Aya had utterly misunderstood what Yohji tried to say to him.  Now that Aya-chan was awake, Aya had no reason to stay with Weiß.  Even Ken knew that.  Omi hadn't mentioned anything of it, merely expressed his enthusiasm that Aya's imouto-san was better and went along his way, the quiet leader of the team.  It was Yohji who confronted Aya about it, cornered him one night after Manx came by with a mission brief.

Yohji wasn't questioning Aya's loyalty at all.  Perhaps after the Taketori debacle Aya's misconception would have been completely correct.  After what the four of them had survived when the tower crumbled to the sea and Sleeping Beauty came out of her slumber, Weiß was something different, something stronger and fiercer and more bloodstained than ever.

Ken could see the spattering blood behind his eyelids when he lay down to sleep at night.

But it was Yohji, the handsome, flirtatious rake with broken-heart eyes, who was willing to do what was best.  He didn't question Aya's loyalty because he doubted the other assassin.  He questioned Aya's loyalty because he wanted the other man to doubt; wanted Aya to understand that he didn't have to stay a killer forever, that he could walk away and live a good life with his sister.

Of course, Yohji was never one to do things straightforward when he wanted to help a friend.  And coming off a tad condescending with, "I'd understand if you didn't want to take this mission - or any subsequent mission, for that matter" hadn't been the best way to do it.

Ken knew that Yohji didn't dare speak aloud what he really meant to say, what they all meant to say, that they wanted Aya to walk away from the darkness and never look back.  Yohji couldn't say it,  not with the next Persia lurking in their ranks and watching, learning how to shuffle humans on the giant chessboard of life.

Aya was furious.  He yelled at Yohji, denigrating him for being lazy and selfish when he only took missions that involved women.  To drive his point home, he yelled at Ken as well, warning the other boy to never doubt Aya's loyalty and never give him reason to doubt Ken's.  Ken had been trying to slink up the stairs to grab his soccer ball and go to the park, but he hadn't moved quickly enough.

The shop was tense for weeks on end afterwards, fury thrumming in the air whenever Aya stepped into the room.

It made sense, then, that Ken made sure to leave the room as soon as possible.

If he spent more and more time out of the shop - well, now that things had more or less settled down Omi was concentrating on school and was gone all the time, and it was a strange night at the Kitten in the House if Yohji was at the shop any longer than he had to be, so no one noticed Ken's absences.

That was how Ken met Saya.  She was kicking around a soccer ball at the park where Ken usually played with the neighborhood children.  She challenged him to a penalty shoot-out and bowed out gracefully when Ken blocked her at every turn.  She was a good shooter, no question, but Ken - Ken had been a professional.

The soccer games progressed to ice cream at a nearby café afterwards, and eventually to any common free hours they both had - Saya was a microbiology student at the local university and had classes all morning.  Ken made it a point to take the morning shift even if it meant working with Aya, and then he and Saya could spend their afternoons together.  Sometimes it was just Ken watching a soccer game on television while Saya did her homework; other times it was playing at the park or roaming a shopping mall and gazing at what they couldn't buy.

Eventually Aya noticed that no one spent any free time in the apartments above the shop.  He didn't bother Omi who was, of course, half killing himself going to school and tutoring sessions and whatever other educational aids the Taketori money could buy for its heir.  Aya didn't talk to Yohji if he didn't have to and it was understood that Yohji was probably out attempting to sleep his way through Tokyo.

Which left Ken as the prime suspect.  Even when Ken took his soccer ball with him every time he left, Aya was suspicious, asking where he was going, when he was coming back.

One day when Ken was headed off to meet Saya for a movie, Aya caught him by the shoulder.

"Don't think I haven't noticed what you're doing," Aya said, voice low and dangerous.

Ken spun the soccer ball casually on his palm.  "It's obvious what I'm doing, I should think."  It was an observation, a comment - not a lie.

Aya glared at the ball as if it were a bomb.  "Don't let yourself get distracted, Ken.  We have a job to do - and it demands absolute loyalty."

