Disclaimer and all other legal junk can be found in the first chapter.
Author's Notes:
*sighs* All right. I've learned my lesson. I'm never going to set publish dates because I end up missing them by about a month. I'm very sorry. My only defense is this: EE major. ~_~;;
On a more positive note, I finished writing this chapter thanks to the side-splitting, insanity-laden, artificially-induced sugar high that was TeniMyu. GO WATCH IT! Thanks to the PoT musical, although "You Got Game" was never one of my favorite songs, it now holds a soft spot in my heart--right next to Kimeru. ^_^
Reviewers:
Aeris - Please either leave your e-mail on your next review (that is, if you review again) or e-mail me directly. I try to reply to all reviewers, but I'd like to personally congratulate you. ^_^
Everyone – Thank you very much for your consistently intelligent feedback. You continue to amaze me with your thoughtful and supportive responses. I can never say this enough, but thank you once again!
And now... Chapter 5!
Enjoy!
~ Dark Rune
-= Level Five: Alarms =-
It started with the phone ringing.
"Moshi moshi?"
Followed by low, taunting words.
"Fuji! How wonderful to hear your voice once more."
Suspicion.
"Who is this?"
And it ended with a condescending challenge.
"A friendly neighbor. I just wanted to let you know that two men in black are sitting in a car across your street, watching your house. Yuuta-kun's bodyguards were easy prey for them, so it wouldn't surprise me if Yuuta-kun himself were to have an unfortunate accident..."
A burst of fury.
"You bastard! If you try to hurt Yuuta, I swear--"
A chuckle.
"Two minutes."
The dial tone, then silence.
In his mind's eye, he could picture himself concealing his weapon, walking out into the street, then glaring at Kirika for standing in his way. He remembered the explosion, and he distinctly remembered how the explosion had triggered an instinctive urge to protect Kirika. The thought sickened him.
Fuji Syusuke gritted his teeth as he lay on the street, but when he tried to prop himself up on his elbows, he found that he couldn't. Upon opening his eyes, he saw Kirika kneeling next to him, worriedly scanning him for injuries, one hand on his chest holding him down and the other clutching her gun. The fiery skeleton of the car crackled a short distance behind her, while columns of smoke and sharp fumes tainted the once peaceful neighborhood now littered with metallic debris.
"Don't move so much," Kirika said softly, the car in flames a starkly appropriate background for her disheveled form. "You might be hurt."
"It doesn't matter," he muttered, shoving her hand away irritably as he sat up. "Was I unconscious for long?"
She shook her head, standing when he rose to his feet, and replied, "No. You were out for less than a minute."
"Then we can still find the one who did this. I won't let the bastard get away with terrorizing my family," he glowered, automatically reaching for the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants, only to discover that it was no longer there. He scowled further. "Kirika, give me back my gun."
"No," she said, and to his amazement, she actually smirked. He didn't know if he wanted to slap her or be awed that she could find humor in the situation. "In your state, you're more liable to hit an innocent bystander than Soldats."
"And how do you expect me to protect myself without a weapon?"
"If you're rash enough to walk out into the open and make yourself a target, you're obviously not ready to defend anything," she answered. With that, she firmly grasped his arm and marched him back towards his house.
"Kirika, what are you--?"
"Stay inside. You'll be safer there," she insisted, and before he could resist, she had jabbed her gun into his arm. "Please don't make me shoot you, Syusuke-kun. This is for your own good."
He smiled menacingly at her even as she directed him through the front door. "You'll pay for this, Kirika-chan."
"I don't care," she sighed, and for the first time, he noticed the almost defeated weariness in her gaze. "You need to clean yourself up, stay with Yuuta, and feign ignorance about the explosion when he wakes up. I'll scout around, but I won't go very far. For Yuuta's sake and yours, please don't make yourself a target again."
She shut the door and disappeared before he could even blink. With a growl of frustration, Syusuke smashed his fist into the nearest wall, outraged, disgusted, indignant--and furiously ashamed of his uselessness.
She didn't tell Syusuke that she had spotted the man responsible for the explosion standing calmly on a neighboring rooftop, because she knew that Syusuke would have started shooting like a maniac with no prior training. She, on the other hand, had more sense than to go charging after the suspect, especially when they currently needed information more than revenge. Would Soldats really blow up its own men just to get to Syusuke? What exactly did they expect to accomplish with such a daring act?
Before she left, Yumiko had told Kirika that she and Syusuke were supposed to distract Soldats by visiting suspicious places and meeting with suspicious people. Kirika had planned to have them visit all of the Fuji family's old Soldats connections, but they couldn't do that if Soldats was intent on just carelessly finishing Syusuke--or her, Kirika realized belatedly--off. In any case, they needed to find out what was going on before they could move forward with their mission.
Ignoring the pain in her leg, Kirika climbed up the wall surrounding the mansion, trying to remain as stealthy as possible, but to her surprise, the man didn't try to run away even when he saw her. Instead, he turned to her, unhurried by the blaring sirens in the distance or the curious neighbors emerging from their quiet houses. The man's arms remained folded casually across his chest, and a lazy smile played on his lips. He appeared to be in his early twenties, maybe even younger, and he was strikingly tall, with a lean, athletic build underneath his slightly rumpled blue suit. He tilted his head as he looked at her with intensely maniacal, glinting eyes, his wild platinum hair sticking out in all directions. Kirika knew instantly that this man was not just another Soldats killer, and the spark in his eyes convinced her that he might actually enjoy killing for sport. She recognized his frenzied hunger, the raw energy waiting to tear through the surface of his calm exterior, and a surge of pity and disgust overcame Kirika when she realized that this man was worse than even Syusuke in his darkest moments.
"What are you doing here, little girl?" he leered.
"Who are you?" she demanded, ignoring the feeling of *wrongness* emanating strongly from him.
He stared at her with narrowed eyes for a few seconds before finally flashing her a fanged grin. "You're the infamous bodyguard? I almost didn't recognize you," he sneered. "You're so small I could probably snap you in half."
"You're welcome to try."
He stared at her for another moment, as if trying to gauge how serious her challenge was. Then, in spite of the police sirens growing continuously louder in the background, he grinned. "Maybe later... I like the idea of crushing your spirit, but I'm not supposed to do anything to you just yet."
"I'll only ask you nicely one more time before I start shooting," she said coolly. "Who are you?"
"Ask your Fuji," he smirked. "Right now, I'm here to deliver a message, from my employer to yours."
Kirika frowned. The sirens were so close now that she almost didn't hear his next words.
"Tell Fuji to watch his back, especially since we don't actually give a damn what Soldats thinks," he said, his attitude still lazy, yet harboring a dangerous undercurrent of alertness.
Kirika raised an eyebrow. "You're not working for Soldats?"
The man snorted derisively. "That's not important. What's important is this: you try to protect your boss--if you can," he smiled, the challenge clear in his eyes. "Anyway, as you can see, those incompetent cops are here. I'm sure they'll dismiss this as an accident, but they *will* interrogate your family. You might want to go home, fast."
He moved to leave, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of turning his back on her. Kirika drew her gun on him, but as she did, he instantly trained his own gun at her, bringing them to an instant, deadly standstill. "Don't go yet," she said quietly, her stance firm. "I still have questions."
"You're in no position to give me orders," he snarled through his predatory smile, his grip on his weapon tight. "You should drop your gun, unless you want the police to catch us shooting at each other on the roof. I have other men in the area, and they will pick off your beloved Fuji if you shoot me. Since I really don't give a shit about my orders, I promise you that Fuji *will* get hurt once you're out of the way."
Kirika hesitated, her arm faltering.
The man's smile widened tremendously. "Struck a nerve?"
Confident that she wouldn't dare fire, he stuffed his gun back into his shoulder holster and waved at Kirika. "Next time, we'll have a real battle. No long-range weapons. Just hand to hand combat. I've been bored lately, and I heard you're talented at all forms of killing. I've been itching to try you."
Kirika lowered her gun arm. "You won't last very long," she promised coldly.
"Actually, I *will* get the satisfaction of seeing how far your body bends," he chuckled, and Kirika couldn't help but feel the revulsion shooting down her spine. "Until then, *Yuumura-chan*."
Bizarre smoothness graced his strange, almost animalistic movements as he leapt away, and Kirika shuddered at the sight.
She was glad to find that Yuuta had slept right through the explosion; news of her engagement to Syusuke was apparently more potent for Yuuta than the most powerful anesthetic known to modern medicine. When Yuuta regained consciousness late that afternoon, fire fighters had put out the flames, and the police's official explanation of the explosion involved some ridiculous story about a drunk driver and loose power lines. The police had interrogated the entire neighborhood, including her and Syusuke, but everyone pleaded ignorance, so, thanks to the good Soldats puppets within the police department, the authorities had downplayed the incident to avoid major media coverage.
Now while Kirika generally liked Yuuta, by the time they had finished eating dinner, she wanted to tie the young man up, duct tape his mouth, and toss him into a dark broom closet. She had a horrible feeling that Syusuke was probably thinking along those same lines, but really, who could blame them? Yuuta absolutely *refused* to shut up about the explosion, and his incessant chatter was grating on both their nerves. Granted, the explosion was probably the most interesting thing that had ever happened anywhere near him, so his naive excitement was only natural. Ironically, if he had known that he was directly linked to that "accident," he probably would have panicked and started blaming Syusuke.
All afternoon and throughout dinner (which Yuuta eagerly volunteered to help make with Kirika), he constantly tailed Kirika and hovered over her shoulder, especially whenever Syusuke was in the same room. Kirika knew Yuuta hated the idea of her and Syusuke together, so it wasn't surprising that he would try to keep them apart for as long as he could stand. Unfortunately, Yuuta's ubiquitous presence prevented Kirika from discussing what she had discovered, as the police interrogations had taken up the better part of the afternoon before Yuuta woke up. From the look on Syusuke's face, Kirika could tell he was getting impatient just waiting to find out what she had to share. By sunset, Syusuke, even through his smile, was visibly tempted to either throw Yuuta out of the house or render him unconscious, whichever was easier, but it wasn't until the three of them were standing around the kitchen counter after dinner that Syusuke first put his plan in motion.
"Kirika-chan, Yuuta, since we're all here, why don't we have a celebration?" Syusuke said, smiling cheerfully.
"What do you mean, a celebration?" Yuuta shot him a suspicious glare.
"Let's go out for karaoke tonight," Syusuke suggested. "But before that, we need to have a toast for having you both home. Kirika-chan, will you get the drinks? I'll get the glasses."
He caught her eye, and Kirika, understanding his intentions immediately, stifled the conspiratorial smirk that threatened to spill across her face when she set the glasses on the counter.
"Iced tea, Yuuta?" Syusuke grinned and poured the drink into Yuuta's glass without waiting for Yuuta's consent.
Yuuta reddened. "Hey, wait a second! I hate--"
"It's Kirika-chan's favorite brand," Syusuke smiled as he filled her glass, and Yuuta promptly shut up. "I, however, will have Kirika-chan's home-made vegetable juice. No one makes it quite like you, Kirika-chan, so thank you for mixing this *especially* for me."
"You're very welcome," Kirika said, playing along and watching the predictable range of emotions flicker across Yuuta's face. With that, Syusuke reached into the refrigerator, pulled out a tall jug of juice, and poured its contents slowly into his mug, as if savoring the goopy sound of the thick liquid. By the time he finished pouring, he had Yuuta's complete attention--and he knew it.
"What's wrong, Yuuta?" Syusuke asked, as he lifted his glass to his nose and sniffed appreciatively.
