It was dark where he’d parked Seven, not even a working streetlight to shed a glow on the misery filling the man’s heart.
Yohji stared at the empty bourbon bottle, face streaked with drying tears.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Ken. Asuka. Maybe Omi too.
Gone.
And him left alive to grieve and hurt.
He dropped the bottle on the floor and fumbled for a cigarette, the alcohol in his system unable to completely destroy the man’s coordination.
The pack was almost empty, but that hardly mattered. He had a whole carton sitting on the seat beside him next to another unopened bottle of bourbon.
New team mates. New people to try and live with.
To try not to get attached too, or cry over when they died.
* * * * * * *
When over an hour had passed with no sign of either Yohji or the rice he had requested, Aya began to worry. He knew the lanky blonde well enough to know that he was ripe for mischief and a night of maudlin drunkenness. The thought that Yohji was drinking somewhere made his eyes narrow in anger. How dare Yohji go off to drown his sorrows and leave him to mind the newbies? He snatched up his car keys and left the house to search.
Yohji hardly noticed the headlights of a car sweeping across the back of Seven. He was too intent on working the cap off of the second bottle of bourbon, the plastic proving just a bit too much for him in his current state inebriation.
Having spent an hour waiting and then a further two searching, by the time Aya found Yohji's car he was beyond pissed. Three hours was quite long enough for the blonde to get ridiculously drunk.
Aya pulled up just behind Yohji's Seven and sat for a moment quietly fuming as he watched his team mate raise a bottle to his lips. He yanked the keys out of the ignition and climbed out of his car the door closing with a satisfying slam behind him. He stalked forward and wrenched open the passenger door on the seven.
"Just what in hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his voice quiet but icy and hard
Yohji stared at Aya for a second, not sure if the man was really there or if he was seeing things. It wouldn’t be the first time if he was hallucinating, but something told him he wasn’t. Maybe it was the faint scent of Aya, or the feeling of movement as the car door had opened.
“Getting drunk,” he replied matter-of-factly as he studied the bottle of bourbon he’d just taken a drink from. “Wanna drink?” His voice was just starting to slur, a true indication that he was well and truly drunk.
"No I do not want a drink. And where's the rice I asked for?" Damn! Now he would have to convince the idiot that he was in no fit state to drive his car. If he threw up in the Porsche he would be cleaning it in the morning.
“Rice is in back,” Yohji said. “You sure you don’t want a drink?” he asked. “I think you need one.” He held the bottle out to Aya.
Aya glanced at the tiny back seat to find a split packet of rice spilling its contents all over the leather. Finally all the events of the last few months culminated in an explosive outpouring of pent-up frustration and he knocked the bottle out of Yohji's hand.
"No, I do not want a drink and you've had more than enough," he yelled.
Yohji grabbed for the bottle, somehow managing to catch it before more than a splatter of booze hit his carpet. “Don’t do that,” he told the red-head. “Stuff’s expensive.” He stared at Aya, “What’re you so mad about. I got the fucking rice.”
He looked away from Aya, tears burning in his eyes. It wasn’t going to be the same anymore. Too much had changed with Omi and Ken gone. Aya was becoming even more distanced and Yohji was lonely. He didn’t even have the chance to go out on dates in such a small town. People didn’t appreciate men who only wanted to play the field with their daughters out here.
There was nothing to distract him, nothing to keep him from thinking. Nothing but the liquor. “Lemme alone, Aya. Just,” he waved at the other man, accidentally hitting Aya in the face, “go away.”
Aya lifted a hand to his face where Yohji's hand had caught him. It was the last straw. He grabbed the bottle out of Yohji's hand and deliberately smashed it on the concrete lot. Then he reached across the blonde and retrieved the car keys before grabbing Yohji by the front of his shirt and hauling him across the gear stick and the passenger seat and out of the car where he collapsed in an inglorious heap on the ground.
