Two days after his conversation with Omi and Ken, Yohji and Hank were sitting across from each other in the yacht's little galley. After Yohji had explained what had happened, as far as he knew, during the meeting with Schuldich, where Keiko was, and how they were going to get her back, the two men had done a good job of completely avoiding the subjects of Keiko and Aya. In fact, they hardly talked at all, and a tense, worried, almost-palpable silence had prevailed over the boat ever since Yohji had returned from the city alone.
On this day, Bubba had managed to cram his huge body underneath the tiny table, a feat which never ceased to amaze Yohji. The big dog had been unusually subdued for the past two days. He followed Yohji from room to room on the yacht, looking at the tall blonde with mournful, saddened eyes that never failed to make him cringe with guilt. Bubba had virtually stopped eating, and, when he wasn't following Yohji from one room to another, he would lie on the floor of Aya's cabin, moping and whining softly.
It was fairly late in the afternoon, although Hank and Yohji had just finished their "breakfast". Both of them had been up late the night before. Hank had made some well-placed phone calls to underworld figures he knew from his time on the streets, and Yohji had passed the night by attempting to surreptitiously cruise the Internet for some sign of where Schuldich might be keeping Aya. Consequently, they had both slept in very late today. Yohji had been up for about an hour, and Hank had preceded him by, maybe, an hour and a half. Neither of them had been very successful in their efforts to locate Aya, and, as a result, they were both in a fairly foul mood.
Hank wasn't really worried about Keiko any more. He wouldn't truly feel comfortable until he had the little girl with him again, but he trusted Omi and Ken enough to know his daughter was finally safe. He just wished he could say the same for Ran. Just knowing the trouble and danger he had caused the redhead had been bad enough, but the thought that Ran had traded himself to that crazy German just to get Keiko back was driving Hank mad with worry and guilt. He and Yohji had split the newspaper Hank had gotten from Smitty during his supply run the previous day, and Hank rattled his half of it, peering at Yohji over the edge of the page.
The tall blonde sat across from him, alternately sipping coffee and puffing at his cigarette. Every so often, he would gently rub Bubba's back with his foot, but, otherwise, he appeared totally engrossed in the paper spread out in front of him. Yohji was Ran's friend, probably his best friend. The two of them seemed to have a connection that, if you stopped to think about it, went way deeper than friendship, and Hank couldn't believe his blonde companion could sit here, calmly sipping coffee, smoking, and reading the paper, as if he hadn't a care in the world, while Ran was still missing, and, maybe, even dead somewhere.
"What?" Yohji snapped, when he looked up to find Hank staring at him.
The Texan rattled his paper and quickly looked away, replying, "No nothing."
"Bullshit," Yohji hissed. "You might as well spit it out. There's no point in us having secrets not any more."
"Well," Hank stammered, slowly. He carefully folded the paper and laid it in front of him, stalling for the time he needed to figure out exactly how to say what he wanted to say without making Yohji angry. Finally, he continued, "I I was just wondering how you can just you know not worry about Ran."
Yohji's eyes narrowed, a hint of dangerous anger about them, and he pulled his mouth into a straight line, indicating his irritation with Hank's question through this tight-lipped frown.
"Not worried?" he asked.
Leaning his elbow on the table top and propping his chin in the open palm of his hand, he regarded Hank with a hard look that seemed somewhere in between disgust and hatred. The Texan felt his insides cringe, and, if he could have, he thought he might have crawled under the table with Bubba to get away from the blonde's piercing glare. Yohji might have come to terms with what Hank had done which, basically, had ended up driving Ran out of Weiss, but it was obvious the tall blonde hadn't forgiven him --- not by a long shot. Hank didn't think Yohji would ever forgive his betrayal of Ran. He didn't think Yohji could forgive him. He had been grateful when the tall blonde hadn't killed him. He hadn't expected to ever regain Yohji's friendship, and the fact that the other man had allowed him to continue living had been enough. Now, though, Hank squirmed in his seat as he was reminded, with no uncertainty, by the look in Yohji's glittering, angry eyes, just how deeply the blonde's feelings for Ran went, and just how much Yohji still hated him, on some level, for what he had done.
"You think I'm not worried because I drink coffee, smoke, and stare at a paper? What the fuck do you expect me to do?" Yohji snapped.