"Nothing," the younger brother huffed, trying to disguise the fact that he was eyeing Syusuke's glass like a starved, sensitive puppy salivating pitifully at a steak. Kirika smiled wryly. Now that she thought of it, the puppy analogy was actually quite an apt description of Yuuta's whole life.
Syusuke observed the direction of Yuuta's gaze with interest. "Jealous that your future 'Nee-san made me a special drink?"
Yuuta scowled even more. "I'm NOT jealous of you," he defended, too quickly to be convincing, and moved away from Syusuke. "I was just... curious. That's all."
Syusuke's smile turned evil, but poor Yuuta didn't even notice the shift in his older brother's demeanor. Syusuke probably would have drawn out Yuuta's suffering if Kirika hadn't decided to hurry things along. "Yuuta, don't you like your iced tea?"
"Of course he does, Kirika-chan," Syusuke smiled, clapping his brother on the back. "I just think he's jealous that you made me a drink from scratch while he only got something store-bought. Isn't that right, Yuuta?"
"I said I'm NOT jealous," Yuuta protested, violently shrugging Syusuke's hand away, though his own fingers seemed to be itching to make a grab for Syusuke's drink.
"Do you want your Kirika-nee to fix you a glass, too?" Syusuke went on patronizing his brother with a smile. "This juice is simply marvelous..."
"SHUT UP, *Aniki*. Stop talking to me like I'm a two-year-old!" Yuuta snapped. "If I want to try something Yuumura-san made, I'll ask her myself. And if it's anything Yuumura-san made, OF COURSE it's gonna be fantastic!"
"Fantastic?" Syusuke actually smiled with his teeth showing. "Indeed."
"I said shut up!" Yuuta shot back at last, then he turned to Kirika with pitifully blind affection. "May I please have a glass of whatever he's having, Yuumura-san?"
Though she *was* helping Syusuke, it still pained Kirika to watch Yuuta walk so easily into Syusuke's traps. Yuuta was just so young, so adorably naive. She sighed. "Of course, Yuuta-kun. But I should warn you that it takes an iron constitution to drink this..."
Yuuta grinned broadly. "Don't worry! I'm man enough to drink it!"
Syusuke responded with something that was a cross between a snort and a chuckle, the significance of which was lost on Yuuta.
Kirika shrugged helplessly.
Two minutes later...
"OH MY FREAKIN'--!"
There was a pause as a purple-faced Yuuta wilted pathetically earthward, his limbs twitching spasmodically, his eyeballs rolling, his dignity as a human being decaying--
"Gnnghhh..." he said, rather eloquently for someone afflicted with Inui's Grand Super-Deluxe Whirlwind Mach 5 Fire Remix, and collapsed to the floor. Neither Kirika nor Syusuke spoke for a moment as Syusuke carefully prodded his brother's shoulder with his foot.
"I think he'll be out for a few hours," Syusuke concluded at last, a satisfied smirk on his face. "I was thinking we could remove his clothes, leave him on the kitchen floor, and hire a stripper to come wake him later tonight. I'd love to see his reaction caught on film, wouldn't you?"
Kirika flushed. "Well actually... I think that might be a bit too cruel."
Syusuke only smiled some more. "If you think so, then I'll save that prank for another day."
"You're unnaturally *mean* to him, Syusuke-kun," she observed, as Syusuke knelt next to his brother to check his pulse.
"Yuuta doesn't visit often," Syusuke explained, his attention focused on his brother, "so I have to get a full month's worth of entertainment now. Besides, he wouldn't shut up about the explosion and refused to leave us alone. Serves him right."
"Don't you at least feel sorry for him?"
"Sometimes, maybe," Syusuke shrugged, his expression softening. "But this is my way of showing him how much I care."
She stared at him, confused. "How does this show how much you care?"
Syusuke rose to his full height and met her gaze unflinchingly. "If I didn't care about him, I would ignore him. If I hated him, I would make him suffer a slow, painful death."
His tone gave her the distinct impression that he was talking about her, and she found herself unconsciously stepping back. While there were times when Syusuke treated her almost like a normal person, for the most part, he was either distant or subtly disdainful. She always felt guilty around him, but what really hurt her the most was the way he could make her feel insignificant, as if her opinions, her feelings, and her whole *life* didn't matter--the way he was making her feel now. Kirika turned away, shaken and unable to face the intensity in Syusuke's eyes. Until Mireille, Kirika had never been the recipient of anyone's affection, and until Syusuke, she had never been the object of someone's personal hatred. In that moment, she missed Mireille more than she thought was humanly possible.
"Now, Kirika-chan," Syusuke continued calmly, as if he had just been discussing the weather, "after we move Yuuta to his bedroom, you are going to tell me everything you know."
"Of course, Syusuke-kun," she said, hiding a sudden onslaught of nervousness behind a small smile. Considering what she was about to do to him, she would be very lucky if Syusuke didn't kill her. "Of course."
It was Kirika's idea to discuss everything in the basement.
Of course, the Fuji mansion's basement was unique in that it was, first of all, a secret known only to the Fuji family (Yuuta excluded), a select handful of the family's most trusted Soldats associates (secret evidence-keeper included), and Kirika. Either Syusuke's or Kirika's handprints, combined with a security code that Yumiko had given to Kirika, were required to unlock consecutive metal doors hidden behind a bookshelf in the library, and beyond those doors were stairs leading down to the Fuji family underworld.
Everything they had needed as a prominent crime family was in that underground base: private offices, meeting areas, locker rooms, an impressively stocked weapons vault, a target practice section, a gym for close combat training, the affectionately titled War Room for assassination planning, and the infamous Gauntlet, the Fuji family obstacle course. Out of all these, the obstacle course had been the pride of Fuji's father, as he had designed it with the flexibility to simulate nearly every environment imaginable. It had served the family well, since they could practice missions before carrying them out, and Syusuke remembered a time when he loved going through the obstacle course just for the sheer fun of playing "assassin." It had made him feel important.
Now, knowing how much bloodshed the obstacle course represented, Syusuke loathed it. Going through that course always ended in another kill and another unsuspecting family torn apart, and Syusuke had sworn years ago that he wouldn't be a part of that ever again. The Underground, as the Fuji family had named it, had supposedly been sealed after his parents' death, its technology dismantled, and all of its exits blocked, but upon learning about his sister's plan, Syusuke realized that Yumiko must have maintained the facility after all. He wasn't pleased that his sister and brother-in-law had been practicing killing techniques under his nose (literally and figuratively) for the past five years, but he was reluctantly grateful that they had since it meant that Yumiko had kept the Underground's technology updated, the training equipment in order, and the vault stocked.
As he followed Kirika through the main hallway, Syusuke wasn't sure if he felt nostalgic, disgusted, or, as much as he loathed to admit it, *excited* about diving back into the criminal underworld. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, either, because he had the sinking suspicion that he would disappoint himself.
"Where are we going?" Syusuke frowned as they passed the War Room, which would have been the ideal setting for a discussion.
"You'll see," Kirika replied. "We're almost there."
Trusting that she knew what she was doing, Syusuke followed her without question. Moments later, she surprised him by stopping in front of a door that led to neither a meeting room nor an office.
"The locker rooms?" Syusuke blinked incredulously. "We're training *now*?"
"Your locker contains new sets of clothes. 'Nee-san had them made for you before she left. Please change into something comfortable and meet me in the training gym," Kirika said quietly.
She moved to open the door into the women's locker room, but he swiftly grabbed her upper arm, unwilling to let her escape without an explanation. "Kirika-chan, I *know* you found something. If you hide it from me, I swear--"
"I *will* tell you everything," she promised, looking slightly pained, "as soon as you practice unarmed fighting."
His eyes narrowed. "Who do you think you are to order me around?"
"I'm your bodyguard, and I believe this is for your own good," she whispered. Then, with seemingly no effort, she twisted free of his grasp, and before he could figure out exactly what she had done to escape, she was already safe behind the locked door of the women's locker room. Frustrated once more with his increasingly apparent ineptitude, Syusuke released a deep, calming breath and complied with Kirika's wishes.
Maybe this *was* for his own good.
Kirika hadn't been exaggerating when she said 'Nee-san had new clothes made for him. Yumiko had ordered an entirely new wardrobe, and he almost couldn't believe the lengths Yumiko had gone through to make sure he was well-equipped. In his locker, which now resembled a closet, Syusuke found sleeveless shirts for light practice, thick, weighted shirts for heavy training, black, padded turtlenecks for night missions, Kevlar-lined, tailored suits for undercover meetings, and, to his ever-growing surprise, Seigaku tennis uniforms, undoubtedly redesigned to protect him in outrageous ways. The mind-boggling selection of pants was no less extensive or impressive, and Yumiko had even added shoes, headgear, and *underwear* to the massive collection.
"Does she expect me to wage war on Soldats?" Syusuke muttered disbelievingly, gaping at one of the labels he found on his clothing. "With fireproof *underwear*?"
He shook his head, perplexed, and changed into a loose, sleeveless black shirt and black sweatpants. As strange as the situation was, however, Syusuke *did* appreciate Yumiko-nee's thoroughness, and maybe someday in the future, he might actually find a use for fireproof boxer shorts. Syusuke smirked at the thought. After putting away his clothes, he closed his locker and, out of habit, glanced briefly at the one next to his, which had belonged to his father. Syusuke froze. He blinked, looked away, then looked back at his father's old locker again to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
The label once bearing his father's name had been removed, and the top of the adjacent locker was now marked with a name that Syusuke never wished to associate with Soldats: Yuuta.
His amusement disappeared.
He was disturbed that Yumiko had accounted for Yuuta because he didn't want his brother involved in this unholy mess, but Syusuke had to concede that including equipment for Yuuta was a necessary precaution. If Yumiko were killed, all deals with Soldats would be off, and Yuuta, whether Syusuke liked it or not, would almost certainly be dragged into the ensuing war. It wasn't a pretty thought; Yuuta was trained in martial arts, like the rest of the family, but he didn't know the first thing about fighting professional killers.
Shaken by that possibility, Syusuke left the locker room and strode briskly to the gym. He hoped it would never come down to Yuuta discovering the family secrets, but if the worst happened to Yumiko, Syusuke vowed to protect his brother at all costs. Yuuta wouldn't be able to handle the shock and the pressure if he ever found out about the family's involvement with Soldats.
Syusuke opened the door to the gym and was comforted to find that everything was exactly as he remembered. The high ceiling, bright lights, soft blue mats covering the floor, mirrors lining the walls, and even the equipment storage room brought back memories of the endless hours he had spent training here. To his growing dismay, a part of him actually *missed* those days, and as much as he tried to shove the nostalgic feelings aside, Syusuke couldn't help it. Soldats had taken so much of his childhood that he had little else to remember.
As he stepped into the gym, however, the sight of Kirika reminded him that Soldats had been depriving children of normalcy for centuries. It wasn't anything personal. In truth, Kirika probably had a worse time than he had because her family had no power in Soldats; she had simply been taken as an infant, given a new name, and forced into a criminal life. Unlike Syusuke, who had been pampered like royalty, Kirika had been tossed around like garbage, her existence dictated by a foolish prophecy that would ultimately never be fulfilled. Syusuke smiled grimly, feeling an unexpected surge of pity for Kirika and quickly suppressing it. Now was not the time to start feeling sorry for her.
Kirika was sitting in the middle of the gym floor, her legs folded beneath her, her eyes closed in concentration. She had changed into a white tank top and white shorts, revealing the bandage wrapped around the injury on her thigh, and she was barefoot. Out of respect for tradition and cleanliness, Syusuke also removed his socks and shoes before approaching her on the mats.
