[disclaimer stuff: The characters of Ruroni Kenshin and Weiss Kreuz are © and TM their rightful and respective owners. Michihiro is mine… No copyright infringement is meant under any circumstances, just a way to try and bring two of my favorite things together. Notes follow at the end of the fic]
PART II
~~~~~~~~~~ "AYA-KUN! AYAAA-KUUN!" There was bright light, and an incessant pounding in his head. For a long, confused moment, Aya thought he was trapped in some horrible dream … or hung over.. The bright light resolved itself into sunlight streaming through the blinds in his room, and the pounding became distinct as Omi's small fist on the door. Aya frowned and pushed himself upright. He felt like Youji looked every morning. It wasn't enjoyable. He had driven with his aimless thoughts for hours after leaving Michihiro's company, before creeping into the apartment at some ungodly hour. His dreams had not been restful, but now were a shapeless red-black haze fading into his subconscious. The clock next to the bed showed 10:30 in sterile digital numbers and with a grunt, Aya shambled off the bed and to the door, opening it a sliver. "Omi.." He gave the teenager a baleful, violet stare through a crack in the door. "Aya-kun. Are you ok? You're never late in the morning.. Youji and Ken are already taking care of things at the shop…." Aya only half listened to Omi, and opened the door the rest of the way with a sneeze. "…Aya-kun? Did you get caught out in the rain last night? You look like you're getting a cold!" The boy started to fluster into a mother hen routine that would have been comical if Aya had had a sense of humor about things like that. "I got caught in the rain, hai…" he felt a strange warmth creep across his cheeks. "Surveillance on the Kurasuhime…" He stretched awkwardly, but Omi just nodded seriously. "Oh.. that.. I have to give their MIS team some admiration" he said grudgingly. "I spent hours trying to get around their encryption.. " The boy sat heavily down on the edge of Aya's bed. "I don't wanna call it a firewall.. because it didn't behave like that.. it was almost like it was alive.. sort of.. you'd think you found one way in, but it'd just turn out to be another way back out.. or it would make it seem like you had security codes all around you… but.. there'd only be one real one.. and that'd be another fake.." Aya frowned and sat next to him. Normally, Omi's rapturous hacking left him disinterested, but there was something in his words that caught his attention. "It was like being underwater.. under a thick sheet of ice.. and you couldn't find any air holes." The boy finally concluded. "Ryuusui no ugoki…" Aya said softly, half to himself. "the waterflow technique." Omi blinked at him. "Yeah, actually, that'd be a nice way of putting it.." Aya shook himself out of it, the feeling of being encircled and entrapped, only by one person… "….they couldn't trace you here…?" He chided himself for even asking. Omi's skills were unquestionable in this area. He didn't seem to take offense. "Nah. They'll only be able to trace it as far back as a bank in Johannesburg…" he said proudly. Aya ran his tongue over his incisors for a moment, before looking at the younger boy's wide blue eyes. "Would it be easier if you could actually get in to the compound?" "well.. d'oh.. of course… I wouldn't have to keep hopping packets.. I might have a better chance at finding a back door at the source.. why…. did you figure out a way to get us into the compound?" Aya could have sworn that Omi's ears nearly perked up like a small dog's. Aya looked at him. "Maybe." He scrubbed one long hand across his face, where the echo of Michihiro's touch lingered. "…but I have some things I need to do right now.. you and the others'll have to make due without me in the shop today." Omi looked at him strangely. "Aya-kun.. are you sure you're ok?" The answering scowl Aya gave him was enough to shut the boy up. "Youji-kun and Ken-kun won't like it, but I'll take care of it." He left without another word, and Aya was grateful for the silence. He stood in the shower for a long time, the pelting water doing nothing to wash away his memory of last night, or the crushing feeling weighing on him as to what he had to do. He leaned his forehead against the steam-slicked tiles …and the blood oozed in languid rivulets from the spaces between them leaving red tracks down the smooth white surface like her skin. She was so afraid.. he couldn't protect her .. couldn't …even as sordid thrill of vengeance sang through him, the rapture of the moment when steel met flesh.. hitokiri…. The sudden change of temperature as the hot water ran out shocked Aya back into himself. He shook his head furiously. He couldn't be going crazy… even as his hand ached with the weight of a blade that wasn't there. It lingered even as he drove to the hospital, and watched her sleeping face. So much like their