(Standard disclaimers apply)

The Wake

5. New Mission

It was shaping up to be one of those days that Kudo Himiko wished she had stayed indoors instead. Past experience should have taught her not to actively seek out the two losers before her, whose insurmountable curse of bad luck often had the tendency to suck innocent bystanders into their messy problems. She should have just forgotten the debt they owed her and spared herself a whopping big headache from nearly having her skull stove in by a metal rod. And all she did was step into their favourite haunt! Not appreciating the fact that everyone else except her knew who her attacker was, she demanded, "Can someone explain to me why some grandpa whom I've never even met before tonight wanted to bash my head in?" Her accusatory glare settled on Ban. "What did you do this time, Ban?"

Ban glared back at her indignantly. "You little minx! What makes you think I've anything to do with this!"

"You're the only person who isn't surprised by all this," said Himiko, observing Ban's face closely. Her efforts were rewarded by a glimpse of chagrined expression that flitted briefly across his face— so briefly that she would've missed it if she hadn't been looking out for it. "You know who was responsible before either Paul or I had the chance to tell you what happened. An old man, you said. My question to you is how do you know?"

"It's an educated guess," said Ban haughtily. "Pardon me for having more brain cells than the rest of you put together."

Himiko's fingers itched for the scent bottles strapped to her back as she fought down the urge to transform Ban into either a roasted crisp or a Neanderthal. No, wait, the insufferable man was already a Neanderthal. That could explain why that particular perfume never seem to have much of an effect on him when she had used it on him in the past. "You know this old man, Ban?"

Ban cast a meaningful glance at his partner. "Ginji knows him better than me."

"I do?" said Ginji in surprised tones.

"You mean you still haven't figured it out?" A trace of impatience crept into Ban's voice. "Who else is capable of injuring Himiko and yet has a reason to abduct that brat? Who else has a mighty grudge against the Get Backers, especially after yesterday?"

"But it could've been anyone who's after Ryuji and not…"

"No," interrupted Paul. "That man is after the two of you. I believe he's using the boy merely to get your attention."

Ginji's face took on a stricken expression as the words sank in. "That means it's because of us that…" The stricken expression was soon replaced by one of hard determination. Ginji pivoted and strode towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Ban, making no move to follow the blond retrieval agent.

Ginji stopped in mid-stride but did not turn around. "I know you don't have any reason to help Ryuji out, Ban-chan, so—"

"Damn right I don't," growled Ban. "I warned you that the brat would be nothing but trouble, didn't I? If you've gotten rid of him like I've told you to at the very beginning, none of this would've happened."

"You're right, Ban-chan." Ginji's hands curled into fists at his sides. "That is precisely why I have to bring Ryuji back safely. He is my responsibility."

"And how are you planning to do that, you mor—" Perhaps realizing that his inflammatory words would do little to cool down Ginji's hotheadedness, Ban tactfully moderated his language. "Running up and down the streets wouldn't achieve anything. You don't even know where they are."

"But I can't just sit around here and do nothing!"

"Sitting around here and waiting may be the only course of action you have at the moment," said Paul quietly. "He said he'll call back to arrange a meeting with you two."

There was something underlying Paul's outward calm that set Himiko's teeth on edge. Something that made her think of a dormant volcano dangerously close to erupting and wiping out whole cities. She shook the feeling off as soon as it came, mentally chiding herself for being so paranoid. The mild-mannered café owner had never given the impression of being dangerous before, and she just couldn't picture him in that light, even after tonight's incident.

"Oh yes, let us give the old guy sufficient time to set the traps and prepare the noose for our necks, shall we?" grumbled Ban. "I, for one, am not so keen to risk my neck on such a thankless and profitless task. Give me one good reason why I should care about what happens to that bratty little cretin…"

"I can give you 317, 270 reasons," interjected Paul.

"…who serves as much purpose as a thorn in the backsi…" Ban's ears finally caught up with his mouth and he sputtered. "What did… Did you just… Did I just hear you…?"

Paul smiled humourlessly at a puzzled Ginji and a speechless Ban. "I'll forget about your tab if you two bring back my dishwashing boy. How about that?"

Understanding finally erased the puzzled look from Ginji's face and replaced it with that of deep gratitude. "Paul-san. Even if you haven't offered…"

Ban still had enough presence of mind to fly towards Ginji and silence him abruptly with a chokehold. The possibility of gaining wealth had always been effective in stirring Ban into action. More effective still was the possibility of losing it. Ban stared at the café owner with a studious, almost suspicious, look.

"Well, are you taking the assignment or not?" asked Paul in mild tones, seemingly unperturbed by Ban's intense scrutiny.