"Kirika, why don't you start this practice session by telling me what you found out?" he asked, feeling unusually compassionate towards her.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Actually, we're having a match, first."
Her bluntness surprised him. "What?"
"It's really very simple: if you can completely immobilize me, using any of the fighting techniques you still know, I'll tell you everything," she said, rising to her feet. Though she had a slender build and he topped her by several centimeters, Syusuke knew better than to underestimate her strength, even in her injured state.
"My patience is wearing thin, Kirika-chan," he said, not wanting to fight her for the information. "I'm ordering you to report everything you found out."
"If you really want to know, you'll fight," she replied, calmly dismissing his demands. "So fight."
As tempted as he was to vent his frustrations on her, he was not in the mood to play her ridiculous game. "We don't have time for this, Kirika-chan. Just tell me what's going on. We need a plan for tomorrow."
She didn't even bat an eyelash. "Once again, because this knowledge is so critical, and time is obviously of the essence, I recommend that you win against me before Yuuta wakes up."
"Damn it, Kirika! This is NOT a game. Why are you doing this?" he snapped, his hands now clenched into fists. If there was anything Syusuke hated, it was being manipulated, and Kirika was doing exactly that.
NO ONE did that to him and got away with it.
"I'm trying to prove a point," she said stoically. "And you're right. This isn't a game, so what are you waiting for?"
He let his breath out in a hiss. "Kirika-chan, don't tempt me."
"I already set the conditions--"
"You have no RIGHT to set conditions--"
"--and you're not mature enough to decide anything."
His smile turned feral. She actually had the gall to insult him and challenge him when *her* life was in his hands? Perhaps she was suicidal. "I warned you that you would pay for your actions this afternoon. I'll give you one last chance to tell me everything without a fight, because you *know* this isn't going to be just a practice fight."
"Of course," she replied, looking squarely into his eyes.
"You'll regret it when you have to go to school with makeup on, Kirika-chan," he warned, dropping into a fighting stance.
She only smiled serenely, following his lead and moving into a more defensive position. "Actually, I think *you* will."
That did it.
Syusuke lunged at her with a wild, lightning-fast punch, but she smoothly sidestepped his attack, grabbing his wrist as he passed, and deftly flipped him to the floor. Surprised by her speed, his thoughts a jumbled mess of tennis moves and half-remembered fighting techniques, Syusuke crashed to the floor. He only realized he had been lying on his back too long when, in the next moment, Kirika was on the floor as well, capturing his outstretched right arm with her legs in a basic arm bar designed to break his elbow. Knowing that he couldn't escape, Kirika slowly applied pressure to his arm until he couldn't stand it. He gave in, tapping her leg in a universal sign of surrender, and she instantly released him.
"I win that round. Care to try again?" she asked quietly, standing. "And please don't insult your true capabilities with such amateur attacks."
He stood as well, rubbing his right arm and trying not to show his irritation. Of course she was right; that direct punch had been horribly naive of him. "Fine. I'll attack seriously this time."
He moved back into his fighting stance, as she stepped into hers, and before she could say anything, he unleashed a furious combination of punches and kicks, executing every devastating move he could remember in a continuous string, no holds barred. The experience was surreal, giving him freedom he hadn't felt in five years, and he *liked* it. He felt like a whirlwind, a powerful, unstoppable force, advancing on Kirika with every strike and forcing her backwards with every movement. Somehow, in this one-sided barrage of attacks, Syusuke found himself having *fun*, and he almost smiled... until he realized that something was very wrong.
Kirika was smiling. As she ducked and dodged and blocked and parried every blow he sent her way, she was smiling, and it took him a few seconds to see why. No matter how technically perfect and skillful his moves were, *not one of them* was connecting. Kirika was gracefully deflecting or evading his every move, as if this was some kind of a mindless ballet, and, to make the situation even worse for him, she had yet to counterattack. He was pushing her back with everything he had, but she wasn't even trying to retaliate.
In short, she was *playing* with him.
He stopped, thoroughly annoyed and breathing heavily from all the exertion. To his chagrin, while he was already covered in sweat, Kirika appeared about as fresh as when he first attacked--definitely a bad sign. Did she improve that much over the years, or was he really just that bad now? Syusuke grimaced inwardly. Since it was probably a combination of both factors, he needed a new strategy. If standing fighting wasn't working, then maybe ground fighting would. As far as he could remember, he had always been the better grappler of the two of them, so all he needed to do now was to force her to the ground.
"Is that all you have?" she grinned, her body poised in her deceptively relaxed fighting stance.
He returned her smile, then charged forward again. He faked a left jab and quickly segued his movements into a spinning back kick. That should have caught Kirika in the temple, but without missing a beat, Kirika caught his leg mid-kick, spun it aside in the direction of his momentum, and rammed her foot into the bend of his right knee, automatically forcing him to falter to the ground. Unwilling to concede, Syusuke swept his left leg around as he fell, successfully tripping her, but his victorious smirk vanished when Kirika easily commando rolled to a kneeling position.
Then, before he could blink, she launched herself forward, straight at him.
That was the first time Kirika had initiated an attack, and the change in her aggressiveness shocked him. She slammed into him with her right forearm digging into his throat, and as he landed solidly on his back, he could only be thankful that Kirika had purposefully refrained from smashing her elbow into his forehead. Syusuke coughed violently as Kirika sat on his stomach, her legs on either side of his torso, her forearm still jammed under his chin. She watched idly as he coughed even more beneath her.
"*This* is the point I'm trying to make."
"What point? That it hurts when you cut off people's breathing?" he coughed, and she eased her arm slightly off his throat to let him breathe.
"No," she sighed. "The lesson is simple. You wanted to know what I found out this afternoon, but the only way you could know is by defeating me. Obviously, you can't defeat me because you're not at that level yet," she told him gravely. "The point is, regardless of how badly you want something, if you're not prepared, then it doesn't matter how hard you fight or how much that something means to you. You *will* lose."
"I already know that," he retorted, his breath still coming in pained gasps.
"You certainly don't act as if you do," she countered. "This afternoon, Syusuke-kun. Going out into the open when enemies were present was one of the most reckless things you've ever done. Do you have ANY idea how much it frightened me to see you standing there, *completely* vulnerable? The Syusuke I knew years ago would have had enough sense NOT to--"
"They threatened Yuuta."
For a moment, Kirika couldn't speak, and her eyes widened. "What?"
"When you left, someone called and told me about the men in the car. Apparently, they killed Yuuta's bodyguards. Then the caller threatened Yuuta, and I snapped," Syusuke sighed, resting his head on the floor. "I know it's no excuse, but... 'Nee-san and I already lost so much because of Soldats. We're willing to let all those things go, but Yuuta is where we both draw the line."
His confession had the right effect on Kirika. When she spoke, he could hear the sympathy in her voice. "Then for Yuuta's sake, don't be suicidal, Syusuke-kun. You're nowhere near the level you once were, and you can't afford to--"
He didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence. A split-second was all he took to grip her right arm with his hand and pull her further down, while his left arm snaked around her neck to keep her head securely against his chest. Twisting his body and pushing up and sideways with his hips, Syusuke quickly flipped both of them over. Kirika landed with her back on the mats, utterly surprised, and he knelt between her legs, already moving in position to trap her.
Unfortunately, victory for Syusuke was short-lived. Wincing, Kirika lifted her injured leg up and braced her shin against his stomach, then grasped his right arm and pulled him to her. He lost his balance and reached out with his free arm to keep from falling, but she grabbed him around his neck, scissored her legs, and deftly flipped them over on the mats again, bringing them right back where they started--Syusuke on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and Kirika sitting on his stomach, smiling smugly down at him as she pressed her arm into his throat.
For a minute, neither of them spoke, content to just let their heart rates slow back down to normal. Syusuke spoke first.
"Well... *that* was an exercise in futility," he groaned, as she settled her weight on his stomach more fully. At least he had the satisfaction of getting her out of breath. A few minutes ago, she didn't even look as if she was trying, and that had hurt Syusuke's ego more than he cared to admit.
"*That* was a nasty trick," she said reprimandingly. "You attacked while I was speaking."
"You never said we couldn't play dirty," he replied, gazing up at her. "Even so, I couldn't surprise you for longer than a second."
"Gomen, Syusuke-kun," she smirked, her voice low, "but as you can see, I like to stay on top."
And that was the moment everything changed.
Something about the intimacy of her voice, the unintentional innuendo in her words, the warmth of her body...
Through the growing haze in his mind, Syusuke suddenly saw Kirika in a completely different, entirely flattering light, and he felt something akin to dread when he finally noticed the direction his thoughts were taking.
Kirika seemed to realize what she had said, and she blushed, modestly looking away. She was such a strange paradox of innocence and guilt, of light and darkness... a kindred spirit. In a lot of ways, Kirika was just like Syusuke.
Familiar heat flared inside him, and like wildfire, it spread throughout his body. As she shifted uncomfortably on his stomach, panic signals started going off in his brain, very belatedly telling him that, yes, there was indeed a woman on top of him, and that yes, this woman on top of him was triggering a very large hormonal imbalance, so would he PLEASE, for the love of sanity, do SOMETHING about her? And even though his brain knew he was supposed to loathe this particular woman on top of him, his body didn't give a damn thankyouverymuch because his stupid brain had never indulged his body in situations like this one before.
The internal conflict made Syusuke want to scream and vomit at the same time. He had never been so acutely aware of any woman, especially one that he didn't like, until this very moment, and suddenly the fight leading up to this point seemed jarringly inappropriate. Now he was aware of absolutely *everything* about Kirika--the searing heat from her body, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the redness of her flushed cheeks, the way her chest heaved up and down as she breathed, the fullness of her lips, the *memory* of how those lips had felt against his, and the fact that this would be considered--to borrow one of Kikumaru's creative terms--a Hopelessly Compromising Position.
He had been so obsessed with his grudge against her that he had forgotten how to be a human being around her, and now that he *was* reacting the way a full-blooded male would, Syusuke was at a loss. He had never been in such a situation, and nothing had ever embarrassed him before. As a skilled manipulator, he could tease people about risque matters, but he had never experienced anything remotely close to it firsthand.
This wasn't for the female population's lack of trying, either; he'd been asked out routinely by countless girls, many of them doting members of his unofficial fanclub. Even a few guys had mustered enough courage to ask him out, but Syusuke had never felt any attraction towards *anyone*. No one knew who he really was, and he could tell, just by the naive adoration in their eyes, that none of them would understand the truth.
Kirika, on the other hand... Kirika had lived in the same hell as he had and suffered just as much, if not more. She already knew what he had been through, and she understood his need to keep his real life separate from this hell. Was that why he felt something for her? Syusuke groaned inwardly--he was more messed up than he thought if he was physically attracted to his parents' murderer.
"Syusuke-kun?" Kirika whispered his name softly, the concern evident in her gaze. "Are you all right?"
She shifted against him again, and he bit his lip viciously, his face burning, trying to keep from shouting at Kirika to just STOP MOVING.
But there was no denying it. He really *was* screwed up beyond belief. He'd been wrestling with this deadly woman for the past five minutes, and the adrenaline rush from their fighting had rendered him blissfully unaware of her until now. Yes, he'd kissed Kirika before, but that was purely meant to rile both her and Yuuta. For the most part, it had worked splendidly, and it really wasn't his fault that he'd begun to enjoy that moment too.
"Do you surrender?" she asked at last, leaning forward to press her forearm even more against his throat. He instinctively clutched her arm to prevent her from damaging his wind pipe, but that forced him to look up and notice how distractingly close her face was to his. If he just tilted his head up...
