Cigarette Juice Box

Chapter 6: Detain the Inevitable

WARNING! Violence and angst. That is ALL.

Let me forget, God. Wipe away my happiness, my sorrow. Leave me empty... The shadows engulfed almost everything, leaving the hotel room almost unrecognisable as such. It heightened the foreign atmosphere, making it nearly thick enough to touch with bare hands. Moonlight barely streamed through the thin separations in slatted windows, the strange blue light flowing through as a distant reminder of the waxing full moon. The inhabitants however refused to notice such a menial thing, or at least Yohji forced his mind to think elsewhere.

His foot closed the door with a simple motion and the tall man pressed against the younger until his back rested against the wall. The cap came off first. Neither of them could see around the bill, causing an awkward barrier between them. Once this had been disposed of, Yohji leaned in to trail kisses along the man's throat. His lithe, moist tongue left a cool trail against the tanned skin. Small hands entwined themselves in the long, blonde locks, pulling Yohji's head closer to where the boy knew there to be a sweet spot.

More than anything the tall man found that he should have gotten himself drunk before coming here. Perhaps not raving, out of consideration for the prostitutes just trying to make a living, but enough so he could fully mistake this one for Omi himself. Now he felt the difference plainly, though he hadn't seen so much at fist glance. The man's skin had a pinker tint to Omi's olive and Omi's waist had been just a bit thinner, widening out with frail, feminine hips. This boy seducing him in the darkness felt far too willing, far too ready to do his bidding and all that Yohji could imagine was that smiling boyish face teasing him in the flower shop about one thing or another. The guilt stung at him.

Yohji doubled his efforts, placing long-fingered hands on the man's waist, lifting him into the air where he wrapped slender legs around Yohji and teased at the tight crop-top shirt clinging to Yohji's body. The prostitute let out a laugh, something vaguely erotic and usually enticing that he normally called the sex laugh. "You know, you're really good at this." The stranger lowered himself to bite at Yohji's ear. "What say we cut to the chase, mister."

Disgust coursed through the assassin's gut. "My name's Yohji."

"Yohji..." The man above him crooned almost lovingly. "It's a gorgeous name. I'll be much obliged to say it for you, if you like." Again came the sensual chuckle. "Of course, you'd have to have a beautiful name to match its owner. Not that it matters, but when I saw you I was thinking to myself 'What luck. I've got stallion tonight...'" The man gave a moan as he trailed his hand down Yohji's body to brush the small of his back. Keep talking, just keep talking... Yohji thought to himself, almost daring the whore to continue. "I'm having a hard time waiting to see what kind of work you do." Tactfully the prostitute shifted to rub his buttocks where there should have been a rock hard erection. He paused. "What's wrong, Yohji-kun?"

The nickname and the tone of worry rang far too familiar. Yohji's mind was sent reeling, images of Omi smiling at him, replacing the look of this whore in his arms. Each muscle readjusted as they would around his boyishly blonde companion. He no longer saw the prostitute, but Omi urging him to do as he would. This time he seemed unmarred by the pain coursing through his body and the need to prove himself to be nothing but dirty money. His heart softened and Yohji felt himself harden in reaction to the images flooding into his mind of this being Omi resting lustily in his arms. Yohji's gold-flecked green eyes readjusted as they would for his companion and he smiled. "Nothing's wrong." In a few steps he'd reached the bed and he placed Omi on it gently. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

The blonde man purred. "You have no idea, Yohji-kun." The older man nodded and gave a lidded smile. He seemed so enthusiastic. Maybe he was feeling better after-- after what? Yohji supposed that whatever had happened didn't matter. He picked lightly at the button on Omi's shorts then worked to unzip them. There were no undergarments to block his full on view of Omi's erection. Yohji hovered over it before planting a small kiss along the sensitive flesh. Omi shivered in pleasure and pulled the older man closer. Hands placed on delicate hips, Yohji took a bit of the length into his mouth. Another sensual laugh sounded. "Don't hesitate. I don't break, Yohji-kun. Give me everything you got."

In a sudden act of determination, Yohji slid all the way up the shaft, teeth grazing dangerously rough on the skin. He growled against it, pulling away just to move back in as he exhaled along the cool, damp skin. Hit tongue massaged it in an experienced manner, arching his back to give not only physical stimulation, but visual as well. Omi tugged at the tight crop top and slid it off to reveal the toned back of his older companion. The feel of hands on his shoulders made him laugh, thus drawing a moan from the blonde boy above him. His nails dug into Yohji's back. "Aa-n..." Was the only reply Yohji could give with the boy rocking suddenly forward. Omi's legs were flung over Yohji's shoulders, pulling him closer. He decided to pay special attention to the most sensitive area, rolling his tongue along the under side and grazing it roughly with his teeth as he hummed. Omi thrust against Yohji's hands as he laughed lustily. Something about it wasn't quite right, but the thought pushed itself out of his mind unnaturally quick.

"Yohji-kun..." came Omi's purring whisper. "Stand up." For a moment his mind hesitated, but the tall man stood all the same only to find his younger companion lean back until his spine rubbed on Yohji's toned stomach. The boy fumbled with the button on Yohji's pants, unfastening them and sliding down the zipper. Not even in his wildest dreams had he imagined Omi being so flexible and skilled. After all he had been a virgin last he'd checked. Or at least, he mused against the hand tracing his rock hard erection, he'd been a virgin before Schwartz had gotten a hold of him.

Wait. Yohji pulled away, allowing his teeth just enough contact to elicit a mournful cry from his companion. He twirled his tongue along the tip, just enough motion so as not to raise suspicion and still allow Yohji a chance to think. What happened in the past few days? Why am I here anyway? This isn't my room, much less the apaato. He thought back through the buzzing pain and white noise of his mind. We went to go after Aya. I fell and then Schuldich asked us a riddles... the prize was.... "Ommitchi." He stated, releasing his hold on the other's length. He suddenly felt disgusted with himself. He'd spent hours thinking about how there was no hope in finding his lover, no hope in regaining his trust. He'd taken himself here so that he could forget and learn to live with out Omi and now... "Let me go." His baritone rang commanding through the hotel room.