Ban eased his hold slightly to allow Ginji to regain a few whistling breaths through his throat, letting go completely only when he was satisfied that Ginji wouldn't interrupt him while he dealt with Paul. "Why?" Ban asked finally.

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you behaving like the parsimonious bastard you usually are?" Paul noticeably frowned upon hearing this but Ban was too obnoxious to care. "Why are you willing to fork out so much money for that brat's return? You, the same person who had knowingly starved me without a second thought this morning."

Paul steadily met Ban's stare for a few moments. Himiko could just imagine him thinking 'For one thing, the kid had a much lovelier personality than you. In comparison.' What Paul said instead was "As I've said, he's my dishwashing boy. And there are dishes lying about that need to be washed."

"I demand a real answer, dammit! I know for a fact that it couldn't possibly be the brat's charm that is making you act so weirdly. That prickly punk doesn't have any."

"Definitely alike," muttered Paul cryptically.

"What?" snapped Ban, positive that he had just been insulted but not quite sure how.

"I… Look, why do I need to convince you to take up the job? You've never required any of your clients to reveal their reasons for wanting something to be retrieved."

"I want to make sure that the kid hasn't hexed or brainwashed you somehow. I can't think of any other plausible reason for your offer."

Paul finally gave in to Ban's persistence. "Are you familiar with the tale about a boy who selflessly donated his blood to save his sister's life? The boy mistakenly believed that he would die as a result, but he still agreed to have his blood taken for the transfusion."

"One of those urban myths?" Ban scowled. "Why are we wasting time talking about them now?"

"It could be a myth or a true story, but that isn't the point. The point I'm getting at is that the boy's ignorance revealed his courage and self-sacrifice. You can't help but respect that in such a person."

"So… you 're telling me that you respect stupidity in a person." Ban sounded confused. "I don't see how this is relevant to our discussion."

"If only you'd listen instead of… Oh, the hell with it," said Paul with uncharacteristic brusqueness. Himiko couldn't blame him. Ban's chafing nature could make a saint swear like ten drunken sailors. "Are you taking the job? Yes or no?"

"Of course we are!" declared Ginji loudly before Ban could respond. "You can count on us to bring Ryuji back!" Ginji was either completely oblivious to, or wisely choosing to ignore, the dirty look from his partner.

"It's settled then." A bit of the tension Himiko detected earlier left Paul's shoulders as the deal was sealed.

"Don't worry, Paul-san," said Ginji reassuringly. Not surprising that the empathic retrieval agent was able to sense Paul's hidden concern for the kidnapped boy. "The Get Backers' retrieval success rate is nearly a hundred percent, so—"

Ginji was cut off by a loud wallop to the top of his head. "Not nearly a hundred percent, you fool! A hundred percent! How many times do I have to coach you on this?" Ban grouched. His eyes shifted back to Paul. "The money changes nothing. We still don't know where the brat is and I still have no intention of walking blindly into an ambush if that old geezer does decide to set up a meeting."

"Are you scared, Ban?" Himiko taunted. Oh, she knew she was baiting him, fully aware that Ban's humongous ego would never allow him to back down from a challenge. There wasn't anything in it for her and she hardly even knew the boy who was taken. However, there was no denying that the boy had succeeded admirably in getting under Ban's skin and pissing him off in a major way. And that, Himiko decided, made him worth his weight in gold. It was only fair that Ban gets a taste of his own medicine, and Himiko would do what she could to make sure he gets it.

"Don't you start," warned Ban, shaking a finger at her. "This doesn't concern you."

Himiko's mouth pressed into a thin line. "It would concern me if I can pinpoint to you the exact location of the kid, wouldn't it?" Her statement was greeted by astounded looks from the three men before her. Once she was sure that she had their full attention, she continued. "Two words…"

"Trace perfume," interrupted Ban, whose above-average deductive skills once again made itself known.

Himiko frowned, slightly annoyed that her moment in the spotlight had been snatched away from her. "Yes. I've poured a generous amount of it over the old man and the kid when I was being attacked. Your nose shouldn't have any trouble picking up the scent trail."

Ban grinned at her, the unspoken praise subtly written on his countenance. Himiko found it difficult to hold onto her annoyance when Ban looked at her like that. Most of the time, Ban treated her like a little girl that needed to be babysat; and it was gratifying to be able to prove to Ban how much she had grown, to show him the competent and professional woman she had become. To her consternation, she felt a blush threatening to break out on her cheeks and she ruthlessly forced it down through sheer willpower alone.

"Not bad, midget," conceded Ban, the grin degenerating into his usual smirk. "Not bad at all. You've certainly made our job a lot easier."