*STOP IT!* he berated himself before his thoughts strayed too far. He was furious with himself, furious with his hormones, and he seriously *had* to get out of this predicament. He needed to get the hell out of it *now*, before he drove himself mad.
Forget pride.
"Yes, I surrender," he said, his usual smile plastered on. Acting under pressure was difficult. "Yes, I understand the point of this exercise. Yes, from now on, I will not react rashly to random threats. Now do you mind getting off me?"
She looked down at him, surprised by his sudden acquiescence, and he could feel her doubt. "I promise this isn't a trick to catch you off guard," he added reassuringly. "Now please. Get off me."
Convinced, she nodded and stood up. He breathed out deeply, still spread-eagled on the floor, hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt. When she offered her hand to help him up, he stared at it for a few moments, trying to decide whether he should accept it or pull her down to reclaim all the dignity he had just lost. In the end, he remained true to his word; there was no sense in fighting a losing battle. He didn't miss the spark of happiness that flashed in her eyes when he accepted her help, and he wondered how he was supposed to feel about her now.
He practically *owned* her, and he knew he was supposed to hate her. He wanted desperately to get it over with and just strangle her, but at the same time, he owed her his life.
His family's future was still in her hands.
He felt sorry for her.
He was attracted to her.
He couldn't completely forgive her, yet he completely understood her.
Syusuke sighed. If anything was clear, it was that he couldn't make up his mind. She was driving him crazy, tearing him in opposite directions, and he didn't like where this strange relationship was heading.
"Do you want to keep practicing?," Kirika asked, startling him out of his thoughts.
"I've had enough," Syusuke answered quickly, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know I acted irrationally this afternoon, and I know you're right to want me to train with you, but I can't concentrate. I can't win this game, and you *know* I can't win, so just tell me what you know. Please. I would really appreciate it."
She stared at him with an expression that revealed no emotions, and he was almost afraid that she had not heard a single word of his plea, or that she was trying to decide how much information to keep for blackmail. Finally, to his great surprise, her face broke into the widest smile he had ever seen.
"Thank you," she said, her eyes shining with so much gratitude that Syusuke almost didn't believe her. "You have no idea how your honesty means to me."
He wasn't sure what he had done to suddenly gain her trust and her gratitude, but as unusual as it was, the thought appealed to him. In spite of her many flaws, maybe Kirika wasn't that bad of a person after all.
"You're welcome," he smiled, genuinely this time.
And so she told him.
She told him *everything*.
In the world of tennis, potential greats came and went with the seasons, but no one shook the sport quite like eighteen-year-old Tezuka Kunimitsu, the most talented professional Japanese player since Echizen Nanjiroh's short, but glorious, career. Though he was both young and unranked, Tezuka was already poised to win the rest of the year's tournaments, both major and minor, especially after his spectacular, completely unexpected triumph over the number one seed in the French Open. The media labeled the young, attractively marketable youth as the hottest rising star in sports, and hundreds of pictures of Tezuka (all of them unsmiling and candid, of course) blew his popularity beyond epic proportions. Tezuka, however, was a decent young man, and certainly not one who craved the spotlight, so he preferred to keep to himself even as he balanced his studies in New York University (International Relations/Math) with his tennis fame.
Fame refused to let him go without a fight, unfortunately. Everywhere he went, hordes of women (and quite a number of men) stalked him. Modeling companies (who insisted that he had already mastered the model strut) tried to recruit him. He received countless flattering and not-so-flattering phone calls and e-mails and catcalls and marriage proposals as the tennis season grew more heated, yet he remained perpetually unruffled, as was his custom. His stoic glares were enough to freeze rampaging fans in their tracks, and he could delete correspondence en masse without flinching.
Tezuka had always managed to keep his life in control in spite of his fame, so he was irritated when he awoke to the unexpected sound of his cell phone ringing at five o'clock in the morning on a Monday. Trying to keep the irritation out of his facial features (the ringing had interrupted a pleasant dream involving Tezuka and a curvaceous blonde in a--what did Kikumaru call it?--Hopelessly Compromising Position), Tezuka reached for his phone sitting on the bedside drawer, blinked at the caller's name flashing on the screen, and grudgingly answered the call.
"Good morning, Tezuka," Inui's soothing murmur instantly assaulted his ears, "We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life--"
With a disgruntled sigh, Tezuka hung up and rolled back into bed, dismissing Inui's untimely disturbance. Sadly, he should have realized that one phone call wouldn't be the end; his phone rang again exactly five minutes later, just before he would have fallen asleep, as if the caller knew *exactly* when to annoy him. Now irritated, but still able to keep his heart rate steady, Tezuka grabbed the cell phone, stoically glared at the flashing name, and proceeded to turn the offending device off. With that, he buried his head under the pillow and tried to get some more sleep--he really needed to finish that dream.
Alas, sleep was not to be.
This time, the apartment phone rang on Tezuka's bedside table after another precisely calculated five-minute interval, and Tezuka scowled, even with his eyes closed. He knew the caller was almost definitely Inui, but as tempted as he was to just ignore the ringing, he had to be absolutely certain that this wasn't some emergency involving a relative or his tennis coach. Gritting his teeth, Tezuka crawled halfway off his bed, grabbed the receiver, put it next to his ear, heard Inui's "Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life," and promptly hung up again. Just to be safe, Tezuka ripped the phone jack out before settling back into the mattress, now very annoyed.
Sleepiness was to be Tezuka's downfall, for in his semi-conscious state, Tezuka was underestimating Inui, who had mastered the uncanny ability to become as annoying as the Radioactive Cockroach Who Refused to Die, regardless of how many times it was fed pesticide or smashed with a hammer. Exactly five minutes passed again before the phone in Tezuka's apartment living room rang, jolting Tezuka out of his half-slumber. Resisting the urge to utter several choice four-letter words in English, Tezuka finally decided to leave the call for the answering machine. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard the machine's familiar beep and his message playing, but his smile abruptly vanished when the caller didn't turn out to be Inui after all.
"Kunimitsu?"
His mother's voice was all it took to get Tezuka stumbling blearily out of bed and bolting out of his room, and before he was even aware of his surroundings, he was already lunging towards the phone. He heard from his mother so rarely that every conversation he'd had with her was necessarily urgent. "I know it's early in the morning," she was saying, as Tezuka sprinted across the living room, "but I need to discuss something very important with you."
Diving across the couch, he seized the phone and blurted, "Mother?"
He heard a suspicious click, and to his amazement and horror, the voice that replied *wasn't* his mother's. "Good morning, Tezuka," Inui greeted once more. "We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."
Tezuka stared at the phone in shock. That couldn't be right. What was going on?
He would have been doomed to eternal confusion if he hadn't heard another suspicious click, and then Inui's voice speaking again.
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."
Tezuka's eyes widened in realization.
A *recording*.
It was a *recording*.
Click.
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."
That explained why Inui's words and intonations were all exactly the same, and that explained how Tezuka's *mother* had been on the line when she knew that time in Tokyo would translate into an ungodly hour in New York. Inui had programmed those recordings to call Tezuka at these specified intervals, and Tezuka had fallen completely for Inui's trap. Tezuka sighed; was he really that predictable?
Click.
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some—"
Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Tezuka slammed the receiver back into its cradle and sat down in his living room couch, his arms folded across his chest. He glanced at his watch, then stared at his phone in the silence and darkness of his apartment. Precisely five minutes later, his phone rang again, and after a few rings, the answering machine beeped again.
His mother's voice spoke clearly once again. "Kunimitsu? I know it's early in the morning, but I need to discuss something very important with you."
A few beats.
A click.
Then, "Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."
With a grimly satisfied huff, Tezuka calmly, collectedly unplugged his phone...
...and flung it against the far wall.
Oishi arrived at Inui's house at seven-thirty in the evening, a half hour earlier than the scheduled conference time. Inui's mother ushered Oishi in and directed him upstairs, to Inui's room, where Oishi found the infamous data tennis player cackling at something on his computer screen.
"What's going on?" Oishi asked nervously, as the maniacal gleam of Inui's glasses usually spelled doom for all.
"My plan's success rate is at 100%!" Inui grinned nefariously, and Oishi could have sworn the man's teeth actually *sparkled*. "In exactly twenty-seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Tezuka will crumble. I won't have to call him. You won't have to call him. Echizen won't have to call him. *Tezuka* will call *us*."
Oishi bravely fought the urge to flee. "What did you do to, er, convince him?"
Inui's glasses glinted ominously some more, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Oishi quickly had second thoughts and held up his hand. "Wait! Don't say it. I don't WANT to know. If you infuriated Tezuka in some way, I want to be completely blameless."
Inui's grin widened. "Aren't you the responsible captain?"
Oishi chuckled weakly. "There's only so much responsibility I'm willing to take."
Tezuka gave up trying to go back to sleep and instead took a shower and changed. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he fixed himself a nice cup of tea and a slice of toast for breakfast. He set his meal to one side of his desk and sat down in front of his laptop, intending to check the day's schedule, when he spotted a curious blinking message at the corner of his screen.
And even though he was the notoriously unflappable Tezuka, when he clicked on the blinking message, a cold feeling shot through his stomach, and he very nearly spewed out his drink.
"You have 498 new messages," the computer chirped happily.
"You have 499 new messages," it said five seconds later.
"You have 500 new messages," it announced after another five seconds. But it didn't stop there.
501.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
502.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
503.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
504.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
505.
"Buy a Spycam for only seven easy payments of $199.99!"
506.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
507.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
508.
"Wil u mary me, Kuni-b8by?"
509.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
510.
"Warning: You have reached your account limit. Messages will be deleted accordingly. Have a nice day!"
Tezuka watched in carefully regulated horror as the new message count climbed stratospherically higher. He tried frantically to block all incoming messages, all to no avail. His access was denied.
But that was the last straw; Inui Sadaharu was a dead man.
-= End Chapter Five =-
Chapter Started: September 3, 2003
Chapter Finished: December 14, 2003 (o_O Egads, that's a long time.)
Tentatively in the Next Chapter:
- Echizen reflects. (Note: I already finished writing this, but I pushed it back a chapter, since there's more than enough information and introspection in this one.)
- Tezuka reacts.
- Mireille resurfaces.
- Syusuke and Kirika "officially" go out.
- Yuuta wonders.
End Notes:
On Tezuka - So I made him suffer. ^_^ I don't think anyone saw that coming.
On Fuji - Words cannot begin to describe how wickedly fun it was having Kirika mop the floor with Fuji during training. Of course, none of this is fair to him because I keep giving him serious disadvantages (i.e. nothing against a sniper rifle; a knife against three guns; a gun against a car bomb; hand-to-hand against KIRIKA, for goodness sakes). I promise I'll make up all these beatings to our beloved leading man later.
Sword-fighting, Higuma-Otoshi-slicing Badass!Fuji, anyone?
Technical Note: Kirika and Fuji used real grappling techniques in their fight. Although those particular moves are very basic, that segment was, hands down, the most unbelievably difficult part to write in this entire story. Ironically, I had been looking forward to writing that sequence since before the first chapter was even published, but I'm not sure I like the way it turned out... -_- Gah.
Still, I hope you got the gist of that scene, which was essentially Syusuke getting his ego shredded and handed back to him on a platter, courtesy of Kirika. ^_^
Final Note: Points to anyone who caught the TeniMyu!Tezuka reference. ^_~ Thanks for reading! And Merry Christmas!
Please review and/or send comments to me at rune_dreaming@yahoo.com! Your feedback is very much appreciated!
Copyright (C) 2003 by Dark Rune. All rights reserved.