"I I'm s sorry," Hank stammered. He attempted to back away, but found his retreat blocked by the wall behind his side of the galley table. He waved his hands through the air in what he hoped was a placating gesture, as he continued to stammer, "I I shshouldn't I shouldn't have said anything."
"Maybe not," Yohji replied, his voice now hard enough to match the glittering anger in his green eyes, "but, you did, didn't you? Don't forget that you are, in more than a large part, responsible for this whole situation, and Aya hasn't been doing anything more than trying to pull your sorry ass out of the fire. So, am I worried that he's gone? Yeah. Does it make me crazy to think about that German bastard drugging him and carrying him out of that restaurant, in broad daylight, with me sitting right across the fucking street? Yep. When I find him, am I going to kill him? Maybe --- unless he kills me first. I'm going to kill him for what he did for what he did to Aya unless I can trade him for Aya's safety. But, if anything and I mean anything has happened to my friend, I'm going to kill anyone who had even the remotest responsibility for this situation, including the people who handled us at Kritiker, and, if I have to, to make myself feel better, even you. Don't fool yourself, Hank. We are not friends, you and I. That ship has sailed. Aya can forgive what you did; he is more generous than I am, and I think he understands it a lot better. Me? I can understand why you did it, but you will never get absolution from me. I've done what I've done so far --- arranging to get your daughter back, and getting you a way out of Japan --- because I thought it was the right thing to do, because I thought it was what Aya would want me to do. But, don't think it means you're off the hook. So, if you know what's good for you, you'd better spend all your free time on your knees praying that I get Aya back --- safe and sound. Because, if he is otherwise when I find him, there's nothing in this world that will save you, and no place where you can hide." He picked up his half of the paper, rattling it into place in front of his face, as he continued, "Besides, I don't know where to look for him. So, for now, all I can do is wait."
Hank swallowed down the lump of fear that had formed in his throat. Ever since their first meeting, in that dark alley all those weeks ago, Hank had harbored a certain amount of fear toward the tall blonde. But, Yohji had always been so jovial and friendly toward him, that, eventually, he had started to feel more at ease. Now, though, Hank realized the tall blonde hadn't ever felt any friendship or attachment to him at all. For the first time, the Texan realized Yohji had given him preferential treatment because of his friendship with Ran. For whatever reason, the redhead had opened up easily to him, which, from what Hank had gathered, was very rare. He realized now that what he had mistaken for friendship from Yohji was, from the beginning, nothing more than deference to Ran's decision to form a friendship with him. The tall blonde had loyalty only to Ran, and he only cared about Ran. It was that simple, and Hank couldn't figure out why he hadn't ever realized it before. Yohji was always joking, and he never seemed to take anything seriously. Maybe that was what had made it so difficult to see his motives and to realize just how deeply his feelings and loyalties ran.
For the past month or so, ever since that German guy had attacked Ran in the flower shop, Hank had been terrified of Yohji --- a terror that went deeper than the feelings of fear tinged with respect he normally held for the blonde man. Yohji had been on the verge of breaking all that time, and Hank had realized he was the one person standing squarely in the blonde's sights, should Yohji decide to take his frustration and rage out on someone. Seeing Ran up and somewhat recovered from his last set of injuries over the past couple of weeks or so had eased that fear somewhat, only because Yohji had seemed to settle down a little, had seemed to back away from that razor's edge on which he'd been teetering. But, now, Hank felt the terror reasserting itself, slamming through his brain like a freight train. The tall blonde's eyes held anger and rage of a depth the Texan had rarely seen, and he talked so easily and directly about killing that, if you hadn't looked into his eyes and seen the burning anger there, you'd almost think he was joking. Hank knew it was no joke. He knew Yohji could and would do the things of which he spoke; the blonde's words weren't empty threats they were promises laced with malice and hatred Hank guessed the blonde reserved for only his bitterest enemies.
Even so, now that everything came down to the wire now that it was time to put up or shut up, Hank found he couldn't feel any fear for his own life. All of his fear was reserved for Ran, a man who, even though he hadn't known him, had opened up to him and offered him friendship and life without asking for anything in return. As far as Hank figured, if anything happened to Ran, death was the least he deserved.
Yohji had gone back to staring at the paper, pulling it up like a wall between them. It was obvious he was done talking.
