Chapter Eighteen:

 

#Millia:

 

I opened my aching eyes slowly. The light was too bright and the bed was making my sides hurt. My sides. I touched my side and the injured ribs didn’t hurt anymore. At least not like somebody was sawing them every time I breathed.

 

Sol.

 

What happened? Did I cry? I don’t remember anything other than his fingers in my hair and then… nothing. Not even a dream about mother.

Something definitely was wrong if I hadn’t dreamt of mother…

 

I sat up and limped over towards the door. The room only had the double-bed which I was on moments ago and a box, a few light bulbs and screws were tossed in the corner. “Sol?” I walked out and studied the living room, the part with the couches, TV set and Sol’s Sword were nice and organized, but the boxes, ugh…   

“About time.” He growled and walked out from what seemed to be the kitchen.

“What time is it?” why do I have the feeling that something important happened that I can’t remember?

“Noon.” He puffed smoke from his cigarette and sat on the sugar-brown couch, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Sit.”

I blinked twice before slowly making my way to sit on the couch next to him. “What is it?” God I need coffee…

 

“Your hair.” He said quietly, not looking at me, “Hack it off.”

I frowned, “Why?” Not you too, Sol.

He brushed his hair away from his face and I saw a nasty cut on his tan cheek, “Just because.”

Something churned inside me, but I had to clomp down on it, it made me feel like gagging. “Your face.”

“I’m fine, just get your damn hair away from me.”

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, I didn’t know, when did this all happen?

He clicked another button on the remote, probably deciding that the conversation was over.

 

Oh it was far from over.

 

“I can’t cut it off.” I voiced quietly, he didn’t seem interested but it was probably something he’d want to know. “It’s part of me.”

He made a snort and stubbed his cigarette.

“It keeps the nightmares away.” I whispered. “It helps me forget.” Forget all the bad things I’ve done, in twenty years of adulthood I’ve killed more people than lost hair.

After a long silent pause, he turned slightly to me, the cut on his face giving him a dark aura. “So?”

“So I can’t just cut it off, I’d die.” The memories would kill me, especially daddy’s.

He watched me for what seemed forever, I suddenly wished he’d just take that intense look away and look at me with boredom and indifference again. “Coffee?” he offered me his coffee in the mug that I seemed to favor.

I accepted it without hesitation and swallowed down a few gulps, it was only seconds later that my throat screamed at the scalding heat and the bitter taste of tobacco.

 

I watched the screen for a long moment, before I realized that we were looking at an aquarium with two fish. A classical song played in the background, it suddenly made me want to throw the mug at the TV. My life was so screwed up I just wanted to kill someone.

 

Preferably the someone that is sitting next to me.

 

“How long will we be staying together?” I asked quietly, holding the mug closely.

He sighed loudly and turned the TV off. “Look, Rage, I’m not keeping you in or anything. Whenever you want to leave, leave. You want to stay, stay. Doesn’t make a damn difference to me.”

What was he saying? “Meaning?” play the fool, Millia, how does he feel about you right about now?

He lit a cigarette and tipped the ash in my coffee, without as much as a blink. “If you can live for a week with me, I’d be impressed.”

A dare? “Week?”

He gave me a ‘Are you serious? I was joking!’ look.

 

The phone rang.

 

He reached to it quietly. When did he connect it? I could only hear his side of the conversation.

 

“What do you want?” pause. “Listen asshole if you’re doing pranks then just pull your head out of your ass and speak already.” I swallowed. “Who? No they don’t live here anymore.” I was about to ask who it was but he cursed a blue streak and hung up, still cursing things even I couldn’t understand.

“Who?” poor people, whoever they were.

“Wrong damn number.” He took the mug from me and took a huge gulp of coffee before setting it violently on the coffee table, it sloshed all around. I opened my mouth to speak but he sat up and grabbed his sword. “I’m off to grab some bounty, you’d better stay alive till then.”

“I hope so, too.” I said quietly and watched him leave. Already forgetting what I was going to say.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

#Sol:

 

That Mito is so hard to please sometimes. What the hell was he thinking, calling me at a time like this. I rounded the corner and barely kept from hitting the man in front of me. “What now?”