Author's Notes:
*sighs* All right. I've learned my lesson. I'm never going to set publish dates because I end up missing them by about a month. I'm very sorry. My only defense is this: EE major. ~_~;;
On a more positive note, I finished writing this chapter thanks to the side-splitting, insanity-laden, artificially-induced sugar high that was TeniMyu. GO WATCH IT! Thanks to the PoT musical, although "You Got Game" was never one of my favorite songs, it now holds a soft spot in my heart--right next to Kimeru. ^_^
Reviewers:
Aeris - Please either leave your e-mail on your next review (that is, if you review again) or e-mail me directly. I try to reply to all reviewers, but I'd like to personally congratulate you. ^_^
Everyone – Thank you very much for your consistently intelligent feedback. You continue to amaze me with your thoughtful and supportive responses. I can never say this enough, but thank you once again!
And now... Chapter 5!
Enjoy!
~ Dark Rune
-= Level Five: Alarms =-
It started with the phone ringing.
"Moshi moshi?"
Followed by low, taunting words.
"Fuji! How wonderful to hear your voice once more."
Suspicion.
"Who is this?"
And it ended with a condescending challenge.
"A friendly neighbor. I just wanted to let you know that two men in black are sitting in a car across your street, watching your house. Yuuta-kun's bodyguards were easy prey for them, so it wouldn't surprise me if Yuuta-kun himself were to have an unfortunate accident..."
A burst of fury.
"You bastard! If you try to hurt Yuuta, I swear--"
A chuckle.
"Two minutes."
The dial tone, then silence.
In his mind's eye, he could picture himself concealing his weapon, walking out into the street, then glaring at Kirika for standing in his way. He remembered the explosion, and he distinctly remembered how the explosion had triggered an instinctive urge to protect Kirika. The thought sickened him.
Fuji Syusuke gritted his teeth as he lay on the street, but when he tried to prop himself up on his elbows, he found that he couldn't. Upon opening his eyes, he saw Kirika kneeling next to him, worriedly scanning him for injuries, one hand on his chest holding him down and the other clutching her gun. The fiery skeleton of the car crackled a short distance behind her, while columns of smoke and sharp fumes tainted the once peaceful neighborhood now littered with metallic debris.
"Don't move so much," Kirika said softly, the car in flames a starkly appropriate background for her disheveled form. "You might be hurt."
"It doesn't matter," he muttered, shoving her hand away irritably as he sat up. "Was I unconscious for long?"
She shook her head, standing when he rose to his feet, and replied, "No. You were out for less than a minute."
"Then we can still find the one who did this. I won't let the bastard get away with terrorizing my family," he glowered, automatically reaching for the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants, only to discover that it was no longer there. He scowled further. "Kirika, give me back my gun."
"No," she said, and to his amazement, she actually smirked. He didn't know if he wanted to slap her or be awed that she could find humor in the situation. "In your state, you're more liable to hit an innocent bystander than Soldats."
"And how do you expect me to protect myself without a weapon?"
"If you're rash enough to walk out into the open and make yourself a target, you're obviously not ready to defend anything," she answered. With that, she firmly grasped his arm and marched him back towards his house.
"Kirika, what are you--?"
"Stay inside. You'll be safer there," she insisted, and before he could resist, she had jabbed her gun into his arm. "Please don't make me shoot you, Syusuke-kun. This is for your own good."
He smiled menacingly at her even as she directed him through the front door. "You'll pay for this, Kirika-chan."
"I don't care," she sighed, and for the first time, he noticed the almost defeated weariness in her gaze. "You need to clean yourself up, stay with Yuuta, and feign ignorance about the explosion when he wakes up. I'll scout around, but I won't go very far. For Yuuta's sake and yours, please don't make yourself a target again."
She shut the door and disappeared before he could even blink. With a growl of frustration, Syusuke smashed his fist into the nearest wall, outraged, disgusted, indignant--and furiously ashamed of his uselessness.
She didn't tell Syusuke that she had spotted the man responsible for the explosion standing calmly on a neighboring rooftop, because she knew that Syusuke would have started shooting like a maniac with no prior training. She, on the other hand, had more sense than to go charging after the suspect, especially when they currently needed information more than revenge. Would Soldats really blow up its own men just to get to Syusuke? What exactly did they expect to accomplish with such a daring act?
Before she left, Yumiko had told Kirika that she and Syusuke were supposed to distract Soldats by visiting suspicious places and meeting with suspicious people. Kirika had planned to have them visit all of the Fuji family's old Soldats connections, but they couldn't do that if Soldats was intent on just carelessly finishing Syusuke--or her, Kirika realized belatedly--off. In any case, they needed to find out what was going on before they could move forward with their mission.
Ignoring the pain in her leg, Kirika climbed up the wall surrounding the mansion, trying to remain as stealthy as possible, but to her surprise, the man didn't try to run away even when he saw her. Instead, he turned to her, unhurried by the blaring sirens in the distance or the curious neighbors emerging from their quiet houses. The man's arms remained folded casually across his chest, and a lazy smile played on his lips. He appeared to be in his early twenties, maybe even younger, and he was strikingly tall, with a lean, athletic build underneath his slightly rumpled blue suit. He tilted his head as he looked at her with intensely maniacal, glinting eyes, his wild platinum hair sticking out in all directions. Kirika knew instantly that this man was not just another Soldats killer, and the spark in his eyes convinced her that he might actually enjoy killing for sport. She recognized his frenzied hunger, the raw energy waiting to tear through the surface of his calm exterior, and a surge of pity and disgust overcame Kirika when she realized that this man was worse than even Syusuke in his darkest moments.
"What are you doing here, little girl?" he leered.
"Who are you?" she demanded, ignoring the feeling of *wrongness* emanating strongly from him.
He stared at her with narrowed eyes for a few seconds before finally flashing her a fanged grin. "You're the infamous bodyguard? I almost didn't recognize you," he sneered. "You're so small I could probably snap you in half."
"You're welcome to try."
He stared at her for another moment, as if trying to gauge how serious her challenge was. Then, in spite of the police sirens growing continuously louder in the background, he grinned. "Maybe later... I like the idea of crushing your spirit, but I'm not supposed to do anything to you just yet."
"I'll only ask you nicely one more time before I start shooting," she said coolly. "Who are you?"
"Ask your Fuji," he smirked. "Right now, I'm here to deliver a message, from my employer to yours."
Kirika frowned. The sirens were so close now that she almost didn't hear his next words.
"Tell Fuji to watch his back, especially since we don't actually give a damn what Soldats thinks," he said, his attitude still lazy, yet harboring a dangerous undercurrent of alertness.
Kirika raised an eyebrow. "You're not working for Soldats?"
The man snorted derisively. "That's not important. What's important is this: you try to protect your boss--if you can," he smiled, the challenge clear in his eyes. "Anyway, as you can see, those incompetent cops are here. I'm sure they'll dismiss this as an accident, but they *will* interrogate your family. You might want to go home, fast."
He moved to leave, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of turning his back on her. Kirika drew her gun on him, but as she did, he instantly trained his own gun at her, bringing them to an instant, deadly standstill. "Don't go yet," she said quietly, her stance firm. "I still have questions."
"You're in no position to give me orders," he snarled through his predatory smile, his grip on his weapon tight. "You should drop your gun, unless you want the police to catch us shooting at each other on the roof. I have other men in the area, and they will pick off your beloved Fuji if you shoot me. Since I really don't give a shit about my orders, I promise you that Fuji *will* get hurt once you're out of the way."
Kirika hesitated, her arm faltering.
The man's smile widened tremendously. "Struck a nerve?"
Confident that she wouldn't dare fire, he stuffed his gun back into his shoulder holster and waved at Kirika. "Next time, we'll have a real battle. No long-range weapons. Just hand to hand combat. I've been bored lately, and I heard you're talented at all forms of killing. I've been itching to try you."
Kirika lowered her gun arm. "You won't last very long," she promised coldly.
"Actually, I *will* get the satisfaction of seeing how far your body bends," he chuckled, and Kirika couldn't help but feel the revulsion shooting down her spine. "Until then, *Yuumura-chan*."
Bizarre smoothness graced his strange, almost animalistic movements as he leapt away, and Kirika shuddered at the sight.
She was glad to find that Yuuta had slept right through the explosion; news of her engagement to Syusuke was apparently more potent for Yuuta than the most powerful anesthetic known to modern medicine. When Yuuta regained consciousness late that afternoon, fire fighters had put out the flames, and the police's official explanation of the explosion involved some ridiculous story about a drunk driver and loose power lines. The police had interrogated the entire neighborhood, including her and Syusuke, but everyone pleaded ignorance, so, thanks to the good Soldats puppets within the police department, the authorities had downplayed the incident to avoid major media coverage.
Now while Kirika generally liked Yuuta, by the time they had finished eating dinner, she wanted to tie the young man up, duct tape his mouth, and toss him into a dark broom closet. She had a horrible feeling that Syusuke was probably thinking along those same lines, but really, who could blame them? Yuuta absolutely *refused* to shut up about the explosion, and his incessant chatter was grating on both their nerves. Granted, the explosion was probably the most interesting thing that had ever happened anywhere near him, so his naive excitement was only natural. Ironically, if he had known that he was directly linked to that "accident," he probably would have panicked and started blaming Syusuke.
All afternoon and throughout dinner (which Yuuta eagerly volunteered to help make with Kirika), he constantly tailed Kirika and hovered over her shoulder, especially whenever Syusuke was in the same room. Kirika knew Yuuta hated the idea of her and Syusuke together, so it wasn't surprising that he would try to keep them apart for as long as he could stand. Unfortunately, Yuuta's ubiquitous presence prevented Kirika from discussing what she had discovered, as the police interrogations had taken up the better part of the afternoon before Yuuta woke up. From the look on Syusuke's face, Kirika could tell he was getting impatient just waiting to find out what she had to share. By sunset, Syusuke, even through his smile, was visibly tempted to either throw Yuuta out of the house or render him unconscious, whichever was easier, but it wasn't until the three of them were standing around the kitchen counter after dinner that Syusuke first put his plan in motion.
"Kirika-chan, Yuuta, since we're all here, why don't we have a celebration?" Syusuke said, smiling cheerfully.
"What do you mean, a celebration?" Yuuta shot him a suspicious glare.
"Let's go out for karaoke tonight," Syusuke suggested. "But before that, we need to have a toast for having you both home. Kirika-chan, will you get the drinks? I'll get the glasses."
He caught her eye, and Kirika, understanding his intentions immediately, stifled the conspiratorial smirk that threatened to spill across her face when she set the glasses on the counter.
"Iced tea, Yuuta?" Syusuke grinned and poured the drink into Yuuta's glass without waiting for Yuuta's consent.
Yuuta reddened. "Hey, wait a second! I hate--"
"It's Kirika-chan's favorite brand," Syusuke smiled as he filled her glass, and Yuuta promptly shut up. "I, however, will have Kirika-chan's home-made vegetable juice. No one makes it quite like you, Kirika-chan, so thank you for mixing this *especially* for me."
"You're very welcome," Kirika said, playing along and watching the predictable range of emotions flicker across Yuuta's face. With that, Syusuke reached into the refrigerator, pulled out a tall jug of juice, and poured its contents slowly into his mug, as if savoring the goopy sound of the thick liquid. By the time he finished pouring, he had Yuuta's complete attention--and he knew it.
"What's wrong, Yuuta?" Syusuke asked, as he lifted his glass to his nose and sniffed appreciatively.