Hank stared at the back of the blonde's paper for several minutes, before, hesitantly, clearing his throat, and saying, "I I never meant" He cleared his throat again, before continuing, struggling to find the right words to express his emotions, "What I mean is I never would have if I'da known I never woulda let that guy hurt Ran. I never meant for him to hurt him. He was my friend, the first one in a long time. I hope he still is. I'm I'm sorry for all the shit that's happened. And for my part in it. I I never wanted anything to happen to him."
Yohji didn't emerge from behind his paper, but he said, in a voice softened by some emotion Hank couldn't quite place, "I know."
Hank decided to plunge ahead with the rest of what he wanted to say, encouraged by the fact that Yohji didn't automatically reject his words. He cleared his throat again and, nervously, said, "I I understand how you feel. I don't mind saying that I'm afraid of you, Yohji. My Daddy always said being afraid isn't a cause for shame, and I believe that. But if you come after me I won't hide. I won't run. I'll take responsibility for my part of this and I'll accept whatever you decide to do."
Before Yohji could reply, the cell phone, which was lying on the table between them, jangled to life. Yohji flipped the edge of his paper down so that he could look at the noisy device. He reached out for it, but, before he clicked it on, he looked at Hank, and, in the same soft, almost gentle, tone of voice, said, "I know."
He clicked the phone on after the fourth ring, and said, "Yes?"
Omi's voice came back at him, "Yohji? Omi. We got the girl. We got the tickets. Where and when?"
Yohji looked at his watch and then out at the sun, which had started to slowly fade from the sky. "Dock, Pier 17. Two hours." Without another word, he clicked the phone off, severing the connection.
"All right," he said. He smiled at Hank, a genuine, friendly smile, which, considering that, not even ten minutes before, he'd been threatening the Texan's life, shocked the hell out of Hank. "Everything's set. We're going to pick up Keiko in two hours."
********************************************************
The time seemed to crawl by at a snail's pace, but, finally, when it was almost time for the meeting with Ken and Omi, Hank, Yohji, and Bubba all piled into their little motor boat for the trip to the dock. At first, Yohji had thought about leaving the dog behind, but Bubba had looked so sad and lost that he had relented at the last minute. Now that they were underway and crossing the choppy water, he was regretting his decision. Bubba ran back and forth, from one end of the boat to the other, snapping at the fresh sea breeze that battered them and at the whitecaps that lapped at the boat's sides. The boat rocked heavily against the wind and choppy water, and the dog's antics just made things worse. Several times, Yohji thought Bubba was going to overturn the boat and dump them all into the cold sea. From time to time, the big dog would lean way out over the side of the boat, mouth open and tongue lolling, to catch the wind and spray in his face, or to bat at a passing whitecap with one huge, dangling paw. Yohji was afraid the stupid animal was going to fall out of the boat and drown. If that happened, he didn't have any idea what he would tell Aya when the redhead finally came home. Aya tried to hide it, but he was crazy about that stupid dog. Finally, about halfway into the trip, Bubba got bored and slumped down in the bottom of the boat, between the two rows of seats, much to Yohji's relief.
Once Bubba settled down, the rest of the trip passed rather uneventfully, and, before too much time had elapsed, Yohji, Hank, and Bubba stood uneasily on the dock, at Pier 17, awaiting Omi and Ken's arrival. Hank was nervous, although he tried to hide it by playing with Bubba. He threw a stick for the big dog to fetch, sending it sailing out into the darkness each time Bubba brought it back to him. After a few minutes, Bubba got tired of playing fetch, and plopped to the ground at Yohji's feet, so that he could chew and worry at the stick.
The two men were silent, and the nighttime quiet was broken only by the soft sounds of waves slapping against the pier and boats moored there, Bubba's snorting, and the wood breaking and splintering as he chewed his stick. Hank stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, which, he remembered with a pang of guilt, was one of the second hand ones Ran had given him, and tried not to pace back and forth. Despite feeling guilty, Hank was glad of the coat, because it was cold, especially since they were so near the water and out in the wind, and the coat was nice and warm. He pulled his hands out of the pockets long enough to flip the collar up around his ears, and stole a surreptitious glance at his silent companion.
