Warnings: Au, x-over, yaoi, possible violence as the story progresses, random moments of humor and/or fluff

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or Weiss Kreuz. I take no credit for anything except my own characters and the plotline. I make no money off of this. And if you try to sue me all you will get is my manga collection.

…Nope, you won't even get that, because I will take my manga with me when I change my name and run away to Canada.

Weiss Geräusche

'Dear Aya,

How are things with you?

Yohji and Ken are doing the same as always. And I've seen Aya-chan recently. She's doing well in school and still working the flower shop with Sakura. They both seem to be really happy. Aya-chan has a crush on a local singer. I guess he's alright, but I'm not sure I much care for his personality though. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't get hurt. You'll be happy to know that Sakura-chan also has a new love interest. I'm glad to see she's finally moving on. He's from the same band as Aya-chan's crush so they all get to hang out together, and he's actually pretty cool.

Hey, guess what? Hiro and I found our final element! Bad Luck is officially a complete band! Well I mostly found him, but Hiro agreed that he was perfect for us. Isn't that exciting? His name is Suguru Fujisaki and he plays the keys like a magician! He's definitely mastered his own technique, and at sixteen too. It's incredible to hear him play. We have been meeting for the past couple of weeks on a regular basis, getting our songs together.

We're going to be opening for ASK (they're the guys our ladies are interested in, btw) in about a month from now. I never could have imagined that I would get a chance like this while we were all living together. It's like a dream come true, but I'm still really nervous. What if I mess up? There might even be some big label reps there since ASK is getting some attention.

I wish you were here to tell me to stop worrying about it and get to work. I know that's what you'd say, but I miss it anyways.

I miss you all very much, and I hope things are going well with you.

Love always,

Omi'

"Man this may be a shortcut, but it sure is dark… and empty. All you find hanging around a dark park at night are ghosts."

The pink haired young man was walking home from his late night job to the apartment he lived at. He'd been alone most of his life so walking home by himself was nothing new to him. Of course he knew that it was possible to meet dangerous people in the park at night but he wasn't really concerned with them. The thought of ghosts was decidedly more creepy, even if he would never admit that out loud.

'I hope not,' he thought to himself, remembering just how many ghosts he himself had. He almost smiled at how silly he was being but a sense of unease with his thoughts made him hunch his shoulders against the cool breeze instead. He really didn't want to be thinking about such things right now.

A voice cut across his thoughts making him freeze in his tracks. "That's a cute hair color for you… Omi."

'Ghosts and Kritiker agents,' he amended in his head, turning around until his eyes fell on the voice's owner.

Steel tipped heals worn with socks. There were very few women in the world who could pull that look off. And even fewer women who would want to. Long pale legs lead to a short red skirt. The soft black mesh shirt with black straps was covered by the business jacket that perfectly matched the skirt. Large scarlet curls brushed against her shoulders when she tilted her head to study him in the soft light shed by sporadic lamp posts.

Manx.

"Don't call me that. That's not my name anymore," the young man informed her. He decided to ignore the hair comment. The dangerous red-head had been his father's personal assistant when he'd been growing up, which made her a sort of mother figure. Which meant that she was sort of entitled to make snarky comments about his personal appearance.

"Oh that's right. It's Shuichi now isn't it? Shuichi Shindou." Manx knew why he took the name Shuichi, and why he chose the name Shindou as well. Did she have to sound so amused by it? "And you're an aspiring singer now, right? Bad Luck. Such an ill portending name for a such a hopeful band."

"You've done your research as usual Manx, but I'm not Weiss anymore, so what I do with my time now is none of your business," he hitched the bag on his back higher and started to turn away. He wouldn't be drawn into her trap. He wouldn't.

"Perhaps you could say that, but what I have to say could be your business very quickly. Especially if you're serious about your music career."

Always so smug. She knew exactly what to say to make you pay attention, and to get you to do what she wanted. He knew this, and yet…

"What makes you say that?"

Lips that looked like smears of crimson blood curved knowingly at the corners.

"Do you remember Wunder X?"

"Wunder X? Of course I remember. But that's over now. He's dead." A little voice was screaming at him to run, to get away before he could be trapped into going back to the life he had left behind. Still he found himself turning toward her.

Sharp teal eyes almost gleamed in the dimness. She knew that she had him hooked. What she was about to say would reel him in.

"Indeed he is," Manx practically purred. "However he was a tool of Esset and you didn't destroy his music."

Omi, or rather, Shuichi as he now preferred, sucked in an angry breath at the reproof in her voice.

"That wasn't within the mission parameters. All we had to do was eliminate the target so that he couldn't drive anyone else crazy." Shuichi's fist clenched around the strap of his backpack until his knuckles turned white. He didn't know what she was getting at with the direction her conversation was going but he felt a tight knot of tension forming in the pit of his stomach.