"Don't stop!" The man laughed. "You're so good at it!" The person who had been Omi only moments before no longer seemed to be like him in the least. That stomach-jerking laugh and the forceful way he insisted to make Yohji continue made him suddenly want to wretch.

Yohji's hands fell to his sides but the whore held himself up with his legs around the taller man's neck. "I said let me go." Those hands continued to work with the waning erection, almost desperate to make the older man continue.

"I swear, I can be this Omittchi if you want me to!" Came the pleading reply. "Just don't stop, Yohji-kun." This last sent Yohji into a frenzy. He threw the man viciously onto the bed. His breath came heavily in his chest now, eyes gleaming in the darkness, full of loathing.

He crawled on top of the whore, flipping him over to force him to look into those gleaming mad eyes. "You can never be Omi. You can never understand what it's like to have to resort to this when there's something you can do." The younger man seemed confused, but Yohji didn't have time to explain. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money, handing it over to the prostitute. "I know I already paid, but use this to call a taxi to get you. Keep whatever is left, I'm sure you need it more than I do." He climbed off the man and quickly slipped his shirt back on, hurrying out the door to climb down the stairs.

The nearly full moon hung low in the sky, signalling the approach of dawn. Pink shone along the horizon along with lighter pastels of blue and violet. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, moving quickly to his car. Yohji jumped in, turning on the ignition as quickly as possible before tearing out of the parking space. Movement on the empty road caught his eye. A red foreign sports car cruised down the road at a quick pace. Only one person could be in that car. Yohji's eyes narrowed and he turned onto the road to follow.

The street lamps gave off flickering shadows against the barely recognisable forms. The blue light of the moon and the fading gold from the artificial light gave a vague sense of tranquillity. There was that and the lingering enigma of pleasure pulsing through his veins. It came and went with the slight throb of music coursing through his mind. Surely the driver, the redhead thought almost smiling as he pursed his lips, must have projected it. Omi's blonde head rested to the side on the centre seat belt strap, gazing dreamily into the rising sun. The adrenaline had coursed out of his body leaving him in a silent vigil. Cerulean eyes refused to focus on anything, attracted more to the blurred lines of shadow against his captors' faces. A single golden orb glinted in the darkness, focusing on the form of the boy. It seemed to laugh at him, a frightful kind of glee screaming demented needs into his mind. Then from the opposite side of him were dark, unseeing depths boring holes into the back of the seat in front of him.

Omi's gaze shifted to the front seats, detached and unfeeling. Both pairs of eyes glinted joyfully in the lamplight, faces silhouetted by the quickly rising sun. He distantly wondered if his companions were watching the same sunrise, waiting for the news telling them of his death. That's right… He remembered dimly, I'm going to die today. There came a heavy weight to his heart and he found himself full of regret. He had wanted to see his comrades at least once more before he went. Say goodbye to them and perhaps apologise to Yohji for not being able to completely give him his heart. The blonde man's smiling face rang clear in his mind, stinging him to the bone.

/You know, he doesn't love you./ Schuldich laughed. He was more joyful now than he'd ever seemed to be. He really must hate Omi to find such pleasure tormenting him. /Oh, you don't believe me, Kitten? I can tell you right now that he's not thinking about you./ The blonde boy watched his lips purse with glee. /Oh, he's a dirty boy. Would you like to see/ Without so much as a breath of reply Omi found himself with the picture of Yohji, arms wrapped around the waist of a boy hardly younger than himself holding him upside-down from his shoulders. The younger seemed to laugh with pleasure, hands reaching down to coddle Yohji's needing manhood.

It hurt. The picture sank into his subconscious and all the while Yohji's words rang clear in his mind. 'I'd give it all up if only you'd learn to love me.' Surely there had to be a mistake! There had to be something keeping it from being Yohji! He surveyed the picture in desperation, finding everything as it should be, each brush of the mind's eye provided more proof of the identity of the blonde man. 'How can I tell him that I'm absolutely in love with him--' came the remembered muffled conversation, rising to meet the agony forming in the pit of his stomach. Nagi was right, He mused to himself.

Schuldich gave an amused smile. /Oh, poor Kitten. Think of it this way: at least you won't have to live with the agony of facing him again. Of course, you'll never know why he did it./ The crooning voice brushed his mind almost affectionately had it not been for the shade of blessed hate blocking them. Omi shook his head.

Cerulean orbs closed tight, a single tear making its way from his tight chest. He needed to find some sort of comfort, needed to be pet and told everything would be okay. Of course, Omi understood, everything would not be okay. Even so, he leaned to rest his head against Nagi's shoulder. "Don't touch me." The boy hissed, not bothering to pull his head away from the hole he'd created in the back of Schuldich's chair. This sent another pang of hurt through his heart. He didn't want him anymore? It didn't surprise him, after all Omi was the enemy as well as broken. Yohji didn't want him; Nagi didn't want him...

Warm arms wrapped around him and Omi almost melted into them with his need to be comforted. Someone purred lightly into his hair, brushing his hand against the bare skin of Omi's arm. He leaned back into Farfarello who had refused to buckle his seat belt and thus had turned towards the blonde boy to watch him through their journey. The Irishman smiled, gently tilting Omi's head to plant a kiss on pouting lips. The younger returned the kiss and found himself nestled against the Irishman's chest, sobbing lightly against his shirt. Farfarello placed a pale hand against Omi's head as though to comfort him. However, what the blonde man didn't see was the smile that hardly ever crossed those scarred lips. "Such a pretty kitt'n..." He whispered, petting that soft mane of gold. "'Most angelic."

This caused Omi to cry harder. He clenched fistfuls of fabric against his face in sorrow. No, not an angel. I'm not an angel! If I were, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be about to be killed. God would save me and take me away from my pain! God would save his angel! The thought hurt deep, yet true to his heart. He wanted to not care anymore. He wanted to let the tears go and face his fate like he should, but the anxiety of death and agony drove him crazy. Gritting his teeth together the blonde boy forced himself to stop. Tears tread down the sides of his face with grim ferocity, but he allowed no sobs to escape, preferring to hang limp against this warm body. "Don't let me die."

