Roses in Rain
a Weiss Kreuz fanfiction by laila

Part 8 – You Look Like an Angel (But I Got Wise)

Rain screamed.

Thunder cracked overhead, as if the skies were being torn open.

Which was why it was fortunate that Youji, who had slipped away from the club and his friends in search of a little alone time, showed up when he did.

It would have been easy enough for Youji to find a pretty, pliant young girl, drape one arm about her shoulder, and let what happened next happen: that had been why he hadn't done it. He needed to think. He needed a quiet cigarette and a few moments alone with his thoughts, not willful oblivion in the arms of a woman whose name he could barely remember. Time to think, that was the key.

No chance of that now. There, framed in the narrow mouthway of a side street, were two figures he would have known anywhere. There was Rain, eyes wide and terrified, hands to her mouth, stood spotlighted by a guttering streetlamp: there was Ken, lying unmoving on the rain-speckled ground with one hand to his throat, surrounded by the women of Schreient. A nod from the leader, the tall, grim-faced brunette Youji knew as Hell, and crazy Schoen was prowling toward his fallen teammate, her whip held taut between her hands.

"Shit," Youji muttered, gritting his teeth as he reached for the wire concealed inside his watch—

—just in time to see Rain spring forward, her slender arms outstretched and her generous bosoms heaving wildly, to throw herself in the blonde woman's path. Schoen stopped short, her ferocious blue gaze suddenly full of confusion, as she gazed at the slight young girl who stood protectively over Ken's unconscious body like an angry tigress guarding her wounded cubs. The slender, shapely beauty was little more than a child, and yet strength and determination seemed to radiate from her delicately curved form. Her eyes, full of angry amethyst fire, narrowed fiercely.

"Leave us alone!" she cried. "Don't think you've won so easily!"
"Well, well, if it isn't little Serenity," Hell purred, her narrow eyes glinting maliciously behind her glasses as she gazed at Rain. "My, haven't you grown. Your father would pay us very well for the knowledge of your current whereabouts."

Rain gasped, fists unclenching slightly, her eyes going wide.

"Don't call him that! That man is not my father!"
"He is your father by law, Serenity, and by law, he has every right to come and take you," Hell said, casting an appreciative look at the young girl, her wet clubbing clothes clinging intimately to every curve of her lithe form. "Of course, I'm sure if he had you back now, your father wouldn't let you out of his sight so easily!"

Smirking evilly, Hell stepped forward and reached for Rain, grabbing her roughly beneath the chin with one gloved hand and running her thumb over the swell of the girl's lower lip.

Jerking her head free, Rain growled and made to swing for the older woman's smirking face, but a whip cracked and wrapped itself about her wrist, holding it pinned an inch or two from Hell's jaw. Out of the corner of her eyes, the young girl could see the crazy blonde woman smirking cruelly at her; before Rain could tell the blonde skank what she thought of her, there was a soft click and the murderous spike of Tot's umbrella was grazing against her throat.

"Rain!"

Aya.

Aya and Omi skidded to a halt at the alleyway's entrance, stopping short at the sight of the lovely young girl they had come to care for surrounded by a knot of angry, murderous-looking women they all knew only too well. Hell smiled.

"Looks like your friends have come to see you off," she smirked. "What a pity you won't get to kiss poor Aya goodbye."
Rain spat in her face. "I'm not going anywhere, you bitch! That bastard has nothing to do with the woman I've become!"
Hell laughed loud and long, eyes closed, shoulders shaking. "Really?" she retorted. "Do you really think that? Do you truly believe you'd be even half the woman you are without your father's help? Oh, no, little Serenity. You're the most valuable asset your father ever had, the most brilliant success the Blutige Engel Project saw! He'll never let you go!"