Yohji, like Hank, was wearing a heavy coat and jeans. It wasn't visible beneath the coat, but Hank knew he also had on a heavy, white sweater. The Texan had recognized it earlier as one of the items of clothing Ran had worn before his disappearance. He had thought it odd, at the time, that, out of all the clean clothes he had, Yohji specifically picked an already-worn sweater, but, now, watching Yohji silently stare out at the water and chain smoke, Hank realized he had done it on purpose, to feel closer to his missing friend. Yohji's hair had grown long during their time in hiding, and now hung well below his shoulders. Although he normally wore it swept back into a low ponytail, tonight he had left it hanging loose, and it whipped around his face and shoulders in the wind to mix with the smoke streaming from his cigarette, nose, and mouth. As always, the blonde was wearing his sunglasses, and Hank could see the cigarette's glowing ember reflected in the dark lenses.
Hank finally gave into his urge to pace, and started walking in little circles around the pier, every so often glancing up to watch Yohji, although he was careful to make sure his companion didn't realize it. Yohji sat on a post, which stuck up near the edge of the pier. He had one long leg drawn up to his chest, holding it into place by encircling it with his arm. His other leg and arm both hung free. Every so often, he would use his free hand to take the cigarette from his mouth and flick ashes into the water or onto the pier's wet wood with a nervous, twitchy gesture. The smoke curled above his head, where the wind caught it and whipped it around in long streams, along with his hair. Once he had smoked a cigarette down almost to a small nub, he would toss it aside, crushing it under his boot, and immediately take another stick out of his crumpled pack. Hank had lost count, but he figured Yohji had probably smoked at least half a pack within the ten minutes they'd been waiting here. He barely moved. Except for the occasional movement of his arm to flick away ashes or occasionally stubbing out a still-glowing ember with his boot, he sat like a statue, staring out over the dark water.
Hank knew that, for him, this was almost over, provided Yohji didn't decide to visit him in Texas to exact revenge. Despite the blonde's promise of retribution if something happened to Ran, Hank felt relieved. He didn't think Yohji would really come after him. It wasn't that he didn't believe the blonde could do it. He was certain Yohji was more than capable of killing him, but he thought the blonde was speaking out of anger, and that, once he calmed down, he would change his mind. At least, that's what he hoped. Still, even with the uncertainty hanging over his future, Hank was relieved and glad. He was glad he would soon have his little girl back, glad he wouldn't have to worry for her safety any longer, and relieved they would soon be safely away from this country that he hated so much. He felt guilty for feeling that way. It occurred to him that this whole thing had actually worked out a lot better for him than he could have ever expected, since he was getting Keiko back. If that crazy bastard hadn't forced him to betray Ran, if Ran hadn't traded himself for Keiko, Hank's in-laws would still have custody of her, and he wouldn't even have any hopes of seeing her again. He felt guilt stealing over him at that thought, too.
Now, as he paused in his circuit of the pier, it occurred to him that, while his ordeal was almost over, Yohji's --- and Ran's --- was just beginning. As he watched his blonde companion silently chain smoking, Hank realized Yohji wouldn't feel gladness or relief until he found Ran, and, then, only if Ran was alive. And, there wasn't any way of knowing how long it might take to find their missing friend, or --- and, Hank hesitated at this thought --- even if he would be able to find Ran. So far, Yohji had no leads as to the redhead's whereabouts. And, even after he found Ran, there was still the problem of being hunted by the organization for which they worked. Even if they, somehow, managed to get out of that mess, considering the kind of work they did, it wasn't likely they'd feel much relief or joy for the rest of their lives. At that thought, Hank found he suddenly couldn't feel relieved or happy over his own good fortune. It suddenly seemed so hollow, like he didn't deserve it.
Hank looked up to find Yohji watching him, and he shrugged and gave the blonde a weak smile.
Yohji pulled the cigarette from his mouth and tossed his head back as he blew the smoke out in a long breath. "You're gonna wear a hole in that pier, you keep that shit up," he commented, staring at Hank briefly before turning his attention back toward the water.
"Sorry," Hank replied. He shrugged and came to stand next to Yohji. "Guess I'm just nervous."
Yohji stubbed out his cigarette, immediately reaching to pull another one from the pack hidden within his jacket pockets. After pulling out the new stick, he glanced into the package, holding it up into the light so that he could squint into its tiny opening. "Dammit," he commented, when he realized it was his last cigarette. He sighed and lit up, before looking sideways toward Hank. "What's to be nervous about?" he asked. "This is all over for you after tonight."