“Ah! Sol kun!” the Japanese man spoke while turning around to greet me. I hate the way he speaks, its too polite for my taste. “I was wondering why you hung up on me!”

“I had company.” I grumbled and exhaled some smoke. Thank you oh-damn much for saving my ass from that evil woman. She wanted to talk!      

“Oh, about company, Sol kun, I need to tell you something important!” the Japanese fixed his glasses and waved Zessen in his hand. “Uh, is it safe to speak here?”

I groaned, “Is it safe for you to be walking around?” on second thought. “Not that I care.”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’ve been followed by a nice French police man, but he seemed to have stopped for tea, I suppose. So I’m waiting for the chase to continue.” He smiled. “Thanks for Kuradoberry san for the help, she seems to have branches of her restaurants everywhere it just keeps-”

“What do you want?” I rubbed my forehead.

“Oh, Semimasen. I wanted to talk about your company.” He grinned. “I heard she was female, Sol kun, and that you two are secretly married!” he whispered behind the fan.

I blinked in indifference. I’d kill that bastard with the horse teeth, just let me put my hands on him. “No.”

His tight Japanese eyes carried disappointment. “Oh, then sorry, my mistake.”

“Just.” I breathed to keep from splitting his instinct skull with my Fuuenken. “What the hell you want?”

“Well, to put it bluntly, Sol kun, Chippu san seems to be searching for an assassin. He had tracked down one, and it seems that you and that certain assassin are together, somehow.” He brushed back his hair. “Tell me, Sol kun, is it true, so that I wont keep on rambling? Because I see that French cop heading this way.”

“I’ll be careful.” I stubbed my cigarette. “Just get your instinct ass away from here already.” He bowed and turned to leave. “Hey Mito.”

“Hai?” he turned around.

“What does ‘Ojisan’ Means?” I scratched my head, the recorded .mem movie just wouldn’t stop writhing under the pressure of so many Japanese expressions.

He smiled. “It means ‘Uncle’. Or maybe just a polite way to address those who are older than you.” He grinned and jogged away, his traditional shoes making unmistakable clicks on the pavement.

 

“Hey, Sol.” A wave of green tea-scented air washed over my nose before the French boy stood before me. “What are you doing here?”

I sighed. “Selling drugs.”

He shook his head. “It was nice seeing you anyway, did you see a Japanese man just run by here?” he panted. Something told me to inform him that heels are not good for the back, but decided that I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

“Japanese guy?” I leaned on the wall. He nodded. “Blue baggy pants and glasses?”

His eyes shone in hope. “Yes yes! Where did he go?”

“Haven’t seen him.” I lit a cigarette and barely kept from exploding in laughs. He is so much fun to poke at.  

His face fell. “Please, Sol. I need to speak with him!”

“Go ahead.” I shrugged a shoulder.

He turned and walked away, fuming. “I’d better find somesing on you nexzt time, Sol. I swear it wont be the last of me!” he turned to frown at me. “Just to let you know, he iz the last person to have seen ‘That Man’.”

I glared.

“So please.” He watched me from afar.

“Not my problem.” I’ll be damned if I let you trace that man, let alone find him. He’s mine and mine alone, you hear me, Boy Scout? I watched the boy run off and turned to climb the stairs.

Was Mito that afraid that I’d knock his teeth in that hard? He knows I’m looking for ‘That Bastard’. Why not tell me? I sighed and pulled out my keys.

 

Damn. I need a place of my own. I can’t keep going back to Rage every day.

 

Everyday? What the hell’s gotten into me? She was only back yesterday.

 

I opened the door and was suddenly attacked by blonde, needle-hard hair. The first thing I was aware of was the pain in my wrist before automatically thrusting Fuuenken in that direction. I caught a glimpse of her eyes and sent a fist instead, it hit her square in the face. She spat blood and held her hair that still wanted to attack me.  

 

“You hit me!” her lips were split where my knuckles met her chin.

“You hit first.” I growled, trying to ignore the wild animal that scratched inside my chest. “What’s the big idea?”

“I heard some noise, then there was a gun shot and I figured they were trying to get in here!”

