Roses in Rain
a Weiss Kreuz fanfiction by laila

Part 6 – She's a Smooth Operator

Of all the things Ken might have suspected Manx might have the tendency to do whilst in private, or for that matter whilst stuck in traffic with a teenage assassin namely him, singing along to soulful love songs on the radio (in a surprisingly sultry voice that made Ken think of lounge singers, not that he'd ever seen a lounge singer outside of bad American movies) would not have been one of them. Well, people were unexpected. Didn't make his situation any less excruciating, though. It wasn't like Manx was a bad singer or anything; it was more that she was, well, she was Manx. Did she sing in the shower too?

Ohmygod. He hadn't wanted to have that thought. Manx in the shower. She was an exceptionally attractive woman, after all. Jesus God and help. Thou shalt not covet thy boss' secretary especially not when you're way too young for her and she could eat you alive and oh Christ this just got worse and worse. So that was why Youji kept hitting on her and fuck, he hadn't needed to think about Youji either. The guy had been the object of rather too many of Ken's more recent fantasies for him to even be able to think of his teammate without feeling awkward.

Quietly cursing, once again, his inability to discriminate where it came to the matter of personal attraction, Ken concentrated on the view out of the passenger side window and desperately hoped he wasn't blushing and knew there was no chance of that. The only positive from his point of view was, horrendously embarrassing though this situation was, at least he'd be extremely unlikely to think the woman reminded him of Sister Helena of the Assumption any more when everyone knew that, under the nun outfit, Sister Helena didn't actually exist.

He bet she'd forgotten he was there. He didn't really want to point out that he was present, actually, either. It'd probably just annoy her…

"Manx?" He said finally, hoping he didn't sound too frantic, "what are we going to tell him again?"

Manx started, breaking off and glancing over at him in surprise and leaving Namie Amuro stranded in the middle of the chorus; Namie carried gamely on anyway, little minding that she was suddenly going solo. Whoops, Ken thought, looks like she really did forget I was there.

"Oh. Siberian." She smiled distractedly. "Did you want something? Sorry, I don't usually have company when I'm driving."
Should he mention that he'd guessed that much? No, probably not. "What are we going to tell Persia?" he asked instead. "I mean… from what you said he thinks Calico's the best thing that ever happened to us. Is he really going to change his mind just because we think she more sort of isn't?"
Manx frowned; the traffic inconsiderately chose that moment to start moving again and she quickly put the car back in gear, pulling past the latest set of traffic lights. "I don't like the way that girl's behaving any more than you do," she said. "Persia needs to know there's something the matter. I – well, I doubt he'll change his mind about her presence on your team, but he might at least start to think a bit."

Think a bit? Ken pulled a face. Persia had stopped thinking? Well, shit. The last thing any covert assassin – Ken being no exception – wanted to be told was that the man who issued his orders was embracing the Well, It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time School of Management. True, Ken favored that approach himself more often than not, but, well, he was allowed. It wasn't like he'd drag anyone else down with him, well, not really, and it wasn't like he was doing it deliberately. Things just seemed to happen round Ken. Unplanned, embarrassing and nigh-on lethal things of the kind that (and this was the annoying part) would never in a million years have happened to Aya.

Persia, though? Well, it wasn't like Persia had ever come across an unexploded tiger, was it?

"I don't know what he thinks he's been playing at, lately," Manx said with a small, tired sigh that made her seem, for the first time since Ken had met her, only human after all. Just another woman wearied by the idiocies perpetrated by the men in her life. "This Calico girl can do no wrong. She's the exception to every rule. I never thought I'd see the day Persia allowed an untested agent into Weiss—"
"Say what untested?" Ken interrupted, his voice urgent. "Hasn't she killed before? But you said…!"
Manx sighed again, shaking her head. "Yes, I know what I told you about Calico's background, but…" She broke off, turning in her seat (the traffic had conveniently reached a dead standstill again) and gave Ken a steady, assessing gaze, her blue eyes only entirely serious. "Ken."
If it hadn't been for the seatbelt holding him back Ken swore he would have fallen off his seat. As it was he flinched and stared, and stared openly. Of course he'd known Manx knew his forename, but things had to be getting serious if she was actually prepared to use it. Siberian or nothing, that was the general rule… "Um, what—"
"You are not to tell anybody what I am about to tell you. Not your teammates and definitely not Calico. Do you understand?"
"Okay, sure – why not my team?"
"Because your team, as of present, are every bit as infatuated with Calico as Persia is," Manx pointed out. "Do you honestly think that what you told one of them, in confidence, about that girl wouldn't get back to her somehow?"
"Well, I…" Ken hesitated. He shook his head, slumping back into his seat and sighing expressively. "No."
The woman nodded briskly. "Which is exactly why you're going to keep what I am about to tell you to yourself."