mother. Aya straightened as an idea surfaced with alarming suddenness. "..mother.." ~~~~~~~~~~~~ They didn't know about the storage unit in the nondescript warehouse center, his fellow hunters. Birman probably did, but she kept her council like a cat. The metal door clattered up, irritated at being moved after such long disuse, and the harsh light from the naked bulbs in the hallway flooded the dank little cell, illuminating the sad remains of Ran Fujimiya's previous life. He didn't like to come here. It hurt too much, was too harsh a reminder of the day that everything died… of the day he ceased to be. Hitokiri. Aya picked his way through the moldering cardboard boxes. There was something… Mother was speaking to him with her warm violet eyes as she leafed through a box of her family's antiques after her mother died. "See this old fashioned photograph, Ran? This is how people in Japan dressed a hundred years ago.. Your great grandfather…" She'd never used that word…. hitokiri.. but he knew it.. he'd heard it somewhere.. in his dreams.. My destiny? The tintypes were almost unrecognizable with wear and age, but the eyes… Aya sat down as the strength left his legs in a single rush. Troubled eyes even though the man was smiling. His own eyes looking at him through a sepia haze. It's in my blood… He let it fall from his hands back into the box of the past. He wasn't a superstitious person by nature. It was a waste of his time. But there was something in motion here that he couldn't explain. A dance that had started before he was born. And somehow… Michihiro and his sepia counterpart were a part of it too. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wrapped in an old sweater, the antique image sat, misshapen, on the passenger seat of Aya's car. Occasionally, he glanced over at it, musty and foreboding. Questions and misgivings lingered around it, making the air inside the car feel heavy, as it had before it rained… Aya sat at the red light, leaning his chin on the steering wheel. . He'd accepted the mission from Persia and he didn't want to dwell on what he needed to do. He just wanted to get his sword and go kill the elder Kurasuhime right now, and be done with this assignment. "I will always protect you…." Misgivings.. a horn honked behind him as the light changed and he slapped the car into gear with an small, angry sound. Why were the failed promises of the past haunting him? "I'm not you.. goddamnit.. I'm not you.." he said sourly to the lump on the passenger seat. Hitokiri…can you control your nature? ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The little room in the basement of the florist shop was uncomfortable as the night wore on. Omi had searched out and dragged Ken and Youji down there to discuss the mission with the tenacity of a bulldog. Youji's expression across the table from Aya grew more and more incredulous as he outlined his plan. "Are you kidding?" Ken scratched through his glossy chocolate hair. "What? It sounds ok to me..?" Youji shot him an exasperated look, and Aya found himself watching Youji's eyes. Green.. he'd never noticed they were green before.. darker and warmer on the whole than the teasing emerald shards that lingered in his memory. Immediately uncomfortable with the contrast.. the very thought, Aya gave Youji a chilly glare. He regretted getting any of them involved.. he regretted taking the assignment in the first place.. but most importantly he regretted what had happened on the rooftop, but worse, at the same time didn't. It was confusing and he hated it. "Omi.. and the two of you… can get in with the catering staff… Omi's already tracked down the company handling it.." he said with quiet rancor, shoving his inner chaos down into a manageable, tumultuous package. "It just seems too easy, if you ask me." Youji stubbed out his cigarette and pushed away from the table. "An open invitation to a total stranger into fortress like that? To Mr. Congeniality over there? Maaaa….You and Omi can go in… I think we should stay out, nearby.. pull you two out when it all goes to hell." Aya watched, curiously, as Ken stepped between him and Youji, and only then did he realize he'd gotten to his feet, and his hand was cramping from the tightness of his fist. "That's a great idea, Youji-kun." Omi's cheerful voice broke the looming tension. "Hard part is going to be finding the mainframe in the compound, though…. I've got sort of an idea of where it might be.. but that's a pretty big place." "Is it even there?" Ken relaxed visibly as Youji and Aya both sat down. Omi nodded and leaned his chin on his hand. "They're really family oriented according to the files..