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Dragon\'s Dance	By : Aireroswen Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 1413 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Dragon's Dance
- 2-Part Two
- 1
- 2
Author’s
Note: This story has no relevance to my other WK project Vindication. This story takes place anytime in the middle of
the first series, and there are no major spoilers. All reviews, comments, constructive
criticism are greatly appreciated. Please let me know what you think.

Warnings:
This story is rated hard R for heavy violence, language, yaoi and NC. The
pairings are Yohji/Aya and Other/Aya. You were warned.

Enjoy!

Dragon’s
Dance

Part One

The shop
had closed thirty minutes ago and Aya was still sorting through the week’s
orders on the computer, when a shadow loomed
over the desktop. Without looking away from the screen, he instantly knew who
it was and made an effort to ignore the blonde. Yohji was like a cumbersome
mosquito that continued to buzz around Aya’s ear, and each time he tried to
swat at the damn thing it kept coming back.
Yohji knew no boundaries; no sense of what his limit was when Aya’s privacy and
space were concerned. The situation only provoked Aya further, with the
temptation to gut Yohji with the pencil that dangled from his mouth.

“You’re
still pissed?”

Aya
frowned, but didn’t say a word. Of course he was still angry. When was there a
day that he wasn’t with Yohji? Never.

It had
started during the mission the night before, an easy task of getting
information tracing the private bank accounts and on-goings of Ritsuo Narushi.
He was a worldwide known pharmaceutical CEO alleged to have ties with the
Yakuza that operated in underground prostitution and illegal weapon
trafficking. The man was also a good friend of Reiji Takatori. That gave enough
incentive to suspect him of crimes. Kritiker had ordered that no one was to be
killed. That was the plan at least, until Yohji decided to play the part of
hero when one had not been needed - or wanted. The intel had underestimated the
amount of guards in the building and Aya had been unexpectedly ambushed while
he was taking photographic evidence in Narushi’s office.

Aya had had
little trouble holding his own against the guards, but Yohji had heard the
commotion over the com-link. Thinking the worst, he had abandoned his post of
watching over Omi as the younger Weiss hacked into the main server’s hard drive.
Bad judgment on Yohji’s part entirely and had cost not only Omi’s safety, but
Aya’s as well. Both of them escape with little injury, but many of Narushi’s
guards were not so fortunate. Aya had sworn to
hell and back that Yohji would pay for compromising the mission. Omi had been
kind enough to leave out that little detail in
the report to Kritiker. Aya was partially thankful for Omi’s ability to forgive
so easily. If that weren’t the case, Kritiker would have Yohji transferred. To where? No one knew. But Weiss couldn’t afford to lose
Yohji - even if he was a pain in the ass most of
the time.

“Come on,
Aya,” Yohji implored suddenly.

It snapped
Aya out of his thoughts and he blinked hard before he resumed typing. The older
man sounded like a whining child and it caused Aya to see red. A migraine was coming.
Just fucking great.

“I don’t
know how many times I have to apologize-“

“Don’t,”
Aya warned coldly as he removed the pencil from his lips. “You’ve said enough
already. Leave.”

“Aya-“

“I’m
working, Yohji. Leave now.”

When the
shadow finally and reluctantly disappeared, Aya leaned forward and removed his
glasses, massaging his temples with a good amount of force. It helped to
alleviate some of the pressure building up, but it didn’t get rid of the headache
completely. There was an overwhelming urge to slam Yohji against a wall and
pour out all of his rage into the blonde’s face. Screaming or hitting - he
wasn’t picky. Perhaps it could have relieved some of the stress, but he was
certain it wouldn’t have solved a damn thing.

The redhead
heaved a sigh and tried to focus his attention on the computer screen. It
didn’t work. The pain in his arm flared anew and it itched like mad. He
absentmindedly scratched at the bandage on his forearm as
he remembered receiving the wound the night before, something that could have
been easily avoided if not for Yohji’s overzealous need to protect. Aya
definitely didn’t need the protection. Even if he had, he hardly desired
Yohji’s.

“Aya-kun?”