"Nothing," the younger brother huffed, trying to disguise the fact that he was eyeing Syusuke's glass like a starved, sensitive puppy salivating pitifully at a steak. Kirika smiled wryly. Now that she thought of it, the puppy analogy was actually quite an apt description of Yuuta's whole life.
Syusuke observed the direction of Yuuta's gaze with interest. "Jealous that your future 'Nee-san made me a special drink?"
Yuuta scowled even more. "I'm NOT jealous of you," he defended, too quickly to be convincing, and moved away from Syusuke. "I was just... curious. That's all."
Syusuke's smile turned evil, but poor Yuuta didn't even notice the shift in his older brother's demeanor. Syusuke probably would have drawn out Yuuta's suffering if Kirika hadn't decided to hurry things along. "Yuuta, don't you like your iced tea?"
"Of course he does, Kirika-chan," Syusuke smiled, clapping his brother on the back. "I just think he's jealous that you made me a drink from scratch while he only got something store-bought. Isn't that right, Yuuta?"
"I said I'm NOT jealous," Yuuta protested, violently shrugging Syusuke's hand away, though his own fingers seemed to be itching to make a grab for Syusuke's drink.
"Do you want your Kirika-nee to fix you a glass, too?" Syusuke went on patronizing his brother with a smile. "This juice is simply marvelous..."
"SHUT UP, *Aniki*. Stop talking to me like I'm a two-year-old!" Yuuta snapped. "If I want to try something Yuumura-san made, I'll ask her myself. And if it's anything Yuumura-san made, OF COURSE it's gonna be fantastic!"
"Fantastic?" Syusuke actually smiled with his teeth showing. "Indeed."
"I said shut up!" Yuuta shot back at last, then he turned to Kirika with pitifully blind affection. "May I please have a glass of whatever he's having, Yuumura-san?"
Though she *was* helping Syusuke, it still pained Kirika to watch Yuuta walk so easily into Syusuke's traps. Yuuta was just so young, so adorably naive. She sighed. "Of course, Yuuta-kun. But I should warn you that it takes an iron constitution to drink this..."
Yuuta grinned broadly. "Don't worry! I'm man enough to drink it!"
Syusuke responded with something that was a cross between a snort and a chuckle, the significance of which was lost on Yuuta.
Kirika shrugged helplessly.
Two minutes later...
"OH MY FREAKIN'--!"
There was a pause as a purple-faced Yuuta wilted pathetically earthward, his limbs twitching spasmodically, his eyeballs rolling, his dignity as a human being decaying--
"Gnnghhh..." he said, rather eloquently for someone afflicted with Inui's Grand Super-Deluxe Whirlwind Mach 5 Fire Remix, and collapsed to the floor. Neither Kirika nor Syusuke spoke for a moment as Syusuke carefully prodded his brother's shoulder with his foot.
"I think he'll be out for a few hours," Syusuke concluded at last, a satisfied smirk on his face. "I was thinking we could remove his clothes, leave him on the kitchen floor, and hire a stripper to come wake him later tonight. I'd love to see his reaction caught on film, wouldn't you?"
Kirika flushed. "Well actually... I think that might be a bit too cruel."
Syusuke only smiled some more. "If you think so, then I'll save that prank for another day."
"You're unnaturally *mean* to him, Syusuke-kun," she observed, as Syusuke knelt next to his brother to check his pulse.
"Yuuta doesn't visit often," Syusuke explained, his attention focused on his brother, "so I have to get a full month's worth of entertainment now. Besides, he wouldn't shut up about the explosion and refused to leave us alone. Serves him right."
"Don't you at least feel sorry for him?"
"Sometimes, maybe," Syusuke shrugged, his expression softening. "But this is my way of showing him how much I care."
She stared at him, confused. "How does this show how much you care?"
Syusuke rose to his full height and met her gaze unflinchingly. "If I didn't care about him, I would ignore him. If I hated him, I would make him suffer a slow, painful death."
His tone gave her the distinct impression that he was talking about her, and she found herself unconsciously stepping back. While there were times when Syusuke treated her almost like a normal person, for the most part, he was either distant or subtly disdainful. She always felt guilty around him, but what really hurt her the most was the way he could make her feel insignificant, as if her opinions, her feelings, and her whole *life* didn't matter--the way he was making her feel now. Kirika turned away, shaken and unable to face the intensity in Syusuke's eyes. Until Mireille, Kirika had never been the recipient of anyone's affection, and until Syusuke, she had never been the object of someone's personal hatred. In that moment, she missed Mireille more than she thought was humanly possible.
"Now, Kirika-chan," Syusuke continued calmly, as if he had just been discussing the weather, "after we move Yuuta to his bedroom, you are going to tell me everything you know."
"Of course, Syusuke-kun," she said, hiding a sudden onslaught of nervousness behind a small smile. Considering what she was about to do to him, she would be very lucky if Syusuke didn't kill her. "Of course."
It was Kirika's idea to discuss everything in the basement.
Of course, the Fuji mansion's basement was unique in that it was, first of all, a secret known only to the Fuji family (Yuuta excluded), a select handful of the family's most trusted Soldats associates (secret evidence-keeper included), and Kirika. Either Syusuke's or Kirika's handprints, combined with a security code that Yumiko had given to Kirika, were required to unlock consecutive metal doors hidden behind a bookshelf in the library, and beyond those doors were stairs leading down to the Fuji family underworld.
Everything they had needed as a prominent crime family was in that underground base: private offices, meeting areas, locker rooms, an impressively stocked weapons vault, a target practice section, a gym for close combat training, the affectionately titled War Room for assassination planning, and the infamous Gauntlet, the Fuji family obstacle course. Out of all these, the obstacle course had been the pride of Fuji's father, as he had designed it with the flexibility to simulate nearly every environment imaginable. It had served the family well, since they could practice missions before carrying them out, and Syusuke remembered a time when he loved going through the obstacle course just for the sheer fun of playing "assassin." It had made him feel important.
Now, knowing how much bloodshed the obstacle course represented, Syusuke loathed it. Going through that course always ended in another kill and another unsuspecting family torn apart, and Syusuke had sworn years ago that he wouldn't be a part of that ever again. The Underground, as the Fuji family had named it, had supposedly been sealed after his parents' death, its technology dismantled, and all of its exits blocked, but upon learning about his sister's plan, Syusuke realized that Yumiko must have maintained the facility after all. He wasn't pleased that his sister and brother-in-law had been practicing killing techniques under his nose (literally and figuratively) for the past five years, but he was reluctantly grateful that they had since it meant that Yumiko had kept the Underground's technology updated, the training equipment in order, and the vault stocked.
As he followed Kirika through the main hallway, Syusuke wasn't sure if he felt nostalgic, disgusted, or, as much as he loathed to admit it, *excited* about diving back into the criminal underworld. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, either, because he had the sinking suspicion that he would disappoint himself.
"Where are we going?" Syusuke frowned as they passed the War Room, which would have been the ideal setting for a discussion.
"You'll see," Kirika replied. "We're almost there."
Trusting that she knew what she was doing, Syusuke followed her without question. Moments later, she surprised him by stopping in front of a door that led to neither a meeting room nor an office.
"The locker rooms?" Syusuke blinked incredulously. "We're training *now*?"
"Your locker contains new sets of clothes. 'Nee-san had them made for you before she left. Please change into something comfortable and meet me in the training gym," Kirika said quietly.
She moved to open the door into the women's locker room, but he swiftly grabbed her upper arm, unwilling to let her escape without an explanation. "Kirika-chan, I *know* you found something. If you hide it from me, I swear--"
"I *will* tell you everything," she promised, looking slightly pained, "as soon as you practice unarmed fighting."
His eyes narrowed. "Who do you think you are to order me around?"
"I'm your bodyguard, and I believe this is for your own good," she whispered. Then, with seemingly no effort, she twisted free of his grasp, and before he could figure out exactly what she had done to escape, she was already safe behind the locked door of the women's locker room. Frustrated once more with his increasingly apparent ineptitude, Syusuke released a deep, calming breath and complied with Kirika's wishes.
Maybe this *was* for his own good.
Kirika hadn't been exaggerating when she said 'Nee-san had new clothes made for him. Yumiko had ordered an entirely new wardrobe, and he almost couldn't believe the lengths Yumiko had gone through to make sure he was well-equipped. In his locker, which now resembled a closet, Syusuke found sleeveless shirts for light practice, thick, weighted shirts for heavy training, black, padded turtlenecks for night missions, Kevlar-lined, tailored suits for undercover meetings, and, to his ever-growing surprise, Seigaku tennis uniforms, undoubtedly redesigned to protect him in outrageous ways. The mind-boggling selection of pants was no less extensive or impressive, and Yumiko had even added shoes, headgear, and *underwear* to the massive collection.
"Does she expect me to wage war on Soldats?" Syusuke muttered disbelievingly, gaping at one of the labels he found on his clothing. "With fireproof *underwear*?"
He shook his head, perplexed, and changed into a loose, sleeveless black shirt and black sweatpants. As strange as the situation was, however, Syusuke *did* appreciate Yumiko-nee's thoroughness, and maybe someday in the future, he might actually find a use for fireproof boxer shorts. Syusuke smirked at the thought. After putting away his clothes, he closed his locker and, out of habit, glanced briefly at the one next to his, which had belonged to his father. Syusuke froze. He blinked, looked away, then looked back at his father's old locker again to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
The label once bearing his father's name had been removed, and the top of the adjacent locker was now marked with a name that Syusuke never wished to associate with Soldats: Yuuta.
His amusement disappeared.
He was disturbed that Yumiko had accounted for Yuuta because he didn't want his brother involved in this unholy mess, but Syusuke had to concede that including equipment for Yuuta was a necessary precaution. If Yumiko were killed, all deals with Soldats would be off, and Yuuta, whether Syusuke liked it or not, would almost certainly be dragged into the ensuing war. It wasn't a pretty thought; Yuuta was trained in martial arts, like the rest of the family, but he didn't know the first thing about fighting professional killers.
Shaken by that possibility, Syusuke left the locker room and strode briskly to the gym. He hoped it would never come down to Yuuta discovering the family secrets, but if the worst happened to Yumiko, Syusuke vowed to protect his brother at all costs. Yuuta wouldn't be able to handle the shock and the pressure if he ever found out about the family's involvement with Soldats.
Syusuke opened the door to the gym and was comforted to find that everything was exactly as he remembered. The high ceiling, bright lights, soft blue mats covering the floor, mirrors lining the walls, and even the equipment storage room brought back memories of the endless hours he had spent training here. To his growing dismay, a part of him actually *missed* those days, and as much as he tried to shove the nostalgic feelings aside, Syusuke couldn't help it. Soldats had taken so much of his childhood that he had little else to remember.
As he stepped into the gym, however, the sight of Kirika reminded him that Soldats had been depriving children of normalcy for centuries. It wasn't anything personal. In truth, Kirika probably had a worse time than he had because her family had no power in Soldats; she had simply been taken as an infant, given a new name, and forced into a criminal life. Unlike Syusuke, who had been pampered like royalty, Kirika had been tossed around like garbage, her existence dictated by a foolish prophecy that would ultimately never be fulfilled. Syusuke smiled grimly, feeling an unexpected surge of pity for Kirika and quickly suppressing it. Now was not the time to start feeling sorry for her.
Kirika was sitting in the middle of the gym floor, her legs folded beneath her, her eyes closed in concentration. She had changed into a white tank top and white shorts, revealing the bandage wrapped around the injury on her thigh, and she was barefoot. Out of respect for tradition and cleanliness, Syusuke also removed his socks and shoes before approaching her on the mats.