"Yeah," Hank replied, "Unless you decide to come lookin' for me later on."
Yohji grinned, "Yeah. That why you're so nervous?"
Hank shook his head and said, "Naw. Not not really. I mean, I'd rather not, but you know Anyhow, I mean, I haven't really seen Keiko in three years. What if she doesn't remember me?"
Yohji looked sideways at him again as he said, his words muffled around the cigarette he still held clamped in his lips, "Of course she'll remember you. You're her dad, right?"
Hank shrugged. Just as he was about to reply, Bubba growled and started up, into a standing position. At almost the same time, a delighted squeal cut through the cold night.
"Daddy! Daddy!" a little girl screamed, running up to Hank and Yohji, her arms outstretched. She laughed in delight as she approached them.
Bubba completely ignored the little girl. Instead, he ran past her, barking excitedly, as he saw two new arrivals that he recognized.
Hank turned immediately at the sound of the girl's voice. He couldn't hold back his cry of joy as he knelt down, holding his arms open for her. She jumped into them and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his long hair. Hank laughed and stood. Holding the girl tightly in his arms, he spun around in circles, laughing and crying at the same time.
Yohji also stood to face the new arrivals as Omi and Ken finally reached the end of the pier, both laughing and trying desperately to keep Bubba, who was terribly excited at seeing them after such a long absence, from knocking them down. The big dog yapped and jumped around like a puppy, licking at Omi's face and grabbing the end of Ken's jacket in his teeth. Ken and Omi had been holding Keiko's hands, but, when the little girl had caught sight of Hank, she had broken away from them to run ahead. They hadn't been quite able to keep up with her. Now, as they approached the end of the pier, Ken and Omi both paused, staring at Yohji. Wordlessly, they walked past Hank and his daughter to take Yohji in a brief group embrace before releasing the tall blonde, who hugged them back and ruffled Omi's hair, much to the boy's displeasure. After that, the three assassins simply watched the reunion, smiles on their faces. Despite their worry over Aya, Omi and Ken felt good about reuniting with Yohji, and all of them felt especially good about returning Keiko to Hank. It wasn't often that they actually got to do something like this, something they could really feel good about later.
Hank finally stopped hugging and spinning his daughter. Smiling, he set the little girl gently down on the pier, and held her at arms length to get a good look at her. "My little Keiko," he said softly, tears shining in his eyes. "Are are you all right? No one hurt you, did they?"
The little girl was wearing one of Omi's long-sleeved t-shirts, tied at the waist with some ribbon as a make shift belt, underneath one of the youngest assassin's jackets, which was at least five sizes too large for her. Omi had rolled the sleeves up and pinned up the tail of the coat as best as he could. Still, it hung off of Keiko. Her long black hair was pulled back into two little doggie ears, which hung on either side of her head. It was a fairly messy job, overall, but she was clean and happy, and she didn't seem any the worse for wear. She shook her head fiercely, making her doggie ears whip from side to side.
"Nuh-huh, Daddy," she stated, emphatically. "Mr. Omi and Mr. Ken was real nice to me. Are they your friends? Mr. Ken showed me how to kick a ball, 'cept I broke something for the flowers."
"Um one of the coolers," Ken volunteered, laughing. "She's got quite a power kick, your daughter. She'll be a great soccer player one day. You just wait."
Hank couldn't stifle his laughter at Ken's statement. He looked over to see his three friends watching him, too, smiles on their faces. He looked back to his daughter and said, "Yeah, Mr. Ken and Mr. Omi are my friends." He gestured toward Yohji, and said, "This is Mr. Yohji. He's my friend, too. They all helped to get you back." His voice turned serious as he asked, "But, the man who took you, who hid you from Daddy he didn't hurt you, at all did he?"
Again, the head shake, a furious twirl of long hair and ribbons, as she replied, "Nuh-huh. He was scary, but sad, kinda. He never even talked to me, really. Just said that one of Daddy's friends would come and then I could go home. And, he cried a lot. He was real mad at someone."
"Aya," Yohji said softly.
The little girl looked toward Yohji when she heard his almost-whispered statement. Nodding her head again, she said, "Yeah. That was him. But, I don't know why. Mr. Aya seemed real nice to me."