Midget! Granted, that derogatory term wasn't much worse than 'minx', but still! Himiko felt her cheeks heat up, the flush now having nothing to do with... whatever the hell it was a moment ago... and everything to do with anger. "Why, thanks for the compliment, Ban," she said with glacial coldness. "You know how much I care about your opinions of me." Himiko pitched the words with sarcasm thick enough to drown out the tiniest grain of truth in them.

Ginji, ever the peacemaker, tried to defuse the situation with a well-timed distraction. Pulling her into a tight embrace that would have normally earned him a vicious kick if she hadn't been so surprised, Ginji gushed happily, "I knew you'd make a great retrieval agent one day, Himiko-chan! Thankyouthankyouthankyou." She briefly considered and discarded several of her choice methods of prying the energetic blond off her; all of them highly effective but unfortunately too painful for her conscience to give her the go ahead. She was spared the dilemma when Ginji finally released her and turned towards Ban. "Ban-chan?" There was a pleading note in his voice.

Apparently, Ban had no trouble reading his partner's mind. There were times when Himiko wondered if they shared some form of telepathic link between them. "You really do care about what happens to that thorny twerp, don't you?" He let out a long, suffering sigh. "Fine. I'll come along to make sure you don't get into too much trouble. Just keep in mind that I'm getting myself involved in this hideous business for your sake only. Not the brat. Never the brat."

Paul scratched his chin thoughtfully. "If that's the case, can I have my—"

"And the money," said Ban quickly to eliminate any potential dispute about the matter. "Always the money."

XXXXXX

After his many years of loyal service to his master, the servant thought he had seen enough that nothing could faze him. Quite often, his master would come back with thick splatters of dried blood on his coat and this would generate no more response from him than an exasperated sigh and a petulant complaint about the difficulty of removing such stains from the fabric. He complained considerably less after discovering that salt water worked remarkably well. Occasionally, his master would bring his 'work' home- something the servant secretly wished he'd do less of, or stop entirely- and it would be his duty to ensure that the captive was securely bound and locked up somewhere out of sight until such a time when the captive's presence was required again. He never asked who the captives were or the reasons as to why they were allowed to live when so many of his master's assigned targets were not. Usually these captives were kept alive only long enough for certain desired information to be wrenched out of them. Torture still made him queasy. It was something he could never get used to, but the master had been mercifully understanding of this failing of his and had never forced him to participate in these acts. To make up for it, the servant would take on the chore of cleaning up and disposing of the bodies afterwards.

Despite his knowledge of what kind of man his master was and what his master's occupation entailed, it still came as a surprise when he saw the latest captive his master had brought back.

"Welcome home, sir," said the servant in automatic, but no less sincere, greeting. Once he took care of his master's coat (not blood-stained this time he was pleased to note), his troubled eyes were once again drawn to the unconscious child his master had deposited on the floor. The young boy looked so pale, almost sickly, and for a moment he feared that it was a corpse and not a living body that lay at his feet. "What should I do with him, sir?"

His master's reply was terse. "The usual."

He never asked, because it was his way of emotionally detaching himself from his master's captives. He couldn't care, because he would not be able to perform his duty otherwise. But the sight of the helpless child stirred something within him— a measure of pity, or maybe a kindness that was always there but which had been irreversibly battered over the years. "Sir. May I ask why you brought this boy here?"

"He's bait." His master, who had appeared more haggard and haunted since yesterday for some unknown reason, failed to notice his unusual display of curiosity. "That's all you need to know for now, Kisae."

"Yes, sir." The servant lifted the boy up in his arms, oddly relieved by his master's answer. "Do you wish to have your dinner or take a bath first, sir? I've prepared…"

"I can take care of myself. Just concentrate on the task I've hired you for. The rest aren't that important."

"Yes, sir."

Rubbing his face tiredly, his master asked, "How is she today?"

"Lady Yuuko's condition seems to be marginally better today, sir. She is somewhat aware of her surroundings and she has even indicated to me that she wants to spend some time in the garden."

"She spoke to you?" His master's voice was plaintive, tinged with desperate hope.

"No, sir." The servant mentally kicked himself for his thoughtless act of cruelty. "She gestures, sir, and I can tell that she felt happier when I brought her to the garden."

His master's shoulders drooped. "One day, you're going to have to tell me how you can sense these moods of hers when all I can get from her is nothing. Nothing at all."

"The difference is more obvious to me only because I spend more time with her, sir."

"You don't need to cheer me up, Kisae," said his master with a wry smile. "It's not in your job description to make me feel good about myself."

"I didn't mean to—"

His master waved him away impatiently. "Don't let me detain you. See to the kid first. I'll let you know if I need you for anything else."