Ken had begun hating the word the first time he heard Yohji and Aya shouting at each other over it.

"I'm not the one who's distracted, am I?"  Ken cast a pointed glance at Aya's hand and then pulled free, sweeping out of the shop.

It was some cruel kind of irony, then, that Schwarz would be the first to discover Ken's divided loyalties in regard to his team.

"I didn't buy that last fight at all," Saya said as she and Ken stepped out of the theater and into the sunlight.  Ken curled his fingers shyly with hers.  Even after all these months he was still amazed that she let him touch her.

"Why not?"  Ken replayed the sequence in his mind.  "I grant you, the second shot the villain took - that should have been enough to keep him down.  A man doesn't get up from that so easily - you just sort of lose all sense of control after you've been winded.  Your body's natural desperation to breathe kicks in and overrides your fight controls."

Saya raised an eyebrow.  "Sounds like a certain someone's been scrapping."

"Been scrapping?"  Ken ducked his head and scratched his hair.  "I just got into a lot of fights at the orphanage."  It was the truth; he'd told her about the orphanage, which made it easier not to have to introduce her to parents or friends.  She assumed that the rest of Weiß were merely the neighbors in his building.

Saya ruffled his hair and laughed.  "You're too nice for that, Ken-kun."

Ken closed his eyes and saw a spray of blood.  "Too nice.  Imagine that."

"So the kittens have learned how to play with hearts as well as flowers," a voice said.

Ken spun around and saw Schuldig, that orange-haired monster of a telepath, leaning against the side of the building.  He was flanked by the rest of his team - Crawford in a pristine white suit, Nagi deceptively demure in a school uniform, Farfarello manic and grinning.

Saya's eyes went wide in alarm when she saw the last man, and she pressed herself closer to Ken's side.

He automatically slid into a combat stance, glad that he'd started carrying a knife with him.  He had been caught, alone, by Schwarz.

He was in huge trouble.

It became worse when Schuldig smiled.  He tilted his head and cooed at Saya.

"Who's a pretty little kitten?  Or is she a pretty little bird, caught in the kitten's claws with no way out, unaware until it's too late?"

"Shut up," Ken said, unsettled by the allusion to his weapon.

Schuldig kept on grinning.  "Do the other little kittens know where their litter-mate is, how he spends his time, how he loves what he cannot have?"

"Shut up!" Ken said, more forcefully.

"I wonder what would happen to the little bird if the other kittens found out what their kitten-friend was doing."

They were going to tell Aya.  

They wouldn't, would they?

Oh, but Ken knew they would, if it meant someone would hurt, someone would die, someone would make them laugh.

"You leave her alone," he spat, sounding much braver than he felt.  Judging by the widening of Schuldig's grin, he knew exactly how Ken felt.  "I won't let you touch her."

"Unless you ask us to," Crawford said.

Saya flinched and drew closer.

Ken actually snarled.  "I'd never ask you to."  When it became apparent that the four of Schwarz weren't going to do anything on the crowded street, Ken turned and tugged Saya after him.

He heard Crawford say, though perhaps not to him,

"For your sake, I hope you never do."

It was ironic as well that, in all these months, Saya never once suspected that Ken was anything other than a soccer-loving, cheerful, energetic florist.

Ken hated lying to her, hated knowing that he was a demon destined for hell and that she should never have cast the shade of her angel wings on him.  He knew it was best if she never found out.  It would probably break her heart - one day a mission would go wrong, and Ken would die, and she would never know why.

One day Aya caught Ken and Saya at the park.  They were huddled under their favorite tree, rehashing plays from their favorite World Cup games that week.

Saya sighed and snuggled closer.  "I"m so glad I met you, Ken-kun.  I haven't felt this happy in a long time."

Ken gazed down at her, into those deep dark eyes, and decided to take the plunge.

"I love you," he whispered.

