Nagi's background in this part of the fic came from Dramatic Collection I (translation available from my site - check my ff account). What they say here will be a mix of what they really said in the drama, and my imagination (well, mostly imagination). The same will happen to anime and manga events that will be referred to further on in the fic.

Blinded

Part Nine

Schuldich knows where his attachment to the precognitive came from. Since he was in Rosenkreuz, he was already fascinated by this American who he had never met, hearing about him only through Neumann's words. Every time Neumann talked about the American, it was as if he was talking about the God of a religion he was devoted to. Schuldich knew that this foreign man had black hair, that he always looked impeccable even when dressed down, that he was the type that if one saw him on the street, he would stop whatever he was doing to look again.

Schuldich tried to push his hopes down when Neumann told him that they would be working together. Neumann liked him, big deal. If he liked someone, even the air he breathed would smell like perfume, how could Schuldich trust such biased opinion? But it was so difficult not to expect this man to be just as much a Neumann described him to be.

When Schuldich finally met Crawford, he understood what Neumann said about the American was an understatement. Crawford was so much more than Schuldich expected. He will never forget their first meeting, the way light poured through the doorway around the taller man, how he felt his heart stood still when his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw Crawford for the first time. Crawford's undeniable strength, both physical and mental, emanated from him and was picked up by Schuldich through empathy. That fact that he was a telepath and Crawford a precognitive played a part in it, definitely, but it was not all. Something in that voice, silently saying "come with me", tugged something inside the German and he got up and followed. Since that day, Schuldich lived for the beauty, the power, the charisma that was Brad Crawford. His life had been given a purpose.

"Yes. I can trust him with my life."

The words echo again and again in Schuldich's mind.

From learning the English word "trust" from his dictionary, telling Crawford about it and seeing him silently amused, to Crawford being ready to shoot him if he did not want to escape SS together, they had come a long way to the point Crawford said that he could trust Schuldich with his life. Schuldich wishes he did not keep his word about not listening to Crawford and Glyn's conversation. If he had heard Crawford saying that, he would... well he does not know what he would do, but at least during that month he spent battling for his own sanity, he would not have to fear that Crawford was going to leave him behind, whenever he was conscious enough to think for himself.

He was weak and he hated it. Crawford wanted a strong telepath, someone he could work with to escape the SS together, and Schuldich was not sure if he fitted the bill at all. When the American visited, always only standing outside of his ward looking through the large pane of glass, he held on to that voice like a dying man; when he was not there, Schuldich had to convince himself Crawford was going to come back, that he had not left for good, fed up with the weakling in a hospital bed. He simply could not imagine going back to Rosekruz again to complete his nightmarish training, then being assigned to work with a team without Crawford, then finally dying on the field, or be driven insane by his own power. He would have failed Neumann. Worst of all, he would have failed himself, for not clutching tight the one good thing in his life.

How could Schuldich have guessed that Crawford would trust him with his own life?

But Crawford kept it to himself. Perhaps it was all part of the game for him to control what Schuldich thought, to make him think what he wanted him to think, to keep him guessing. Crawford has always been good at mind games and manipulation, without needing to be able to read minds. He is good at getting what he wants, how he wants it.

Glyn said the same thing, that Crawford was good at getting what he wanted. Schuldich looks down at his hand, recalling when Glyn's mind was his and he touched Crawford's face. He also said that Crawford's smile had changed.

The German glances at Crawford, who is making a telephone call to the airport, and wonders what Crawford's old smile looked like. In the years they worked together, it was almost a rare occasion to see Crawford smile. Once in a while, when Schuldich came back from shopping and bought Crawford some ice-cream when he was obvously stressed out, Crawford would reward him with a grateful smile. Sometimes, when Schwarz arrived home after finishing a job particularly successfully, Crawford would lean back into the couch and smile at the ceiling. He might even smile at Farfarello, and praise him for a job well done. But since they knew each other, Crawford had never shown that smile to the world, reserving it for very private occasions only.

It was all obviously because Crawford hated life in the SS.

And Schuldich was part of that life. Was that why, after SS' downfall, Crawford disbanded Schwarz and left without looking back?

Crawford ticks an item off his planner, moving on to the next one. Make a call to Germany.