"With the failure of the ritual Esset hit a hard time, but the organization has slowly been rebuilt. We too lost a lot of our people, so we haven't been able to keep them from regaining their strength. They can't count on their 'lord' coming anymore, but the whole purpose of the organization was to create a new world order."

Shuichi narrowed his eyes at the name. He and his team mates had nearly died trying to prevent the criminal organization Esset from performing a ritual that would resurrect an evil entity that would have destroyed the world. The fact that they had been trying to resurrect it within the kidnapped body of Aya Fujimiya, the younger sister of his team leader had made the mission a little bit more personal for all of them. Aya-chan was now was now one of his few close friends.

It made him understandably defensive whenever the subject of the ritual came up.

"Esset is still determined to fulfill their purpose. With their restoration they've also begun regaining a lot of their lost information."

"And you think someone else is going to take up where Kawaji left off? That Esset's going to try and drive people crazy?"

"Crazy… or perhaps something worse. Mind control that has been proven to work on a large scale once is always a possible avenue for such a determined beast. And we have reason to believe that they may have already begun to explore alternative suggestions within certain songs."

"Ok, so Esset is out there and they're trying to dominate the world through music, and possibly several other means. What exactly am I supposed to do about it?" Shuichi growled defensively.

Honestly he felt helpless when he heard about people being attacked and no one knowing what was going on. He hated it, but he had walked away from Weiss to get away from that life. Now he was making music. Making, not destroying. It was what he wanted more than anything now that he had a choice. He wasn't sure he could go back to that now that Weiss had been disbanded this last time. He wasn't Omi Tsukiyono anymore, he was Shuichi Shindou now, and he wasn't in a position to do anything about international crime rings.

"You could become Persia," she pointed out quietly. "There are any number of things you'd be able to do as the leader of Kritiker."

Oh yeah, there was that.

Kritiker, the vigilante organization that was created to bring criminals who thought they were above the law to justice, had many teams all over the world. When the former Persia, who had also happened to be Shuichi's biological father had died, they had offered him the position. He could even now be heading the Japanese branch of Kritiker.

He had politely, but firmly, declined.

"No," he said flatly, with a note of finality that brooked no argument.

"Have you heard of NG-Studios?" Manx asked suddenly.

Shuichi raised a cautious eyebrow at that, wondering at the abrupt change of subject. And about the obviousness of the question. She had to know that the president of NG was a former keyboardist from only his favorite band ever.

"Who hasn't?" he asked rhetorically in return. He could play the question answer game too.

She smiled slightly in acknowledgement.

"Wunder X had no real producer, and no artist name when we first tracked them down but later we discovered the location of production. A couple of years ago a rocker by the name of Tohma Seguchi bought out the building and all of the equipment that was used to begin his recording company. Kritiker has reason to believe that NG-Studios is a secret Esset base, and that Seguchi is a contact for them."

"Are you for real!" Shuichi gaped at the older woman who stood there impassively, her arms crossed beneath her breasts.

It couldn't be true!

His mind raced over the implications. If Tohma Seguchi was an Esset operative then he would be killed by an assassin team, much like the one that Shuichi had been a part of himself not too long ago. No question there. No more Seguchi, meant no more NG-Studios. And that also meant no more Nittle Grasper if Ryuichi Sakuma ever returned to Japan.

"Ah, well. It doesn't matter, I suppose. I just wanted to let you know to be careful about what cds you buy that come from that label. I wouldn't want you to get hurt by your true love."

Then the actual words sank in and he paused.

She had said that Kritiker believed that Seguchi-san was a contact. Manx didn't say 'we' when she made that statement. Never mind that he'd been involved in the original case, she wasn't authorized to tell anyone details of any cases without first getting their agreement to join in a mission. Not even when they were fully active agents (which he wasn't anymore). It was a rule.

His eyes narrowed.

So why was Manx telling him all this, when he wasn't in Kritiker and she had religiously followed that rule when she had been Persia's secretary? She said she wanted him to be careful of cds, but what was she really trying to tell him?

Unless…

Someone at Kritiker had to have released the information to the ladies who acted as go betweens for the teams. There was no Persia for the Japanese branch. That meant that someone higher up was making the call. However, if Manx was going outside of basic procedures, then she must be questioning the validity of the order.

He stared hard at her.

What was going on in Kritiker since he had left that could provoke such a dedicated agent to start questioning the missions?

Her face remained impassive, but there was an expectant expression in her eyes. She was waiting to see if he understood what she was really getting at. He took a deep breath and carefully considered how to phrase his next statement so that she would see that he understood without directly saying so.

She wasn't just warning him about Esset. She was warning him about Kritiker.

"Thanks Manx. I'll have to remember that I should be cautious of new releases. Even if some of them are older songs."

