A/N: Editing has occurred. Made the explanation of Zaizen and the school make a little more sense.
I own nothing.
HEARTS DESIRE
Chapter Eight: Loaded Guns
A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic
By Yuriko Tsukino
Amon spent the next week in tight anticipation. He had yet to come up with a better plan than the obvious: Get Robin out. He was so preoccupied that he hardly noticed other things—namely that Michael was hanging out with his old friends again; or rather, that they were hanging out with him and Robin.
It was at one such outing—the four of them had decided to meet at Harry's after school—that Yurika Doujima announced something that would terrify Robin to death, and was bound to change her forever.
"You know what you need, Robin?" she asked, stirring another sugar into her coffee. Without waiting for an answer, she continued: "A makeover. I know you've got a nice figure, but no one can see it under all those layers, and if you just do something different with your hair--"
"I think I'd rather--"
But if she was expecting backup from the boys, she was sadly mistaken. While Michael tried to stand up for her, his opinions were barreled over when Haruto (imagining Robin in a skimpy bikini and giving him a come-hither look) slammed his palm on the table and said, "That's an excellent idea! You should definitely do it, Robin!"
"But I don't think—"
"It's settled then, Robin," Doujima said, clapping her hands and taking Haruto's vote of approval as unanimous support. Her eyes shone as she considered the possibilities. "We could get your hair and makeup done, and I know just the place to get you a whole new wardrobe….!"
What am I getting into? Robin wondered
00000
Despite all of her objections, however, she still met Doujima at the mall two days later. She had prepared an entire list of reasons she shouldn't—her religion, her lack of funds, the fact that she never wore anything immodest or flashy (with the possible exception of her work uniform).
Doujima, however, ignored her pleas and drug her into one store after another, insisting that Robin was a "special project," and she would therefore cover all of the costs.
The first store they tried was a preppy, chic boutique that described everything that was Doujima and nothing that was Robin. After forcing her into a few brightly colored mini skirts and some halter tops, however, Doujima reached the obvious conclusion that bright colors and hip clothing did not mix well with the solemn young girl, who tried in vain to cover herself while modeling the clothes.
"What you need to do," Doujima explained as she led the way to the next store, "is forget that you're wearing anything at all."
Robin colored and she quickly amended that statement. "What I mean is forget you're out of your comfort zone. Just be yourself. Forget the clothes. The clothes aren't who you are; they merely get others attention so they find out who that person is."
Robin relaxed a bit until her guide pulled her into Hot Topic. While she supposed her style was rather dark, it certainly did not involve corset tops, body piercing, or spikes. She pulled Doujima away before they had gone even two steps into the store.
"Listen," Doujima said at last, making Robin stop dead in her tracks. They had been walking in circles around the mall for nearly three hours without buying a single thing. "I'm the makeover artist here, right?" she said. Robin nodded hesitantly, silently added that she hadn't asked for the makeover. "So you need to trust my judgement. I've got an idea. It won't be immodest, but it will include color and it will show off your figure." Without waiting for Robin's inevitable objections, she led her back to the stores they had already rejected, and began pulling clothing off the racks. After a moment, she turned back to Robin.
"You can sew, right?"
00000
Most of the guys in her first period class were staring at her.
In fact, so were many of the girls.
Haruto was grinning like an idiot.
Michaels mouth was hanging open.
And Amon was staring at her over his computer screen.
Self consciously, Robin smoothed down her skirt. It was a lot shorter than she was used to, but longer than it had been when they had bought it. It was short and fuzzy with a pattern that looked like snow leopard fur. The A-line hugged her hips, and Doujima had (after a bit of convincing from Robin) added six inches of black lace trim to the hem, bringing it to knee length.
Robin's top consisted of a blue-green halter top with a zipper that extended from her navel to halfway up her neck and was intended (according to Yurika) to bring out her eyes. For modesty sake, sheer black sleeves which hooked over her thumbs had been added, though Doujima refused to let Robin cover her three inches of exposed midriff. "You're one of the few girls I know with a naturally flat stomach," Doujima had said prying Robin's hands away from her abdomen, where she was trying to cover herself. "If you got it, flaunt it."
