Chapter II

It was 6 in the morning. Too late to finally go to bed, too early to rise and greet the dawn. So he did neither. Akihito stretched onto his mat, feeling the small rocks underneath his back, digging into the now fading bruises from when Asami took him in the bathroom and the spigot poked him in the back while he was being poked from the front. He didn't feel it then. No, then he was covered in a blanket of ecstasy and endorphins which blocked out pain. But it wasn't the time to be thinking Asami's hot body. Not that he was thinking of it. Okay, he was.

"I'm going to patrol." A voice said outside of his tent. It took him a minute to realize the voice belonged to Akira. The man hardly spoke to him, only managing a grunt or perhaps a facial movement that doubled as conversation. After those two Musketeers, Suoh and Akira hid themselves in the shadows (not realizing Akihito had his night-vision camera with him), he gave up listening to their tedious teeth chattering and offered to share his fire with them. It was comical, if he'd been in a laughing mood, to watch those two men sit on a tiny log, their butts frozen and trying to warm their pale hands with his meager fire.

Like most people with nothing much to say, they didn't talk and neither did he, preferring to stare at the embers and follow the sparks up until they disappeared into the heavens to join the bright stars above. Akira took fire duty and proceeded to turn the coals until Akihito seized the stick from him. The embers had been punished enough.

He'd been punished enough.

"I'm going back to bed, then." He had answered and received a grunt in reply as the man shuffled off to "patrol", which probably meant stopping by the convenience store that stood like a guard at the entrance to Mount To. He'd be gone awhile. There was nothing worth eating there, nothing worth buying there, but was a great place to wander around and contemplate purchasing or not purchasing their miserable offerings and chat with the fat proprietor about the weather, which never changed. It was always foggy here, the mountain always shrouded in mist.

Taking his own advice, he closed his eyes, hoping Sensei's magic spell would work this time. It hadn't worked last night, after he went to bed only to wake at witching hour by the sound of his own screaming. Within seconds, he heard Asami's footsteps come toward the door and with a polite….

"…..I'm all right."

He heard the heavy steps turn and retreat to Asami's room down the hall. Their room.

That little gesture was enough for his heart to thud out of his chest, through the scars he carried like a badge of honor. That little gesture was enough to gather his things and head for Mount To, his little thinking spot. He hadn't been here in years. It was B.A. (before Asami) when he last came here.

That other life, was it still waiting for him, on another timeline? Was it waiting for him to come to his senses? Was Akihito B.A. still waiting for him? And would he want that man back?

That man, the man he could hardly remember.

P-B-B

Never bring a knife to a gun fight.

The words of his father rang in Asami's ears, as if the man had never left his side, while he waited for Kirishima to open the door to the limo. Out he stepped, into the early morning fog which would soon dissipate and the sun would peek out, as if it was shy.

"How many." Asami grunted, his speech low and stealthy.

"Ten. Unarmed." Kirishima replied, "They're still sleeping, most likely still intoxicated."

"Let the sheep lie, I'm only interested in the wolf." He said as he checked the bullets in his gun for the fifth time, but who was counting? Oh, that would be Kirishima.

They entered the restaurant through an open skylight, avoiding the guards at the front and dropped down onto a counter, which smelled of freshly gutted fish. The cleaned butcher knives glowed in the flickering green fluorescent light and Asami made a mental note of them, not as a kitchen utensil, but as something more sinister.

"Let's take this party elsewhere, shall we?" Asami said, still whispering and cocking his head toward the cutlery, which could be deadly in the right hands and comical in the wrong ones. Either way, they spoke of death, as if shiny blades could talk.

Kirishima made a gesture of his own, pointing to the stairs and towards a brightly lit room. Their informant educated them on Okami's odd habits, all of which centered on that room, which he rarely left. He was that nervous, that cautious, or that frightened of the world outside those red leather doors.

"Don't draw." Asami said, and he didn't mean art. He paused a moment and instead of kicking the door in, which he would have done in another lifetime, he opened the door with a slight turn of his hand. In other words, he opened the door.

"Asami-sama." A high, pinched voice said. "I figured you'd come visit. The hour is early though."