… it wouldn't be anywhere else." "We'll find it.. and be done with this mission." With a final curt nod, Aya left Omi to work out the rest with Ken and Youji. He would get in.. and get out… and not have to look in those green eyes again. He'd seen something in them, behind their cryptic half-smile.. lonely and haunted.. like the boy from Edo in the photo.. like his own.. If he looked into them again, Aya didn't know if he would be able to do what needed to be done. "…can you control your nature?" the tintype on his bed seemed to ask, as he looked into the eyes of his great-grandfather. "I'm not you." He said softly, feeling the insane specter looming over his shoulder. "I'm not you. I don't enjoy this.. I'm doing it.." "..because I have to. To protect her.. and the others.. because they hand me the mission and there's nothing else I can do." Red hair like his.. eyes violet and open, able to narrow into frozen slits in a moment's change…. With a small sound, Aya sat down on the floor, looking at the katana in it's stand in the corner. Aoshi had lost himself in madness. He didn't want to win… only to die… But he was smiling at him, in that faint way of his… Aya jerked upright as the alarm buzzer went off. His back and hips ached from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in, sitting on the floor. (Saturday.. it was.. Saturday…) He scrubbed his hand across his face and dragged himself to a standing position. Today he would be done with this business, and hopefully put the ghosts to rest. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Kurasu compound seemed no less foreboding in the full light of day as it had in the damp, dark, shadows of evening. Aya slowed as he approached the gate, eyes scanning over the thick, high walls at the pre-requisite cameras. Taking a deep breath, he smoothed his jacket. He'd spent longer getting dressed today then he could remember in ages, especially after Youji had pronounced his wardrobe inadequate, unoriginal, and pathetic. Aya scowled at the memory. He'd never particularly considered clothing for more than utilitarian purposes, and by the time Youji was done helping him sort through the collective closets of Weiss to find something Kudoh deemed "acceptable", Aya felt positively silly. The massive iron gates of the compound loomed in front of him now, in some grotesque 19th century western style, over-ornamented and imposing. The decoration practically masked the intercom box. As he pulled up to it, he couldn't help but look into the dense trees that formed a second, natural wall behind the stone. A shiver ran down his spine as the dark leaves rustled in the breeze. "May I help you?" the tinny voice from the box did nothing to reassure him. "Kenichi Kuroda.. I'm here at Michihro's invitation…" There was no reply, but the gate ground open, yawning wide to accept him. A glance over his shoulder reassured him that his katana sat hidden in the back, safely ensconced in a duffel bag. He was still working over possible solutions for getting it inside when he caught a glimpse of the catering truck, further along the winding drive. He had last seen Omi hours ago, as the boy had slipped in among the staff at the caterers. Omi had the sort of persistent, innocent smile that was immediately disarming. He wondered how he kept it up in light of their profession, or if it was just Omi's way of hiding, just like each of them did. There was a cross section of exotic and luxury cars to make any auto aficionado green with envy. Aya noted them as a matter of practicality as he parked. He didn't trust the valet, no matter what the circumstances. Too risky considering what he had in the car. At the door were guards.. imposing gorillas in dark suits. They didn't look like yakuza thugs to Aya's glance. They carried themselves with too much serious dignity. As they apologized politely and swept a metal detector over him, he found himself wondering how Omi had fared getting his computer in among the groceries. He hadn't heard a distress call, the communication equipment concealed in the beeper case at his belt, though, a good sign. Even in what Youji had proclaimed to be "appropriate attire", Aya immediately felt out of place among the rareified population mingling in the marble-floored halls of the mansion. A broad mix of ethnicities… would make sense in light of the Kurasu's business connections… but they all shared a palpable disdain for the lesser beings moving among them with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvures. He nodded to himself. That would work in Omi's favor… his too, if they considered him beneath their notice. He scanned through the crowd, picking out the security that mingled through the guests, before catching sight of the elder Kurasuhime and one of his sons.. the man's face was hard and broad, the dark eyes sharklike, and the son, a younger copy. Aya availed himself of a glass of champagne from a passing tray, and made his way to get a better position to observe. "Ken-kun!" The familiar voice stopped Aya, and he turned to face Michihiro. "I didn't know if you'd actually take me up on the invitation…" The green eyes had