Stunned, unsure where he was at first, Yohji stared at the concrete and the smashed bottle right in front of his nose. He shook his head, got to his knees and looked around blearily wondering how he’d wound up on the ground. He could have sworn he’d been sitting in his car. He shook his head and almost fell over, the parking lot spinning slightly in his vision.
Aya. Yes, his team mate was here somewhere. Yohji turned his head, puzzled. “Aya, where’d you go?”
"Get up you stupid bum," Aya snarled. "I'm taking your sorry ass home."
He grabbed the carton of cigarettes and the remains of the rice before hauling Yohji to his feet.
Yohji didn’t move, Aya’s words burning like acid in his soul. ‘Get up you stupid bum.’
It hurt. He shoved Aya, staggered and fell, tears filling his gaze. He didn’t even feel the shards of glass that dug into his palm and shin as he fell on the glass from the broken bottle.
He didn’t feel anything but the words searing into his heart.
‘Stupid bum.’
Aya's temper receded somewhat and he sighed as he realized just how far gone Yohji actually was. The blood oozing from cuts to the blonde's palms and shins made him realize that if nothing else could and he stepped forward to haul Yohji to very unsteady feet.
"Come on, get in the Porsche," he said more gently. "I've got your cigarettes and car keys." He shut and locked Seven and guided Yohji towards his own car.
“Just go away. You’d be better off with me dead too... wish it had been me... It’d be better.... Nothing but a... bum..” he pushed at Aya. “Don’t have to worry about me. The bum can get home.”
"I'm not going to argue with you, Yohji. Get. In. The. Car. NOW!" He pulled and pushed at the larger man until he had him leaning against the side of the Porsche. He hissed slightly in sympathy, as he saw the cuts on Yohji's hands, still full of glass shards, and unlocked the passenger door before pushing Yohji gently into the seat.
Yohji considered just going with Aya. He considered telling Aya to go fuck himself. His eyes fell on his watch, and he considered another option.
He was a bum. He hadn’t been able to save Asuka. Hadn’t saved Maki. And he had let Ken and possibly Omi die too.
There was blood on his hands, he stared at it, laughed, the sound slightly hysterical, not like the man’s normal laughter at all.
Blood on his hands. Asuka’s. Maki’s. Innocent blood. That was the only blood that mattered. The tears in his eyes slipped free and he started to cry.
Aya stopped to glance at Yohji as he laughed, a brittle, hollow sound that unnerved him. He suddenly realized how much he had come to rely on the tall blonde, how much he had leaned on his strength for the past months without stopping to consider Yohji's needs. He shut the door and walked round the car to climb into the driver's seat. He started the car but simply sat with his hands clenched on the wheel for a few moments, deep in thought.
"I'm sorry, Yohji," he whispered eventually. "I've taken your strength for granted. Forgive me."
Yohji wiped at his face, smearing blood and tears across his cheek. He looked out the window unable to answer, still hurt by something he’d never realized.
“It’s okay, Aya,” he replied, voice shaky, “truth always hurts more than a lie, you know.”
"What truth is that, Yohji?" Aya asked. His confusion was evident and he made no move to reverse the car out of the lot just yet. He felt he owed Yohji some time after taking up so much of the blonde's for the last months.
“I’ve never saved anyone,” Yohji whispered softly, voice full of pain. “Not Asuka, Maki, Omi or Ken.” His voice broke, “It’s why I drink. Why I’m just a stupid bum.” He shuddered and closed his eyes, Asuka’s ghost dancing across his mind. “Nothing erases it. Nothing.”
Aya was silent for a while as he contemplated telling Yohji the truth. It was only stubborn pride that prevented his speaking it before and now it might even do some good. He owed Yohji that much at least.
"You have saved someone," he said quietly, without looking up from the steady regard of his clenched hands on the wheel, "you've saved me."
Yohji blinked. He turned to Aya and he laughed, another brittle hollow sound. “You’ve never needed anyone to save you, Aya.”