"Okami-san, had your breakfast yet?" Asami replied as he stared at the man with the scar down his right cheek. The scar ran until it disappeared under his red shirt. "Because you and I need to chat, and I'd hate for the rumbling in your stomach to embarrass you."

"I've had a protein bar, a wheat grass shot with a vodka chaser." He gestured towards the chair across from him and waited until Asami sat. It was an odd chair, difficult to get comfortable in, difficult to rise quickly from, and it wobbled so you never could get your bearings. Maybe he wasn't as mad as he seemed. "Now, what is it we need to talk about?" Okami asked, taking a cigarette and offering one to Asami who nodded a polite no. "Huh, I heard you were a chain smoker." He shrugged and lit up his own thinly rolled cigarettes and inhaled deeply.

"The chain is broken." Asami said, but his own nostrils quivered at the smoke and he found himself inhaling. "I'll live longer if I refrain, at least, that was the doctor's prognosis."

"You'd live longer if you'd stay out of my business." Okami replied quickly, his voice clipped and full of malice. "So, your informant, he's a rough man, neh?"

"Rough as they come." Asami replied. "Former police officer. He seemed to like this side of the fence better."

"On this side of the fence, the grass won't grow." Okami blew the smoke out of his nostrils. "Sorry, we roughed him up a little bit. But he'll live….maybe."

Asami narrowed his eyes again, but the glare was lost on the man sitting across from him. "Stay out of the weapons trade. I've given you cock fighting, I've given you the drug trade in the Toshima-ku district. Guns, however, are not for little boys."

"And you've been generous, Asami-sama." Okami replied. The scar rippled with an attempted smile, but only half his face moved. "More than generous, however, the game has changed."

"What are you boys playing now? Mahjong with your mother?" Asami quipped.

"Ooohhh hoh..that made me laugh." He said, but his eyes weren't alive with merriment, they looked hard and cold. Despite his young age, the man was dead inside.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Asami scolded. Okami's eyes widened, well, one eye did. "Or do I have to get ugly."

"I find ugliness pleasing. It makes me think I'm among my own kind." He said, and he gestured to the scar down his cheek.

"What happened to the other guy?" Asami asked.

"Wishing he'd never been born." He replied cryptically. He stubbed out his cigarette and studied Asami through his narrowed brown eyes. "I'm afraid the guns are a necessity."

"Not even the gods fight necessity. However, I'm not a god." Asami narrowed his eyes back. All this eye narrowing was going to give him wrinkles. "Find a new way of doing business. Your weapons spill among the people. You're careless. I don't want to hear about another child finding a grenade in his sandbox."

"Since when do you care about the children of men, Asami-sama." Okami replied, a challenging glint in his eye. "Or has your heart warmed to include those who crawl at your feet, like me."

"You don't crawl, you slither." He rose quickly, despite the unstable chair. "We are done.

"I don't think so." Usually those words always followed with some sort of violence, and of course he was right. Okami's gun was drawn, pointed at Asami's head. Funny, his weapon somehow found itself pointing at Okami's head, cocked, the safety off. However, he didn't really want to break in a new flunky if he killed this sad excuse for a man, so he hesitated in pulling the trigger.

"Are we," Asami stressed the we, making it come out hard and menacing, "In agreement." It obviously wasn't a question.

All of sudden, which was the understatement of the century, someone pushed the double doors in and proceeded to look around the room, which was odd, since they were standing right there, with guns pointing at each other. I mean, you would have to be blind not to miss this touching scene.

Oh. The boy was blind. Asami eye's flicked quickly to the white cane the boy flipping in his hand, around and around clockwise and then around and around the other way. Okami paled but didn't move, neither did Asami. Well, Asami didn't pale, he just didn't move.

"Nii-san, I can't find the eggs." The boy looked in their direction, the white cane ceased spinning. "Oh, you have company." Even from this distance, he could see the boy's nostrils flair. The boy, blind but obviously sharp, could smell them or rather, probably Kirishima, who still used way too much cologne. "And you're playing with guns again." The boy's hands went to his hips, and despite being blind, there was a fire behind his hazel eyes. "Did you offer your guests tea? No, of course not, you're so rude."