The rest of the ou fit included knee high black socks with green ribbon at the tops, matching the shirt, and a pair of Mary Jane shoes from Hot Topic, with what was quite possibly the highest heel on the planet earth. Yurika had also done her make up—ocean blue eyeliner (which thankfully hadn't come out as thick as she had first thought—it was barely noticeable) and heavy black mascara, with silver and green eye shadow. Thankfully, for the rest of her face, she had used just a bit of powder and a sheer pink lip gloss, saying a more natural look suited Robin best. Over all tough, she looked nothing like she had the day before; the make up added a good three years to her age, and while she didn't have the desirable curves most of the boys were looking for, her model-like figure still drew attention.
Robin quickly took her seat, eager to avoid the stares of her classmates. She felt naked in these clothes.
Sakaki was leaning over Michael's desk, telling her what a nice change it was. Michael shoved him back in his own seat, glaring down at his hands. He turned his gaze up to Robin briefly, and she didn't see any of the adoration she picked up from the other guys.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, blushing. He wasn't looking away.
"Nothing," he said, looking back at his hands. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose and returned to working at his lap top.
"You don't like it," Robin stated, reading the look on his face.
"I like it. It looks good on you."
"But…"
"I like you better. That's not you." His cheeks colored, and he typed a little faster.
Robin smiled at this admission. She wasn't sure how seriously he meant it, but it felt good all the same.
She glanced up at Amon. He was once again absorbed in his work, though she knew he was looking at her when he thought she wouldn't notice.
That thought made her feel even better.
00000
Robin knocked softly on the door of Amon's classroom, causing him to look up from his computer.
"I just wanted to return this to you," Robin said, blushing. "I'm sorry about the cover, I…" she held out the poetry book. It was the personal one Amon had lent to her. She had actually found it in the hallway that morning, cover torn off, dirty foot prints covering some of the pages. "I promise I'll buy you another copy," she said, though it felt like a poor sort of way to make up for it. The book was obviously very important to him, and she had let it be destroyed.
"It's not a problem," Amon replied, sticking it back in the drawer of his desk. In truth, he actually didn't mind. Too much. After all, the book had been damaged when she was shoved in the locker. He couldn't complain about that.
Amon shut down his computer. "You're going home now?" he asked. The final bell had rung about ten minutes ago. At Robin's nod, he stood. "I'll walk you out," he said.
Robin followed him, and they walked in silence to the elevator, which was usually reserved for teachers and handicapped students. It was very nice to not have to walk down four flights of stairs.
Amon pushed the little round "1" and they waited as the antiquated elevator dropped slowly through the shaft.
"Robin…the other day…" Amon began, not quite sure how to word what he wanted to say. Best to just spit it out. "I know you're a witch."
Robin whipped around to stare at him, eyes wide. At that instant, the elevator shook, and suddenly began a rapid descent—much faster than it should have. The lights flickered off, and both occupants were thrown against the walls.
The elevator continued to drop, landing hard in the basement. Robin and Amon were both thrown to the floor.
Robin groaned. She had landed hard, but the metal floor was much softer than she expected. And warmer. And it smelled like leather. And deodorant. And some indescribable, wonderful, familiar smell that she couldn't quite place.
The floor moaned.
Robin took stock of her surroundings in the darkness. She was laying on something which was warm, soft, and smelled good, and was evidently not the floor. Her legs were spread wide in a failed attempt to stop her from falling, and were now tangled up in whatever she had landed in.
It groaned again, moving slightly.
One of the things she was tangled in moved upwards, putting her in a very akward position indeed.
Oh.
My.
God.
Robin tried to get up, but her legs were hopelessly wrapped up in Amon's coat, and one of his thighs was currently between her own.
This could be interesting, she thought.
"Um…Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.
"I…yes…" Amon replied. He didn't seem quite aware of the situation. She considered that he might have hit his head.
Amon did not have time to properly recuperate, however, as the elevator door was suddenly blasted open.
Robin ducked her head to avoid the flying bits of metal. When she looked up again, several men in strange pearl-gray suits were staring down and pointing guns at them.
What happened next happened so fast Robin hardly had time to blink.
Amon was suddenly on his feet, her wrist clasped firmly in his hand, and as the three men opened fire, Amon did as well, plowing through them and out into the hall.