Well, Ken supposed he couldn't fault that logic. Right now he guessed he couldn't trust his teammates any further than he could comfortably have thrown them – certainly not where Calico was concerned. Hell, they didn't even believe that Rain was Calico – not that he'd been feeling optimistic enough to share that piece of news with them either. Even dropping a couple of anvil-sized hints over the breakfast table (Jesus you look done in, Rain, what time'd you get to bed? Hey, you've cut your cheek? How did that happen?) hadn't done any good. All he'd gotten for his pains was a patented Aya Fujimiya Leveling Glare of Icy Death and a plaintive plea from Omi that he stop harassing Rain when the poor girl was so tired…

"Now, according to Calico's files," Manx was saying, "she's Japanese-American, her IQ is 272 and she graduated from high school at the age of thirteen. She's been active as a Kritiker agent since she was fifteen, she's an expert spy, she's easily Bombay's equal when it comes to computers, she's been working as a solo assassin for the last six months and she just happens to be a Class One Talent."
"Yeah, she said that," Ken said absently, then blinked. "What's a Class One Talent?"
Manx gave him a sidelong glance. "I'll come back to that, Siberian. As things stand, I'm beginning to notice certain… inconsistencies in the stories agent Calico is telling. From Bombay's reports, Abyssinian discovered Rain – Calico – wounded after a mission and brought her home for you boys to nurse to health. During that time, Bombay noted a number of older injures on her body and surmised she had been imprisoned for a considerable period and subject to a campaign of abuse…"
"Manx," Ken interrupted, leaning forward in his seat to try and get a better look at the woman's profile, "don't think I'm sticking up for Calico or anything but if she really is a Kritiker agent—"
"You're thinking she could have been captured on a mission."
Ken shrugged. "Well, it's not exactly unheard-of, right?"
"No," Manx admitted, "it isn't. But her records don't mention any failed missions. Her status has been active ever since she joined. If she had been captured and held for more than twelve hours she would have been reported as missing in action and her files would have reflected that. She can't have been a successful solo agent and a helpless prisoner at the same time, Siberian. Furthermore, I could find no evidence of any assassinations she successfully completed anywhere outside of her own files. None of her so-called targets were of any real note, none of their death certificates cite suspected foul play as a probable cause, only one of them was even under investigation by Kritiker at the time… I suspect they simply died. Finally, Kritiker don't make a habit of relying on solo agents, Weiss are our only assassins and in all the years I've worked with Persia, I've never heard him so much as mention any agent who possesses psychic powers."
"So, if she's lying to us, and she's lying to you… who the Hell is she?" Ken asked. "And what does she want with Weiss?"
"That's the problem," Manx admitted as she swung the car into a parking space. "I have absolutely no idea, but her presence seems to indicate Kritiker has suffered a severe security breach. You were right to mistrust her, Siberian. Come on."

It was dark, as ever. Dark and yet all the same Ken found himself dazzled. All he could see was the man's silhouette and a lot of screaming painfully bright light pouring from behind him and all it did was reconfirm the general big-mother-with-a-beard impression he'd gotten on so many other occasions – and occasion was the word. Persia obviously believed in making a show of things. Every so often Ken got a glimpse of what looked like some hellishly expensive tailoring as the man shifted position slightly but really, how weird was it that a guy who could score an office like this and a secretary like that had a nice suit on? So far, he owned, so boring.

The only difference this time was Manx. She was, this time, not just another dimly-glimpsed shadow beside the desk but a heavy, breathing presence by his side. An angry presence. What Persia was saying was obviously not what the woman had wanted to hear. Far from it.