a faint light in them, and there was the distinct scent of alcohol on him, mingled with his own fleeting scent as he briefly embraced Aya. It was only a moment, as his cheek lightly pressed against Aya's own, but his stomach did a momentary, sickening dance. He had dreaded/desired this moment since he'd last seen him. Recovering himself, Aya lifted his glass in a small salute.. "How could I refuse?" "I'm… glad.. it's kind of nice to have a friendly face here among the sharks." The Kurasu heir leaned back against the doorframe. The stark black suit contrasted too sharply with the warm wood behind him, made him look like a paper doll. "You look good.." there was the faintest bit of amusement in his tone, to offset the almost imperceptible moment of open relief that passed across his face. Aya shifted uncomfortably. How could he look in those eyes, with that one vulnerable heartbeat, again, knowing what he was going to have to do? (I don't… I can't.) The internal question rankled him, but Michihiro didn't seem to notice, one long hand resting on Aya's arm. "Come on.. I'll give you the grand tour before my.. father finds me and makes me socialize." He put a peculiar emphasis on "father", an obvious distaste in the word. "You.. don't seem to get along too well with him?" Aya hoped the question didn't sound as awkward as he thought it did. "We have our differences." Came the quiet reply, as Michihiro guided him through the house. Aya noted everything, even as he nodded politely. They passed by one set of dark wood doors on the second floor, and Aya stopped him. "What's that?" Michihiro paused, looking at the doors for a moment as if they were alien things. "The old man's library…he does… all his best work there.. but it's nothing exciting." Aya flagged the doors in his memory. There was a sudden humming sound, a brief vibration, the pager going off. Was Omi in trouble? "K'so… Do you..?" Michihiro gave a little snort. "What, no cel phone? There's a phone in the guest room." He gestured off-handedly towards a door. Aya nodded faintly. "I'm sorry.. this'll only take a second." He took a deep breath once he was out of Michihiro's line of sight in the room, and glanced at the pager. [All systems go!] (oh, for God's sake.) Aya scowled at the softly glowing green characters. He pictured Omi sitting in an air conditioning vent, hunched over the little computer, eyes fixed on the screen. Aya rolled his own eyes, distinctly trying to ignore the wash of relief that the kid was still ok. He turned to leave the guest room when voices in the hallway stopped him cold. He knew at least two of those voices. "…I have some business to attend to with Crawford-san." "I appreciate you taking this time for me, Mr. Kurasuhime… I apologize for our inconvenient timing." Aya peered out a crack in the door at Brad Crawford's retreating back at the side of Tetsuya Kurasuhime. Schwarz was here… which only reinforced the information of the Kurasu's involvement with Takatori. His hands twitched for the hilt of his katana as hair nearly as red as his own moved into his field of view. The german's sibilant accent rasped across his nerves like sandpaper. "It's been a while, Mii-kun." Schuldich drawled. "Not long enough, apparently." Came the chilly reply. The german snorted. "Seriously, though.. I wanted to talk to you about the future of the Kurasu.." Aya held his breath, even as there was a long pause from Michihiro. "Fine.. we can go talk in the library. I'm sure father and your friend have moved on to their business." It took everything the hunter had not to burst out and confront the german killer with his unruly shock of red hair. When they were out of sight, Aya crept out of the guest room, padding down the hall to the massive library doors, watchful for any guests.. or worse.. the rest of Schwarz. The door was open the barest of cracks, and Aya crouched by it, straining to look in. The german was looking at Michihiro curiously. "so…. Du hast die Rot-harrige gern, Junge?" he leered. Michihiro scoffed at him. "I'm not for you, Schuldich… pig." The german laughed in response. "I do so enjoy screwing with arrogant little boys like you, Mii-kun." Aya ground his teeth. Whether some possessive flash of jealousy, or his deep seated hatred for Takatori's minions, he wanted the oily gaijin dead.. and dead yesterday. "Is that what you wanted to talk about? I don't have time for you, baka yarou." Schuldich's hand closed sharply on Michihiro's arm, his other one lightly trailing across his cheek. "Feisty, aren't you? I like that, kleine krähe…" He leaned closer. "Your father won't live forever, Mii-kun.. and when he kicks off, you're going to have to deal with us on a more.. personal level." The trailing hand gathered up a length of raven hair and Schuldich buried his face in it. "Gott…. du riechst so gut…sehr gut." Michihiro yanked his arm free, but Aya thought he saw a faint blush