Aya turned silvery violet eyes to meet Yohji's green gaze. "Haven't I?" he asked cryptically. "Do you have any idea how many times I've considered finishing it in the last three months? And each time you've prevented it by simply being there. And wasn't it you who forced me to go on when we were on the beach after the museum sank? All I wanted to do was let the darkness swallow me as it had the others until you were there."
He looked away and started to reverse the car out of the lot rather than deal with his own embarrassment at those revelations.
Yohji considered his next words carefully. Or as carefully as someone who was stumbling drunk could.
“I’m glad you were the one alive. I miss Ken and Omi but if I’d lost you...” the man’s voice shattered on another sob. “Hate me all you want, Aya. At least you’re alive to do it.”
Having got the Porsche on the road and facing in the direction of home Aya let it idle again as he turned to stare at Yohji.
"Whatever made you think I hate you?" he asked.
The laugh came back, “What was it you said over there?” Yoji asked waving his hand back toward the parking lot they were about to leave. His voice deepened, turned hard and cold in a passable imitation of the red-haired man, "Get up you stupid bum."
“I’m drunk, but you’re the one forgetting what you said.” He shook his head emphatically, “ ’s why I’ve kept my mouth shut you know. Sure can’t tell you what I think about you.”
"That I'm a cold, hard icicle of a man no doubt," Aya said for him. He sighed. "Yohji, what I said was in anger. I always say hurtful things when I'm angry...and often when I'm not. I don't express myself well. I never have. I just don't like seeing you try to destroy yourself. You're all I've got left."
Strange how cathartic it felt to actually say it. He should be feeling stupid or embarrassed but he felt neither. In all the time they'd been Weiss, Yohji had been the only one allowed to touch him, allowed to get close. Yes, he had cared about Ken and Omi in his own way but if one of them were here and Yohji gone...
No, it didn't bear thinking about. He knew that he wouldn't be here now if Yohji were gone.
Yohji was shaking his head so hard that it was a wonder he didn’t give himself whiplash. “I’m not what I was gonna say,” he mumbled. “Not at all.”
“You re... remember when you came and rescued us from the SD at the garbage dump?” Yohji asked. “I do. I remember you half carrying me out of there. Remember how you’re arm felt.” Yohji closed his eyes, sagged back against the seat. “But I knew there was no chance. None. Not for me.”
He sighed, “But I wanted it. Oh, yeah. I wanted it so much.”
Aya's right hand came off the wheel and thumped it as he turned to stare at Yohji. "You think I didn't? But how could I, Yohji? How could I when you kept chasing either women or ghosts or the visions at the bottom of a bottle or two? I wasn't able to trust you that far. I'm still not sure if I can until you forget the fucking women."
Yohji’d been about to drift off to sleep, but his eyes snapped open as if he’d been slapped.
He turned to look at Aya. “W...what did you just say?”
"I said to forget the fucking women for once in your life," Aya snapped before leaning across and kissing Yohji. "When you can do that...who knows?"
Jade eyes blinked in shock and suddenly Yohji was stone cold sober. “Aya?” He touched the man’s lips, stared then leaned in to press a tentative kiss to Aya’s mouth as if waiting for the sky to fall on his head.
Aya returned the kiss for a moment before drawing away with a grimace. "You reek of booze," he complained. Then there was a fond smile as he added, "just try to remember what I said."
He shook his head at his own mood and hit the gas. Time to go home and get to know the two newbies...after he'd dressed Yohji's cuts.
Yohji touched Aya’s cheek with his undamaged hand, “I won’t forget, Aya.”
He sat back in the seat and stared out of the window. “I needed the women so I didn’t think about you,” he admitted quietly. “But it was you I wanted.”
"And Neu?" Aya prompted. "You almost betrayed us all for her. You let her almost kill you twice. Was she so much like Asuka?"
