"Ken? Oi, Ken!"

Ken woke to someone shaking him sharply and groaned in protest, flinging an arm over his eyes. No, he was comfortable here, he didn't want to move.

The voice, which he distantly recognized as belonging to Yohji, persisted. "Ken, get up. We have to go… you can't sleep here. What's wrong with you?" The shaking stopped and Ken opened his eyes a crack.

Yohji stood over him, looking put-out. "You're going to be stiff as hell from sleeping on that bench," the older man drawled. "What the hell possessed you, hm? You've been so strange lately."

"Stiff," Ken repeated groggily, sitting up gingerly, but to his surprise and pleasure, he didn't hurt at all. He felt loose, relaxed, ready for anything. For the first time in months, he had slept, and he hadn't dreamed. Memory came back to him in a rush and he paused, eyes widening, the hand that was scratching his tousled hair freezing.

One evil ghost will keep another one away.

Farfarello. Had he really… had Ken really…? He twisted frantically, but he was alone, save for Yohji, who distracted him from near-panic by taking his wrist and putting a hand on his forehead.

"Oi, Ken," he murmured, sounding concerned. "Are you all right, really? You don't seem sick, but Omi's been concerned about you. Even Aya said something when I came out here after you."

Ken looked into Yohji's cat-tilted green eyes, those gaijin eyes that made women swoon, and then looked away. "Yohji," he said quietly. "When you came here, did you see anything or hear anything unusual? Anyone hanging around?"

"Well, not really," Yohji said, settling back and looking puzzled. "I mean, I thought I would find you awake, because I heard…" he trailed off. "Well, it was probably a dog or something. Something snapping twigs. I thought it might be you so I chased it, and here you were. Almost a good thing, really, I'd never have thought to look here."

Ken considered that for a long moment, feeling Yohji's gaze narrow and become more intense.

"What's going on?" the blonde inquired quietly.

"Nothing," Ken said with a sigh. "Everything. Something big's coming. Don't you feel it? Everything's going to be decided soon, who's right and who's wrong and who lives and dies…."

"That's enough of that," Yohji told him firmly, hauling him to his feet. "We're going home. I hope you can make it on your own because I can't fit your bike in the Seven."

"I can make it," Ken told him, brushing himself off and sliding off the bench. "You go ahead, Yohji, I have some errands to run."

"It's not like that," Yohji said firmly. "Manx stopped by. We have another mission."

Ken took in a quick breath, and was surprised to find his hands shaking mildly. Nerves? "A-all right. I'll be right behind you. Let's go."

Yohji made an exasperated sound and headed back toward his car, and Ken followed at a more sedate pace, gazing in puzzlement at his hands. They seemed to vibrate with an odd sort of tingling buzz, the way they did when he… when he…..

Ken Hidaka hates killing, but Siberian LOVES it.

Not nerves. Not nerves at all, but….

…Anticipation?

X-X-X-

The next few days passed in a haze of blood. Ken got very little sleep between conflicts, and by the time they'd snuck into the museum-turned-ritual-site, chasing the leaders of Eszet and two kidnapped girls, he was running on pure adrenaline. His gloves were still damp with the blood of those he'd killed, but the feeling didn't repel him. Here was everything. This was the time when he had to lay it all on the line. He had a faint suspicion that he would die here, a fitting end to a misspent life. The thought brought him strange comfort, especially as he felt himself becoming more and more lost in the haze of endless killing.

And here it was. The end.

Fire crackled in the upper reaches of the concert hall and the stench of scorched flesh was strong. The old woman turned her back on him to aid the old man and Ken saw his target. His lips pulled back in a rictus grin, heart pounding as he launched himself forward. This was IT. Now or NEVER. He couldn't lose!

He didn't. He slammed his fist, blades extending from the knuckles, into her back and rolled past, throwing himself on the ground even as Omi leaped over him and landed on top of him. There was a twang, a whoosh, a thud, and the woman collapsed.

Picking himself up from the floor, Ken realized that Aya, too, had dispatched one of the three leaders. But even as they closed in on him, the third escaped. There was a moment's pause to revive Sakura, who'd been switched for Aya-chan as the sacrificial lamb. Then, off on the chase again. One more to kill, and then they were done, and this nightmare would be over.

He was so focused on that, he couldn't hold back his surprise when they were suddenly, and rather unexpectedly, faced with Schwarz. And he with Farfarello.

If he'd expected quarter, he would have been disappointed. He recognized the maniac grin on that scarred face. A small part of him screamed in pain – he had spoken civilly with this man only days ago. But that part was silenced as he looked into that tiger-gold eye and felt the great cat within his own soul growl hungrily. This was his opportunity to let it all out, and he did, throwing himself at Farfarello with a scream of primal rage and satisfaction.

Farfarello was better than him. This was readily apparent. He opened shallow cuts in that ludicrous white suit, but then slender fingers with the power of steel cables wound around his wrist and yanked him in close. Another hand closed over his face and then his head met something hard and unyielding with a sickening crunch. Again, and again, and again… consciousness faded and he almost welcomed it. If this was his death, so be it. Only Omi, Omi couldn't let it go. Omi tackled Farfarello away from him and now the white-haired madman was kicking him to the ground and battering him.

"Omi," he breathed, feeling his eyes fill, thanks to this display of loyalty. He could die himself, he thought as he hauled himself back to his feet, but he couldn't let Omi die. Omi was too good. Omi had so much life ahead of him. He had something to fight for. Something to fight… for….

Blind rage overwhelmed him and he charged in. "THIS IS FOR KASE!" he screamed, and heard himself screaming. He felt his bugnuks sink into flesh and saw Farfarello hit the floor in a graceless heap, bleeding profusely from the throat. He'd caught him under that delicately pointed chin and torn through his mouth. He dropped to his knees next to Omi.

"Omi…."

Omi said something, but it was lost in the sudden rumble. The ground fractured and disintegrated beneath their feet. The ritual hall collapsed into the sea, taking all its secrets and killers, black and white, with it into the cleansing water.

"It's the end of the world, and the beginning of a new one. You will be there to see it, Hidaka Ken, Siberian kitten. But even the Oracle does not know if you will survive it."

Ken Hidaka fell into blackness, and welcomed it. They had done what they came to do. It was a job well-done.

I'm coming, Kase, he breathed into the chaos of noise. I'm coming. And if you try to torment me in the afterlife, I'll kill you again for sure!

And it was over.

X-X-X-