It wasn't helping Ken's temper that Persia only seemed to remember he was there intermittently.

"I fail to see," the man was saying for what felt like the thousandth time, "quite why you consider Calico to be such a detriment to Weiss, Manx. Her skills alone should make her a valuable asset."
"Her presence is proving just as divisive as I said it would," Manx said tightly, inclining her head slightly toward Ken as if his presence alone was an indictment and, in a way, she was entirely correct. "If she is allowed to remain in Weiss, she'll make successful completion of missions impossible. Siberian is unwilling to trust her and his teammates have started to turn on him. Abyssinian and Balinese are fighting for her attentions—"
Persia shook his head, cutting her off. "As I have already told you, and as should be obvious from her files, agent Calico is a consummate professional. A considerable woman like that isn't about to put trivial romantic squabbles above her duty as an agent or allow herself to forget her own position in her team. She knows far better than to jeopardize her position with an inopportune love affair."
"Sure," Ken retorted, "but has anyone told Balinese that? Or Abyssinian?"
"Weiss are professionals, and Calico has assured me there will be no difficulty."
Manx sighed, shaking her head. "Of course she has. Persia, I've read her files. Brilliant she may be, but she's eighteen years old. She has no experience of working with others, or of living with the stressors Weiss are routinely exposed to. How can we be sure she isn't going to forget herself when – excuse me a minute, Siberian – her teammates have enough difficulty with emotional attachment as it is without protective sentiment and sex becoming an issue?"

At which remark Ken blushed furiously and thought of Youji and was very, very thankful that it was too dark in here for Persia to see his expression. Or for Manx to tell that he was blushing.

"Agent Balinese," Manx said, "is a charismatic young man. Abyssinian is not without physical charm. Calico herself is… unusually alluring. I don't see how professionalism is going to make any difference in such a situation."
Persia leant forward, placing his hands down heavily on his desk. It was hard to tell in the dark, but he looked as if he were trying to restrain his temper. "Weiss are not high-schoolers, Manx…"
"And that's precisely why I'm worried. High-schoolers get to go home."
"Let me speak, please." He was losing his temper. Ken took a pre-emptive pace backwards and wished he knew where his bugnuks were. Actually, he did know where his bugnuks were. They were tucked away in one of his bedroom drawers beneath a pile of old soccer jerseys and doing him no goddamn good at all. "As I was saying, Weiss are not high-schoolers. They are, as I am sure they are all well aware—" even in the darkness Ken could tell the man was giving him a rather pointed glance; he bridled slightly, set his hands on his hips and glared back, "—trained professionals. They will, I'm sure, be able to cope with a female teammate without undue hysteria if she is the best person for the job. Agent Calico will be an asset to her team, provided her team allow her to be. If Weiss are unable to see past her gender, resort to mollycoddling her or start bickering over her, that says more about the men of Weiss than it does about Agent Calico."
"That may be so," Manx said quietly, "but it misses the point. Weiss are professionals, yes, but they're children, Persia. You can't foist an attractive young woman on a team of frightened boys and not expect nature to take its course. And when it does, I do not want to be the one to pick up the pieces. Come on, Siberian. I'm sure Persia has work to do."

And she turned on her heel and swept from the room, leaving Ken with nothing to do but give Persia a dubious glance and follow her. God knew he didn't want to stick round. Not when the light was hurting his eyes and he was getting a creepy feeling he wanted to kill Persia, anyway.

All the same… children?

Manx was waiting for him in one of the anterooms, a space every bit as large, echoing and ruthlessly overdesigned as Persia's office had been. As she caught sight of Ken (looking, as ever, hopelessly out of place in worn jeans, somewhat battered trainers and an overlarge tee-shirt – sometimes she had to wonder what size that boy thought he was) she gave him a weary smile and slumped with deliberate inattentiveness down into a low-slung black armchair no doubt chosen out of some kind of catalogue specializing in Power Furniture for the Executive Bastard, sighing and kicking off her high-heeled shoes. In spite of the perfect makeup and the power suit, Ken thought she looked tired.