Her entire face lit up, and Ken's heart broke.  He leaned in to kiss away her smile, and she reached up to draw him closer.

"So this is what you do when you go play soccer."

Ken and Saya sprang apart like guilty lovers, which they were in Aya's eyes.

He stood behind them, tall and imposing.  He was unarmed and utterly still, but he was at his most dangerous.

"Fujimiya-san," Ken began, and realization lit in Saya's eyes; she knew Fujimiya-san lived in Ken's building.

"Are you going to do it?" Aya asked, his eyes terribly cold and slicing straight for Ken's soul.  "Are you going to walk away and leave it all behind for her?"

Saya's dawning understanding turned to confusion.

Ken leapt to his feet.  "Iie, you don't understand.  I love Saya-chan, but I - I'm still part of the team."  He lowered his voice and caught that terrible gaze; held it.  "I'm loyal."

"No you're not," Aya hissed, and his eyes shot sparks.  "Your loyalty is divided as soon as you give your heart to someone else."

"As opposed to never giving my heart at all?" Ken shot back.

Aya's eyes went wide, and Ken knew he'd gone too far, shot below the belt.  Aya-chan had been verboten since the fight with Yohji.

Aya jabbed a finger in Ken's chest.  "I'm watching you, Siberian.  And I'm warning you - you'd better not give me a reason to doubt you.  I don't work with people I doubt."

Ken decided that if he was going to go for a hit, he might as well go all out.  "Who was the one who ran away when Taketori was trying to kill us?"

Aya didn't even flinch.  "It's us or her, Ken.  I hope you know that."

And he walked away.

Saya, who hadn't heard all of it, caught Ken's wrist.  "Daijoubu?"

Ken watched Aya walk away.  "Aa."

Another night, another mission.

Omi become a better leader with each job.

"It should be fairly simple.  There are guards stationed at every other window on every floor, alternating windows with each floor, so theoretically each window is covered."  He spread a blueprint out on one of the arranging tables in the back of the shop; the other three clustered around him to listen.

"There are also guards at each stairwell, but only one at the top and the bottom - not each level."  Omi circled a room with his pencil.  "The target should be here.  Secondary targets should be scattered throughout here and here.  Total target count is seven - the target, his two brothers, his uncle, his wife, her sister, and one agent from the corporation who's handling the transfer.  We must eliminate all the brothers; the others are optional."

Others were optional only if they weren't witnesses.  Judging by the target configuration, that situation wasn't likely.

"I read in the file that the target has a daughter," Yohji said.  He only liked missions where women were saved, not killed.

"She's away at university - she's not a factor," Omi said.  "I checked - she has a big final tomorrow and will probably have to study."

Ken digested that piece of information and wondered what Omi knew about people, and if people in general ought to be scared.

"Hn," Aya said.

"We leave in ten minutes," Omi said, and rolled up the blueprints.

Aya turned and headed up the stairs to change.

"Things with him are still pretty tense," Ken observed.  He sighed and scratched his head.  "It's been months now - hasn't he forgiven you?"  He looked at Yohji.  Omi cast both of them a glance that was too knowing and retreated to his room to prepare.

Yohji sighed and tossed his head to get the hair out of his eyes.  "He was an assassin for two whole years because Taketori put his sister into a coma.  Anything that's even remotely connected to his sister - I guess he takes it to heart."  He sighed and started to climb the stairs.  "That's Aya for you."

"That's Aya," Ken agreed.  Then he headed up the stairs to grab his mission uniform and weapons.

Ken made it a point to count off his kills in his head as he went, matching them against Omi's projected numbers.  It helped him keep track of the plan and helped him offer feedback to Omi at the end of the night.  Omi was always looking for ways to improve.

Another guard went down in a crush of bones, lungs, and blood, and Ken was on his way to check the last room.  Even though Aya and Yohji probably had the main targets, Ken still had a job to check for any that might be stray.  Targets weren't considerate of assassins who'd made careful plans and were more than happy to foil an assassination or two by suddenly wanting a glass of water from the kitchen.  That happened on a mission once, and Omi made sure it would never happen again.