Farfarello almost laughed, a rare thing, but he merely continued to pet the boy's head. "But 's what I want. I want ye tae die." He kissed the top of his head. "Ye should be thankin' me. Kami may not see ye now, but once we're done e'll know what a beautiful angel ye were." He tilted Omi's face up with a callused finger. "Such beauty 's a sin." A hand trailed up Omi's back beneath the cover of his shirt to skirt the lines of deep cuts just beginning to heal. "Yer beauty isn' without flaw." Through the lashes of the single revealed golden orb Omi could swear he saw a certain fondness, but he blamed it on the tears fogging his vision. "Dunnae feel so sad. Marks always look more lovely, den ye agree?" He stroked Omi's head slowly, much like he would have a cat. "God dunnae 'ave marks, but 'e made man. God dunnae feel for us, dunnae see us. 'S man, with flaws tha' feel pain 'n sympathy, so 's imperfections tha' make man better than God." Farfarello smiled again, only briefly. "S'man tha' deserve immortality."

A shiver coursed through Omi's body at the possessive touch along his spine. He gripped Farfarello's shoulders and put his head down against the scarred chest. There was nothing more to do now. Casting a quick glance to Nagi and the vaguely amused Schuldich he guessed they were quite absorbed in conversation. Then there was Farfarello, mocking his pain but not hinting to cause more. He was so warm against Omi's cold skin so, with Farfarello's hand still against his back, he curled just a bit tighter and closed his teary eyes. It was sure to be a long day tomorrow, certain to end with Omi's death. He may as well get some sleep before hand. He reached out unknowingly for the pale fingers resting against his leg and drifted soon after into sleep.

Farfarello chuckled and a slight smile crossed his lips as he lightly tensed his fingers against the much smaller tan ones and closed his eye to rest until they reached the sacrificial grounds.

A large hand pulled off one of the ears to the headset. Brad's dark eyes turned to the back seat. "It's too bad," He whispered, "He's quite cute when he's asleep. I would have liked to keep him." The American smiled and replaced the earpiece, returning to his reverie with Mozart ringing tunes in his mind. "Schuldich, I trust you to keep Nagi for a while. It's been a long day. A long few days in fact." He rubbed the bags under his eyes then fell silent.

/You should get some rest, too. Even traitors need to sleep sometimes./ The smile had faded from Schuldich's lips. He felt genuinely worried for his young companion. Sure, it was true that Schwarz often went nights without sleep, but lately it had been a habit too easily formed. Crawford was right. It had been a long few days. Of which Schuldich himself had only squeezed out a few hours, leaving him in poor control of his powers. /If the Playboy makes it in time you may just have your help to get the Kitten out. You should be in top condition./

This last shocked Nagi. Schuldich almost seemed to be supporting the thought of escape. /Don't take me wrong, Prodigy. I'm not supporting the idea, I'm supporting you. / To this Nagi nodded. "I suppose some rest wouldn't hurt." He closed his eyes, quickly lulled to sleep by the soft melody stuck in Schuldich's head. The mental Gaijin voice hummed the tune gently with the violin instrumental, almost eerily gorgeous with it. Nagi mentally noted that the German had a rather nice voice as long as he didn't sing in English then was fast asleep.

Schuldich smiled, humming the tune with new vigour. The road was all his. Well, his and the Playboy's, but that didn't matter much. He'd had his fun breaking their sacrifice's heart and now he would let things play out as they were meant to. He didn't have the strength to play any more mind games now. 'Motto anata o dakishime nemuritai...'

Dawn woke him with a dim, metallic ringing. It echoed off the bare walls and bounced back, only to pause before ringing again. Lavender eyes hesitantly opened. His muscles sore and battered, Ran moved to pick up the phone next to the bowl of water used the night before to clean Ken's wounds. "Moshimoshi." He grunted, voice raw for some unknown reason. His tongue rolled in his mouth against the sticky residue. "Yohji, what do you want?" He paused a second to listen, vaguely irritated to be woken from such a rare deep sleep. Lavender orbs floated across the shadows streaming through the window, eyeing the pinks and oranges moving against the white paint. "Of course you know where he is. He's with Schwarz." Ran brushed some hair from his face, finding it somewhat damp and smelling of sweat. He blinked. "Balinese, calm down. Where are you?" He nodded slightly to himself, not moving too much to ease the aching of his muscles. "Alright. I'll be there as soon as I can. Hai." He paused. "Hai. Jaa ne."

Immediately he fell back onto the bed. Why on earth was he in Ken's room? Ran found himself nude, like he normally slept, but covered in a crusty substance. He peeled a piece from his skin and moved it along his fingers. He'd done something last night... something that he'd greatly enjoyed. A pause and then he felt a hand across his chest. The callused pads moved along the curves of his muscles to the nipple, hardening with the light touch. "Ayan..." came the tired moan. "Where are we supposed to be going?" Soft pink lips brushed pale skin. "I'm too tired to move."

Smooth, bare legs entwined with his own and Ran could feel the upper thigh and bared member of his younger companion. He shivered. That's right, he acknowledged with a smile, he and Ken had done many things the night before. He'd been taunted, tempted, teased, but in the end he found that Ken had been right. With his love for control, Ran decided as he'd fallen asleep the night before, he certainly enjoyed calling the shots. Plus the idea of being able to command his comrade to do more than just battle gave him chills. Well, this was a new and enjoyable way to wake up. The smile faded as Ran remembered that Omi had been taken from the original hideout. "Yohji found Omi. He called to say that he's going to need some backup." Ken gave a moan and moved to sit up. With a quick motion Ran had pulled himself from the laying position and wrapped Ken in a tight embrace, fingers trailing down to the morning erection he was sure to find. "Don't moan at me, Siberian. I don't want to have to punish you for disobeying orders."