Panting, Robin ran after him. He ran through the twisting corridors of the basement, and didn't hesitate until he reached one of the security doors. Punching in the proper code, he pulled her inside the steel door, then up a flight of stairs. He didn't stop again until they reached the gravel teachers lot. He quickly unlocked the doors with the touch of a button, and they both dove inside his black car as the men came out of the building.
Amon peeled out of the parking lot, and Robin was thrown against the door of the car before she could get her seatbelt on. She quickly locked it in place, hanging on tight as they sped through the city.
Somewhere around the outer belt, Amon slowed down, and Robin relaxed just long enough to wonder why they had been attacked and why a literature teacher would carry a gun. She considered asking, but Amon was still tense over the wheel, and Robin got the distinct impression that questions would not be welcome at that point.
Amon gripped the wheel tightly, clenching his teeth as he drove. Zaizen had set the factory on Robin. He didn't just want her captured, he wanted her dead. He had skipped over Amon and summoned the factory, meaning that he didn't trust his employee anymore.
Amon considered places that they could go. Obviously, they were both on the run from here out, as Amon had protected Robin from those who wished her harm. And that meant that any place the two of them were associated with would be subject of search.
Amon picked an exit at random, following it to another highway. Hopefully his idiot brother wouldn't let anything slip, and would have the sense to get out as soon as he got wind of anything strange.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Robin watching him. She was cautiously eyeing his side, where his holster was hidden. He shot her a glance, and she looked away quickly.
"You're a witch," Amon began. "You carry the active gene for pyrokenisis. This gene is the reason those men are after you."
A glance at her told him he had her full attention.
"A few years ago, I got my teaching liscense. It wasn't my first choice of career, but it made ends meet. For a while, however, I had trouble getting hired. I was always told that I lacked the interpersonal skills to make a good teacher. Low on money, I moved here to live with my half brother. I applied to that school, and was hired almost immediately, despite my lack of experience and 'interpersonal skills.' It wasn't until later that I found out why."
Robin watched him intently. This was the first time she had ever heard him mention his past. Other teachers might offhandedly mention family, children, past jobs, or their school careers, but Amon never did. It was always business, and here he was, confiding to Robin how hard it had been for him to become a teacher; in fact, that he hadn't wanted to be one at all.
Amon continued. "After about a year, Zaizen decided I was trust worthy. He called me to his office after the last bell one day, and told me what I'm about to tell you.
"According to Zaizen, there are two kinds of people: humans and seeds. A seed is a person who carries the gene for witchcraft, but doesn't have an active power. If this gene is ever aroused, however, the person is then a witch, like you.
"Only a few people know this, but Zaizen is not only the principal of that school, but he's also the head of the board of governors, and the founder." He waited a moment for Robin to be properly surprised by this news, though her expression of impassive calm mixed with unease hardly wavered. "The disturbing part is why he stared the school."
"Zaizen values, above all else, purity. And not the kind that you studied at the monestary," Amon said. "Purity of the species. He thinks seeds and witches violate this.
"The school is a cover."
Robin's eyes widened. She stared at him in shock and horror, but Amon hadn't finished yet. "The theory was to find young witches, and get rid of them while they were still unaware of their powers, or before they gained complete control over them. By doing this, they would be easier to capture."
"Capture? By who?" Robin asked
Amon swallowed a lump of unease that was building in his throat, and chose another exit, this one leading to a side road. "The teachers."
"What?"
"The teachers. Zaizen does background checks on every teacher he hires. He only employs seeds, because they have the best resistance to witch powers. Every employee in that school is either a seed, or a craft user. They pass information on students to Zaizen, and according to their family tree and a database he set up, he determines if the student is a witch, seed, or human. If they come up as anything other than the latter, he orders them captured and sent to the Factory."
"What is 'the Factory?'"
"I don't know. It's just where the witches get sent. We don't see them again after that. They might get imprisoned, by my guess is that they are used for some kind of research, which is used to capture other witches. I don't have any proof…but some of them are probably killed there."
Robin looked down at her hands, trying to absorb all of this.
"So…every teacher in that school is a hunter. They're supposed to…to find people like me."
"Yes."
"So," Robin said, as Amon pulled over. "Is this the part where you kill me?"