"We didn't require any, but thank you." Kirishima answered.

The boy smiled then, his whole face lighting up. "I don't know why you're cleaning your gun right now but you're being rude. Ugh….so rude Nii-san. Mom is watching, you know!" The boy yelled, but in an endearing way, like Akihito does when he's frustrated but still amused, like how you would yell at a dog chasing its tail which proceeded to knock over the potted plants.

The boy was either very naïve or very shrewd. He wasn't sure which. Nonetheless, nothing placated a violent situation like a child, especially this one, who looked like a young Akihito, down to his hazel eyes and slight build.

"The eggs are on the top shelf of the fridge, as always." Okami said, not looking in the boy's direction, his eyes still on Asami's narrowed ones.

"I looked there….well, I didn't look, but I felt around there." He said and chuckled at his own joke. "Oh well, guess no eggs, everyone will have to eat toast."

"I'll help you, as soon as I'm done here." Okami said. "Give me a minute, we're just ironing out some minor details."

The boy left, the double doors swinging behind him and Asami tensed. "Tell me why you need the money." Asami said. "Why do you want the weapons trade?"

"I just need it." Okami replied, his arm starting to shake, just slightly.

"For what?" Asami asked quickly.

"You know, little things around the house." Okami replied, and grinned which only appeared on the right side of his face.

"Ease the gun down, real slow like and we'll chat, for real this time." Asami said calmly.

"Why?" Okami asked, but started to drop his weapon. Asami heard him take a large deep breath, as did he.

"Humor me." Asami said, his gun disappeared under his coat and he pulled out a toothpick instead. "I'm in the mood for entertainment, perhaps a long-winded tale to start out the day." He paused a moment to flip the toothpick in his mouth. "It's about your brother isn't it?"

"You're one step ahead, as always." He shrugged and dropped the gun on the table beside him. "Surgery, he could have his vision back, maybe. But it costs a lot."

"Here's the part where you say that his blindness is your fault." He sucked on the toothpick, its pointy tip digging into his tongue.

"Yeah, of course it was my fault. I was driving the car that night. It was raining, and he was didn't have his seatbelt on and…."

"Yes, I see how that story ends." He interrupted, hoping he wouldn't have to watch the scarred man cry. He motioned to Kirishima who bent down and he whispered something in his ear.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Okami said worriedly. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"I notice everything. How much for the surgery?" Kirishima handed him his checkbook.

Okami's eyes widened. "It's experimental so there isn't a cost with the surgery, it's in Germany and we have to stay in Berlin for six months at least, so, I guess around 75 million yen. What are you doing?" He said, his voice quivering slightly as he watched Asami scribble out a check, his hand moving quickly.

"Don't get it my way again." He said warningly as he ripped the check off with a funny zip sound and handed it to Okami the Wolf. His hands shook when he took it, and stared at it for a moment.
Asami rose quickly, grabbed the gun on the table and handed it to Kirishima, who handled it lovingly, before it disappeared under his jacket. "Leave big toys to the big boys."

"How can I thank you, Asami-sama?" Okami said, staring at the check, his finger poking at it, counting the zeros, his eyes wide and almost brimming with tears.

"You'll owe me a favor and someday I will collect." Asami said, flicking the toothpick in the ashtray, he added, "Go have some eggs."
Okami rose and bowed, almost embarrassingly low. Asami liked it when people bowed like that, it was harder for them to shoot him in the back. Not that he would turn his back on the man, even if he just bought his loyalty, most likely for life.

"You've made a good ally." Kirishima said, pointing out the obvious, as they climbed into the limo.

"It's doubtful. But it's a case of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer." Asami said, "I'm sure your familiar with that quote."
"Yes, I am." Kirishima said, "a favorite."
Asami's eyes turned to Kirishima, who suddenly wished for his paperwork to hide his growing grin. "Yen speaks louder than bombs." Asami said.
"I thought the pen was mightier." He replied.
"Remind me to throw out that book of quotes later." He said without sarcasm. One of these days, he probably would make good on that threat.
"I will, Asami-sama." Kirishima stared out the window, watching the sakura trees pass by. "I will."