Hearing a familiar tongue, Schuldich finally pays some attention to what Crawford is doing. With slow, but accurate German, Crawford is confirming details on a burial.

//Oh, my funeral.// Schuldich leans on a glass door that leads out to a balcony. //Shouldn't I get to say how I want it?//

Crawford asks for the other side on the call to wait a moment. //I didn't think you'd care at all. So what do you want?//

//Um... I don't know...// The German rolls his eyes upwards and puts the tip of a finger into his mouth to show that he is thinking hard.

//Tell me when you do.// Crawford grunts at the typical Schuldich expression of pretended wisdom, going back to the conversation in German. Then Schuldich speaks again.

//Music.//

//Music?//

//I want music at my funeral!// Schuldich declares, grinning.

Crawford eyes the German. //What sort of music?//

//Something I like.//

//That's a rather large range to choose from.//

Schuldich shrugs. It is true that he listens to everything from folk to rap to classical. //You sort it out for me.//

//... Fine.//

//Get Nagi to sing or something.// Schuldich grins, and Crawford promptly ignores him.

Schuldich turns his attention away again. He wants to find out what music it will be at the funeral, not now. It will be interesting to see what Crawford has arranged.

It is too much to look for from Crawford, but Schuldich hopes it will be something romantic. He doubts Crawford knows what "romantic" is, though. He can bet the American has never bought flowers or had a candle-lit dinner in his life. Why? Because Schuldich cannot picture it.

Crawford gazes at Schuldich curiously and puts the phone down. He is not sure he likes the strange smile on the German's face.

//Oh, nothing. You've got a funny accent.// Schuldich waltzes his way to the American. //But not bad, your grammar's spot on.//

Crawford puts away his planner, not bothering to reply to the comments.

Schuldich drops himself into the bed, allowing his hair to tumble in all directions. He likes this bed, it is so large they can easily have three people sleeping in it and they will not roll into each other. //So, I was the first person to sleep in your bed. Bet I was the only one.//

"Actually, no. If the house SS gave counts too, then Nagi slept in my bed for a night as well."

//Oh damn. The kid broke my record.// Schuldich smirks. //Now that you said it, I remember... He was scared shitless.//

"He was afraid of me since the beginning."

SS suspended Crawford and Schuldich's field operations, their reason being that they wanted Schuldich to rest a while longer.

"Yeah, as if they were ever that humane." Schuldich tossed himself into the couch, obviously glad that he was finally out of the SS ward. "So what's the real problem?"

Crawford was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. "Business is bad, there aren't enough contracts to go around all the teams."

"So we get a long vacation?"

"No." Crawford poured hot water into his drinking chocolate powder. "All the teams without contracts are going to look for new recruits. They're getting nervous, especially with the precog we ran into last time..." He paused, shoving the image of a bleeding Schuldich to the back of his mind. "We're to catch every paranormal we find and bring them to Rosenkreuz. If necessary, we'll kill them."

"Oh okay." //We're going to bring more kids into Rosenkreuz's clutches? Not that I have much of a conscience, but I don't like it.//

//A job's a job.// Crawford exited the kitchen, sipping his drink. //I want to find us a telekinetic anyway.//

//Oh?//

//The Plan. We need a telekinetic.// Crawford recalled his last team, with Neumann and Silvia. Having a telekinetic had made much difference when they needed to fight. Despite Schuldich's agility, he could never have the strength of a telekinetic.

//Ummmm. Lemme see.// Schuldich sat up. //You don't want to pick one from Rosenkreuz, they'll never agree with the Plan.//

//I'll find one myself and rush him through Rosenkreuz so that he doesn't get fully indoctrinated. Have him work with us, not SS.//

//Bring someone in so that we can get out with him? That's a very original idea.// "Well, I'm going to have a shower. Haven't had a proper one for a month!" The German announced, getting on his feet. "By the way, where're we going to catch these kids?"

"We've been assigned to go to Yokohama." Seeings Schuldich's brows furrowing, Crawford explained further. "It's a coastal city in Japan. I need to get into contact with some smaller sub-groups there."

"Japan? Cool, I've never been to Asia! Can you speak Japanese?"