Rain said nothing, but her eyes narrowed dangerously. Aya called her name, starting toward her; Omi reached inside his jacket for a concealed dart, but before the boy could get a clear shot in, Rain had moved. Rearing suddenly backward, Rain kicked away Tot's umbrella, knocking it from the blue-haired girl's hands and sending it spinning to the paving. Tot cried out in pain, leaping away and nursing her sore wrist, as Rain grabbed Schoen's whip with her free hand, dragging the startled blonde toward her and driving one knee into her solar plexus, knocking her to the floor where she landed, with a splash, in a muddy puddle.

"Pathetic," Rain sneered at the stupid blonde, unwrapping the end of the woman's whip from about her wrist and tossing it at her. "Someone as weak as you has no right to even handle a weapon!"

She stepped back, head proudly erect, her fists raised, and shook a hank of tangled, violet-streaked tresses, hung heavy with rainwater, from her pale face. Her father had seriously thought a pathetic bunch of skanks like these would be able to take her on? What a joke!

"My name is Rain!" she cried. "Not Serenity! And you can tell my father I walk alone!"
"How sweet," Hell sneered. "Tot, we're leaving. Neu, get Schoen."

The last Schreient member, who had remained silent and detached throughout, simply nodded, hefting her dazed and groaning teammate into her arms. Her eyes, barely visible behind her visor, flickered briefly over Rain: it might not have been noticeable to anyone else but to Youji it seemed she frowned. Something about her hinted only at her confusion. Neu – or so Youji fancied – didn't understand what she was witnessing, still less why her team should care…

"We'll be seeing you," Hell said, with a wicked smirk. "Take care of yourself… Serenity."

And then the women were gone, disappearing back down the alleyway and melting back into the night as if they had never been there at all, leaving Rain staring into the darkness in desperate hate, one hand clasped to her shoulder. A trickle of bright crimson blood ran from between her slender fingers and down her cool, rainwater-damp skin to seep into the fabric of her little black jacket. She seemed to tremble, all energy spent, as if any minute her legs would give way beneath her, sending her slumping to the ground.

"Rain!" Aya cried, running over to her side and catching her by the shoulders. "Rain, are you all right?"

Omi's eyes widened at the sight of his usually stoic teammate losing his cool over Rain. She had been around a bare few weeks, and already this girl was melting the icy walls about his friend's heart. Maybe Rain would be the girl who would bring Aya out of his frozen shell, help him step away from the horrors of his past and teach him to live not for a comatose girl, but for a woman who was alive and beautiful and vibrant and the future that, one day, maybe they could face together. Tucking the dart back into his case, Omi hurried over to Rain's side, gazing up at her in concern. Aya smiled down at her, resting his hands upon her shoulders.

(And Youji, muttering to himself in a dark and sarcastic undertone, none-too-gently hefted Ken's unconscious form onto his back, stumbling slightly as he straightened, struggling to take the boy's weight.)

"Rain," Aya was saying, his voice gentle and his eyes full of concern, "what happened?"
Rain shuddered. Raising her head, she gazed at Aya from behind a curtain of wet hair, her dark, tangled, locks framing her bruised and pallid face and her eyes full of distant sorrow, and for a long while she was silent. When she finally spoke, her voice was so quiet it was hard to hear over the gentle plashing of the rain, and the distant purr of traffic. "I… I don't know," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I just stepped out for some air, and… and they came for me, and he – your friend – he tried to stop them even though I told him not to, and… oh God, Aya, I was so scared…"
"It's okay, Rain," Aya said, strong hands tightening about her upper arms as he gazed into her amethyst orbs, noticing with a pang of distress that her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. "You're safe with us." Smiling reassuringly, Omi nodded his agreement, dabbing at Rain's bleeding shoulder with a folded handkerchief.
"But why attack you?" Youji asked. "If they wanted to abduct you, why didn't they take you once Ken was down?"
"I don't know!" Rain cried, suddenly angry. "I… I'm just a regular girl, Youji! I don't know why they'd think I…" She broke off, a single crystalline tear trickling slowly down one of her pale cheeks to mix with the rainwater. "I'm not the girl they think I am," she stammered, wiping at her eyes. "Not any more! I'm not!"