Yohji, forgetting the touching reunion he had been watching, shoved Hank aside to kneel in front of the little girl. He grabbed her arms, forcing her to look into his eyes, as he said, an urgent tone to his voice, "Keiko, it's very, very important. Did you meet Mr. Aya?"
Keiko nodded. "Yeah. The kind of scary man; he brought him to where I was. Before Mr. Ken and Mr. Omi came."
Yohji looked up sharply at Ken and Omi, a question in his eyes.
In response, Omi shook his head. "There wasn't any sign of him at the house when we got there. There wasn't anyone there except Keiko. We checked the whole place. We didn't even know he was ever there. This is the first we've heard of it."
Hank knelt next to Yohji and gently pried the blonde's clenched fingers from around Keiko's arms, as he asked, "Sweetie, was Mr. Aya all right? Did he seem OK to you?"
She nodded. "He was sleeping, when the scary man first brought him. At first, the scary man said that I would be able to see Daddy because Mr. Aya came there with him. Then, later, after Mr. Aya kind of waked up, the scary man wanted to leave, and he was gonna make me go, too. But, Mr. Aya said he couldn't because they had a deal. I didn't really know, but the scary man seemed really mad or something. He grabbed Mr. Aya by the throat and lifted him right off the ground. It was real scary. I was real scared, and I started to cry, but Mr. Aya, he said it would be all right. He said they were just playing a game, and that nothing would happen to me if I was quiet and if I was a good girl. Then, Mr. Aya fell asleep again, and the scary man took him away. After that, Mr. Ken and Mr. Omi came to get me." She looked at Hank for a moment, and then asked, in a serious voice, "Daddy, is Mr. Aya your friend, too?"
Hank pulled the little girl toward him and hugged her tightly as he whispered, "Yes. Yes, Mr. Aya is Daddy's friend."
Ken checked his watch quickly before saying, "Look, I hate to break this up, but, Hank, you've only got two hours to make your flight. You need to leave now. Our cab is waiting for you." He fumbled through his coat pocket. "Here," he said, as he stuffed a fat envelope into Hank's hand, "your plane tickets, passports, and some seed money to help you get settled."
Hank stared at the three assassins. He couldn't believe his good fortune. He couldn't believe they would show him such kindness, even after he had betrayed Ran and allowed the redhead to fall into Schuldich's hands. He turned the envelope over in his hands and stared at it before finally stammering, "I I can't. I mean this it's it's too much, and I I don't deserve it. After everything I did "
"Stop," Yohji said, cutting Hank off in mid-sentence. He surprised Hank by coming over and putting his hand companionably on the man's shoulder as he continued, "Everyone deserves a fresh start. We'd all take one, if we could." He smiled and gently ruffled Keiko's hair. "Besides, it's what Aya would want us to do what he'd do if he was here."
Hank hastily wiped away tears that had gathered in his eyes. For a moment, he couldn't speak, but, finally, when he had managed to gain control of his voice, he choked out, "Thank thank you. I I can't ever thank you all for for everything you've done for me for us." He turned and, impulsively, hugged Ken, and then Omi. When he stood in front of Yohji, he hesitated for a moment and then pulled the startled blonde assassin into a bear hug. "Yohji," he whispered, "I I know we've had our differences, but thanks. For everything."
To Hank's surprise, Yohji hugged him back, after a moment of shocked astonishment. "Just hope I never show up on your doorstep," he whispered back.
Hank nodded his head, and swept Keiko into his arms. "Say bye to all the nice people, darlin'," he said.
Keiko laughed and waved.
"Go, already!" Ken snapped. "You're gonna miss your plane." He pointed toward the cab, which was barely visible in the distance, a yellow blob in the murky darkness and mist that swirled off the water. "Besides, that cab driver wasn't too crazy about waiting for you. If he leaves, you'll never find another one down here. It's paid for, too, all the way to the airport."
Hank swiped away some more tears, and turned away from them. When he was halfway to the cab, he turned back and waved one last time. Then, he ducked into the cab and it drove away, quickly disappearing from sight as the mist swallowed it. Ken, Omi, and Yohji watched it until even its red taillights had faded from view.
"So?" Yohji asked, looking at Ken and Omi.
"We got the meeting. With Crawford," Omi replied.