Without another word, the servant bowed and left. With the motionless boy as a light weight in his arms, he manoeuvred through the corridors and took the steps leading down to the cellar. The cellar was chosen as the lockup area partly because of its concealed location, but mainly for its optimum soundproofing. His master had no wish to distress Lady Yuuko unduly.

As he placed the boy in the chair at the center of the room, he debated the necessity of applying the shackles. In the end, he decided to leave the boy unbound, convinced that no harm would arise from giving the boy some degree of comfort.

It was a decision that he would come to regret immensely soon afterwards.

XXXXXX

"Jeez, would you stop worrying already?"

With his eyes focused on the road, Ban had to rely on his peripheral vision to see Ginji turn away from the passenger window to look at him. "But I didn't say anything," replied the blond, breaking the silence that had filled the Ladybug since their search began.

"Your face is an open book easily read by anyone who isn't blind. Also, I can bloody well hear you thinking over there." Ban's tone was sharp. "It's distracting."

"Sorry, Ban-chan." Ginji shifted in his seat, his anxiety making it difficult for him to sit still. "I can't do anything besides worrying at a time like this. I can't even be of any help to you, seeing how I can neither detect Himiko's perfume nor drive the car."

"As if I'd let you drive, baka. No one is allowed behind this steering wheel except me, got it?"

"Yes, Ban-chan." Ginji resumed staring out of the window.

So much for his attempt to distract Ginji from his self-berating thoughts. It went against Ban's nature to spout sappy words of comfort, but he'd give it his best shot just so that he wouldn't have to put up with the stifling silence from his normally boisterous partner. "The brat is going to be fine."

Ginji turned his gaze back towards him again, this time with a small, grateful smile on his face. "How can you be so sure?"

"If the geezer wanted to kill the brat, he wouldn't go through all that trouble of kidnapping him. He'll keep the brat alive until he gets what he wants."

"That's what I can't figure out, Ban-chan. What does he want from us?"

Our lives. Revenge. Reward. "Whatever it is, he's not getting it," said Ban, keeping his speculations to himself. "We'll find out what his game is after we retrieve the brat. The mission comes first." Ginji chuckled at that, causing Ban to furrow his brow uncertainly. "Did I say something funny?"

"No, it's nothing," said Ginji, grinning widely.

"Spill it, Ginji. I'm not in the mood to guess what's going through that spiky head of yours."

"It's just that you sounded… concerned, Ban-chan." Ginji hurriedly continued before Ban could begin bellowing out his denial. "Wait, wait, I know you're going to refute it and I know you're going to insist that you're doing it only for the money."

"I am doing it only for the money! Don't you dare make it out to be anything more than that!"

Ginji patted his shoulder in an unvoiced 'there, there' fashion. "Your secret is safe with me, Ban-chan."

"You're not listening to me! Haven't I made it clear that—"

"Incoming truck at three o'clock!" Ginji shouted, suddenly wide-eyed.

Ban applied the brakes so hard that both of them were jolted out of their seats, the seatbelts digging in deep enough to bruise. They were so close that the Ladybug shook when the truck rushed past in front of them with horns blaring. Thoroughly shaken by the near-death experience, neither of them could speak for a while.

"Um… Maybe I should just go back to staring out of the window quietly, shouldn't I?" offered Ginji.

"You'd better," said Ban hoarsely, too frazzled to recommence their argument.

XXXXXX

It was dark. Dark like midnight, like black ink, like old blood. They were hiding in a cramped place. A cupboard? A trunk? An underground room? Wherever it was, he remembered that it was cramped. Cramped because someone else was in there with him. He could hear screams coming from a distance; screams that could only be torn out of someone in pure agony. He wanted to identify the owner of those screams, but firm hands were pressed against his ears, muffling and distorting the screams.

Someone whispered in his ear. "Everything's going to be fine."

It was a lie, he knew. He could hear the fear and uncertainty in that soft voice. He could hear the pain, as if each one of those distant screams was a direct blow to the person who was trying to comfort him. He reached out to grasp a larger, clammy hand in his own. He was too scared to make any sound.

"I will keep you safe," said that same soothing voice full of pain. "I will protect you."

Then the doors opened and a shaft of blinding light streamed in. He tilted his head up to catch a glimpse of the person who made that promise to him. The person whose hand he was holding in a death grip.