Omi stood
in front of the desk, staring at him in puzzlement. The look on the chibi’s
face indicated that Aya had spaced out in his own wanderings again.

Rubbing his
eyes for the second time in the last ten minutes, Aya asked, “What is it?”

“Manx is
here.”

That was
all the youngest had to say for the gears in Aya’s brain to react negatively.
He quickly finished the last order on the computer and shut it down. Following
Omi to the mission room, Aya couldn’t help but question Manx’s presence this
early in the week. They had just completed a mission the night before. She
usually waited until the day after or even the next before offering the members
a new assignment. Unless there had been suspicions about Omi’s report. Aya
hoped this wasn’t the case as he pulled the
sleeve of his sweater further down his arm, concealing the bandage. Damn Yohji.

Aya didn’t
have time for another coherent thought. One minute he was on his way through
the doorway of the basement and the next - forcefully shoved into the storage
closet. Yohji pushed him further back until his back collided with the brooms
and moping pans, almost knocking him down along with the cleaning supplies.
Then everything was drowned in pitch black. Aya struggled to steady himself,
but he was suddenly bent over backwards against a shelf as Yohji pressed his
body over his. If it hadn’t been for Yohji’s hands grasping Aya’s upper arms,
he would have toppled to the floor in an ungraceful heap. There would have been
no stopping Aya for killing Yohji after that. The blonde was already treading
on dangerous ground for this little stunt, whatever it was.

“Yohji-”

Yohji’s
lips pressed hard against Aya’s, silencing him quickly. He struggled to regain
control over the blonde, but all logical sense of fighting back or even simple
thoughts fled Aya’s mind when Yohji dominated him with his tongue. It flirted
as it stroked, exploring deep, and Aya had a vision of turning into a
non-existent glob on the floor. There were certain things that pushed the right
buttons, hitting the spot that sent him into a lust-filled frenzy, and Yohji’s
tongue was one of them - wherever it chose to
roam.

Somewhere
in the back of Aya’s mind there was a part of him that wanted to give in and let Yohji have his way with him in the closet; but
there was the other side of Aya’s psyche that screamed at him. Pounded against the walls with heavy fists - telling him to stop and maim the bastard for even
conceiving of such an idea.

The latter
won.

Aya kneed
Yohji in the groin without a second thought of remorse. The blonde stumbled
back with a high-pitched yelp, grasping his groin as an agonizing grimace
marred his face. It was what he truly deserved Aya
told himself, as he brushed past the older man and out of the closet, shoving
Yohji against a shelf full of supplies just for spite. Everything clattered and
crashed noisily to the floor amidst Yohji’s strangled cry and Aya walked away
from the scene without a glance back.

Omi and Ken
were standing in the doorway of the basement, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, their
mouths gaping. Aya struggled to keep the heat from rising to his cheeks as he
walked between them, and he cursed Yohji to hell twenty times before he reached
the basement level. There was plenty more where that came from, and he was
looking forward to beating the blonde senseless once Manx left. Or better yet,
refusing any interaction for the next two weeks. That tactic always seemed to
send Yohji into a frenzied state.

Speaking of
which, Manx was waiting patiently, leaning against the television stand with a
suspicious gleam in her eyes. There was no doubt she had heard the commotion
upstairs. Aya steeled his anxious thoughts and avoided eye contact with the
other redhead as he took his position by the winding stairwell, crossing his
arms and propping one leg up against the wall. Of course, no one knew of Yohji
and Aya’s relationship besides Ken and Omi. If a relationship was what they
could call it, more of a mutual existence where there was an occasional fuck
mixed in between. However, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Manx knew
something. She wasn’t an idiot, but Aya was still hoping that the
relationship could remain low-key for as long as possible. It was bad enough
that Ken and Omi had discovered their little secret, catching the two in
Yohji’s Seven.

It wasn’t
long before the younger members descended the stairs, and Aya watched them
under a veil of thick bangs. They eyed him closely, and the mirth in Ken’s
expression caused Aya to clench his jaw painfully tight. But the source of his
true anger finally emerged from the upper level of the apartment, taking each
step down the stairs very slowly and very painfully. The blonde was desperate
to hide his discomfort, but Aya noticed the way he slightly wobbled and his
hands itching to grasp his balls to cradle them as he stepped off the last
stair. Aya felt no pity for him. He deserved more than just an ache in his
groin.