"Well," she said inconsequentially into the heavy silence. "Did you notice anything different about him?"
Ken, who'd been busying himself getting a cup of water more because he wanted an excuse to play with the water cooler than because he actually felt thirsty, raised his head in surprise. "No, not really," he admitted. "But I don't really see him much when he's not doing the whole deny-these-dark-beasts thing. Except he seems to have turned into Calico's Number One Fanboy."
Manx snapped her fingers. "Correct answer, Siberian."
"Well, it was creepy. Is he gonna say Hi to her on the next tape or something?" Sitting far more cautiously on an equally sporty leather couch, Ken took a sip of the water and frowned slightly. "God damn, these chairs are uncomfortable."
"No, Persia wouldn't want people getting comfortable in his waiting room," the woman answered cryptically. "Anyway, Siberian, if I may make so bold, I have a suggestion I'd like to put to you."
"A suggestion?"
"Yes," Manx replied, tossing a stray curl back over one shoulder. "I think I'd like to see Rain… I'd like to see her in action, as it were. We need to meet properly. Now, I appreciate this might be…"
"No it isn't!" Manx looked up, surprised, only to realize Ken was grinning. He looked more animated than she had seen him in days; he didn't even seem to notice he'd spilled half the cup of water on the couch. "It's not difficult at all! See, Rain wants us all to go on some crappy team night out or something tomorrow because Aya and Youji wouldn't stop arguing over who was gonna take her out first. Why don't you come? It'd be totally great because I could just say you were our friend and I met you while I was out today so I asked if you wanted to come too, she can hardly let on she knows you when she's using her Get Out Of Being Calico Card, come on Manx, I need the moral support, what'd you say?"
Manx paused, frowning thoughtfully. She had to admit Ken's idea sounded good – it definitely had the ring of expediency about it. "You couldn't very well say your friend Manx was coming out with you…"
"Be Erika," Ken said eagerly. "Erika can go instead. Come on Manx, save my life, I promise Youji'll keep his hands to himself so please?"
Manx smiled. She nodded. She said, "okay."

Saturday afternoon and the shop closed early for once and Rain, stood in the middle of the kitchen, performed a perfectly-executed twirl, her long hair fanning out about her as she gracefully span on the spot. As she moved, Youji and Aya simply stared while Omi smiled approvingly. Ken wondered where her henshin stick and cute little animal companion was, and why some annoyingly tinkly Magical Girl Transformation Tune hadn't started playing in the background as the room filled with glowing golden light and the stock footage kicked in and what had his goddamn sisters done to his brain?

She was wearing a tight black top with long sleeves made of hot pink mesh and a ring of small sparkling white rhinestones surrounding the neckline. The elaborate front print was done in shades of teal and pink. Her slightly flared jeans had elaborate designs embroidered around their ankles, and on her feet she wore a pair of hot pink Chuck Taylors. A red, green and white belt loosely girded her narrow waist and a black choker studded with pink stones encircled her pale throat. Her tightly curled black hair was pinned back with a pair of pink and teal hair grips and had been allowed to tumble loosely about her face and shoulders. Beneath the top they could just see the twin strings of her halterneck bikini.

"Rain," Ken said cautiously, "not to ruin the moment or anything… we're going swimming."

The pool had, of course, been Youji's idea. Oddly enough, Rain had jumped at it. She hadn't seemed to realize there was anything odd about the idea of Youji suggesting they go swimming. Omi had lectured Youji for taking advantage of Rain's naivety after the girl had left but, Ken noticed, he hadn't suggested they go somewhere else. Omi seemed almost as taken by thought of seeing Rain in a bikini (for Ken was sure she wouldn't dream of wearing anything else) as Youji was. Aya hadn't said anything, but it was obvious from his silence that he wasn't displeased by the suggestion.

Secretly Ken didn't mind either. Sure, he'd have to tolerate his teammates fawning over Rain in her swimwear, but there would be… you could call it a certain compensation.

Rain had pretended to be pleased when Ken had casually mentioned, to Youji's all-too-visible delight, that their friend Erika would be joining them, but though the act might have fooled his teammates it hadn't fooled Ken. Rain was pissed. She clearly hadn't been banking on the presence of another woman and the news that there would be one present after all – and one whom she couldn't easily eclipse with her stunning beauty – seemed to have dampened her enthusiasm for the trip somewhat. Not that she could admit it, of course. Weiss were supposed to be her friends, not her harem.