A guileless face with brown eyes and golden spiky locks looked down at him. Even as he processed this information, there was a part of his mind that perceived the wrongness of the situation. No, it can't be him. It can't be him because the person who held him in the dark looked nothing like him. The person in the dark looked like…

Ryuji gasped as he returned to consciousness, his body trembling. He sat up quickly and immediately regretted it. He winced and squeezed his eyes shut to minimize the nauseating wave of vertigo that hit him. His head felt like a hippopotamus had danced a jig on it. Carefully touching the knot of pain at the back of his skull, he was relieved to find that his scalp was still intact, judging from the absence of sticky matted hair. Damn, that old guy could really swing his stick. He was lucky not to have been blinded by the concussion. He cracked open an eye and studied his surroundings.

The chair he was sitting on was bolted to the floor. It had wide leather straps which, strangely enough, had not been used to secure his arms and legs. The pragmatic side of him wanted to celebrate this good fortune of his whereas the proud side of him was miffed and even a bit offended. So he looked so harmless that he wasn't even worth the trouble of tying up, was he?

The room was small, bare and windowless. All the walls, the door and even the ceiling were padded. The discovery that the room was designed not to let even sound escape made his flesh crawl. As Ryuji stood up and walked across the floor, he could not help noticing that a small gully ran down the length of it, leading to a drain. The smell of disinfectant and air freshener was heavy in the air, and that in itself was a giveaway of what kind of odours were being deliberately concealed. Stilling the twist of sickness in his gut, he turned his attention to the locked door that was his only way out. He searched his pockets and was pleased, as well as insulted, to find that his captor hadn't even bothered to frisk him. In the back pocket of his jeans was a bunch of keys that looked perfectly ordinary but were anything but. What kind of a thief would he be without the tools of his trade? Because time wasn't that big a factor, he took to his task slowly, taking care not to create too much noise. His only worry was that his efforts would all be for naught if the door had been padlocked on the other side. He needn't have worried. After he managed to pick the lock, the heavy door opened easily to his pull on the door handle.

When he saw that no one was placed outside to guard him, he grew bolder and crept out of the room. Dim light that seeped through the floorboards above him guided his steps as he made his way to a flight of stairs that led up to a trapdoor. Ryuji paused near the top of the stairs and waited, listening out for any sound that would alert him to the presence of people directly above him.

His heart was racing and it took effort to keep his breathing quiet, rapid and shallow as it was. He was ashamed to discover that he was feeling scared, his old fears magnifying his current one and driving him to a state of near-panic. He was resigned to the fact that no one would help him; that he could only rely on himself to get out of the situation he was in alive. Harbouring whimsical and unrealistic hopes of rescue was not only foolish, but dangerous as well.

Once he regained a modicum of control over his fear, he took a deep calming breath and pushed up against the trapdoor. Luck was still on his side, for there was no resistance to his push and the kitchen he found himself in was deserted. He climbed the rest of the way up and closed the trapdoor softly behind him. So far, so good.

Ryuji nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard a soft tap coming from a short distance away. While he was frenziedly scanning the room for a possible hiding place, he heard the tap again. This time, with a calmer state of mind, he was able to discern that the tapping sounded suspiciously like a piece of bamboo striking rock, accompanied by sounds of trickling water. If he hadn't been so intent on keeping quiet, he would've laughed harshly at his skittishness over a damned water feature.

With the sounds as his guide, he headed towards the garden. Gardens meant an open space and the possibility of escape over a fence. An open space also meant a higher risk of being discovered, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

XXXXXX

Ban brought the Ladybug to a complete stop and switched off the engine. "This is the place. The trail ends here."

The spiky-haired duo looked across the street at the double-storeyed house surrounded by a high wire fence. They were at the residential area of one of the richer suburban towns; so very different from the violent and crime-ridden neighbourhoods they had both grown up in. Ginji was slightly taken aback by what he saw, his mind finding it difficult to link the image of peaceful normality before him with that of the supposed sinister-looking hideout of Ryuji's kidnapper.

"Is Ryuji in there?"

"As far as I can tell, the scents haven't diverged." Ban shrugged. "There's no reason to believe that the brat and the old man aren't together in that house."

"So all we have to do now is get inside, find Ryuji and get back out without alarming anyone if we can," said Ginji.

Ban snorted amusedly. "Any thoughts on how we're going to achieve that?"

There was a period of contemplative silence. Ban imagined that he could hear the cogwheels turning and grinding in Ginji's head as he attempted to hatch up a plan. "Sushi delivery?" Ginji managed at last.

"It didn't work the last time we tried that, remember?" Ban really didn't like to think about that previous retrieval mission which saw him being carved up by Miroku, being put at the mercy of the likes of Jackal and, worst of all, being rescued by a certain repugnant Beastmaster. "I'm pretty sure that our cover will be blown the minute the old man answers the door. He'll definitely know that he hasn't ordered any sushi and he'll have no trouble recognizing us."