Aya could bear it no more. He pulled the girl to him, letting her collapse into his arms. Rain's frail body shook with sobs as she slumped against him, burying her head into his broad chest.

"Let's get you home," Aya whispered into her wet, tousled locks.
"While we're at it," Youji muttered, "let's hope Ken's still breathing, hey?"

Honestly? He didn't understand how Ken had borne it.

For Youji, suspicion had been born on the night of Calico's first mission. There'd been nothing, at that stage, that he could really define, still less put into words. Nothing concrete. Just a nagging feeling that something wasn't right here: doubt, fidgeting and rustling and scrabbling about at the back of his mind, backward and forward, like a mouse in a skirting-board.

Doubt. Irritating and impossible to ignore, scratching and fussing as he lounged on his usual chair in his usual corner and watched the girls, or as he lay in bed, eyes closed, searching futilely for sleep. The feeling that he shouldn't have ever been so willing to take Rain's word for it over Ken's, shouldn't be banking on a woman he barely knew over a teammate he trusted, quite literally, with his life: a boy who couldn't even spell 'mendacity' still less successfully practice it. He'd been perfectly willing to trust Ken's instincts until Rain arrived. Ken was Ken and a terrible judge of human nature, who didn't like to believe the worst about anybody unless he'd seen proof. That one didn't take against people just because.

Quiet and careful and sly, trying not to let on that he was doing anything of the sort, Youji had watched her. Rain had caught him, once or twice, but from the look in her eyes she had mistaken meticulous scrutiny for frank admiration…

And then there'd been their night on the town, and that little scene in the alleyway.

It wasn't a mouse in the skirting. It was a goddamn capybara.

End result: Youji felt as if he had been rudely awakened from a month-long dream, and not a particularly pleasant one at that, only to stumble blearily downstairs in search of coffee and a reality check and find out its central figure was flitting blithely about the place, as if she hadn't realized that dreams should end when the dreamer woke up.

"Good morning, Youji-san!"

For there was Rain, effortlessly co-opting Ken's niche as resident hausfrau and mother hen, stood by the stove in an apron and backless slippers cooking a hearty All-American breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns. The girl was wearing a tight v-necked tee in deep violet with black edging about the neckline and sleeves and a black pentagram printed on the front, over a long-sleeved black-and-white striped top, brief black shorts held up with a purple and white belt, and white and black striped socks that came to just above her knees. Her long, black curls were held back with a white ribbon – there was no trace, Youji couldn't help noticing, of the purple streaks from last night. No sign of any injury, either. He shook his head as if to clear it, and reached for his cigarettes.

"Don't smoke in the kitchen, please."

That was Aya, dressed all in black and sat at the table with the morning paper spread out before him. Omi perched next to him, sipping from a tumbler of orange juice and smiling broadly at nothing in particular. Youji sighed, looking mournfully at his unlit cigarette for a moment before tucking it back in its packet. Some days you just couldn't get arrested.

There was no sign of Ken.

"You shouldn't smoke at all!" Rain chipped in, gazing seriously at Youji over one shoulder. "Don't you think you should quit, Youji-san? You know smoking's bad! Also, it's unattractive. I could never like a man who smoked."
It should have been offensive. Instead, it left Youji blinking. "You do know Aya smokes, right?"
"No, he doesn't," Rain said. Hint of, don't be ridiculous.
"Yes, he does."
"I've never smoked," Aya said. "Stop trying to stir trouble, Kudou."
It was on the tip of Youji's tongue to ask, really? When'd you quit? but that, he thought, would have been unwise. Don't rise to it, Kudou, you've better things to think about… "That's funny," he said, "there I was thinking he smoked those cigarettes he bummed off me when all the while he was saving me from myself. Why Aya, I never knew you cared. Hang onto him, Rain, he's a catch."