"I know we're going swimming," Rain replied shortly. "That's no reason to look untidy, Ken-san."
"Ah, Ken always looks like that," Youji said casually. "He's Ken. It's just who he is. Leave him, Rain."

Ken blinked, glancing at Youji in mild surprise. Okay, the blonde's tone had been dismissive enough and his words had been, well, nothing out of the ordinary but if Ken had caught the implications right and he saw no reason why he shouldn't have done… Jesus, had Youji just stuck up for him? Against Rain?

Rain pouted slightly, giving Ken a sidelong look out of slightly narrowed amethyst orbs. "He isn't going to change?"
"No," Ken said shortly. "He isn't."
Omi, as ever, ignored it, deciding to go the diplomatic route. "It's half past three. We're running slightly late. Erika-san's going to think we're not coming if we leave it much longer."
"Ah!" Youji pretended to look horror-struck, placing one deceptively slender hand to his heart in exaggerated shock and making Ken giggle almost in spite of himself. "The great Kudou making a beautiful young woman wait for him? If this gets out, I'll never get a date again! I'll never live this down! Omi, we must leave. We must leave at once."
"Well, you heard the guy," Ken said. "I won't get changed because if I did it'd kill Youji's sex life dead and I don't think I want that on my conscience too." And I don't see the point when I've got to get changed again when we get to the pool and I don't know what's wrong with what I've got on anyway.

The sad fact of the matter was that he was already doing his best.

Youji grinned. "See, Rain? He's not unreasonable when he wants to be."

Rain's only reply was to give Youji a dizzying smile that had Ken longing, just briefly, for her sudden and violent death before hurrying over to join Aya by the door. Youji, keeping up a constant running commentary about girls and pools and how he hoped Manx would decide she wanted to swim and speculation on what kind of a bathing costume the woman might choose (a one-piece suit, Youji thought; Manx was after all a lady), joined them – he couldn't stand the way Aya had, seemingly without so much as trying, started to monopolize Rain's attentions. It was, in fact, beginning to annoy him. It was beginning to annoy him quite a lot.

Ken shrugged and followed. He didn't suppose he had a lot of choice in the matter. Quite honestly he'd rather have spent the afternoon coaching, but there was nothing he could do about that. He'd make it up to the kids tomorrow. The pool it was.

Ambling out of the changing rooms and down the terraces armed with a towel and a bottle of sun cream, his sunglasses rendered by context only entirely commonplace, Youji found himself experiencing the common poolside dilemma that was not knowing where to look first. Aya, sat a few feet away quietly and ostentatiously reading a book (didn't he plan to go in?) Youji let his eyes slide off; Omi, already by the poolside, had been shanghaied by a group of teenagers who clearly recognized him from school or the shop. Youji let his gaze wander. There were far more inviting prospects to consider.

There was the athletic young woman pulling herself elegantly out the pool, sunlight on her bronzed limbs and water coursing down her slender body; quite the looker, but perhaps too much the serious sportswoman for Youji's liking. He'd have to point her out to Ken, they could have a great time utterly failing to get to know one another because they were too busy being quite absurdly sporty. Then there was that group of pretty college girls congregating about halfway down the pool – one of whom, he noticed, had nudged her friend: both turned to gaze at him. He bore that look in mind and continued scanning the area. No sign of Rain as of yet, but that shapely redhead in the slinky black one-piece sunning herself – could that be the beauteous Manx he spied?

He couldn't be sure, but the boy in the short-sleeved shirt arguing with a lifeguard was definitely Ken Hidaka. Youji sighed, raised his eyes heavenward, and wandered casually over to him. It wasn't normally his style to get involved, but he didn't want his teammate getting them all thrown out before they'd even hit the water.