"Kirika, why don't you start this practice session by telling me what you found out?" he asked, feeling unusually compassionate towards her.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Actually, we're having a match, first."
Her bluntness surprised him. "What?"
"It's really very simple: if you can completely immobilize me, using any of the fighting techniques you still know, I'll tell you everything," she said, rising to her feet. Though she had a slender build and he topped her by several centimeters, Syusuke knew better than to underestimate her strength, even in her injured state.
"My patience is wearing thin, Kirika-chan," he said, not wanting to fight her for the information. "I'm ordering you to report everything you found out."
"If you really want to know, you'll fight," she replied, calmly dismissing his demands. "So fight."
As tempted as he was to vent his frustrations on her, he was not in the mood to play her ridiculous game. "We don't have time for this, Kirika-chan. Just tell me what's going on. We need a plan for tomorrow."
She didn't even bat an eyelash. "Once again, because this knowledge is so critical, and time is obviously of the essence, I recommend that you win against me before Yuuta wakes up."
"Damn it, Kirika! This is NOT a game. Why are you doing this?" he snapped, his hands now clenched into fists. If there was anything Syusuke hated, it was being manipulated, and Kirika was doing exactly that.
NO ONE did that to him and got away with it.
"I'm trying to prove a point," she said stoically. "And you're right. This isn't a game, so what are you waiting for?"
He let his breath out in a hiss. "Kirika-chan, don't tempt me."
"I already set the conditions--"
"You have no RIGHT to set conditions--"
"--and you're not mature enough to decide anything."
His smile turned feral. She actually had the gall to insult him and challenge him when *her* life was in his hands? Perhaps she was suicidal. "I warned you that you would pay for your actions this afternoon. I'll give you one last chance to tell me everything without a fight, because you *know* this isn't going to be just a practice fight."
"Of course," she replied, looking squarely into his eyes.
"You'll regret it when you have to go to school with makeup on, Kirika-chan," he warned, dropping into a fighting stance.
She only smiled serenely, following his lead and moving into a more defensive position. "Actually, I think *you* will."
That did it.
Syusuke lunged at her with a wild, lightning-fast punch, but she smoothly sidestepped his attack, grabbing his wrist as he passed, and deftly flipped him to the floor. Surprised by her speed, his thoughts a jumbled mess of tennis moves and half-remembered fighting techniques, Syusuke crashed to the floor. He only realized he had been lying on his back too long when, in the next moment, Kirika was on the floor as well, capturing his outstretched right arm with her legs in a basic arm bar designed to break his elbow. Knowing that he couldn't escape, Kirika slowly applied pressure to his arm until he couldn't stand it. He gave in, tapping her leg in a universal sign of surrender, and she instantly released him.
"I win that round. Care to try again?" she asked quietly, standing. "And please don't insult your true capabilities with such amateur attacks."
He stood as well, rubbing his right arm and trying not to show his irritation. Of course she was right; that direct punch had been horribly naive of him. "Fine. I'll attack seriously this time."
He moved back into his fighting stance, as she stepped into hers, and before she could say anything, he unleashed a furious combination of punches and kicks, executing every devastating move he could remember in a continuous string, no holds barred. The experience was surreal, giving him freedom he hadn't felt in five years, and he *liked* it. He felt like a whirlwind, a powerful, unstoppable force, advancing on Kirika with every strike and forcing her backwards with every movement. Somehow, in this one-sided barrage of attacks, Syusuke found himself having *fun*, and he almost smiled... until he realized that something was very wrong.
Kirika was smiling. As she ducked and dodged and blocked and parried every blow he sent her way, she was smiling, and it took him a few seconds to see why. No matter how technically perfect and skillful his moves were, *not one of them* was connecting. Kirika was gracefully deflecting or evading his every move, as if this was some kind of a mindless ballet, and, to make the situation even worse for him, she had yet to counterattack. He was pushing her back with everything he had, but she wasn't even trying to retaliate.
In short, she was *playing* with him.
He stopped, thoroughly annoyed and breathing heavily from all the exertion. To his chagrin, while he was already covered in sweat, Kirika appeared about as fresh as when he first attacked--definitely a bad sign. Did she improve that much over the years, or was he really just that bad now? Syusuke grimaced inwardly. Since it was probably a combination of both factors, he needed a new strategy. If standing fighting wasn't working, then maybe ground fighting would. As far as he could remember, he had always been the better grappler of the two of them, so all he needed to do now was to force her to the ground.
"Is that all you have?" she grinned, her body poised in her deceptively relaxed fighting stance.
He returned her smile, then charged forward again. He faked a left jab and quickly segued his movements into a spinning back kick. That should have caught Kirika in the temple, but without missing a beat, Kirika caught his leg mid-kick, spun it aside in the direction of his momentum, and rammed her foot into the bend of his right knee, automatically forcing him to falter to the ground. Unwilling to concede, Syusuke swept his left leg around as he fell, successfully tripping her, but his victorious smirk vanished when Kirika easily commando rolled to a kneeling position.
Then, before he could blink, she launched herself forward, straight at him.
That was the first time Kirika had initiated an attack, and the change in her aggressiveness shocked him. She slammed into him with her right forearm digging into his throat, and as he landed solidly on his back, he could only be thankful that Kirika had purposefully refrained from smashing her elbow into his forehead. Syusuke coughed violently as Kirika sat on his stomach, her legs on either side of his torso, her forearm still jammed under his chin. She watched idly as he coughed even more beneath her.
"*This* is the point I'm trying to make."
"What point? That it hurts when you cut off people's breathing?" he coughed, and she eased her arm slightly off his throat to let him breathe.
"No," she sighed. "The lesson is simple. You wanted to know what I found out this afternoon, but the only way you could know is by defeating me. Obviously, you can't defeat me because you're not at that level yet," she told him gravely. "The point is, regardless of how badly you want something, if you're not prepared, then it doesn't matter how hard you fight or how much that something means to you. You *will* lose."
"I already know that," he retorted, his breath still coming in pained gasps.
"You certainly don't act as if you do," she countered. "This afternoon, Syusuke-kun. Going out into the open when enemies were present was one of the most reckless things you've ever done. Do you have ANY idea how much it frightened me to see you standing there, *completely* vulnerable? The Syusuke I knew years ago would have had enough sense NOT to--"
"They threatened Yuuta."
For a moment, Kirika couldn't speak, and her eyes widened. "What?"
"When you left, someone called and told me about the men in the car. Apparently, they killed Yuuta's bodyguards. Then the caller threatened Yuuta, and I snapped," Syusuke sighed, resting his head on the floor. "I know it's no excuse, but... 'Nee-san and I already lost so much because of Soldats. We're willing to let all those things go, but Yuuta is where we both draw the line."
His confession had the right effect on Kirika. When she spoke, he could hear the sympathy in her voice. "Then for Yuuta's sake, don't be suicidal, Syusuke-kun. You're nowhere near the level you once were, and you can't afford to--"
He didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence. A split-second was all he took to grip her right arm with his hand and pull her further down, while his left arm snaked around her neck to keep her head securely against his chest. Twisting his body and pushing up and sideways with his hips, Syusuke quickly flipped both of them over. Kirika landed with her back on the mats, utterly surprised, and he knelt between her legs, already moving in position to trap her.
Unfortunately, victory for Syusuke was short-lived. Wincing, Kirika lifted her injured leg up and braced her shin against his stomach, then grasped his right arm and pulled him to her. He lost his balance and reached out with his free arm to keep from falling, but she grabbed him around his neck, scissored her legs, and deftly flipped them over on the mats again, bringing them right back where they started--Syusuke on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and Kirika sitting on his stomach, smiling smugly down at him as she pressed her arm into his throat.
For a minute, neither of them spoke, content to just let their heart rates slow back down to normal. Syusuke spoke first.
"Well... *that* was an exercise in futility," he groaned, as she settled her weight on his stomach more fully. At least he had the satisfaction of getting her out of breath. A few minutes ago, she didn't even look as if she was trying, and that had hurt Syusuke's ego more than he cared to admit.
"*That* was a nasty trick," she said reprimandingly. "You attacked while I was speaking."
"You never said we couldn't play dirty," he replied, gazing up at her. "Even so, I couldn't surprise you for longer than a second."
"Gomen, Syusuke-kun," she smirked, her voice low, "but as you can see, I like to stay on top."
And that was the moment everything changed.
Something about the intimacy of her voice, the unintentional innuendo in her words, the warmth of her body...
Through the growing haze in his mind, Syusuke suddenly saw Kirika in a completely different, entirely flattering light, and he felt something akin to dread when he finally noticed the direction his thoughts were taking.
Kirika seemed to realize what she had said, and she blushed, modestly looking away. She was such a strange paradox of innocence and guilt, of light and darkness... a kindred spirit. In a lot of ways, Kirika was just like Syusuke.
Familiar heat flared inside him, and like wildfire, it spread throughout his body. As she shifted uncomfortably on his stomach, panic signals started going off in his brain, very belatedly telling him that, yes, there was indeed a woman on top of him, and that yes, this woman on top of him was triggering a very large hormonal imbalance, so would he PLEASE, for the love of sanity, do SOMETHING about her? And even though his brain knew he was supposed to loathe this particular woman on top of him, his body didn't give a damn thankyouverymuch because his stupid brain had never indulged his body in situations like this one before.
The internal conflict made Syusuke want to scream and vomit at the same time. He had never been so acutely aware of any woman, especially one that he didn't like, until this very moment, and suddenly the fight leading up to this point seemed jarringly inappropriate. Now he was aware of absolutely *everything* about Kirika--the searing heat from her body, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the redness of her flushed cheeks, the way her chest heaved up and down as she breathed, the fullness of her lips, the *memory* of how those lips had felt against his, and the fact that this would be considered--to borrow one of Kikumaru's creative terms--a Hopelessly Compromising Position.
He had been so obsessed with his grudge against her that he had forgotten how to be a human being around her, and now that he *was* reacting the way a full-blooded male would, Syusuke was at a loss. He had never been in such a situation, and nothing had ever embarrassed him before. As a skilled manipulator, he could tease people about risque matters, but he had never experienced anything remotely close to it firsthand.
This wasn't for the female population's lack of trying, either; he'd been asked out routinely by countless girls, many of them doting members of his unofficial fanclub. Even a few guys had mustered enough courage to ask him out, but Syusuke had never felt any attraction towards *anyone*. No one knew who he really was, and he could tell, just by the naive adoration in their eyes, that none of them would understand the truth.
Kirika, on the other hand... Kirika had lived in the same hell as he had and suffered just as much, if not more. She already knew what he had been through, and she understood his need to keep his real life separate from this hell. Was that why he felt something for her? Syusuke groaned inwardly--he was more messed up than he thought if he was physically attracted to his parents' murderer.
"Syusuke-kun?" Kirika whispered his name softly, the concern evident in her gaze. "Are you all right?"
She shifted against him again, and he bit his lip viciously, his face burning, trying to keep from shouting at Kirika to just STOP MOVING.
But there was no denying it. He really *was* screwed up beyond belief. He'd been wrestling with this deadly woman for the past five minutes, and the adrenaline rush from their fighting had rendered him blissfully unaware of her until now. Yes, he'd kissed Kirika before, but that was purely meant to rile both her and Yuuta. For the most part, it had worked splendidly, and it really wasn't his fault that he'd begun to enjoy that moment too.
"Do you surrender?" she asked at last, leaning forward to press her forearm even more against his throat. He instinctively clutched her arm to prevent her from damaging his wind pipe, but that forced him to look up and notice how distractingly close her face was to his. If he just tilted his head up...