The soccer player became suddenly tense and nodded fervently. "Alright, alright! I'll go, just don't do this to me now!" This caused Ran to smile and he allowed Ken to slide free. He hurried to the linen closet and pulled out two clean towels, tossing one at Ran who caught it easily. "I can take the main bathroom if you want to use the one in Yohji's room." Ran nodded and stood, following the younger boy nude through the hall, only to turn into the main bathroom with him. Ken paused, shifting a bit under the lavender gaze. "Um... did you want this one?"

Oh, this was fun. Ran smiled and closed the door, locking it behind him. "We can both use it." He turned the knobs of the shower and the water came streaming down as it heated. "It saves time." Ran moved closer to Ken only to bite playfully on his ear. "Besides," he whispered into the shell, "I don't want to leave you alone." The brunette blushed, apparently trying to force away the reaction the nibble had given him. However, seeing as how they both stood nude, it was near impossible to do so. "Nn... my Kenken..." Ran pulled the younger to him, pressing their bodies together with a smile.

Ken kissed lightly at Ran's collarbone, easing himself around to the shower before climbing in. He pressed himself against the wall, allowing the water to rain down on him while he pulled his lover into the steaming shower. "Ayan, if only we didn't have to go out..." Ran nodded sadly, pulling out the bottle of shampoo. Even so, they both understood what had to be done. If it was between sex and saving Omi, both would easily choose the latter.

Morning driving in Tokyo was a nightmare. It took nearly an hour just to get out of the business districts. Aya had called his sister and let her know that he would be going out. He stopped by to grab his clothes and katana, glad to have it in his hand, and headed out. Now they drove steadily on the outskirts of Tokyo, heading towards where Yohji had been when he last called. The hotel passed the window quickly and Ken dialled to get further directions. A few minutes of speaking the brunette put down the phone. "Osaka bay region. He says that there's an underground ritual centre placed by ancient cults. He says he's waiting outside the Neko to Inu for us."

A few more hours of driving landed them by a pay phone outside a popular club, now closed for the day. Yohji nervously stamped out his cigarette upon their arrival and hurried to the door. "They're not here. They're a bit outside the city, but I need to talk to you." He turned and motioned for them to follow. "I'm friends with the owner. He said that we can talk safely in here." Yohji slid the door open for the two following then hurried to a place at the bar where he'd been drinking. "They can't do anything until night, Omi's being prepared for the ritual. When we get there he won't be able to speak, Nagi's gotta put some control on him just to make sure. Or else the ritual will be a failure." Yohji had continued to grow more nervous as he spoke, the consequences of making the slightest mistake sinking in. "He can't lighten up on Omi since Schuldich's keeping a tight lock on everything he does."

Ken eyed the tall blonde man whose hands shook so badly he had to put down the drink. The brunette's guess was that he'd ordered it long ago but had not been able to bring himself to drink it. "How did you find all this out? Did you talk to them?"

Yohji shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a few napkins on which were scribbled sloppy symbols in permanent marker. Though shaky, it was unmistakable handwriting. Nagi had written it, albeit from afar. "This is all the information I got. I'm not sure why he wants to help us, but the fact remains that he's done a lot to help Omi get out of this." Aya shook his head. He didn't trust this 'Nagi' fellow, but he was the only lead they had. Although he may be Schwarz, Nagi Naoe, the Prodigy, wasn't known to lie. "We've got until sundown. He suggested rest since that's one thing Schwarz has been lacking. It's best to have the upper hand." Ken placed a reassuring hand on his companion's shoulder.

"I'll find somewhere that we can sleep." Aya suggested and turned to head out the door. A glance around the square showed that they were near quite a few hotels, however most of which would be insanely expensive. He bit his lip, thinking of the ring he'd wanted to get Aya-chan for her birthday and cursed. A quick trip into the closest of them gave Aya a key to a one-bed room and a much lighter wallet. Even so, it was a place to sleep. From the room he called down to Ken's cell and they soon found themselves pattering around the room, Yohji squatting to keep from hitting the ceiling.

Ken curled up on the chair, leaving the bed open for the larger men. "Nothing more we can do, really." He sighed, looking out at the noon sun. "Yohji, try to get some rest; you've been up all night." To this the blonde man nodded and, albeit grudgingly, lie down on the bed.

The showers poured down on his back, splashing off the tanned bare skin before running down his body to pool on the tile floor and swirl around his feet. Omi stared, blue eyes watching the bubbling drain with apparent interest. He lowered heavy lids until he gazed out through dark lashes. Rough hands worked shampoo into his blonde hair. It smelled vaguely of flowers, one of his favourites. However the scent of this particular lily seemed empty without the lingering tobacco. This would be his last shower. The pounding of the water on his spine seemed more wonderful now than it had ever been. The warm splashes moving between his toes, trailing down his stomach, each bead of water he held dear to him.

Images of his past life flooded into his mind, everything forming together like the droplets on his skin. A smile from his companions, those who had betrayed him, the way they always seemed busy when they had been merely loitering about. Ken carrying that cactus back and forth through the shop, Aya... no Ran... watering the plants much more than necessary, Yohji weaving flowers together to make headbands for his favourite customers, each one of them rang clear in his mind and he knew that no matter how much they had wronged him he could never hate them. Even Yohji. Omi should have been expecting something like that to happen. His much older companion would get tired of waiting for Omi to get over the shock of rape and the pain it had caused him and go out looking for a willing body to take out his frustrations on. Sure, he should have seen it right before his very eyes, but it still hurt. A piece of Omi's tattered heart fell to the floor to mingle with the water at his feet, no, the tears of his heart. They may as well have been. So many broken sobs fought to rip themselves from Omi's chest to die lonesome on the floor. He refused them and rebuked them for the threat and kept them bottled up in his chest. After all, they wouldn't matter soon; he'd be dead.