Apparently she was satisfied with his rather cryptic response because she gave him a short nod of approval.

He watched as she disappeared into the shadows. A few minutes after she walked away he saw a beam of headlights flash on and pull away from the park. Manx was gone and he had to get home now before anything else came up.

The pink head stared after the red trails of light for a moment. Then he kept walking.

His shoes scuffed loudly against worn wood as he dragged himself up the stairs of his apartment. Shuichi shoved his door open and dropped his bag on the ground, kicking off his shoes as he stepped inside. He closed the door, locking it without thinking about it and flicked on the light. As he moved inside he began to strip off his clothes, leaving them in a trail of pathetic lumps on the floor.

Violet eyes roamed restlessly around his small apartment. The comfy old couch was so worn out in places the yellow cushion underneath was starting to show through. That was why he had to put down the brightly colored blanket to cover the seats. To the side was small rocking chair with another blanket that he had bought because it had kind of matched the first one. Against one of the walls was some keyboards, complete with accessories. Cords wound across the floor beneath the small sea of equipment and disappeared behind a small end table with the computer that he had solely dedicated to music.

A low slab of black marble sat between the couch and the entertainment system, functioning as the coffee table. His television, an older seventeen inch screen, sat on top of a scraped entertainment shelf. In the center where the television was typically placed was his baby- the stereo. It was the most expensive thing on the whole shelf: even counting the thousands of yen worth of music cds that lined the shelves to either side; the video cassette tapes arranged on the narrow shelf underneath that; and the records that were neatly stacked on the bottom. The only game system he owned was an old play station 2 that was leaned against the side of the entertainment shelf.

In the kitchen that was separated from the living room by a slight drop in elevation he had a small two-seater table. The oven and refrigerator took up most of the space that was left. An old microwave and the all important coffee pot for nights he needed to stay up cramming for tests were the only things that occupied the counter space. Everything else was tucked away neatly in drawers and cabinets. Stuck to the front of the refrigerator with cheerful little magnets were pictures of him with Hiro, and other friends from school. Even one of him and the guys from the flower shop.

He always smiled a little when he saw that one. He kept in touch with them so he knew what they were all up to since Weiss's disbandment. All of his former teammates had moved on or moved back into their old lifestyles. While he, Omi, was trying to pursue his musical ambitions.

Turning away from the fridge after grabbing a drink and eyed his cheerful little apartment again with the sprays of flowers that he could never bring himself to live without since leaving the flower shop. It looked okay, but no where near what he could afford with the money he had earned over the years. Even counting how much he spent on his musical instruments and electrical upgrades he had more than enough to get a bigger place, and better furniture. Still he was comfortable here and happy with what he had. Especially since what he had was more than what it looked like.

Yet something kept him from enjoying the comforting atmosphere as he normally would.

Manx.

Shuichi scowled. Of course he wasn't going to feel at peace after that little slice of his past tried to drop back into his lap. Rolling his eyes he gave in and stalked back over to the cabinets above the coffee pot and jerked out all the stuff to make coffee. When everything was set up he flicked the button on the side of his coffee maker. He snagged the drink he had pulled out earlier and took that into his bedroom so he'd have something to sip on while he waited for his real drink to be brewed.

It was cramped, but he still liked it. The queen bed took up almost all of the wall on the left. Scattered over the walls were posters of his favorite band and very used dart boards. A small nightstand with a lamp sat beside his bed and was almost touching the desk. Along with the nightstand was another picture with his old teammates, his absolute favorite one that he'd had framed. The nightstand and the end of the desk formed a small square with against the corner and that's where he kept a tiny trashcan. There was barely enough space to walk to his closet between the pieces of furniture he had in his room.

He grabbed a pair of comfortable pants from his closet to slip on since he wasn't wearing anything but his boxers at this point, then pulled out the swivel office chair. He settled in with a sigh.

Shuichi turned on his computer and waited for it to warm up. He'd have to get all the background information that was available about N-G Studios and its president. Even the stuff that wasn't readily available to the public. It was probably going to take a couple of weeks before he had everything he needed. And then he'd see what he was willing to do about Manx's little bombshell.

He took a sip from his drink, staring up at the Nittle Grasper poster that sat on the wall above his computer. Setting the bottle down he stretched his arms above his head and twisted his head from side to side to pop his neck. He'd have to shift into operative mode in order to do this properly.

His lips twitched. He was the artist formerly known as Omi, formerly known as the assassin formerly known as Bombay. He shook his head at the bad joke. He was definitely getting tired. With a careful deliberation he focused on becoming what he had left behind. Anyone watching would have been amazed by the subtle changes his features took on as he allowed himself to become Omi once more.

Then he lowered his hands to the keys to do what he does best…

Start the long grueling process of hacking through several databases so he could get every bit of information available on NGS and its owner.

And after that… Kritiker's files.