"Something the matter?" he asked, giving the lifeguard a weary sorry-mate-I-can't-take-him-anywhere smile over the top of Ken's head.
The lifeguard smiled back, deciding to see if he could recruit the newcomer into taking his side. "Friend of yours?" he asked, gesturing absently toward Ken.
"He can be," Youji said noncommittally. "What's the problem?"
Unfortunately for Youji, Ken appeared to have exactly the same idea as the lifeguard and was now looking beseechingly at him. Ken could beseech very well when he put his mind to it; it was something to do with having wide brown eyes. "Youji, tell this guy I'm not taking my shirt off in the pool while goddamn Rain's watching."
"Oh, is that what all this is about?" Youji asked in surprise. "Come on, kiddo, I know you don't like Rain but you can take your shirt off in front of her, surely?"
"No," Ken said firmly, "no, I can't. It's embarrassing."
"Embarrassing? Look, I know you don't like Rain but you're not allowed to wear a shirt in the pool unless you're a burns case or a pregnant woman and Hidaka," Youji said firmly, "unless things have changed considerably since I last looked you are not a pregnant woman."
"Exactly," Ken replied exasperatedly, as if light had finally dawned. "I couldn't possibly think of outdoing Rain in the angsty scarring stakes, could I? Can I go now?"

Oh yeah.

Youji turned to the lifeguard and smiled apologetically. "He's fine like that…"

Somewhere in the distance, the changing-room doors banged. Out of the corners of his eyes Youji saw Aya start, raising his head in surprise as he heard a young woman call his name, only to be startled in turn when she called to him too. Youji turned, his brows curiously raised – and stopped short, and stared. He could do nothing but stare.

She wore a black halterneck bikini which revealed her beautifully flat stomach and flattered her curves perfectly. The bikini top tied behind the neck and back with purple straps, edged at the top of her generous bust and with a single narrow stripe of the same deep purple. Two further purple bows were visible at her shapely hips and the high cut bottom, which revealed so much of her long, long legs, had narrow purple stripes about the top of each of her perfect thighs. A natural waterfall of raven black curls cascaded down her back, almost to her waist. A pair of purple sunglasses rested on top of her head, and she wore black thonged sandals and carried a purple beach towel.

Boys' heads turned as she waved enthusiastically to her companions and hurried over to join Aya on the grassy terrace, spreading her purple towel out next to him and lying gracefully down on it, propping herself up on one elbow and turning to look at him. Aya, the book resting quite forgotten on his lap, could only stare at the lovely young girl lying next to him. Her slender body was bathed in the afternoon sunlight; it transfigured Rain, burnishing her tanned skin so she looked as if she had been carved out of amber, or even cast in solid gold.

As he gazed, Aya's eyes were drawn to something hideously out of place, and only just managed not to gasp: a long, narrow line of scar tissue defiled the smooth line of the flesh at her lovely left hip, trailing down to the top of her thigh. A closer look revealed a few finer scars just visible on her toned stomach and arms, and Aya had to struggle to keep himself from scowling in fury. Who could have inflicted such terrible injuries upon a lovely, sweet, vulnerable person like Rain? How could anyone abuse a girl so beautiful?

"Aya-san," she said with a smile. "Isn't it nice here? You choose the best spots."
"Hn," was all Aya said. And he tried to take refuge in his book again, though Rain noticed that he had blushed slightly. She grinned mischievously.
"Oi, Aya-san, don't be so antisocial!" She chided him gently, sitting up straight and folding her arms across her well-formed breasts. "Looking at you sat down there, anyone would think you didn't want to be out with me at all! You can read that book any time. Afternoons like this don't come often, and life is short."

Aya turned to her, raising his brows in surprise – no, more like familiarity. The lovely girl by his side had sounded so like Aya-chan there, it had almost made him shiver. Nobody else had possessed the nerve to chide him like that since she'd been gone, but Rain was different. She had done something he'd thought only his sister could ever do to him and made it look effortless. He had to admit it, it was rather refreshing. He rather liked it. He heard himself saying, "I suppose you're right, Rain." He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Rain simply beamed in response, the smile lighting up her gently tanned face. Her amethyst optics shone.

Youji – and more than a few of the other young men present, regardless of the angry or jealous glances of their girlfriends – looked daggers at Aya; Rain was smiling up at the stoic redhead, gently prying the book from his grasp and placing it down next to them. Ken muttered something under his breath and wandered off to the poolside where Manx, barely less eye-catching in her elegant one-piece, had been watching the display from near the diving boards.