"Us? But, Ban-chan, he hasn't met you before… has he?" Ginji cocked his head to one side curiously. "Come to think of it, how you did know that the person who attacked me yesterday was an old man? Did Ryuji tell you that?"

"When I said 'us', I meant you, idiot!" retorted Ban, completely poker-faced. "Forget about subterfuge. I say we barge in, grab the brat, and beat up anyone who gets in our way." Ban found that simple and brutal solutions were often the best. The language of the fist is universal. "If we move fast, the old man wouldn't get the opportunity to use the brat as a hostage and complicate matters."

"That's not much of a plan, Ban-chan," said Ginji reproachfully.

"You insist on having a plan?"

There was a tone in Ban's voice which suggested that Ginji should think carefully before giving his answer. Ginji took the plunge. "Yes, I insist."

Which was why Ginji found himself scaling the wire fence all by his lonesome five minutes later.

"Ban-chan…" implored Ginji, his voice almost a puppy-dog whine.

"Shush. You're supposed to do this stealthily."

"But why am I the only one—"

"Didn't you see the warning sign near the gate? This is a high-voltage electric fence! Unlike you, I don't possess the constitution of an electric eel. Just get to the other side and knock out the power mains so that I can join you shortly."

Ginji had no choice but to continue climbing and it wasn't long before he finally landed on the soft turf on the other side of the fence. Then the infamous Get Backers' luck reared its ugly head. Ginji's feet had barely touched the ground before he heard menacing growls behind him. Filled with dread, he turned around and was confronted by three Dobermans with bared, sharp teeth and raised hackles. They hadn't pounced yet, so Ginji thought he could try neutralizing their hostility with a warm and friendly manner. After all, he never had any problems getting along with Shido's animal companions. "Nice doggy…er, I mean, doggies."

If anything, the words seemed to prompt the dogs to attack. Being rushed from three directions simultaneously with no place to run to, Ginji was forced to discharge his power. He was mindful to adjust the amount of electricity to a level that would only knock out, and not kill, the ferocious canines. With one hand grabbing onto the electric fence, he drew from the external source of energy so that none of his own was expended. His attempt at stealth was shot to hell when one of the dogs managed to withstand his blast without passing out and yelped noisily as it ran off, shocked and confused.

"Who's there?" The voice that rang out of the house was chilling in its intensity and spoke of veiled murderous intent.

Ginji whirled around and waved his arms about frantically. "What should I do now?"

Ban was watching the door of the house attentively. "Don't worry. Everything's still going according to plan."

Ginji wished he shared the same confidence as his dark-haired partner. "I thought the plan was for me to shut the power down before…" There was a creak as the main door swung open behind him. In the blink of an eye, Ban had vanished and was soon becoming a mere speck in the distance. "Ban-chan!"

Ban's voice was faint as it drifted back to him. "Stall him! Show no mercy and you'll be fine!"

In his heart, Ginji knew that Ban would never leave him if he didn't believe that he was capable of handling the situation on his own. However, it was still disconcerting to be abandoned so suddenly without any forewarning whatsoever. "Him…?" Ginji looked over his shoulder to confirm what his mind had already suspected. He had recognized that chilling voice.

The bearded, white-haired assassin whom he dueled with the day before stood before him, his expression not rage-filled as Ginji had expected, but amazed and thoughtful instead. A drawn sword was poised and ready in his right hand. "You're the one named Ginji, am I right?"

Ginji nodded, eyeing the sword closely for the slightest warning that it would come streaking towards him.

The assassin lowered his sword so that the tip touched the ground. This action only heightened Ginji's guard, as he keenly understood how the sword was used in battle. "How do you know where to find me?"

Ginji could remain silent, tell the truth or give the smart-alecky answer that he believed Ban would give. Since not replying was rude and telling the whole truth to an enemy wasn't the smartest thing to do, Ginji opted for the third option. "We're the Get Backers. This sort of thing is our specialty."

The old man's lips twitched. "I suppose you've come for the boy?"

"Yes." Ginji's face twisted as he tried to look both apologetic and furious at the same time. "You've every right to be angry at me for hurting you yesterday, and I don't blame you for coming after me for revenge. But Ryuji is innocent! For you to involve him like this is… is… despicable!"

The old man's eyes flashed with an emotion that Ginji could not interpret. "If I'm after revenge, I would be seeking it from that other dakkanya and not you."

Ginji blinked. "Huh?"

"You've nearly electrocuted me twice and also smashed my head with a rock. All said and done, they were only physical wounds and nothing that I wouldn't recover from." The old man did not notice that his only audience was showing signs of increasing perplexity. "What your fellow Get Backer did to me, however, I would never forgive. If I have the ability to kill him, I would."