Old pain filled the blonde’s eyes. “She looked like Asuka. Maybe she was Asuka somehow.” He shuddered as he remembered her last words as he’d strangled the life from her and wished he had the other bottle of booze because he needed it. No, what he really needed was something even stronger, but he wasn’t in Tokyo and didn’t know where to come by what he wanted in this place. Not without risking being arrested by the local cops.
Wouldn’t that be a joke on Kritiker? Me getting arrested on drug charges?
“Sometimes I think not letting her kill me was the mistake,” he murmured, not meeting Aya’s eyes.
"And you really believe that the Asuka you've talked to us about would have tried to kill you, would have kidnapped my sister, led us into a trap?"
“Maybe she was brainwashed. You know what those Esset bastards are capable of, so...” he sighed. He’d been over this ground in his own mind over and over. It was useless to travel it anymore. “She’s dead so what difference does it make now anyway?”
There was a pain forming behind his eyes, the warning of worse things to come. Maybe if he drank enough juice and coffee he could flush the booze out of his system and not get the grandfather of all hangovers his head was promising him.
He watched as they turned down a street and he realized they were almost back to the safe house and their new team mates. He decided to change the subject.
“That other kid ever show up?”
"Yes, about ten minutes after you left. He...he's a bit like I was when I first joined Kritiker. I'm just hoping he doesn't go all the way down that road although it's hard to see how he can avoid it."
“One yakuza boy, one boy right on the edge of self-destruction. Great,” he muttered. “Sounds like fun,” he added sarcastically.
Aya parked in his usual spot. "Let's get some water into you and deal with those cuts."
Yohji nodded, still a little numb from the alcohol in his system, and from Aya’s revelations, from the whole damned night actually. He started to rub his face and stopped himself, looking at the fragments of glass in his left hand.
“What the hell did I do this time?”
"You fell onto a broken bottle," Aya told him grimly. "Now let's get you cleaned up and hangover free if we can. I'll even let you smoke while I dress your cuts."
Yohji nodded, tried to get out of the car and found that standing was still not something in his purview of ability at the moment when he instantly sagged to the street with the world spinning slowly around him.
He closed his eyes and gave a hard, deliberate swallow.
Aya sighed and climbed out of his side of the car. He reached Yohji's side, hauled him upright and, with a strong arm round his waist, led him into the kitchen where he sat him on a chair before returning to lock the Porsche and retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom.
When Aya reached the kitchen Yohji wasn’t in it alone. Zeshin was standing just inside the doorway staring at the drunken blond who had his head down on the table. He was snoring softly.
The boy backed away from Aya as the red-head came in, but he paused, frowning. “Do you need help, Fujimiya-san?”
"My name is Aya and I would appreciate your putting some water on to boil," Aya said politely if not too warmly. "I'm going to need to get plenty of fluid down him but I'll let him sleep while I deal with his cuts." He grimaced slightly. "It saves the air from turning blue."
He took hold of one of Yohji's hands and turned it palm upwards to reveal the mess before applying a pair of tweezers to the glass shards still embedded in it.
Yohji muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep, his hand twitching as Aya removed some of the glass.
Zeshin did as Abyssinian asked, putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. He wondered if he should tell the older Weiss about the phone call or not. After another moment of indecision he said, “Someone called while you were gone.”
Aya glanced up sharply. "Oh, who?" he asked. It had to be someone from Kritiker. Nobody else had this number.
“I don’t know who it was. He didn’t give me a name,” the boy replied, his unease becoming even more noticeable to the other assassin. “Only I.. think I might know who it was.”
Aya returned to his task but his whole demeanour had changed and he was now every inch the assassin, his body poised and ready for any sort of action. "Oh?" His tone was totally devoid of emotion but still managed to convey a deadly coldness.
“I think it might have been Crawford,” the boy replied, fretting with the dish towel. “He said we’re in danger from Rosenkreuz and we don’t have much time before they track us down.”
At the mention of Crawford’s name Yohji muttered something that sounded very much like ‘bastard’ before he started snoring again.
