Re-edited for better viewing ... hehe...

Weiß Kreuz and all of its characters belongs not to me....

Fragmented Pieces of My Family 4: The Hand that Rocks the Cradle

Farfarello looked at the little figure in his arms. The boy was sleeping soundly from tiredness and tears. He brushed his fingers upon soft brown hair. The boy sure looked like a doll when he was sleeping. At other times, he would look even more surreal. A speck of human feeling that the boy just showed made Farfarello felt as if he was cradling a porcelain French doll. Soft, fragile, and delicate.

He often wondered why the boy he had a certain attachment towards the youngest member of Schwarz. He sure hated Crawford for the only thing the American had done was to order him around. Off course, Crawford had given him many toys to play. But sometimes he also forbade him to. And Schuldig for him was more like a partner in crime. The red head understood him well; as he understood almost everyone he met. He also loved to torture others and Farfarello always loved it when Schuldig relay the thoughts of their victims to him.

With Nagi it was very different. There was this strange feeling that came to him whenever he saw the boy. The Japanese boy never bothered to talk to him until that day when he found a sheet of white paper flying through the bars of his cell. He never bothered talking to anyone.

He put the boy down to the wooden floor and stood up. Taking silent steps as not to wake the boy, he blew the candles and headed to the door. He stopped there for a while and stood in silence watching the grey figure on the darkened room. Slowly he whispered to the sleeping form.

"Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept. Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?"

He fell again into silence. His hand was still holding the mirror piece and his hands were still bleeding. He took up his right hand to his mouth and licked the crimson colored liquid. The smell of copper filled his nostrils. It smelled much better than Crawford's aftershave or Schuldig's deodorant. It also smelled better than the soapy scent of Nagi.

His left hand lifted, taking the mirror to his eye level. He enjoyed looking at red drops that fell from his gushing hands. "He shall have his revenge," he muttered, "Right, Nagi? We will have our revenge."

He dropped the mirror to the floor and it thumped on the corridor's thick carpet. The bloodstains were not easily noticed on the maroon fabric. Crawford carefully chose dark colors for the apartment so that they did not have to spend too much money for cleaning. It also kept them away from inquiring cleaning service.

"Good night, Nagi."

Farfarello took the fire exit to go out of the building. He hardly used the elevator. It was meant to trap a prey, and as a hunter, he hated to be lured into such thing. He preferred the emergency stairs. He could jump out whenever he wanted and there was more space to move in.

Trail of blood followed his movement. The Irish did not seem to care about it. It would heal soon anyway. He knew. He did not feel anything anyway. He did not even feel hurt. He did not even suffer blood loss. The blood for him was like tears to others.

He had lost his ability to cry a very long time ago, and the only way to let out his depression was to make himself bleed, as if the blood would drawn away all his sorrows. And the more that trickled down his wounds, the less his sufferings.

The sky was dark but the glow from street lamps and store lightings illuminated the city. The rays fell on the trees and cast dull grey shadows on the pavement while its reflection created a strange purple aura in the sky.

The man avoided the streetlights, keeping his strides under the shade of the tree. He did not want to be seen. He did not like unnecessary meetings with people. The only thing that needed to be aware of him was his victim. He liked to torture people and not merely killing them. What was the joy of short killing like the way Crawford always did? The torturing was fun. And it was like ecstasy to watch them die.

He liked to make sure that his prey would die in peace for he no longer wished to live. Then killing was not sin. He was helping the prey to release himself from sorrow, from the worldly pain that bound him to life. The killing was meaningful. It had its own ceremony, from the head down to toe. Killing must be beautiful.

His steps stopped in front of a gate. Beyond the gate, he could see a big building. The sign at the gate said "Seishiki College". He knew he would not find his prey there, but he would be able to find where he could find it. Lightly he leaped over the gate and he ran to the building.

It was easy to break in; even the students sometimes did it. He made his way along the corridor until he found the administration room. He opened the lock with one of his knife. He knew how not to leave any marks. He was professional.

He moved towards the filing cabinet near the desk and started to search for his victim. Firstly, he looked for Nagi's file and checked which class he was in, and then he started to search for another file. The file he was looking for was under the letter S. He despised the letter. S reminded him of Eszet .

"Sakoda Tomoko," he hissed the name.

He arrived at the housing area a sometime before midnight. The roads were empty but Farfarello could still see life in each building. Most of Japanese stayed until late at night and arose early in the morning to do their commuter lives. A person living in that area might be working about three or four hours away from there. It was something usual in that country.

The apartment buildings looked gloomy. It was very different from the building in which Schwarz lived. The buildings had four storey and they had no elevator. The walls were made of brute concrete, revealing lines and joints of the cast. It looked cold and unfriendly. There was no lobby to ensure security; everyone could just access the stairs and corridors easily. They were one of the government's mass housing projects in the seventies.

A dog was looking for food at the nearest garbage collector. It jumped and dashed away as Farfarello walked closer towards one of the buildings. Animal instinct was better than human's. It could feel the heavy atmosphere that surrounded the Irish as he walked closer to his prey. The one eye glinted in the dark like a cat.

The room he was looking for was on the upper most floors. It was the furthest one from the stairs. That condition was very conducive for a murder plan. The prey was cornered and it had no way to go. Moreover, there would need quite sometime before help could come.

Farfarello smirked. He loved it. He loved it so much. It was as if the owner of the room was willing to die tonight. He walked lightly on the corridors. From far away he heard a baby wailing and there was also a quarrel somewhere far off, but the rooms on that corridor were silent. The occupants seemed to have settled themselves into relaxing atmosphere of a home.