It had been a smooth, swift strike.  Technology was amazing these days.  Aya cut the phone line and Omi scrambled the cellular phone lines, and then they moved in.  Yohji had struck a little preemptively and alerted the guards to his presence, but they hadn't been ready for the fact that there were four killers instead of just one.

Now the targets were bolted down in their hidey-hole and Ken had to make sure they weren't hiding anywhere else.

Another guard made eight.  Omi was spot-on tonight.

Ken eased the last door open soundlessly and peered in, careful to give himself room to recoil if an enemy came charging.

"Otousan?" a girl's voice asked.

The word died midway through when blue eyes met brown.

Saya, huddled on the floor beside a desk, sat up.  "Ken-kun?" she asked.  "What are you doing here?"

He stared at her, and his world tilted on its axis.

No.  This was impossible.  No.

Omi had said the daughter would be gone, that she had a test tomorrow.

He remembered Saya telling him: "I have a huge test tomorrow.  I could really use some of my mom's mochi right now."

"Get in here!" Saya hissed.  "Close the door!  Otousan told me to hide here, that there were strangers in the house, killing people..."

Her voice trailed off when she noticed the dark liquid splashed across Ken's shirt like a bad Jackson Pollock painting.  

"Ken-kun?" she whispered.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, letting her see him for what he really was.  His skin shone with a sheen of sweat from exertion; it was hard punching knives into men's torsos and smashing their ribs into their lungs so they drowned in their own blood.  He was covered with the blood and gore of his previous victims.

He looked like death incarnate.

Tears began to slide down Saya's face.

Ken crossed the room, and she didn't flinch back, didn't scream, just stared up at him and cried.

"Ken?"

"Your father's dead.  I'm sorry."  He knelt and pulled her into a hug.  She let him, resting her head against his chest, uncaring of the blood that marred her skin, and listened to his heart beat, just like she did when they were alone together in the sunlight.

Static crackled over Ken's comm mic before it resolved itself into Aya's voice.

"Siberian, sit rep."

Ken closed his eyes and held Saya tighter.  "Bombay's calculations were off.  I've located the target's daughter."

Saya lifted her head slightly, gazing up at him with eyes at once questioning and knowing.

Again with Aya's voice in Ken's ear, in his soul, damning him.

"Eliminate her."

Saya smiled at him faintly, reached up and caressed his blood-smeared cheek.  "Ken."

Ken smiled back.  "Abyssinian.  I will."

He leaned in and kissed her.

Aya crouched over the target's lifeless body, wiping his katana clean on the man's shirt.

"Eliminate her," he said.

There was a crackle of static, and Aya heard a girl's voice say, "Ken."

Aya knew that voice. 

Ken said, "Abyssinian.  I will."

Another crackle of static, then a sharply indrawn breath, and then a gurgle, like someone was choking on her own blood.

Ken said, "Rendezvous in three."

Three minutes later, Aya met Ken behind the house.  Ken was pulling on his helmet and revving up his motorcycle.

"Ken," Aya said.

Ken turned to Aya and said, "Can't doubt my loyalty now, can you?"

Three minutes earlier, Ken had held his dying girlfriend and wondered if the fates thought he deserved anything more, thought he could take anything else in his short, pathetic life.

Apparently, they could.

The door swung open, and all four members of Schwarz stood in the doorway.

Ken scooped up the gun he'd taken from a fallen guard and aimed it at the telepath.

"Fancy seeing you here," Schuldig drawled.

"Get out," Ken said.

Farfarello lunged.

Ken shot him.

"He can heal her," Crawford said.

Farfarello drew up short and considered Saya's limp form.  Her eyes were closed, but she was still struggling to breathe.

"I don't believe you," Ken said.

Nagi lifted his chin at Farfarello.  "You didn't think he got all those scars and is alive because he's lucky, do you?"