*STOP IT!* he berated himself before his thoughts strayed too far. He was furious with himself, furious with his hormones, and he seriously *had* to get out of this predicament. He needed to get the hell out of it *now*, before he drove himself mad.
Forget pride.
"Yes, I surrender," he said, his usual smile plastered on. Acting under pressure was difficult. "Yes, I understand the point of this exercise. Yes, from now on, I will not react rashly to random threats. Now do you mind getting off me?"
She looked down at him, surprised by his sudden acquiescence, and he could feel her doubt. "I promise this isn't a trick to catch you off guard," he added reassuringly. "Now please. Get off me."
Convinced, she nodded and stood up. He breathed out deeply, still spread-eagled on the floor, hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt. When she offered her hand to help him up, he stared at it for a few moments, trying to decide whether he should accept it or pull her down to reclaim all the dignity he had just lost. In the end, he remained true to his word; there was no sense in fighting a losing battle. He didn't miss the spark of happiness that flashed in her eyes when he accepted her help, and he wondered how he was supposed to feel about her now.
He practically *owned* her, and he knew he was supposed to hate her. He wanted desperately to get it over with and just strangle her, but at the same time, he owed her his life.
His family's future was still in her hands.
He felt sorry for her.
He was attracted to her.
He couldn't completely forgive her, yet he completely understood her.
Syusuke sighed. If anything was clear, it was that he couldn't make up his mind. She was driving him crazy, tearing him in opposite directions, and he didn't like where this strange relationship was heading.
"Do you want to keep practicing?," Kirika asked, startling him out of his thoughts.
"I've had enough," Syusuke answered quickly, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know I acted irrationally this afternoon, and I know you're right to want me to train with you, but I can't concentrate. I can't win this game, and you *know* I can't win, so just tell me what you know. Please. I would really appreciate it."
She stared at him with an expression that revealed no emotions, and he was almost afraid that she had not heard a single word of his plea, or that she was trying to decide how much information to keep for blackmail. Finally, to his great surprise, her face broke into the widest smile he had ever seen.
"Thank you," she said, her eyes shining with so much gratitude that Syusuke almost didn't believe her. "You have no idea how your honesty means to me."
He wasn't sure what he had done to suddenly gain her trust and her gratitude, but as unusual as it was, the thought appealed to him. In spite of her many flaws, maybe Kirika wasn't that bad of a person after all.
"You're welcome," he smiled, genuinely this time.
And so she told him.
She told him *everything*.
In the world of tennis, potential greats came and went with the seasons, but no one shook the sport quite like eighteen-year-old Tezuka Kunimitsu, the most talented professional Japanese player since Echizen Nanjiroh's short, but glorious, career. Though he was both young and unranked, Tezuka was already poised to win the rest of the year's tournaments, both major and minor, especially after his spectacular, completely unexpected triumph over the number one seed in the French Open. The media labeled the young, attractively marketable youth as the hottest rising star in sports, and hundreds of pictures of Tezuka (all of them unsmiling and candid, of course) blew his popularity beyond epic proportions. Tezuka, however, was a decent young man, and certainly not one who craved the spotlight, so he preferred to keep to himself even as he balanced his studies in New York University (International Relations/Math) with his tennis fame.
Fame refused to let him go without a fight, unfortunately. Everywhere he went, hordes of women (and quite a number of men) stalked him. Modeling companies (who insisted that he had already mastered the model strut) tried to recruit him. He received countless flattering and not-so-flattering phone calls and e-mails and catcalls and marriage proposals as the tennis season grew more heated, yet he remained perpetually unruffled, as was his custom. His stoic glares were enough to freeze rampaging fans in their tracks, and he could delete correspondence en masse without flinching.
Tezuka had always managed to keep his life in control in spite of his fame, so he was irritated when he awoke to the unexpected sound of his cell phone ringing at five o'clock in the morning on a Monday. Trying to keep the irritation out of his facial features (the ringing had interrupted a pleasant dream involving Tezuka and a curvaceous blonde in a--what did Kikumaru call it?--Hopelessly Compromising Position), Tezuka reached for his phone sitting on the bedside drawer, blinked at the caller's name flashing on the screen, and grudgingly answered the call.
"Good morning, Tezuka," Inui's soothing murmur instantly assaulted his ears, "We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life--"
With a disgruntled sigh, Tezuka hung up and rolled back into bed, dismissing Inui's untimely disturbance. Sadly, he should have realized that one phone call wouldn't be the end; his phone rang again exactly five minutes later, just before he would have fallen asleep, as if the caller knew *exactly* when to annoy him. Now irritated, but still able to keep his heart rate steady, Tezuka grabbed the cell phone, stoically glared at the flashing name, and proceeded to turn the offending device off. With that, he buried his head under the pillow and tried to get some more sleep--he really needed to finish that dream.
Alas, sleep was not to be.
This time, the apartment phone rang on Tezuka's bedside table after another precisely calculated five-minute interval, and Tezuka scowled, even with his eyes closed. He knew the caller was almost definitely Inui, but as tempted as he was to just ignore the ringing, he had to be absolutely certain that this wasn't some emergency involving a relative or his tennis coach. Gritting his teeth, Tezuka crawled halfway off his bed, grabbed the receiver, put it next to his ear, heard Inui's "Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life," and promptly hung up again. Just to be safe, Tezuka ripped the phone jack out before settling back into the mattress, now very annoyed.
Sleepiness was to be Tezuka's downfall, for in his semi-conscious state, Tezuka was underestimating Inui, who had mastered the uncanny ability to become as annoying as the Radioactive Cockroach Who Refused to Die, regardless of how many times it was fed pesticide or smashed with a hammer. Exactly five minutes passed again before the phone in Tezuka's apartment living room rang, jolting Tezuka out of his half-slumber. Resisting the urge to utter several choice four-letter words in English, Tezuka finally decided to leave the call for the answering machine. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard the machine's familiar beep and his message playing, but his smile abruptly vanished when the caller didn't turn out to be Inui after all.
"Kunimitsu?"
His mother's voice was all it took to get Tezuka stumbling blearily out of bed and bolting out of his room, and before he was even aware of his surroundings, he was already lunging towards the phone. He heard from his mother so rarely that every conversation he'd had with her was necessarily urgent. "I know it's early in the morning," she was saying, as Tezuka sprinted across the living room, "but I need to discuss something very important with you."
Diving across the couch, he seized the phone and blurted, "Mother?"
He heard a suspicious click, and to his amazement and horror, the voice that replied *wasn't* his mother's. "Good morning, Tezuka," Inui greeted once more. "We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."
Tezuka stared at the phone in shock. That couldn't be right. What was going on?
He would have been doomed to eternal confusion if he hadn't heard another suspicious click, and then Inui's voice speaking again.
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."
Tezuka's eyes widened in realization.
A *recording*.
It was a *recording*.
Click.
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."
That explained why Inui's words and intonations were all exactly the same, and that explained how Tezuka's *mother* had been on the line when she knew that time in Tokyo would translate into an ungodly hour in New York. Inui had programmed those recordings to call Tezuka at these specified intervals, and Tezuka had fallen completely for Inui's trap. Tezuka sighed; was he really that predictable?
Click.
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some—"
Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Tezuka slammed the receiver back into its cradle and sat down in his living room couch, his arms folded across his chest. He glanced at his watch, then stared at his phone in the silence and darkness of his apartment. Precisely five minutes later, his phone rang again, and after a few rings, the answering machine beeped again.
His mother's voice spoke clearly once again. "Kunimitsu? I know it's early in the morning, but I need to discuss something very important with you."
A few beats.
A click.
Then, "Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."
With a grimly satisfied huff, Tezuka calmly, collectedly unplugged his phone...
...and flung it against the far wall.
Oishi arrived at Inui's house at seven-thirty in the evening, a half hour earlier than the scheduled conference time. Inui's mother ushered Oishi in and directed him upstairs, to Inui's room, where Oishi found the infamous data tennis player cackling at something on his computer screen.
"What's going on?" Oishi asked nervously, as the maniacal gleam of Inui's glasses usually spelled doom for all.
"My plan's success rate is at 100%!" Inui grinned nefariously, and Oishi could have sworn the man's teeth actually *sparkled*. "In exactly twenty-seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Tezuka will crumble. I won't have to call him. You won't have to call him. Echizen won't have to call him. *Tezuka* will call *us*."
Oishi bravely fought the urge to flee. "What did you do to, er, convince him?"
Inui's glasses glinted ominously some more, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Oishi quickly had second thoughts and held up his hand. "Wait! Don't say it. I don't WANT to know. If you infuriated Tezuka in some way, I want to be completely blameless."
Inui's grin widened. "Aren't you the responsible captain?"
Oishi chuckled weakly. "There's only so much responsibility I'm willing to take."
Tezuka gave up trying to go back to sleep and instead took a shower and changed. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he fixed himself a nice cup of tea and a slice of toast for breakfast. He set his meal to one side of his desk and sat down in front of his laptop, intending to check the day's schedule, when he spotted a curious blinking message at the corner of his screen.
And even though he was the notoriously unflappable Tezuka, when he clicked on the blinking message, a cold feeling shot through his stomach, and he very nearly spewed out his drink.
"You have 498 new messages," the computer chirped happily.
"You have 499 new messages," it said five seconds later.
"You have 500 new messages," it announced after another five seconds. But it didn't stop there.
501.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
502.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
503.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
504.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
505.
"Buy a Spycam for only seven easy payments of $199.99!"
506.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
507.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
508.
"Wil u mary me, Kuni-b8by?"
509.
"Re: Fuji's love life."
510.
"Warning: You have reached your account limit. Messages will be deleted accordingly. Have a nice day!"
Tezuka watched in carefully regulated horror as the new message count climbed stratospherically higher. He tried frantically to block all incoming messages, all to no avail. His access was denied.
But that was the last straw; Inui Sadaharu was a dead man.
-= End Chapter Five =-
Chapter Started: September 3, 2003
Chapter Finished: December 14, 2003 (o_O Egads, that's a long time.)
Tentatively in the Next Chapter:
- Echizen reflects. (Note: I already finished writing this, but I pushed it back a chapter, since there's more than enough information and introspection in this one.)
- Tezuka reacts.
- Mireille resurfaces.
- Syusuke and Kirika "officially" go out.
- Yuuta wonders.
End Notes:
On Tezuka - So I made him suffer. ^_^ I don't think anyone saw that coming.
On Fuji - Words cannot begin to describe how wickedly fun it was having Kirika mop the floor with Fuji during training. Of course, none of this is fair to him because I keep giving him serious disadvantages (i.e. nothing against a sniper rifle; a knife against three guns; a gun against a car bomb; hand-to-hand against KIRIKA, for goodness sakes). I promise I'll make up all these beatings to our beloved leading man later.
Sword-fighting, Higuma-Otoshi-slicing Badass!Fuji, anyone?
Technical Note: Kirika and Fuji used real grappling techniques in their fight. Although those particular moves are very basic, that segment was, hands down, the most unbelievably difficult part to write in this entire story. Ironically, I had been looking forward to writing that sequence since before the first chapter was even published, but I'm not sure I like the way it turned out... -_- Gah.
Still, I hope you got the gist of that scene, which was essentially Syusuke getting his ego shredded and handed back to him on a platter, courtesy of Kirika. ^_^
Final Note: Points to anyone who caught the TeniMyu!Tezuka reference. ^_~ Thanks for reading! And Merry Christmas!
Please review and/or send comments to me at rune_dreaming@yahoo.com! Your feedback is very much appreciated!
Copyright (C) 2003 by Dark Rune. All rights reserved.