Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

Ash was restless. Ever since his return from New York he felt like caught in a constant rush of adrenaline. The wrong kind of adrenaline – not the stuff rushing through your veins prior to an ice-hockey match or during a sparring session. What he was experiencing prevented him from sleeping at night, from sitting still at school, from concentrating on anything be it a book or TV…even from eating.

In addition to the shit his body was putting him through the warehouse had eyes. Ilsa's eyes, Ames' eyes, Winston's eyes, Guerrero's eyes, hell, even Carmine's eyes…

And, most annoyingly, his father's eyes, anxiously resting on him practically every single one of his waking moments.

Worry incarnate.

And all those offers to talk. From practically everyone except Carmine. Again, his father was the worst. Sitting him down, offering him caffeine-free coke, beating around the bush…

This morning Ash definitely had had enough. He had overheard Ilsa suggesting they should get a psychologist involved no matter what. The enormous wave of anger that had washed over him at that moment… it drove him out of the office, onto the streets of the Tenderloin and then all the way to Potrero Hill, where Isu lived with his mother.

It was a Sunday, Isu was still in bed, Akemi, as far as Ash remembered, offered free qigong training in Golden Gate Park for senior residents at the weekends. So since she was out of the house he didn't feel the need to bother with niceties. He kept ringing the doorbell till a very bleary-eyed Isu opened the window of the second floor.

"Have you lost your mind?"

Ash decided that this was one of the questions better left unanswered.

"Get off your lazy ass, we're going jogging!"

And going jogging they did – for TWO hours, Ash running ahead, Isu bringing up the rear. In the continuously rising heat of the day. When they returned both boys were soaked in sweat, kicked off their shoes and removed their shirts.

Ash let Isu use the shower first. Despite the heat, the running, the physical exhaustion… He was still feeling restless. Not sure what to do he padded into his friend's room, figuring he could use the time to take a look at Isu's mailbox. Spying on each other had turned into a game between the two ever since Guerrero had started teaching Ash about the opportunities and limits (especially the limits) of online security.

Whatever Ash learned from him he passed on to Isu. Without ever actually discussing it they began challenging each other – one day Isu bought Assassin's Creed III through Ash's amazon account, the next Ash hijacked Isu's facebook page and told the world he was a big fan of Disney's Lion King.

Ash sat down at Isu's desk, reached for the computer's on button… and hesitated. Frowning, he squinted his eyes and looked at Isu's mussed bed. There was something about it… about the bed frame… it was positioned in an odd angle, as if Isu had messed with it. Rolling forward with Isu's swivel chair, he took a closer look.

There was a box attached to the underside of the bed – a rather big box but flat and long, like the kind you transport expensive roses in, only that it was made of varnished wood, with Kanji characters on it, and looked old and worn.

Ash had no idea what the characters were saying – Isu was teaching him, but they hadn't gotten very far yet – but he instinctively knew whatever the box contained, it was important. The thing was somewhat awe-inspiring.

He didn't dare touch it.

"It belonged to my Dad", Isu's voice suddenly said behind him. Ash jumped – he had been so fascinated by his friend's hidden treasure, he hadn't heard him coming. If Guerrero had been present, this would have earned him at least twenty pushups or cleaning the bathroom with a toothbrush.

"Found it in the attic. Mom had hidden it from me. She doesn't know I have it."

Isu went down on his knees and retrieved the box from its hiding place. With great care he positioned it on the bed and, after a moment of hesitation and an almost anxious glance at Ash, he slowly opened it.

"A sword", Ash gasped.

"Not just a sword", Isu said, gently touching the intricately carved green hilt. "It's a katana, a samurai sword."

Ash was mesmerized. Locking eyes with Isu he silently asked for permission. Isu nodded and Ash took the sword out of the box.

The hilt felt as if it was custom made for his hand. The blade swished softly as he, stepping towards Isu's full-length mirror, moved it through the air.

"You've had sword training?", Isu asked, eyes trained on his friend in a mixture of fascination and slight shock. Ash's muscles were moving in flow with his dance-like steps, the katana seemed to have become a part of him. He looked as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

Ash shook his head. "It just feels right", he replied, almost puzzled. "How much do you know about your dad?"

"Not much", Isu shrugged. "He was a bodyguard like yours. Died on a job. Your father was there, actually."

A sudden onslaught of anger rushed through Ash, made him tighten his grip on the sword. He hadn't known that. He and Isu had become friends ages ago and his father had never bothered to tell him. Never.

And there it was again, the lately rather burning question of what else he hadn't bothered telling him. He and his mom.

She had carried a hidden combat knife, for heaven's sake.

In an extremely rapid movement Ash cut through the air, then froze in a classic fighter's stance.

"You know what, a tattoo would look great on you", Isu said.

Suddenly both froze and listened. The sound of a key turning in a door lock. Akemi was coming back.

Isu quickly hid the sword again. Ash put on his shirt. A minute later Akemi was calling out for her son and came upstairs. "Hey, Ash, didn't expect you here at this time of day. Let me guess, you got hold of some ultra-cool videogame and wanted to try it out right away." She smiled knowingly. "What about milk and cookies for you two?"

Milk and cookies sounded great.

… … …

Guerrero was packing. He usually didn't borrow from the warehouse's stash, but Ilsa had only recently acquired this really smooth new gun type…

"You found him?" Chance had silently entered the room.

Guerrero merely nodded.

"I'm going with you."

Guerrero arched an eyebrow and threw his friend a questioning glance.

"I want to know why somebody wanted my son dead", Chance said, his voice making very clear that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Guerrero had expected something like that. He shrugged in compliance.

Ten minutes later the two were walking towards the elevator, duffle bags slung around their shoulders.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Winston's voice right behind them. When had he learned to move so noiselessly?

"Nicely dramatic appearance, dude. You should consider an acting career. Most households own supersized TV screens, so your size shouldn't be a problem." Guerrero paused. "We're off to have a little chat with somebody", he added, almost as an afterthought."

Winston completely ignored the crack at his weight. "Not without me", he said.