Rain colored, a scarlet blush spreading across her pale cheeks to cross the bridge of her tip-tilted nose. She turned quickly back to the stove, ducking her head in a charmingly futile attempt to hide her embarrassment, furiously concentrating on stirring the scrambled eggs, then turning over the bacon as it hissed and spat in its pan. Aya, meanwhile, had suddenly become extremely interested in his newspaper.

"It's not like that!" Rain protested. "We barely know each other! We're just…"
"Friends," Aya said quickly, apparently talking to an article on conservation in Kagoshima. "We're just friends." Rain nodded gratefully, smiling at him over her shoulder.
"Well, I think it's cute you get on so well!" Omi said unexpectedly. "I think it'll be good for you both!"
Rain smiled again, the flush creeping back to her cheeks. "Uh… breakfast's ready!" she cried cheerfully, laying sizzling rashers of bacon on four plates. "Have you guys ever had an American-style breakfast before? There's maple syrup for the pancakes, and there's more egg if you want it! Oh – do you reckon Ken-san would like to have something taken up?"

By me, she meant.

"I'll do it," Youji heard himself say. "You've worked hard enough."

Ken's room was dark. It was the kind of incomplete darkness that comes from drawing the curtains on the sun but, after the brightness of the day, it took a while for Youji's eyes to adapt to the low light, and even when they did there wasn't much to see. Just Ken, eyes closed, lying curled up beneath his tangled bedsheets with a warm ice pack lying on the pillow beside him. He raised his head slightly at the sound of the door opening, throwing one arm up to protect his eyes from the light that streamed through the open door.

So far so predictable. Whatever had gone on in that alleyway before the rest of them showed up, it had left Ken with an ugly weal about his throat and a lump on his head that felt about the size of a grapefruit even through his thick, dark hair. He hadn't even come round until they were halfway home and Omi, once he had torn his attention away from Rain and her mysteriously vanishing bloody arm, had diagnosed concussion and ordered him to bed. Honestly, Ken-kun, he'd scolded, you shouldn't be so reckless…

"How's your head?" Youji asked.

Ken just groaned, slumping back against his pillow wearily. He looked as if he'd have liked to curse his friend, toss the ice pack at him, or anything at all as long as Youji got the hint and left him alone: that he didn't even try told Youji as clearly as if Ken had shouted it that the question had been an extremely stupid one.

"Wow. That good, huh?"
Now Ken did heft the ice pack in Youji's general direction. "Fuck off, Youji."
"I take it you don't want breakfast, then," Youji said, glancing down at the laden tray in his hands. "Rain's graced our table with an all-American extravaganza…"
"I'm not hungry."

He was probably telling the truth. Poor kid probably felt quite ill enough already without trying to force down an American breakfast he probably wouldn't have had much interest in even if he'd been feeling on top of the world. American food was all very well in moderation, but not for breakfast and not all the time – and, aside from the cute bento lunches she constantly foisted on Omi, it seemed to be the only thing Rain made.

"So, uh, Ken…"
Ken buried his head in the pillows. "Fuck off, Youji!"
"Okay, I'll keep it brief, then… what happened last night? Rain told Aya she was attacked by Schreient and you jumped in to stop them taking her and that's how you got hurt, but I'm not sure I buy it. I don't think she was ever in real danger from them. Ken, you were the one they were after, weren't you?"
"She was there, Youji." Ken spoke to his pillows, his voice low and defeated-sounding. "Swear to God. She was there when they jumped me, like they knew her. Like she was—"
"Like she was with them," Youji finished. "I believe you, Kenken."

I believe you—for a moment Ken said nothing. Then, blinking and rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand, he raised his head, fighting against pain and dizziness to push himself up onto his elbows, from which position of power he gazed up at Youji in open confusion. Christ, Youji thought, how marginalized must Rain's advent have left Ken feeling that simply having one of his own teammates take his side against Rain's left him looking so perfectly baffled? Yeah, Ken, I believe you. She's trouble. I'm sorry.