A heady fragrance floated past his nose. For a second he wondered what it was, but passed it off knowing that he'd soon find out. Indeed he did as the bar of soap rubbed across his back and legs before he was forced to turn and have the other side of him cleansed of his earthly sins. He refused to look into the American's face, knowing full well what he'd find. The smug grin crossing his face and those all-knowing eyes mocking him-- saying to him that he had no worries and Omi would surely die on this day without question-- would only make Omi wretch and he'd have to be cleaned all over again. Instead he stared at his feet with an unnatural interest.

The rules were simple: No talking, no trying to escape, no contact to the outside. It didn't matter much anyway. The only one of the things Omi may have been remotely interested in doing he was prevented to do by a cold, invisible hand constantly clamping his jaws together. He'd given up trying, now aware that Nagi would continue to follow orders. Sure the Asian boy had all the abilities to fight back and wipe out Schwarz single-handed but Schuldich would hear of it far before he'd made up his mind to act and Brad would have already known about it. So he sat beyond the walls of the shower with his hands folded in his lap and a distant look deep in his eyes, one almost seeming to be anxiety.

Who was Omi kidding? The only way anyone wanted him was dead. The shower was turned off and Brad approached with white towels to pad him dry. The blonde boy had been firmly told that he was to do nothing himself, it was highly unfitting for a sacrifice to even be awake during the preparation and it would be strictly looked down on if a sacrifice were to do its own work. He lifted slim arms and Brad slipped a linen shift onto him. It fell down to his knees and hung comfortably around him, however loose at the waist. This was easily remedied by a sash wrapped around him and tied firmly in place. Brad held his hand out to the boy to help him out of the shower and Omi accepted, though the very thought of touching the man made his skin crawl.

Slowly he was led down the hallway between Nagi and Brad towards what seemed to be a cathedral. The candles had been lit in a circle around a tall cross, the shadow falling over the ground in many different angles. He passed over the candles and knelt in the centre with the instruction to pray. Omi closed deep blue orbs and pressed his palms together, brought up just enough for fingers to brush against his lower lip. God... please have mercy on my soul. I have killed many people without the right to judge whether they deserve to live or die. I have fallen past the gates of Hell in doing so and I beg forgiveness. I will die before the sun rises next and I will pass through your halls on my way to my final trial. These things I have done-- Flashes of times and places coursed through his mind, crossbow heavy in his hand and darts gripped between his knuckles as his shadow fell across the final breath of his victim. Masafumi, Hirofumi, Reiji, Suichi, Ouka , Each a name of someone he should have loved or did love, each facing a cruel death under his scrutiny and he unable to lift a finger to change the fate that was in store for them. These things I have done I wish I hadn't done. Each of their faces weighs on my chest and stains my hands in their blood but still I have been allowed to live happily. Yohji, Ken, Ran, Aya all smiling at him, urging him to move forward, helping him in times of need and using his shoulder for their tears. Each one of them held a special place in his heart that he wished to have been able to let them know about. Sure they may have done wrongs against him and Omi must have committed such things against them as well so there was no choice but to lift their debts from his chest. If he could see them again he would tell them such. And I know I should be punished for it. Please, God... have mercy on me during my judgement...

The alarm clock went off without being set. Yohji sat bolt right in bed, hand slamming down on the snooze button with no effect. He jumped from the bed and searched for the plug and jerked it out of the wall. It gave a few final barking wails and stopped shortly after the red lights disappeared. "Damn it, Nagi... you didn't have to be so rude about it..." Aya and Ken were already bustling around the room, making coffee and doing the final adjustments on their weapons. Having not changed out of his uniform since the night before, Yohji was mostly ready. He ran his hands through his hair and took a nervous glance out the window at the encroaching night. "Happy Birthday, me." He muttered and pulled on his jacket, making sure to check the wire cartridge in his watch.

Ken poked his head out of the bathroom where he'd been splashing his face with water. "So Nagi decided to wake you up?" The blonde man gave a solemn nod. Ken shook his head, pulling the goggles up to rest just above his forehead. "It's just about time to get going, you ready to go, Yohji?" Another nod.

There was a muffled "Mission accepted" and a click before Aya returned from the balcony. He pulled his fingers nervously through his hair. "Kritiker just found out about Omi and told us strictly to stay behind."

The brunette nearly exploded in Aya's face. "You accepted!" In the meantime Yohji dropped the cigarette that he'd been ready to light. "Aya, what the hell -- Omi's going to be killed if we don't do something about it."

A held up hand silenced him and the crimson-haired man turned to the setting sun. "We're not going to follow orders. We just can't go against them outright. Disobey now, give excuses later." He picked up his katana, shoving his cell phone into the depths of the inner pocket in his trench. He hurried to the door, not bothering to wait for the others to follow before heading out, explaining orders along the way. "Alright, we're without a layout today, we'll have to rely on what Nagi's told us and hope that it's not too hard to navigate. According to the note Omi'll be in either the sanctuary or the sacrificial grounds around the centre of the facility." Ran tossed the keys onto the desk, not waiting for comments from the man behind it. He pushed open the glass door, followed closely by his companions. "Yohji, you followed them to the entrance, right?"

"I did." He replied, climbing into Aya's less noticeable car and buckling the seat belt. "There was a code on the door which Nagi left on the sheet so we could get in. My guess is that it's going to have surveillance cameras surrounding the main entrances so we take those out first, not that I expect they'll be watching. In fact the chances will be very high that our best bet on entry would be to wait until the ceremony begins."

Brown eyes focused on the two in the front seat. "What about Omi? If we get there too late or if we don't get word soon enough he could be dead by the time we get in. Of course that'll have to be a major decision on our part. Do we risk the chance of being caught before we get in or do we wait until the ceremony begins? Either way we can be sure that they'll see it coming with Brad."

Yohji nodded gravely. The crimson-haired driver turned a corner, heading out of the main city as per directed. "That's a good point, but during the ceremony they won't be able to waste time coming after us until we've already gotten there. Timing is crucial, Siberian. If we show up before the ceremony we'll have Nagi on our backs whether he wants to be or not. By that time we'll have been smashed flat without even a word from Omi."