"What?" Ginji was having great difficulty making sense of what the old man was saying. Who smashed whose head again? And what fellow Get Backer was he referring to? Ban? But Ban didn't…. What could Ban have done that was so terrible?

"But since I don't have that ability…" The old man sighed ruefully and smiled at him. "Be at ease. I promise I won't draw my sword against you or those two other boys for now." To prove the sincerity of his words, the old man slid the blade of his sword back into the scabbard strapped to his waist.

"What?" Too many questions flooded Ginji's mind, exceeding its limited processing capacity. He grasped at the last thread of the conversation, at the offer of a peaceful resolution. "Why? After what happened yesterday… What changed your mind?"

"I'm a professional," said the old man. "I don't blur the boundaries between what's business and what's personal. If my client is well enough to pay me for your execution, I would gladly finish my job. As he's not, I see little point in continuing our fight."

"Then why did you kidnap Ryuji then? What exactly do you want?" There, the question that had been burning inside Ginji for a long while now was finally out in the open.

"Before I give you my answer, can I ask you something?"

"Uh… sure."

"Are you also a professional?"

XXXXXX

The first thing he did upon arriving at the garden was to look for something that could be used as a weapon. It was truly stupid of him earlier to sneak out of the kitchen without even thinking of arming himself with one of the knives there. The thought only occurred to him when he was halfway to his destination; and he could not find the courage to retrace his steps by that time. He had been unbelievably lucky so far and he had no desire to push that luck beyond what was reasonable.

Crouched and crawling, Ryuji searched the grassy ground for broken branches or stones ideal for hurling. Unfortunately, whoever had maintained the pristine state of the garden seemed to go out of the way to remove everything that was even remotely capable of causing actual physical harm. The whole place felt like a child-safe playground for god's sake. Maybe he should just concentrate on finding a means to escape instead of a weapon. He studied the wall that surrounded one side of the garden and knew straightaway that climbing it would require grappling hooks and ropes which he didn't have. He had hoped that there would be a tree tall enough, and near enough to the wall, to be of use to him but that was where his luck had failed him. All he could see in the garden were shrubs, potted bonsais, short flower-bearing trees that could never support his weight and…

That was when he saw her. Hair as red as autumn leaves, skin so milky and pale to the point of translucency. She was sitting in a wheelchair near the bamboo water feature that had frightened him earlier. Even when he stood up and approached her slowly, she did not move or utter a sound. Ryuji knelt before the young woman and peered up at her expressionless face and empty eyes. A suffocating feeling of heaviness pressed down on him, for he recognized her for what she was. A ningyo. A soulless being who is alive in only the physical sense of the word.

He did not know how long he knelt there, watching the young woman and ruminating over duty and dreams. After his encounter with the Get Backers, he had come so close to abandoning what he had deemed his life's purpose. He had thought to live his life free from the ties of his past, but it was not meant to be. As long as there were ningyo like the one before him, he couldn't.

The tenor voice of a young man startled him out of his reverie. "Lady Yuuko, I've brought you a cardigan…"

Ryuji straightened up and whipped his head around so fast that he nearly lost his balance. The young man in front of him, most likely a manservant judging from the neat, wrinkle-free suit he was wearing, was gaping at him in shock. Ryuji was certain that his own expression was no different but he was able to recover his wits more quickly. His eyes fell on the water feature next to him.

"You!" cried the manservant, moving towards him purposefully. "Get away from—"

By then, Ryuji had torn the piece of bamboo out of its fulcrum and was pressing the sharp end of it against the young woman's throat. The manservant froze. As expected, the ningyo did not even flinch.

"How dare you raise your hand against Lady Yuuko, punk!" exploded the manservant, quivering with rage. "Release her this instant!"

Ryuji winced at the loud outcry. If the old guy turned up, he was as good as captured or dead. "Keep your volume down, pansy, and she might just live." Ryuji had no intention of making good his threat but he had to demonstrate how serious he was. He deliberately increased the pressure of the bamboo's sharp edge on the young woman's throat until a bead of blood seeped out. "Now show me a way out of here or I'll—"

Ryuji miscalculated. The manservant went berserk and charged like a crazed bull when he saw the blood. Before Ryuji could react, he was down on the ground with surprisingly strong hands wrapped tightly around his throat. The piece of bamboo had flown out of his hands when he was knocked over, so Ryuji could only fight back barehanded, street fighting-style. He attempted to claw his opponent's eyes but his shorter arms made it impossible. His legs were pinioned onto the ground, so the option of kneeing the groin was out. That left his teeth, but unfortunately there weren't any body parts of the manservant within reach that he could bite. In the end, he could only try to reduce the pressure on his windpipe by pulling on the hands that were trying to choke the life out of him. He was losing the battle and the edges of his vision were beginning to darken.