"You do?"
Youji sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I saw it too. I don't know what that girl thinks she's after beneath it all but whatever it is, it's gonna cost us dear."
"I thought you liked her." The boy spoke quite simply – but are you sure, the look in his eyes was saying, that you're not just pissed off with her because she's after Aya?
"I thought I liked her, too. Guess I saw something in her that wasn't really there."
Another man might have pressed the issue, but not Ken. "So you'll help us? Me and Manx, you'll help us get rid of her?"
Youji nodded. "I'm in. She's got to be stopped."

When he left Ken's room five minutes later, Youji was whistling something that could have been the theme from The Great Escape and, when he pitched the cooling all-American extravaganza in the dumpster at the back of the shop, covering it over with an armload of dead flowers and wrapping paper, it felt like a blow struck for liberty and truth.

Sunday morning. Sundays were always bad: the shop was crowded, as ever, with giggly little high school girls dressed up trim as if for dates. The occasional genuine customer braved the crowds to timidly buy a bouquet of one of Aya's rather fussy arrangements; a few regulars called in orders; a local restaurant asked for thirty-five small centerpieces to be collected on Wednesday. Youji barricaded himself behind the register and wished Ken were there instead of him.

An ordinary day – and yet Youji felt as if his eyes had been opened overnight. He noticed, as he had never done before, how very unpopular Rain seemed to be with some of the clientele. Though her presence seemed to have been accepted by many of them, at least half a dozen girls followed her every movement about the shop with unfriendly, jealous eyes, while others simply glared openly whenever she passed by. He noticed, too, that the store had gained an unexpected male element: a small knot of teenage boys stood near the door, gazing after Rain in the hope that the shapely beauty would spare them a glance, or a kind smile.

"She's from America," one of the boys whispered, "born October 31. Her favorite flowers are lilies."
"I thought she was foreign," his friend said. "She always looks so beautiful and exotic, she can't just be Japanese."
"She's a straight-A student and she's really sweet and nice, but she's tough! I'd hate to get her mad."

Rain, oblivious to the stares she attracted, was stood by the table with her sleeves rolled to the elbows and her outfit covered by her lavender apron, holding an elegant bouquet of white flowers. Aya leaned over her shoulder, fussing with the blooms as he quietly explained how to fix the arrangement so that it wouldn't fall over when she let go. As he worked, his hands accidentally brushed against hers, causing a blush to creep to Rain's cheeks—

"Aya-san!"

Aya started, lifting his hands away from the flowers. His heart sank when he caught sight of Sakura. The girl was dressed ridiculously as always, wearing a prim pink jacket with heart-shaped buttons open over a tight white tee with a sugar-pink heart printed on the chest, a short pink skirt with white polka dots, knee socks and strappy high heels. She'd rounded the ensemble off with a hot-pink purse around one shoulder and a large ribbon tied in her short brown hair. It too was pink.

Just what, Youji wondered, did a shy little tomboy like Sakura want with pink high heels?

Sakura was attempting to give Rain an angry glare, but as soon as she realized that Aya was looking at her, she gave him a sickly-sweet simper. With an effort, Rain just about managed not to laugh in the preppy idiot's face. As if Aya could possibly have found a girl like her attractive!

"Aya-san!" Sakura squealed again, her voice shrill and grating. "I haven't seen you in all of two days, honey! I've missed you so much! Have you been very busy teaching her—" she gave Rain another ugly look, "—to arrange flowers? No offense, but she hardly looks the ladylike sort. You should have hired a real woman, who appreciated delicacy of touch!"
"Ladylike?" Youji echoed. Somewhere just out of sight, he heard Omi stifle a giggle, which hadn't been what he'd meant at all. Since when had Sakura cared about that? Hell, since when had she started acting so forward?
Rain smiled back, sweetly, but her eyes were dangerous. "I assure you, Sakura, that I can be quite the lady when I choose to be. And believe me, a real lady would never say anything so impolite about another."
"Did you want something, Sakura?" Aya asked tightly. "Rain and I were in the middle of something."