As if to prove his point, Farfarello jabbed the bullet graze on his arm and offered a slow, demonic grin when the flesh knit together and the wound closed.  

"You can help her live?" Ken asked.

"She'll die without us."  Crawford slid his glasses higher on his nose.

Ken said, "What do I have to give you in return?"

It was Schuldig who swaggered forward, a grin on his face.  "What will you offer?"

"Anything."  It was said without hesitation or inflection.

Schuldig leaned down and dragged a fingertip suggestively down the side of Ken's throat.  "Anything?"

"Yes."

"I was wrong about you kittens - you are the most interesting one."  Schuldig drew back.  "Farf - do it."

And then Farf was beside her, prodding her wounds with cruel fingers, making her moan, but then her breathing was easier and she was no longer bleeding.  She passed out.

Ken dragged her close and held her tightly.  He knew he would never hold her again.

"Now...there's the matter of payment," Schuldig said, and tapped his chin thoughtfully.  "Of course, you have all of forty-five seconds to be back at your rendezvous point to meet the rest of the kittens."

"What do you want?"

"I'd admire your boldness if it weren't so utterly stupid," Schuldig said.  He reached out and wrenched Ken's head back by the hair.

Ken hissed and writhed, and then his mind was filled with blinding white light.  A moment later it was over and Schuldig was walking away, his razor-sharp laughter ringing in the air.

"What did you do?" Ken demanded.

"Took a memory."

"Which one?"

"It's not as if you'll miss it."  Schuldig flashed that smile over his shoulder, and Schwarz was gone.

Once Omi and Yohji arrived, Ken hopped onto his bike and roared out of the driveway.  He made it back to the shop before the others, and he locked himself in his room for the three days that followed.

When he emerged on the third day, he wandered down to the flower shop to take his shift.

"Ken-kun!"  Omi nearly dropped a flower pot.

Ken tied on his apron and clocked in behind the cash register.

"Ohayo, Omittchi."  Then he frowned.  "Why aren't you at school?"

"Ken-kun, it's Saturday." 

Ken glanced at his watch, then at the clock on the wall, then at the calendar beside the clock. 

"Hontou ni?"  He scratched his head, looking puzzled.  "Wow.  I must have slept --"

"For three days," Aya said.

Ken blinked.  "Nani?  I wasn't that sick, I don't think."  He coughed slightly, and the others noticed that he did look worn around the edges, the way he did when he came down with his monster cold.  Ken was the toughest of them all and never got sick, except for once a year, every year, when he was laid out with a cold for nearly a week.  He hadn't been sick the night of the mission, though, and Aya twitched every time Ken had been mentioned since then.

He shrugged and pasted on his usual smile.  "Well, at least I'm better now."  He headed over to where Yohji had a stack of orders at the arranging table.  "What do you need help with?"

Aya caught his elbow and tugged him around to a stop.  "Was it her?"

Ken jerked free.  "What?"  His brow furrowed in confusion.  "Her who?"

Aya caught Ken by the collar this time and dragged him close so they were almost nose to nose.  "Was it her the night of the mission?"

Ken attempted to squirm free.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

Aya searched Ken's blue-green eyes and didn't see a thing, not a single shred of pain, of the agony Ken should have had etched onto his soul for killing the woman he loved.  The eyes before him were just Ken's eyes, blue-green and wide, deep with shadows but no more shadows than killers had.  Whoever that girl had been, she wasn't there, not in Ken's heart and not in Ken's soul.

Not anymore.

"Aya," Omi said in a low, warning voice.

Aya glanced over his shoulder and noticed that some of the usual crowd of schoolgirls had gathered in the front of the shop and were watching him and Ken with oddly bright, expectant eyes.  Aya had the feeling they were the not-so-secret yaoi fangirls.  He let Ken go and turned to head to the back of the shop.  

Ken watched him go and wondered what his teammate was talking about.  Then he reached out and snagged the top order on the pile and perused its parameters.  Yohji needed all the help he could get with the ikebana.