"Until this cursed fate comes to an end…"

The eerie words seemed to come out of nowhere. Was he hallucinating? Was that the summoning call for those who would soon be dead? Ryuji tugged ineffectually at the hands around his throat. I don't want to die. Not yet… Not now. Tears trickled out of his eyes. Tears of frustration and unrealized dreams.

"… strike with those poisonous fangs!"

There was a sound of something solid shattering, followed by that of falling rubble. The pressure on his windpipe eased and he began gulping air hungrily into his oxygen-starved lungs. The next thing he knew, the manservant slumped over him, unconscious. Ryuji hadn't yet recovered the strength to push the body off him, so he just lay on the ground and concentrated on breathing instead. 'What just happened?' wondered his dazed brain.

Someone pulled the manservant's body off his chest and he squinted up at his mysterious rescuer. With his vision blurred by tears, he could only make out the spiky hair. "Ginji?" Ryuji whispered, his voice croaky. More tears were threatening to spill out of his eyes. I will protect you. Was his dream an echo of the truth after all?

His spiky-haired rescuer roughly prodded his side with a foot, causing him to grunt. "How long are you planning to lie there, brat? If you're not dead, get up! I don't have all day."

Porcupine-head? "You jerk!" It was almost a reflex. Ryuji scrubbed his wet cheeks furiously as he got up. "Who asked for your help anyway!" He looked around and saw the huge hole in the wall that surrounded the garden. Did Porcupine-head do that? How was that even humanly possible? But then, he should have given up trying to apply his common sense when it came to predicting what the Get Backers were capable of.

"Someone who's paying me for hauling your sorry ass out of here, twerp," growled Porcupine-head irritably. "Don't even think for one second that I'm here because I'm the least bit concerned about you. Coz I'm not! Get that fact into that thick skull of yours!"

"Jeez, I get it already! You don't need to tell me that! I know you'd rather see me strangled than lift a finger to help if there wasn't any reward in it for you." Ryuji frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Who's paying you…?"

"No time for idle chit-chat. We're getting out of here now." Porcupine-head walked towards the broken wall and signaled impatiently for him to follow.

Ryuji remained standing where he was. "Where's Ginji? Isn't he with you?"

"Ginji is busy dealing with a problem near the entrance of this house, so—"

"Actually, no. He's right here at the moment."

Ryuji let out an undignified squawk and came as close to fainting then as he ever did in his fourteen years of life. The old assassin had crept up behind him so silently that he wasn't aware that someone was behind him until he felt the breath on the back of his neck.

Both Porcupine-head and Ryuji turned abruptly and saw Ginji standing beside the assassin. "Sorry, Ryu-chan, we didn't mean to scare you. We came here as soon as we heard the noise and… I… I'm very relieved to see that you're alright." Ginji's voice became thick towards the end of the sentence. Ryuji was still too stunned to appreciate the worry in Ginji's eyes and the warmth that enveloped him as Ginji hugged him.

The old guy knelt down to feel the pulse of the unconscious manservant on the ground. Satisfied that his servant was still alive, the old guy proceeded to check up on the young woman in the wheelchair. His eyes grew gentler and sadder when he looked upon her.

Porcupine-head burst out, "Ginji! What the hell are you doing, fraternizing with the enemy!"

"He's not an enemy, Ban-chan," protested Ginji in a reasonable tone of voice. "Not now, at least."

"Not an enemy!" yelled Porcupine-head exasperatedly. "In case you've forgotten, let me remind you that he just tried to murder you and the brat yesterday! If he's not an enemy, what is he?"

Ginji scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "He's… um… I think he's our new client."

In response, Porcupine-head opened and closed his mouth like a beached fish.

"Can I invite the three of you to the lounge?" The old guy pushed the wheelchair with the young woman up a ramp leading to the verandah. "We can discuss my proposal further in a more comfortable setting."

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Author's note: A big thank you and a belated Happy New Year to anyone who's still following this story despite my horrendously slow and infrequent updates. The story is trudging along at the pace of a dehydrated snail, but at least it's still trudging right? Thanks Rabid Lola, for telling me about the honorifics used by Ginji, and Daemonchan, for the info regarding how small the trunk of a Subaru-360 really is (Unfortunately, I'll have to stick to what I've written in chapter 3 as it's just too much fun locking Ryuji up in the trunk— which, in fact, is located at the front of the car I now realized). Yes, as you can tell, I like feedback of any kind :) Thanks to all who reviewed. An extra thank you to Iris Domingo for beta-reading this chapter for me.