Sakura, who had paled visibly at the ferocious look in Rain's eyes, struggling to hold her ground even as she shook with fear, recovered herself a little at being addressed by her idol. She barely noticed the frustration in his own voice, or the way his fingertips rested against the bare skin of Rain's pale forearm, as if to soothe her. Batting her eyes at Aya, Sakura gave him another sickly smile.

"I was wondering if Rain could help me with an arrangement," she said, her smile turning venomous. "It's for a friend."
Rain sighed, but she supposed for the sake of their cover she would have to deal with the girl peaceably. "Of course I can, Sakura," she said wearily, exasperated by the thought of having to serve a stupid prep like her. "What's it called?"
"I'm not sure if you'll have heard of it. It's called 'Hands Off My Aya-San, You Goth Slut, Or You'll Pay For It'."

The girls watching them gasped; a look of fury stole into Aya's beautiful violet eyes. The shop hushed as everyone turned to Rain, waiting to see how she would react – everyone, that was, save Youji. Youji stared at Sakura. This wasn't the quiet, awkward little track star he remembered. What the Hell happened to her?

"I'm afraid we don't do that arrangement here," Rain replied, matching Sakura's venomous smirk with a sweet smile of her own, but naked anger blazed in her amethyst orbs as she stared down the preppy bitch. Suddenly frightened again, Sakura took a pace backward, realizing too late how much taller and stronger the beautiful American was than her. "I do know 'Aya Doesn't Like Stupid Little Preppy Whores And I'll Do What The Fuck I Want'. Would that be okay? If not, I guess could do 'If You Want A Fight I'll Give You One, Though You'll Only Be Beaten'. That's quite lovely at this time of year!"
Youji laughed sardonically to himself. He murmured, "What's wrong with a lover's arrangement?"
It could have broken the tension, if only Sakura had heard it: she simply cried, "Is that a threat?"
"Well… yes," Rain said brightly, cracking her knuckles, "yes, it is. I'd be happy to fight if that's what you wanted, though we'll have to take it outside. I wouldn't want to break anything… except for you, of course."
Sakura flushed crimson with rage. "How dare you, you bitch!" she shrieked, stepping forward and swinging wildly at Rain's face, her hand arcing forward to slap her about the face. Rain flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, preparing herself for the sudden explosion of stinging pain across her cheek… but it never came. Startled, her long, slender fingers reaching to press against still unblemished flesh, she opened her eyes again – and gasped at what she saw.

Aya had caught Sakura's wrist bare inches from connecting with Rain's cheek, and now held her firmly by her outstretched hand, glaring down at her in naked fury.

"Aya-san!" Sakura cried. "Y… you're hurting me!"
"Get out," Aya said coldly, his grasp tightening about Sakura's wrist, making the girl wince.
Sakura stared up at him in bewilderment. "But…" she began, "but, Aya-san, how could you be defending that trashy little foreigner? She's so mean and slutty! She can't possibly compare to a proper lady… to someone like me!"
"Get. Out," Aya spat, letting go of Sakura's wrist and thrusting the girl from him. She stumbled on her ridiculous heels and fell, landing heavily on her ass in a puddle of dirty water. She cried out, tears starting in her eyes, but Aya was unmoved. "How dare you?" he shouted. "Rain's a thousand times the woman you are! How dare you try to harm her? I don't ever want to see you here again! Now get out and don't come back!"

Scrambling to her feet, her cheeks burning with shame, Sakura walked to the door, glancing back over her shoulder again and again as she left the store. Christ, the look in her eyes…

Youji winced. She looked like her heart hadn't been broken, it had been shattered. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to go after the poor little girl – every one but the one that told him, no, you can't afford that. How could he, with Rain radiating smugness from every pore and Aya glaring daggers about himself as if daring anybody to take Sakura's side? How could he without causing more trouble, without betraying himself completely? Open defiance had nearly gotten Ken killed. He couldn't give himself away. Not yet.