"Just enough to get by." Crawford had learned Japanese in Rosenkreuz. Aided by his knowledge in Chinese, learning Japanese had not been as difficult as it was to the other trainees, but his Japanese was much weaker than his German.

"No worries, I'll be your translator." Schuldich smiled and left for the bathroom.

If Crawford did not know, he would have asked Schuldich to do that. But seeing Schuldich's fall, a vicitm of his own telepathy, Crawford realised how easily he could destroy the telepath simply by not carefully controlling his instructions. It took him a year to learn that every time he told the German to use his power, he could be taking away a piece of his identity.

And that goddamn telepath never spoke a word about it. He just allowed Crawford to tear him into pieces.

Crawford would need to be more careful from now on. He promised Schuldich they would leave SS together, not destroy him in the process.

Crawford would be true to his words. He never made the same mistake twice. Never.

Schuldick loved Japan. That much Crawford could tell. Why, he did not know. Perhaps Japan felt like old home Germany to him, the two countries sharing many principles, such as the importance of honour and discipline, at a certain level. But did Schuldich ever like his home country? Crawford was not even sure about that. Maybe Schuldich loved Japan simply because it was physically the furthest from SS he had ever been, with no SS branch in the country at all - yet. If all went well for them and other teams dotted around in the country, SS would set up a base in Japan.

Japanese paranormals were even rarer than their western counterparts. "I think this is just a waste of time." Schuldich said, loading their supermarket shopping into the car. "We're just following rumours and old stories. Quite frankly, I think we've looked at every corner in this city that ever had a ghost story attached to it, and that's pretty much everywhere."

They had been travelling to places that rumoured to have strange events occuring, everything from sightings of ghosts to unknown sources of fire. So far, they returned no results to Rosenkreuz. "The other teams aren't getting much neither. One team found a pyrokinetic, but that's one out of all nine teams in Japan." Crawford knew what Schuldich was going to say next, that this did not fit SS' style, which was to use their human resource efficiently. "Yes, normally they'd be taking the teams to somewhere else by now. I suspect they have greater plans for Japan."

The black sports car started, Crawford driving because Schuldich could not, the German singing to himself all the way home, as usual. To Crawford, the way they lived was rather like they were having a very, very long holiday, spending most of their time doing their own things instead of their job. They had looked all over for the paranormals Rosenkreuz wanted, and theirs was not the only team not delivering any performance, so he did not care.

They stopped outside the Yokohama Penichua Church. "Wait here."

"Oh, are you going to see that nun you were talking about?"

"SS' got some instructions for her." Crawford frowned, annoyance clear in his voice. He was a messenger. A goddamn messenger. SS better give him something better to do, soon.

The church which Amamiya Kaoruko worked in was a tiny building that looked as if it would fall down any minute. An old wind vane, obviously a child's craft, was attached to a pitched roof that surely leaked whenever it rained. Rusted hinges complained noisily when Crawford pushed the front doors open, leading him into small hall where Sunday masses were held.

Amamiya was talking with several children near the altar. Seeing the man at the door, she stood up, smiling at the newcomer. She hesitated, and Crawford knew she was deciding if she should use Japanese or English, because he looked like neither. "May... May I... help you?"

It was obvious that the nun's English was worse than Crawford's Japanese. "Nihongo mo ii. SS kara. (Japanese is fine. I'm from the SS.)"

The nun was not sure if she should be relieved that she could use Japanese, or be nervous that an SS agent was there. She ushered the children to the vegetable garden at the back of the church, then led Crawford to a small study.

"I want to confirm the details on your next two assignments. Will you be ready by next week?" Crawford did not bother to sit down. He spoke to Amamiya in Japanese, drawing a relieved sigh from the nun.

"That depends on the kids, Mister Crawford. I hope they'll be ready."

"Please make sure you can meet the dates. It's for the children's future, too."

Amamiya was a child psychotherapist who devoted her life to helping children with family and other problems. Many children had received her help over the years she worked in the Yokohama Penichua Church, gaining enough self confidence again to stand up on their own in the society. But there were always children who she could not help, not willing to live on on their own, never able to stop running from their problems and face them instead.