"Two questions," Aya said, all business now, "one, how would you know Crawford? And two, how long ago did he phone?" Satisfied that all the glass had been removed from one hand, he picked up the other. "And pour that hot water into a bowl and clean these cuts, please."
“Deductive reasoning. One, anyone in Kritiker would have identified themselves,” he began. “Two, who else would know about Rosenkreuz? Three, he’s a precog, he probably saw the phone number somehow. He called about three minutes before you arrived. He said he’d be in touch but couldn’t wait around while you confessed secrets to Balinese.”
The boy got a glass bowl down out of the cabinet and poured the steaming water into it before bringing it to the table.
Well damn! It certainly sounded like Crawford's style and distorted sense of humour. But why would the Schwarz precog warn them? Last time they'd met they'd tried to kill each other. It made no sense. "Where's Bengal?" he asked.
“Upstairs.”
"Does he know about this?"
Zeshin shook his head negatively, “I wanted to talk to you first. I... wasn’t sure what to do really.”
Aya thought about it while he continued to dig glass out of Yohji's palm. "You probably did the wisest thing but now I think he needs to know. Will you get him while I wake Yohji? Always supposing that I can...."
Yohji lifted his head from the table and looked around blearily. ‘I’m awake... What?’ He sat up almost rubbing his face then stopping when he saw the blood.
The boy turned his head, “Someone just drove up. It sounds like Birman’s car.” He bounded off, moving rapidly, actually hurtling over the couch as if it presented no obstacle at all. “Bengal, come downstairs,” he called to the other boy as he paused by the front door.
Aya sighed but continued to bathe and dress Yohji's hands. "You'll need to take your pants off so I can deal with your legs," he said. He placed a glass of water by Yohji's bandaged hand. "Drink that. It'll help with the dehydration."
Yohji stared at the glass of water as if he’d never seen one before. “I’d rather have coffee. And if Birman is here, my pants stay on.” He smiled slightly, “Unless you want to take this upstairs somewhere private.”
There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs before Kai wandered into the room, yawning and dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms. "What's up?" he asked Zeshin.
“I think Birman is here,” he told the other boy as he unlocked the door and looked out into the night. “And I think we got a call from Crawford.”
"Crawford? Why would he call us?" Kai asked, obviously confused.
Aya bristled a little at the use of the word us but let it go for now.
“It was a warning,” he told the other boy. “He said that those Rosenkreuz people are after... Weiss. But I think he meant Abyssinian and Balinese really.”
"At least roll the damned pants up so I can see to your shins," Aya said to Yohji. "Bengal make Balinese some coffee. It might help him to keep his mind on the present instead of daydreaming!"
Birman was slightly surprised to be greeted at the door by Singapura. She entered the house and headed directly for the kitchen knowing by the sound of Yohji’s voice that would be where the older Weiss were.
Singapura returned at that moment with Birman in tow. She looked somewhat grim and Aya guessed that whatever she had to say was not going to be particularly pleasant hearing. "Roll your goddamn pants up, Yohji!"
“Give me a fucking minute!” Yohji snapped, almost spilling out of the chair when he leaned down to roll up the leg of his trousers.
Birman frowned and looked at Kudoh. “Drunk I take it?” she asked Aya.
Singapura stopped where he was in the door of the kitchen rather than get underfoot.
Aya might have his own, often strongly expressed, views on Yohji's drinking habits but he was not prepared to discuss them with Birman. "He had an accident," he snapped, after shooting her one of his more venomous looks. "I take it this is not a social call."
Kai, having silently placed a mug of coffee where Yohji could reach it, opted to join Singapura by the door. He didn't think Aya was that angry but even so he was scary enough as he was.
Birman frowned. She could smell the bourbon and the only one of the team that drank to excess was Kudoh. Abyssinian is trying to cover for Kudoh. Interesting. “No it’s not a social call. You have a mission.” She turned and glanced pointedly behind her, “All of you.”
Zeshin noted the tone of the woman’s voice, crisp and cool. She was upset with them, or probably with Balinese since it was quite clear the man was pickled.
