'd been before Raiji Takatori had destroyed a good portion of his life, his hands were far too stained for that (and as Aya-chan had laughingly reminded him, he'd always been on the serious side). But he'd lost a lot of the antagonism and anger.

Sometimes he could go weeks, even months without those dark years even crossing his mind. He ignored the flash of bright blue eyes and the small voice that reminded him that it hadn't been all bad.

Instead, he got up and went to his window. Their shared apartment was above the bookshop. Often, it reminded him of the flower shop he'd once used as a cover.

Aya-chan had gone to bed ages ago, but he'd been restless and unable to sleep.

All day long he'd had the eeriest feeling that someone had been watching him.

Instincts that had been dying a slow death, sprung suddenly back to life, screaming red alerts in his head. Someone was hunting him. He'd had the feeling a few times in the past few years, but it always disappeared in a day or so and he'd never seen any evidence of his elusive stalker. The day before though, he'd spotted a suspicious looking man following him. He'd ducked into a shop to try and lose his shadow. When he'd gone back out, the man had disappeared as if he'd never been.

Ran would have thought he was imagining things, but he knew that if he was paranoid, the feeling would never go away.

The thought had barely crossed his mind before the hunted feeling faded once more. Whatever danger there had been, it was gone.

His gaze was drawn to the tree that stood in front of the shop. A shadow disengaged from a tree limb and flowed gracefully to the ground. It stood there, silent, staring, before vanishing completely.

Eyes widening, he rushed down the stares and out the front door. He searched the darkness, but could not catch sight of anything out of the ordinary. Still, Ran was sure of what he'd seen in those few seconds when the shadow had stood still.

One word escaped his lips as he wrapped his arms around his waist, unsure if it was the night air that made him so suddenly cold or if it was something else. One word.. One name...

A name he'd never thought he'd say again.

"Omi."