“You dream.” I scoffed and walked towards the kitchen. “There was no gunshot.”

“There was.” She argued and followed me, tension in the air was thick. “I’m sorry.”

I whirled around. “Don’t apologize. No one cares.” I glared down at her and saw a strange shadow pass before her eyes.

 

Something searing hot burned on my cheek, right where her hair that attacked me yesterday. I flinched away and saw that it was her hand.

 

The wench touched me.

 

“Listen, woman. You don’t touch me.” I growled in her face, anger.exe turned the thermal vision on. Her cheeks were two red blobs. She was blushing? “You don’t reach out for me. You just live with me or I break you limb by limb.” I cornered her into a wall without touching her.  

Her brows joined. “Why?”

Because it makes me want to touch and it has been almost forever since I’ve been touched by anyone. “Because I say so.” The beating red thing in her chest paced quicker.

“Fine.” She hugged the blue lines that were her cold hair, and then the thermal screening melted back into the normal vision.

 

I stormed into the kitchen and poured coffee into my mug. I seemed to have lost my cigarette in the commotion back there so I lit another one, my hands were shaking. My wrist was still bleeding.

Damn. My programs are all jumbled up, I need to restart.

 

There was a knock on the door and I groaned.

Rage called me so I walked out of the kitchen to see a uniformed woman and a man in a brown trench coat. Damn police, damn investigators. What do they want now?

 

“Sol Badguy?” the woman questioned and made herself comfortable on my couch. She made sure I saw the Magnum gun on her hip.

“What?”

The man in the trench coat turned to look at me -he looked about fifty years old. Hmph, kids. “Can we ask you a few questions, Sol?”

“Call me sir.” I leaned on the wall and saw the way Rage was wringing her hands in her lap. “Hey, come’ere.”

She sat up and limped towards me, barely keeping from falling as she whispered. “What do they want?”

I looked up, completely guarded. “Make us some tea.” I nudged her towards the kitchen and sauntered over to the couch. “What?”

“Well, to make a long story short,” the woman spoke, looking straight into my eyes. “Kuradoberry Jam’s restaurant has been burnet down purposely. And we have been tracking you down for a while now, so tell me, why were you traveling?”

“Sight seeing.” I grumbled. Rage had better take her time in doing that tea, just one look at her and they’d tell she’s an assassin, not to mention her face is on every Bounty channel and magazine. Damn.

 

The old man snorted. “Nice place, just moved in?” he pointed to my Fuuenken.

“Yeah. What do you want already, I’m busy.” I scratched my scalp.

The old man turned to me and smirked. “Scared?”

“Why?”

“Because you are being framed?”

“No.”

“Hmph.” He laughed. “Where were you at the time?”

“When?”

He frowned. “At the time the restaurant was burnet down to the ground?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“You’ve been the last to leave the restaurant, Badguy. So tell me, What did you do after leaving?” Hm, smartass-wanna-be.

“I’ve never been to the restaurant.” I crossed my legs.

The man brushed back gray hair and seated himself. “Listen, kid, we are only doing our job, please just tell us its you, we’ve been running around the country for too long.”

I chewed on the filter of my cigarette and pushed my headband off my heating forehead. “Aint my problem grandpa.”

The woman cleared her throat. “Please, Sol Badguy, we have received information that you have a flame sword. May we see it?”

I corked a brow. “Are you that immature, you think there is such a thing?” I sat up. “I think you ought to be interrogating the right person instead of prancing around with those legs wanting to see swords throwing flames, missy.” I stubbed the cig.

 

The man stood up. “You haven’t answered any of the questions, we’ll be back.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass to who or why it burnt.” I opened the door. “You should ask Krudberry herself, for all I know she could have done it herself.”

“Well.” The police woman never moved from her seat. “I would like some tea now.”

 

We both looked at her.

 

“I would also like to speak to your wife, if I may.” She looked up at me.

Damn.

“Who are you?” I frowned.

She smiled. “Well, too bad.” She sat up and stretched, “Say Hi to her anyway.” She walked out behind the sulking man and right as she passed next to me she whispered. “Millia sure knows how to pick winners.”

 

The door couldn’t slam quick enough.

 

End of chapter eighteen.