"I agree," Yohji stated, fumbling with an unlit cigarette shakily, "I'd rather die knowing that I was almost there rather than die outside the damned walls." He cast a glance to Aya, hoping that he'd allow him to smoke on just this one occasion. "May I?" The redhead paused for a minute, weighing the greater evils then nodded. Yohji pulled out a lighter and flicked it to send a red spark, rolling down the window to exhale a puff of smoke. "After all I'm sure if he needed to Omi would hold on for us unless he had a reason not to."

Omi was ushered along the hallway with no fight at all. After all, he had no reason not to get this over with as soon as possible. He'd been humiliated and scorned and even hated within the past week and now he'd prayed as much as he could, stalling the inevitable until sundown. Now cerulean depths focused on the great ceremonial room, five marble pillars creating a star. A block of glass had been cut to fit just perfectly beneath the one closest to what would be the top. He guessed that it would be his final resting place. His mental eye could almost see and smell his own blood pooling and spilling from the top of that gorgeous, icy pedestal as he writhe in silent pain and complete defeat.

There was no doubt he feared his death, in fact he was utterly horrified of what lay beyond this realm for one like him. Even so he continued forward into the centre of the star, each of the men taking a point before him, his own lay behind. The order was as follows, Schuldich on his right, Farfarello at the bottom right, Brad at the bottom left and then Nagi to his left. He stared evenly at each one, knowing full well what was to follow.

"Child," the deep baritone began, "we have brought you here for one reason and one alone. Such a lamb as yourself has no right to live so purely in this world of sin, you who is forever a child in the eyes of God. From you we claim your heart, your body and your soul. From you we collect our grievances and the debts to which others owe us. You are the epitome of the childhood taken from each of us and we have brought you here to reclaim it. Come forth, child and receive your parting kiss."

Omi bowed his head solemnly, bare feet lifting fae-like from the ground only to be placed before him once more. He moved, floated, forward to the one on his right to tilt his head up and receive the gift he'd been promised. The red-haired German gave a smirk as though to say Omi deserved everything that came to him before pulling the boy into the circle of his arms and kissing him deeply to which Omi gave no battle. He accepted the probing tongue into his mouth and returned the kiss without regret and without emotion, filled only with apathy. Schuldich pulled away, a bit disappointed with the lack of a fight and released the boy to plant his feet softly on the ground once more.

Again the blonde continued forward, moving now to the scarred Irishman. The single golden eye glinted with anxiety for what he believed was rightly his. Almost in an act of shyness the man ruffled his own hair and bent forward to plant a painfully hard kiss on Omi's pouting, yet welcoming lips. The boy pushed into it, noting the harshness of the hands on his shoulders distantly. He felt a slight wave of gratefulness that Farfarello had removed the needles he kept buried in his tongue as the man pulled away, biting his own lip till it bled since he could not do so to Omi's.

Brad, with the most courtesy of those previous, tilted Omi's face up to meet his lips softly and almost affectionately. The blue-eyes boy mirrored the act and accepted the tongue once more, glad to find that the American wasn't half as harsh with him as he had been a week before. Even so the mask of indifference remained and the thoughtfully massaged the other's tongue from beneath, getting used to the act although he'd never get the chance to use it again. Then Brad stopped, his attentions elsewhere and pulled away. A large, but delicate finger moved to wipe away the saliva from Omi's lower lip with an amused smile. Omi didn't understand why the older man bothered to smile at him, but still continued on.

His soft feet landed to stop in front of Nagi. When he looked up to meet the younger's eyes there sparked a bit of hate at what he saw: a reflection of himself only days before, bowing to every command without complaint and only blank eyes to counter. To this there came a slight thrill in Omi's stomach. Good, let the boy hate him. It would make things far less painful when he saw this pet die beneath the knife of his comrades. He wrapped his arms around Nagi's slim neck and leaned forward to be the giver of the final kiss. Omi thought he deserved it since this would be the last chance he got. He closed his eyes, paying close attention to the way Nagi tasted, slightly like mints to cover up what he'd eaten since Omi himself hadn't been allowed to eat, forced to fast for the day in prayer. The way his tongue moved against Nagi's in a seemingly endless dance. He ran his fingers through soft, thick hair and Nagi gave the slightest bit of a fight, apparently not wanting to kiss Omi in this state. Something else that was good. Cause discomfort to the boy who'd taken his freedom from him and revealed the acts of his companions against him. He gave a few passionate movements with his tongue and backed away, not fully pulling his tongue into his mouth until their mouths had parted, staring up blankly through dark lashes.

Nagi, slightly sickened, looked to the ground. The blonde boy could almost laugh. How childish! The Asian reacted so horribly against such a stimulus. Omi couldn't blame him. The thought of kissing a blank doll didn't seem to appeal. Now he backed away to the centre of the pentagram once more. He stared blankly at each of his captors in turn, certainly the marionette.

"Brothers," Schuldich started, his voice slightly more harsh than Omi would have imagined. Perhaps he'd found out something from Brad unpleasing to the ear. "I invite you to take part in this feast. A feast much like that of the son of God. We've taken from the body, now we drink from the blood. Join me in such a feast and find yourselves fortunate."

This time, as per direction, Omi headed toward Farfarello who held in his hand a slim knife. It gleamed in the dim light of the room and cast reflections in the floor. "Allow me now, Father, God, tae take this lamb fer our treas'ns." He lifted the thin piece of metal just slightly, not seeming to aim to cause much pain, just cut the skin. "Such a sacrifice, like that of yer son 'ill cleanse us 'f our imperfections and lift us into eternal life." He pulled the blade across Omi's cheek. It stung, but the knife had been sharp and left a clean cut. Quickly the Irishman licked away the crimson liquid trailing down his chest and smiled. "Taste, brothers and take part of eternal life."