She believed she worked for God when she controlled these children to kill drugs and weapon dealers. When the children took their own lives after the act, she believed they had a meaningful death, at least to prove that they have lived and died for other children's brighter futures.

Amamiya thought SS gave her a route to remove evil from the world. It was partly true. SS used her to remove anyone who did not conform to them, driving prices down on their drug and weapon trades.

"I know. Thank you, Mister Crawford."

"And about the child you mentioned to me..."

"Oh yes, Nagi. His name's Naoe Nagi." The nun lifted her arms, moving them up and down slightly. "He arrived last week. I'm not sure... Everything in the room began to shake like this when the other boys laughed at him. There was wind even though all the windows were closed. I didn't know it was because of him then, but it happened again in his room."

Perhaps a telekinetic, Crawford thought to himself. "Why is he here? How about his family?"

"I don't think he has any living relatives. The file social services gave me said that he killed his mother over ten years ago, and had been receiving therapy since then. But he wasn't showing much improvement all these years, so they sent him to me and hope I can help him. But there aren't any details on his mother at all, so there's little I can work on."

A child who killed his mother? This Naoe child was not unlike him... Crawford let his own mother die too. On a practical level, he could say he killed her. "I'll see what the SS can find on that. Can I see this child now?"

"I'll take you to his room. He's a shy kid, still adjusting to the new environment..."

"I'll make the meeting short, don't worry."

Because of his strange powers, Naoe Nagi was the only child in the church who had his own room.

Crawford felt an odd vibration when he held the door handle. There was a flow of energy coming from the room, its pattern irregular, as if out of control. Precognition warned him of a flying chair, which he caught easily when he opened the door.

A little boy, no more than twelve or thirteen years-old, sat on the edge of a small, old bed, holding a kitten in his arms. His large, round eyes were a deep, mesmerising blue, and his hair was rich chocolate brown, cropped to above his ears in a typical Japanese boy's haircut.

Crawford found himself gazing into those eyes, as if he could drown in that colour.

The boy stared back at Crawford, his arms tighening around the kitten defensively. There was a hardness to the boy's face, one that did not suit his age.

The air in the room stilled.

"He doesn't look Japanese."

"I have no records on his parentage, Mister Crawford. He's been passed through so many authorities and caretakers over the last ten years. I have a feeling he was in the middle of some social services blunder, and they tried to wipe him off their records to cover up. The poor child. I'm sure he has lived in Japan all his life though."

Crawford could not understand all of the Japanese the nun used, but common sense filled in the gaps in his knowledge of the language. Nodding, he carefully stepped forward, putting the chair down where he thought it was supposed to be. Naoe Nagi's gaze followed the American's movement, weary of what the stranger may do. He scooted back a little on the bed, frightened, when Crawford finally approached him and crouched down so that they were at equal eye-level.

"Hello. My name's Brad Crawford. What's your name?"

The boy's face was blank. He answered Crawford's question with one of his own. A clever child. "Are you Sister's friend?"

"Sister and I work together."

They both turned to look at Amamiya, who smiled and nodded. Too wise for a thirteen years-old, Naoe Nagi was not convinced. Crawford could see that the child had picked up Amamiya's unease. He scooted back even further in the bed, gaining some more distance between himself and the stranger.

"You aren't a normal person."

The boy could tell Crawford had paranormal abilities. That surprised him. "No, I'm not. In fact, I'm a bit like you."

"No, I'm a normal person. You're not."

If the boy was not ready to accept that he was different, there was no use pushing him. Crawford shrugged, and stood up. "Maybe. I have to go now. Be seeing you."

It would be better to leave the child in Amamiya's experienced hands for now. He gave instructions to the nun, making sure Naoe Nagi would not become one of the killing machines, then left the small church.

"That took you a long time." Schuldich was almost asleep when Crawford got into their car. "Is everything okay?"

Schuldich buckled up when Crawford turned the ignition. They knew better than to catch the attention of any authorities, even if it was just the traffic police. They entered the country under false identities, with business visa. As sure as they were that no one would know the truth, paranormal professionals caught by the police for not using the safety belts in the car was just way too degrading.

"I've found our telekinetic."

"They have one in the church? What's his name?"

"He hasn't told me yet." Crawford smirked. "But I'm sure he will later."

[to be continued]