Yohji picked up the coffee. His hands were starting to hurt. “I’m out,” he muttered.
Birman turned around and stalked closer to the table, “Guess again!” she snapped at him, “You’re in, drunk or crippled by your own stupidity, you are in!”
"No choices anymore then, Birman?" Aya asked mildly enough but his eyes were as cold as a polar winter. "Take the missions or take the consequences, is that it?" He turned his attention back to the glass in Yohji's legs. "What's to stop us saying 'fuck the consequences' anyway?"
“Nothing,” she replied just as coldly. “But what will you do, Abyssinian? Get a job as a salaryman?” She snorted, “And what about Kudoh?”
Jade eyes regarded her from a face blank of anything. “Why ask him about me? I’m sitting right here.”
Kai smothered a small gasp as he realized something. The two older men could see no real reason for continuing. There might be no Weiss anymore.
Zeshin’s amber gaze met Kai’s showing his own growing alarm.
If Kudoh and Fujimiya walked out, the two of them would be Weiss.
Aya sighed, knowing there was nothing else for him out there. The last time he'd tried to walk away he'd ended up as a construction worker. "Let's hear it then," he all but snarled.
Seeing the resignation in the man’s violet eyes Birman nodded in satisfaction. “You’ve come to your senses I see. Good.” She stared frostily at Yohji, “I’m sure he’ll follow your lead so I believe we have that solved.”
Yohji favoured her with a sour expression. “I’m not his dog, Birman.”
“No?” She gave him a slight smile that had nothing pleasant in it.
Having finished with Yohji's legs Aya rose to his feet, shut the first aid kit and tipped away the pink-tinged water before turning to stare bleakly at Birman.
Zeshin was listening to the conversation between the elder Weiss and Persia’s messenger with alarm. They were almost openly hostile. He hadn’t suspected anything like this and it made him uneasy.
She pulled the mission package out of her briefcase. “Persia will tell you about the mission,” she told him, turning to head to their small living room.
Yohji downed his coffee, and refilled the cup, turning a frown on Aya at the mention of ‘Persia’ from the woman. There was no Persia. There was only a computer generated image, and it made him wonder from where-- and from whom-- their missions were coming.
Aya returned the frown, his own thoughts flowing along similar lines. Unless... no. It was impossible. They'd both seen that lump of concrete bury Omi, Ken and...Farfarello. Crawford would know if the one-eyed psycho had survived. Resolving to talk more to Singapura about Crawford's phone call, he followed Birman into the living room.
Gripping Aya’s arm Yohji stopped the man while he was still in the kitchen. Dropping his voice to a bare whisper, Yohji said, “We need a contingency plan.” Before he followed Birman into the living room.
Zeshin had heard him, but the boy kept his mouth closed. The last thing he wanted to do was cross either of the older Weiss, and he was pretty damned sure letting Birman know what Kudoh had said would be regarded in that light.
“I think we’re about to be screwed,” he murmured very softly to Bengal.
"Perhaps," Kai murmured back. "But let's wait and see before we go ape-shit."
Singapura leaned closer to the other boy and whispered, “Trust me, I’m sure about this one.”
Aya merely nodded his agreement to Yohji and leaned against the wall in his usual mission briefing position.
Yohji crumpled into a chair, his coffee cradled in his bandaged hands.
Birman shoved the tape into the player and hit the button to start it. She stepped away from the TV as he initial burst of static resolved itself into the usual darkened office setting. Not the same office though. And the silhouette was totally different than the one they’d expected.
“Weiss, your mission is to bring down another team in the organization we knew as Esset. They were not the heart of the evil, however. We now know that the real danger is the parent organization, Rosenkreuz.”
“Those are the ones...” Zeshin shut his mouth quickly, not wanting Birman to know about Crawford’s call until Aya said it was all right to tell her.
Yohji leaned forward, staring at the TV, the cup of coffee he’d been holding falling out of his hands at the sound of the voice. He knew it.