The blonde boy moved forward, the coolness of the floor penetrating the delicate pads of his feet with ease, sending a shiver up his back. Brad drew a finger beneath the stinging gash to catch the hot liquid pouring there and spread it across his lips, licking it off smoothly as Omi continued on to Nagi. Again he put on his blank stare, willing apathy to sink into the core of his bones. It was obvious that Nagi had almost had enough of this and the younger took amazingly strong hands to grip the blonde's chin. He gave a long, hard stare before moving up to kiss the blood away. Omi's heartbeat sped up, but he willed it away once more, along with his emotions. Once released, Omi bowed his head to the floor and moved past his own pedestal to where he knew the German stood in wait. His once gleaming jade eyes now glared hollow and cold on Omi's expressionless face. There was obvious tension between the two and, if only for a moment, Omi could swear that Schuldich was about to hit him. Then, with an almost-sneer, he pulled Omi against him in an embrace, thinking sourly to him /It's too bad I can't touch you for any reason but the ceremony. I'll let you know now that if I were to be the one to lay my hands on you at the end, I would hurt you as badly as possible./ Pulling away Schuldich harshly licked at the swelling cut, the taste buds seeming a bit too rough and catlike for Omi's liking. However, he turned and headed to the centre once more with no show of discomfort. After all, it didn't matter much anymore.

The next voice almost shocked him to hear, the light tenor ringing through the halls clear and strong, almost seeming to be calling for somebody or something. "Brothers of mine blood," Nagi began, "tonight is the night of our joining, the time upon which we have called to bring us together and make us gods among men. Tonight we have brought a sacrificial lamb to take the place of our sins and lead us into the existence of eternal life. We have tasted of his body and his blood, now let us claim what we rightfully deserve!" He paused, watching the other three take hold of the boy in the centre. Omi could feel the hands close around his arms and his feet and he was suddenly hoisted from the ground and carried to the platform where he would take his final breath. "Let us become one with our God as prophets! Brothers, today we drink from the vine of God, join me!"

"Hear us God," Came a single echoing voice, followed by the next "Answer our prayers," then the next, "And may we reign on high with you." The cold of the glass almost burned against his skin, but he remained still, limp as a marionette would be without a puppeteer. Unwillingly his eyes gazed upwards at the point of the knife within Brad's hand. It bore a cross on the hilt in gold and the edge twinkled in the vague candlelight. Raised above Omi's bosom, his heart quickened and he forced himself to inhale. Long moments stretched before him, pictures of the things he loved and cared about flashed before his eyes in the reflection of the blade and he bade himself goodnight. My final breath... He pulled in a long shuddering gasp and closed his eyes tight, but nothing came. No sharp pain to his heart, no burning in his chest, just the same cold as before. Almost ready to open his eyes, there came the voice from above him. "En memoria..." The chant began, Omi only able to pick out a few choice words from the garble. Each of the other men joined in at once and Omi knew the blade to be hovering over him. A cold touch of metal against his brow, then his chest and then each shoulder before returning to it's seemingly floating position.

There came a loud clatter, and cerulean eyes shot open to find Brad staring behind him at a disturbing sight, one he most surely had been expecting. /Keep chanting/ was the open ended mental hiss before the chanting picked up again, droning miserably as it echoed from the walls.

A fast glance to Nagi showed him straining to fight something away, his face taut in pain. Even so he refused to give in, hands clenched so hard by his sides that blood inevitably drew from them. Those dark blue orbs hovered on a furious Schuldich who had turned to face the intruders. Omi's gaze followed the telepath's to find his companions ready for a fight if it need be done. His red-haired leader stood boldly at the front, katana unsheathed and shining in the light not so different from the sacrificial blade now lying discarded on the ground. "Stop this foolishness, Schwarz. The game is up and we're taking back what's rightfully ours." At this Omi's teeth grit together and he rose from the pedestal, no longer being blocked by Brad. He worked his mouth although no sound came out and flung his arms angrily at the other assassins. He didn't want to go with them. Now he'd rather be killed than go back and be their possession. At last his arms fell limp and he allowed his mouth to close.

He knelt to pick up the knife, striding almost casually to Brad and handing it to him. Omi gestured to his chest, ordering the American as best he could to kill him there and now. The dark-haired man, however could not do any such thing with the chant not being finished. So he continued to speak evenly in that foreign tongue and pulled Omi slowly back towards the pedestal. Something cold bit into his sides, drawing blood through the thin shift. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Omi fought against it, but was pulled to the ground by the shining, silver thread. "Omi, I'm sorry." Yohji whispered from the other end of the cord, "I can't let you go through with this. I won't let you destroy your life like this." To prove his point, Omi grit his teeth and pushed his arms against the wire, thus cutting himself deeper. Yohji clipped the wire loose and stood still. "You can't do this! Why?" He demanded, forgetting about Nagi's explanation of the boy's inability to speak. His gaze floated around the room and fell, furious on the youngest of them all. Nagi still struggled against the proddings of Schuldich's power, fighting against them the only way he knew how, building walls. He didn't hear the chant end, nor see Omi rising to hobble towards his old companions, in attempts to explain.

Brad held the knife in his hand tightly, pain coursing through his body in a sudden expression of foresight. He spun, just fast enough to see a pale finger tighten on the trigger. "Farfarello! No!" This snapped all their concentration and in a sudden jerk the trigger was pulled, letting out a sharp shot into the air. Omi's head turned at the cry, watching the entire scene on slow motion. Farfarello aiming the gun square at Omi, pulling the trigger and then the slow moving bullet flying through the distance between them. His eyes squeezed shut and he was vaguely aware of the breath catching in his throat. His consciousness pulled into himself, closing off everything around him until all that was left was the fulfilment of his destiny and the bullet inching towards his unguarded chest. He could imagine the cold steel ripping through him as they had many times before, tearing through the muscle and bone entrapping his cold heart and leaving him still and just as alone as Nagi had foretold. The images of his companions reached out to him in his suspended state, his leader insisting that a name didn't bind him, Ken fighting to keep the poison from Omi's veins in that final battle and finally Yohji's back, lit from the window beyond and the sun's golden glow, slowly rising. 'I would give it all up…' There was nothing. The memories stung around him like the tight chill of the marble beneath his feet and the metal projectile racing to claim its target.