creep across his pale face. "You bore me, Schuldich. Why don't you go downstairs and grope the guests? Just because the Kurasu deal with you, doesn't mean I have to sit here and tolerate you any longer." The german's laugh was a short, harsh sound and he pulled the Kurasu by the waist to him, tightly drawing Michihiro's lean form against his own. "Ich weiß, daß sie denken noch an dieses, Junge… Ich mag dich schmecken " Schuldich's free hand fisted roughly in the glossy black silk of Michihiro's hair and he pressed a harsh kiss on his lips. In the corridor, Aya was on his feet with a growl, hand on the door even as a sharp sound inside stopped him. Schuldich was sitting on the floor, rubbing his jaw. Michihiro looked down at him with a haughty smile, cracking his knuckles. "Mou. My german isn't as good as your japanese, Schu-chan.. aber… du ekelst mich….Get out of my sight." The german smirked as he got to his feet. "Maaa.. we'll continue this at another time then, junge.." Aya slipped back into the corridor as Schuldich made his way to the door and watched from the shadows of the guest room as he vanished back downstairs. Cautiously, Aya made his way back to the library. "Michihiro-kun?" He pushed open the door slowly, to find the Kurasu sitting on the edge of a monolithic wooden desk, head bowed. One slender hand raked through his hair and the green eyes came up to meet Aya's. "Gomen… I had some business of my own to attend to. I didn't mean to be an impolite host." The composure was quickly resettled on the fine features, but it took a second longer to reach his brilliant eyes. "Are you alright?" Aya approached him cautiously, finally glancing about the room. It was massive and dark, the walls lined with books, shelves towering over the dense forest green carpet. It was immediately oppressive and Aya felt a touch of claustrophobic fear tug at his sleeve. Schuldich's scent lingered, making it worse. Aya turned, looking around the room. One window, one doorway… easy to get trapped, maybe.. but easy to corner his prey here…The library seemed to have it's own ominous life, though, and Aya shivered involuntarily, starting when Michihiro's long hand came to rest on his arm. "We should get back to the party.. Father loves to make his speeches.. and I'll never hear the end of it if I miss the one he prepared for my birthday." His voice was soft, breath warm against Aya's cheek, but the tone in his words was cold and venomous. "Michihiro-kun… Mii-kun…." The dark head shook, ghosting soft hair against Aya's skin. "Don't worry, ne?" The faint smirk had comfortably resettled itself on his face. "Let's not keep my father waiting." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As they'd made their way back to the group, Aya couldn't stop himself from looking around. Schuldich's red hair would stand out in the crowd, but Crawford might not at first. He tensed. If they were still here, he'd have to scratch the mission… or at least lie low until they left. The pager on his belt was quiet. It had been since Omi's initial contact. He frowned, even as someone pressed a fresh glass of champagne in his hand, and Tetsuya Kurasuhime raised his hands to get the attention of the partygoers. "I want to thank you all for coming to help celebrate Michihiro's 21st birthday…. If my beloved Yukio were still alive, she'd be so proud to see how he's grown up." There was scattered applause and murmur of approval. Michihiro had left Aya's side to stand next to his father and younger brothers with a self-possessed grace. "..and I look forward to many years of prosperity for Kurasu Industries, as he takes his place by my side as a full executive within our corporation." The elder Kurasuhime placed a hand on his son's shoulder, and even though the schooled white mask of Michihiro's face remained pleasantly expressionless, Aya saw something shift and flinch in his brilliant green eyes. The crowd applauded with more enthusiasm, as Tetsuya urged his son to speak, the younger brothers clapping him on the back. "I wish mother were here as well.." he scanned the audience before his gaze locked with Aya's. "She worked very hard to make the Kurasu what it is.. but.. I.. intend to serve my father in a way that will make her memory proud." He sounded vaguely bored, but Aya caught the façade.. heard a trace of the venom that had been in his voice earlier, even as Tetsyua proudly hugged his son. Aya immediately started reviewing the mission files in the back of his mind. There had been little mention of Yukio Kurasuhime.. a brief footnote that she had died some years ago. Michihiro's voice roused him out of his review as the Kurasu heir lifted a champagne glass. "Now please.. a toast to my father for this wonderful party… and please.. enjoy yourselves." He took a deep drink and from somewhere in the big house, a band began to play again. Aya hadn't even noticed the music before.