Poor kid, he thought. That poor, poor kid… Sighing deeply, Youji pushed himself to his feet, and the expression he turned on Aya was positively disgusted.

"I'm taking a break."

The rest of the shift passed so quietly it was almost alarming. The girls seemed to forget the incident almost immediately, going back to their giggling and whispering; the boys likewise, something Youji found positively terrifying. Aya and Rain worked quietly on display arrangements at the center table, Omi flitted about the store dispensing beaming good cheer and sunflowers. Youji brooded, unable to forget the terrible despair in Sakura's eyes as she walked from the shop floor, unable to keep himself from wondering what on Earth could have led her to behave so strangely, and so unlike herself: he slipped into the back room at three to quietly work on an arrangement for her, knowing it would change nothing.

And then, at half past four with custom slowing and the first few girls drifting back off to their homes and their families, there was Manx slipping through the door with a manila folder tucked beneath her arm. She looked, he thought, tired.

"Well, hello there."

Youji smiled at the sight of her, casting an appreciative glance over the length of her shapely legs, her nipped-in waist, the swelling tops of her frankly show-stopping breasts and the face any artist would have killed to paint. The look of cool self-sufficiency in those deep blue eyes and her air of total unavailability only added to her already considerable allure. For a moment, he wished that he had his sunglasses on so that he could gaze at her over their frames: he settled for unfolding himself gracefully from his chair and draping a casual arm across her shoulders as he steered her toward the basement.

For a long moment she seemed as impassive as ever. Then her lips quirked upward at the corners, just a little, and just for a second. Before Youji had even fully realized that she was smiling at him her smile had gone.

(So you'll help us, Ken had said—)

She said, "I see you're back with us," and ducked out from beneath his arm.

Aya quietly excused himself, telling Rain to watch the store – it's calming down and we won't be away long, will you be all right by yourself? – the stern, uncompromising look in his eyes, as he drifted toward the basement in their wake, promising serious trouble for any other silly little girl who dared to trouble her. Omi gave smiling apologies to the two girls who had been talking enthusiastically at him for the last ten minutes and darted after them, his trainers squeaking slightly on the tiled floor as he hurried to catch them all up.

"Where's Siberian?" Manx asked as the three of them took their seats.
"I'm afraid he was attacked by Schreient," Omi said offhandedly, as if it didn't matter at all that his team was one man down and Masafumi's little girl gang were out for blood. "He's not badly hurt, but he'll have to sit this one out."
The woman pursed her lips, but all she said was, "I see."

Youji watched intently as ever as she bent to put the briefing tape in the machine, but for once his mind wasn't on the view. It was on Rain, on Aya's eyes lingering as lovingly on her form as his own would do on Manx's. It was on living with a girl who made pancakes and hash browns for breakfast when he was almost sure they'd never have had them in the house.

Why hadn't he noticed this before? Why hadn't he realized how strange and fucked-up things had gotten? It shouldn't have taken Ken nearly getting himself killed by Schreient, and a young girl who meant no harm to anybody having her heart ripped in half before his eyes, and pancakes and hash browns for breakfast for him to realize that there was something very strange about Rain: the way she'd just turned up and taken over without anyone but Ken so much as batting an eyelid, the effect she had on people. It shouldn't have taken this much that was wrong – so why had it? You were a PI, Kudou, Youji scolded himself, and you were a damn good one, if you hadn't been a good PI you'd still be doing divorce work and you wouldn't even be here: how could things get this bad right under your nose without you catching on?

What's going on? Youji mouthed as Manx brushed past him on her way to the light switches.

Eyes front, head raised, Manx murmured, "I'll see you after the briefing."

And snapped out the lights.