There was a thump and the long hours pulled together, revealing mere seconds had passed. The blonde man's hands shook wildly and his muscles seized up, legs giving in to drop him to the floor. "No--" Tears welled up into his eyes, the ache of guilt pouring into his previously still heart. He shouldn't have killed for reasons beyond his own. He shouldn't have toyed with people's hearts and minds, no better than Schwarz himself. It all rounded together in a pocket of regret in his heart. It ached right where he felt the coldness bite into him. There were no differences. There was no separation.

His mouth opened to call out a name, but his voice refused to emerge even against the released bonds. "Nagi!" Came the sorrowful cry from the inner star, the Germanic twinge changing the name just enough to make it hardly recognisable to Omi's deafening ears. It had been the only time he'd ever called the boy by his name. Omi gathered the Asian boy into his arms, watching the blood trickle from the side of that sliced lip. Another form plopped down beside him, hands shaking and brushing away the strands of dark hair from indigo eyes. "No, Nagi... don't do this, you can't die. Not now, please." Without having the heart to glance up, Omi knew there to be tears in the German's eyes as well. If only he'd known that this would happen. If only they'd both been able to see what was going on.

Nagi shifted uncomfortably against Omi's lap and gave a weak smile. "I--" He paused, swallowing as much of the blood as he could before trying to speak again. "I shouldn't have taken you away..." A pale hand reached up to brush Omi's face, careful not to touch the gash swelling on it. "My only regret is that I didn't tell you how I felt sooner, but... at least... I was still useful enough to save you..." His body shuddered and his fist fell clenched to his side. "I love you, Omi..." Then he was still, limp in Omi's arms and he distantly found himself shaking the form to try to wake him, convincing himself that the boy was just sleeping, just playing a joke on him. Farfarello's gun had been loaded with blanks, it had to be! And this blood, it couldn't be blood, it was something else—Karo syrup, theatre blood, something, but not the truth so bluntly revealed.

Omi grit his teeth together in a parody of a smile, the tears pouring violently over his cheeks, stinging the wound there. "Nagi," He called, shaking the sleeping boy in his lap, "Nagi wake up. You're just joking, right? You're not dead. You can't die, you're Schwarz." He shook a bit harder now, drowning in the belief swelling in his chest. "Nagi! Damn it, Nagi! Wake up! Don't leave me here alone like this! You can't do this to me!"

Schuldich's heart stopped in his chest when his name hadn't been spoken. Nagi hadn't even known he was there, hadn't even seen him. Now this intruder dared to shake his companion to wake him from the sleep that the blonde boy himself had caused the moment he stole Nagi's heart. "Let him go." He commanded, his voice unnaturally firm and his eyes hidden by the heavy red locks of hair. The younger continued to try to wake him, sobbing over him like an animal. The thought of seeing the young boy's body break beneath this Weiß's hands almost caused him to raise his tense hands against Omi and send him to Hell without prayer, but Nagi had loved him –Nagi who Schuldich had longed to reach in the same way this child had. The silent jealousy ate away at him—but Nagi had loved him and so he spared the boy. Instead he pushed the young man away and pulled Nagi into his own grasp. He stood, jade eyes gleaming angrily at the writhing boy on the ground. "He was never your companion, Weiß, never yours to grieve over. Leave. You've caused us enough pain." When Omi didn't move he turned to Yohji with that icy stare.

The tall blonde man had never felt the sort of admiration that he felt for Schuldich now. He'd felt the same pain Yohji himself had felt and now refused to allow it to keep him from the one he loved. It was, indeed selfish and Yohji certainly wouldn't have done the same, but the die-hard love was indeed rooted into his veins. Yohji took hold of Omi's arms to which the boy flailed against to get at Schuldich who now walked away from him, taking the Asian boy with him. "No! Let me go!" He wailed, tears streaming onto the floor in fat drops like isolated rain. "Yohji! Let me go! I want to see Nagi! Let me GO!" Yohji, however could not comply, out of respect to Schuldich and out of his need to protect his most precious possession from the agony that would plague him if he followed. Omi, Yohji's White Cross, had found his own burden and Yohji refused to see him destroyed by it. He pulled the boy from the ground and pulled him over his shoulder where Omi beat fervently on him with heavy fists, screaming to be brought back and killed like he ought to have been—like destiny had governed.

God saved him. Happy birthday, Kudou…

He opened the door and pushed Omi in, despite the wails of protest and the blindly fighting limbs, all the while whispering condolences, Yohji's own tears obscuring the view of his beloved. No, not mine, he reminded himself as he closed the door and climbed into the front seat, he's not mine now. Yohji let out a painful sigh as the newly arrived rain pounded on the roof of Aya's car. He would stay long enough to allow Omi to recover a bit. After that... after that... He closed sad, green eyes, pushing up the sunglasses just enough that if Aya lookes askance, he couldn't see his tears. After that he'd get as far away from Omi as he could and try to start a new life. Run a little further from the guilt that stung in his soul. He, himself, couldn't bear to see the places he'd been with Omi... where he'd been with Asuka. In a place where no one knew him, Yohji would be able to regrow and maybe escape the overshadowing torment. In a place that no one knew him... maybe he could forget.

As they continued driving the rain grew harder and Omi's screams subsided into sobs and finally into sniffles. Ken hadn't said a word, silently stroking the blonde boy's back until he drifted into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

"We'll have to report to Kritiker," Aya finally dared, voice still low enough that Omi, now asleep on Ken's lap, wouldn't hear.

Ken nodded, running his free hand through chocolate locks. He looked nearly as tired as Yohji felt, his spirit pulling him down into the passenger seat and acting like a vice, pinching him in half with heartbreak and conflict. The circles under Ken's eyes became sharper and more distinct as they drove under street lights on the way back to Tokyo. Yohji's car could be picked up, shipped, towed. It wasn't important now, in the lieu of Omi's disfiguring distress. "I doubt he'll talk to any of us after all of this. Who knows what Schwarz told him to get him so willing…"

After this came the uneasy silence, the humming heater and then a torturous slumber.