“What the fuck...” he whispered.
"Omi," Aya breathed but said no more until the tape was finished.
Kai glanced from Yohji to Aya and back again. Something about Persia was bothering both of them and he wondered what it might be.
“There is a team of operatives from Rosenkreuz working at a children’s summer camp in Hokkaido. Your mission is to infiltrate the summer camp and discover who these operatives are, and what their mission is among the children.”
“Singapura and Bengal will pose as children going to the camp, we have arranged a cover for Abyssinian as a camp tutor, while Balinese will be a camp activities guide.”
“Gather as much information as you can on their activities and report back to us when it is safe for you to make contact. Once you have the information Weiss is to end the tomorrows of these dark beasts.”
The tape came to an end and Birman shut if off, standing and facing the four men. “Any questions?”
"Just two," Aya said, outwardly calm, "the first being when do we go to Hokkaido? The second is, of course, why were Yohji and I allowed to mourn Omi for all those months when he was actually alive?"
“You will leave for Hokkaido immediately. Your covers are arranged. Bengal and Singapura will arrive at the camp in four days with the other children, you and Balinese are due there tomorrow.”
Although the deep voice was calm Kai could sense the underlying fury and shrank back into his chair. He glanced up and saw a really forbidding expression on Yohji's face also and sighed. This was unlikely to be pretty.
“As far as your second question goes,” she shrugged, “there is no Tsukiyono Omi. He died at the Ani Museum.”
“If Omi’s dead then who the fuck was that!” Yohji demanded.
“Persia,” she replied as Zeshin whispered, “Takatori Mamoru.”
"And what about Siberian?” Yohji asked her, his voice harsh with barely contained rage, “Did he die there too, like Omi?”
She regarded the angry blond, “Yes, he died exactly like Omi.”
Yohji came up off the chair and stalked toward the woman, “Son of a fucking bitch!” he snarled at her. “They’re both alive!”
"Yohji!" Aya's voice was sharp. "Leave it." He turned his icy glare on Birman. "If that's it, leave the arrangements and get the fuck out of here right now. Unless you'd like to explain why we were led to believe that our team mates were dead. No? Then get out. Now."
Birman glared at the blond, “Listen to him Kudoh,” she told him.
“Fuck!” Yohji did a good imitation of Ken at that moment, slamming his fist into a wall, cracking the plaster before he stormed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The door of his bedroom slamming shook the cheap pictures on the walls.
Zeshin hunched down into the couch looking like he wanted to vanish completely.
Birman tossed the mission packages down on the table, “IDs and tickets are in the packs as are new cell phones that are to be used only on this mission.”
She walked toward the door, pausing, “This is all for the good of Kritiker,” she said by way of explanation. Then she was gone.
Aya picked up a covering report from his pack and started to read. "A team of our operatives, led by Siberian, have gone to Austria to investigate rumours that their headquarters are there. Weiss may be needed to take on a mission in Europe, but until then, your mission is to… "
Aya's eyes narrowed. The good of Kritiker! What about Yohji's good or his? Ken must think them both dead. He was too open and honest to accept such a subterfuge if he believed them to be alive. Omi/Mamoru was another matter entirely. The boy had always been pragmatic, doing what had to be done and then smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened. And he'd thought it was denial. Shit!
A slight movement returned his attention to the room and the two boys who were trying hard to be invisible in the face of his and Yohji's anger. He shook his head, trying to clear it and get back into mission focus.
"Can either of you drive legally?" he asked.
“Hai, Fujimiya-san,” Zeshin replied so softly the older Weiss could barely hear him.
Aya threw Seven's keys at him. "It's parked at Mayaki Park. We won't have time to collect it. Will you make sure it gets to a safe storage garage for him, please?"
Kai raised a tentative hand. "I can take him there. I'm legal too."
Aya nodded. "Good," he said. "I'll see you both on Hokkaido in four days."