"See?" He muttered, flopping down next to her and attracting no small amount of funny looks himself.
Manx nodded. "Is she always like this?" She asked disbelievingly. "I have no idea why you haven't murdered her yet… and look at that tan."
"Tan?" Ken blinked. "She's pale."
"Right now, she's easily darker than you," Manx pointed out. Ken glanced at Rain over his shoulder, raised his eyebrows in understated surprise – she was right. "There's something strange going on here, Siberian. No woman should attract that much attention from men she's never met just by walking out a door, no matter how beautiful she thinks she is. I thought the four of you had different tastes in women."
"We used to, and then we met Rain."
"Persia," Manx said tangentially. "Three of you. Several dozen young men here, a lot of whom appear to be here with their girlfriends. And from what you've been telling me, it sounds like most of Omi's male classmates are after her, too. She's certainly charismatic."
"But that's just it," Ken said, staring out moodily across the crowded pool. A group of teenage boys, dripping water, hurried past him on the way to the diving boards. One of them was Omi and Ken wondered if he was showing off on the boards for Rain's sake. He could have told Omi, no, told all of them to save their energy. "She isn't. She's way too pretty to be true and goes dramatically quiet every time you ask her about her past, but there's nothing else there. Youji's charismatic. So are you. Her, though? No way."
"She's not an interesting person?"
Ken flicked a desiccated twig off a corner of Manx's fluffy white towel. "Have you ever tried to talk to her?"
"Well, not really…"
"You should try it," he said gloomily. "She's goddamn boring and thinks the entire goddamn world revolves around her and her vaguely-defined legitimate angst—look, now Aya's getting up."
"Aya's going to come in?" Manx asked, pulling her sunglasses down her nose to regard Ken over the top of them, arching her brows comically. "Will wonders never cease?"
Ken sighed and pushed himself to his feet, dusting a bit of poolside dirt from the back of his shorts. "If anyone needs me, I'll be over there drowning myself."

Manx hardly blamed him. It was one surefire way of getting out of Rain's gruesome company.

She let him go, pushing her sunglasses back up her nose to allow her to watch him covertly. He didn't bother joining the knot of daredevil boys in the queue for the boards, simply diving in from the side with absolutely no fuss at all and vanishing beneath the water for so long Manx had time to wonder if he was making good on that threat, only to surface a surprising distance away as if nothing had happened. Oh, so it had been a nineteen year old version of a breath-holding contest. Well, teenage boys were always teenage boys, even if Manx had no idea who Ken thought he was showing off for.

At least it wasn't for Rain: there was that much to say for it. Turning, Manx caught sight of the bikini-clad girl waiting by the changing rooms, and watched. Watched as she fell into step beside Aya (now clad in a pair of black swimming briefs and an unbuttoned shirt) on her way down to the pool. Watched as, after Aya abandoned the shirt and climbed without ceremony into the water, Rain chided him for being no fun, hurrying over to the high boards at the far end of the pool.

The boys by the boards, surprised to see the girl they had been trying to impress arrive among them, fell back to let her pass. Omi – by sheer mischance the person on the springboard at that moment – hurriedly stepped off, retreating back to the far end of the platform and letting Rain climb onto the board in his stead. She might have smiled, she might have spoken: for whatever reason Omi blushed, gazing after his gorgeous friend in something akin to consternation as she walked confidently to the end of the board. Heads turned; the boys clustered by the poolside turned to watch. The girls, utterly eclipsed by this daring beauty, turned away and began muttering venomously between themselves.

Manx just watched. Rain bounced on the balls of her feet once, twice, three times, her curls flying about her. She managed, somehow, to make even this look somehow graceful and dignified – and then she leapt into the air as if she were about to take flight, executing a faultless back somersault at the apex of her jump and then, straightening, dived gracefully into the pool with only the subtlest of splashes.

And surfaced right by Aya, her eyes shining with excitement, pearls of water glistening on her shapely bronzed limbs and clinging to her perfect breasts. She wasn't out of breath and her tangled curls, shining in the afternoon sun as if bedecked with diamonds, didn't even look as if they had gotten wet…

Maybe it wasn't a crime to be too perfect to be believable but, Manx thought, it ought to be.

No doubt about it, there was something not quite right with that girl. The only question, when everything about her was quite flawless, was what?