"Good," Yohji said, nodding his approval. He paused and fiddled absently with his jacket pocket until he pulled out a half-crushed cigarette package. He tapped the bottom of the pack to shake out one of the sticks, and hissed in irritation when he realized that it was empty. He shoved the empty pack back into his pocket, as he mumbled, "At least we know he Aya was alive two days ago."
"I don't think Schuldich will do him that quickly," Ken said, staring out at the water so that he didn't have to look either of his friends in the face. "After all, he wanted revenge, right?"
Yohji nodded as he, once again, took the cigarette package from his jacket pocket. His fingers moved with a life of their own, absently and completely divorced from his mind. Omi reached out and grabbed the crushed box. His warm, gloved fingers closed around Yohji's chilled ones and gently stilled the older man's slightly shaking hand.
"You OK?" the boy asked, frowning at the slightly vacant look he could see just behind Yohji's dark sunglass lenses.
Yohji nodded. "Yeah, why?"
"Because," Omi said, nodding his head to indicate the ground at Yohji's feet, which was littered with snubbed-out cigarette butts, "you've been chain smoking."
Yohji shrugged, and turned to head toward his motor boat, which would take him back to the yacht. Hank's friend had said he could continue to use the yacht for as long as he wanted. "I'll be all right," he said quietly, as he tried to shrug off Omi's hand. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He didn't want to leave them, and the thought of being on that boat --- alone and cut off from everyone and everything he cared about --- made his skin crawl. But, he had to do it, to protect them. "I've I've gotta go. Kritiker can't find you guys with me."
Omi refused to release Yohji's hand. "No," he stated in a flat, matter-of-fact voice, indicating he would brook no resistance or argument from the tall blonde. "You're not going alone. Either you come home with us, or we're going to that boat with you."
"No," Yohji snapped, "Out of the question. Aya didn't want you guys involved. I don't want you involved, and I hate like hell that I had to ask for what I did. I can't go back to the shop and keep looking for Aya. Even if Kritiker lets me back into the fold, they don't care one shit about Aya, and they won't allow me to expend any resources to find him. That's not acceptable. If you guys come with me, you're going to be too deeply involved. You won't be able to get out of this."
"Too bad," Ken said calmly, whirling Yohji around and steering him toward the motor boat moored at the end of the pier. "We're all family, right? Isn't that what you said? That means we're already involved." When Yohji started to protest, Ken slapped him lightly on the back of the head and snapped, "Besides, you look like walking shit. Without Aya around, who the hell is gonna take care of you? You obviously can't do it yourself. You don't even know how many cigarettes you smoked while you were waiting for us. And, when the hell did your hair get so damn long, anyhow? You forget how to get a damn haircut? Good grief! Let Aya go jaunting off for a few days, and look what happens. The whole fucking world falls apart."
Yohji knew the ex-goalie was straining to keep his voice light and his tone teasing. He knew Omi and Ken were just as worried about Aya as he was, and he really didn't want to go back to that boat alone. Even with Bubba there, it would be too quiet. He knew he'd spend the whole night drinking, smoking, and brooding, and, ultimately, that wouldn't do Aya any good. If Aya was here, he had a feeling the redhead would agree wholeheartedly with Ken and Omi's decision.
So, instead of arguing with his friends, which he knew would be pointless, Yohji whined, "But, Keeen! That's not fair. I think my hair's pretty this way. All the girls will love it, you know. In fact, I met this lovely young thing just a few days ago. Man, was she hot but completely legal. You know I don't go for underaged types"
"Oh, shut up!" Ken laughed. He pulled a fresh package of cigarettes out of his pocket and held them up in front of Yohji's face. He had to strain to reach around the tall blonde to do so, as he was walking behind Yohji, pushing the older man toward the motor boat.
"Oooh! Ciggies!" Yohji squealed, sounding every bit like an excited school girl.
He snatched the package from Ken's hand, and immediately tore it open. Bubba yapped excitedly as he jumped up onto Yohji's chest, in an attempt to grab the package from the blonde's hands. The dog didn't understand what was happening, of course, but he was excited over the sudden change in Yohji's previously somber personality, as well as over seeing Omi and Ken.
"These are not for dogs," Yohji said to Bubba as he struggled to keep the cigarettes out of the animal's reach.