Slowly he peeked into the intended room. He could see two women talking one to another. He did not know which exactly his prey was, but another toy was welcome. He would love to have extra chance to kill someone. With cautious steps he took a way around to the balcony.

"I cannot dye my hair, Chii. Not while I'm still teaching at that school," the first woman said frustratingly. She was brushing her long black locks. She came down from the chair and sat by the other one. The first woman turned her head to look at her friend. She stayed that way for a moment.

"What?" the woman called Chii asked. She snapped her finger before the first one. The second one also had curly hair, but it was shorter and it was dyed in lighter shade than most of Japanese.

Apparently, the first woman must be the one called Sakoda Tomoko. He had seen her photograph attached at the file and she had this long jet-black hair.

"What what?"

Chii frowned, "The boy! I mean, you were so anxious to tell me about him and his Greek god guardian, and now that the day's passed you're not going to tell me anything?" Farfarello saw her raised herself and sat.

Sakoda looked away as if she was thinking about something.

"Well, for one thing," she finally voiced, "the gorgeous guardian couldn't make it. The boy said that he was out of town or something."

"Mou, that's not fun!" Chii sulked.

A teacher who only thought about men must be a bad one. Farfarello licked his knife in excitement. He loved to kill, but mostly he loved to kill with revenge. A heartless torment would be perfect for these women. Anyhow, the one-eyed wondered what kind of charm that Crawford used to capture these defenseless women. What's so gorgeous about Brad Crawford anyway?

"But he's not married, right?" asked shorthaired woman again. She seemed to enjoy talking about the leader of Schwarz that much. The man at the window snorted as he imagined Crawford getting married. That was so out of concept. Those women surely did not know what they were talking about.

The other woman shook her head.

"Good!" Chii voiced, "If he's not married, then you perhaps can take him." She grinned, "I mean you've been lonely for such a loooong time ever since that stupid Hiro abandoned you. It's time for you to set up a new. I think it would be a dream come true to see you wed this foreigner."

"Chii!" Sakoda screamed, "He's my student's guardian! I cannot do that! And I have only seen him once. That's not going to go anywhere, mind you?"

The figure outside the room grinned. Of course you won't be able to marry him, he thought, you're not going to meet anyone anymore.

"I'm taking a shower now." Sakoda stood, "Maybe next time I should stay over at your place. I'm dying to take a bath." She frowned, "When I get a raise I'd move to a bigger place with ofuro so I can take a bath as I please."

"You'd better do so, Tomo-chan," Chii answered, "I don't like to have a friend staying over at my house because my mother would always knock our door before midnight and tell us to go to sleep."

He watched the woman undressed. Her figure was womanly perfect with beautiful curvaceous shapes. That was just the type Farfarello loved to carve on. The more perfect the body was the sadder God would be. She walked into the shower and pulled over the curtain. Soon Farfarello heard the sound of trickling water and the small bathroom soon filled with steam.

Farfarello broke in through the window. It was big enough for a man to enter. He looked out from the bathroom and saw that the other woman was putting a CD into the stereo set and listened to it using headphones. Everything was perfect. It would be a big success if could kill the woman without letting the other knew about it.

He slipped himself out and with one effective movement; he slit the woman's throat. She did not even have time to realize what had become of her. The CD player kept playing the silent song.

Without any feeling of remorse, Farfarello calmly went back into the bathroom. He wanted to play longer with this one. He watched the silhouette of the woman as she scrubbed her body thoroughly with soap, obviously not noticing the presence of another person in the room. He let her finished cleansing herself. A sacrifice is always best when it is clean and pure.

Slowly he stepped forward to the shower and hissed to the woman's ear, "I hate shepherd who abandons his flock."

The woman snapped. She hurried turning off the faucets.

"Chii? Is that you?"

She was about to open the shower curtain but two strong arms suddenly grabbed her from the back. The arms were pale in color and it was bandaged in many places. She could also see gashes in the hand that went up to close her mouth.

"I'm sorry, she's sleeping right now," he whispered, "She won't hear you."

The woman tried to jerk free from the hands but they were too strong for her. She screamed but the hands drowned her voice.

"Hush, hush," said Farfarello as he dragged her to the living room. The dead body of the other woman was still there drawn in her own blood. "See," he cupped Sakoda's face and turned it towards her best friend's body, "The bird has stopped chirping chii chii…."

She tried to break free again. This time she bit hard into the hand, expecting the owner to jerk it off. It gushed out blood, but to her surprise, the man only lifted his brow as if he was surprised. He did not seem to feel anything. He did not seem to be hurt at all. He merely lifted up his hand to his lips and wetted it with the crimson colored drops and then he drew it to the woman's lips.

"Here," he said, "the color is much better for your lips than lipstick."

His fingers traced her lips. She wretched from nausea but unlike any other female victims he had, this woman seemed to be able to hold back her hysteria and thought clearly.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

"Revenge."

"What for? Have I done you wrong?"

"I'm only helping someone else," the man hissed again, "You have proven yourself an unworthy teacher. You have let one sheep from your flock gone astray. What is so good about him anyway that you'd use a student to bait his guardian?"

Something came to dawn in her mind, but before she opened up her mouth, a calm, emotionless voice spoke.

"Haven't I told you I hate unnecessary killings, Farfarello?"


---- to be continued ----

Hey, whaddya think... shall terminate Sakoda-sensei or not? Write me a line by puching the review button below!!

thank you for reading My Family this far..... I'm so happy