“Are we
ready?” Manx said with a small smirk. She was staring at Yohji most of all.
When she received a sharp nod from the blonde, she began.

A manila
folder was handed to each member before Manx spoke again. Aya opened his to see
a candid photo of Narushi stepping out of a limo. So this was it, Aya realized.
They were finally ordered to eliminate the CEO.

“I’m sure
you recognize the target,” Manx said cordially as she stood in front of the
large projection television, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement
caused her breasts to grow fuller and reveal more cleavage than was necessary.
Ken was staring intently until he noticed the scowl Aya threw his way.

“From the
intel you gathered on your last mission, there’s enough evidence that leads to
Narushi’s crimes. He’s scheduled for a meeting with a client in Kyoto at the
Shogoin-Gotenso inn. We are not certain what the meeting is about or who the
person is. Persia
wants Abyssinian and Balinese to arrive at the inn before Narushi or his
business associate, put up surveillance and find out what the meeting is about.
After that information is gathered, eliminate Narushi. You two-“ she pointed at
Omi and Ken, “will remain in Tokyo
to gather the last of the information on the Yakuza leader Narushi is recently
working with. Siberian, Bombay,
no casualties please. Abyssinian and Balinese, kill Narushi and no one else.
Unless you run into a problem, then you are free to take care of it.”

She stared
at each of the boys closely.

“Do you
accept the mission?”

“Yes,” Aya
answered quickly for himself and the rest of the team.

Manx
crossed her arms and tilted her head, gazing at Aya through her thick lashes.
“Can I have a word with you in private, Abyssinian?”

Aya
revealed no reluctance to the request and curtly nodded, although his heart was
heavily pounding in his chest. He followed Manx to the rooftop of the building
and instantly squinted his eyes against the heavy winds. With swift hands he
brushed his hair aside only for it to slap him
in the face again, but he finally held the disheveled strands in place. Manx was standing close to the ledge of the
roof, hands on her hips and she didn’t seem the least bit worried about her
hair flying in all directions around her head.

“How’s your
arm?”

Blinking
hard, Aya was caught by surprise. She knew about the minor injury. He stared at
the sleeve of his sweater and he frowned. Damn that bastard. If she knew about
the injury, then she would know about the botched mission.

“Whatever
you two are going through, please make amends before you leave tonight,” Manx
said casually leaning against the ledge. Her
tone noted otherwise. “I’m sure if Persia found out about this, he
would disapprove. But I’ll keep it a secret for as long as I can.”

“What
happened last night won’t happen again,” Aya promised, narrowing his eyes.
“Yohji knows his place.”

“And what
about you?”

Aya stared
at the other redhead closely. “What do you mean?”

She only
smiled and winked. It irritated Aya to no end when she did that and he knew he
would never get the answer out of her easily. She knew just the right buttons
to push without an outward admission to her intentions, and all Aya was left
with was puzzlement and frustration - each and every time.

The
all-knowing smile remained as she lightly pushed off the ledge and walked
toward the roof’s entrance door. “I’ll expect an immaculate report when you get back, Abyssinian!”

Aya just
stared as she walked away.

----

The kitchen
area wasn’t empty, as Aya had hoped when he ventured down there for a cup of
tea. Water was boiling on the stove nearby and he found
Yohji sitting at the round table, popping a few painkillers into his mouth
before flushing them down with a beer. Not very practical, Aya thought with
disdain. He almost turned around to avoid any contact with Yohji, but Manx was
right, they had to make amends before leaving in the next hour. Like hell if he
was going to be the one to apologize first. Besides what did he have to
apologize for? It wasn’t like he had screwed up a simple mission. Nor had he
forced himself upon Yohji inside a storage closet of all places!

Yohji
didn’t say a word, however. He just idly sipped his beer and stared off into
space. Something had caught the blonde’s interest on the far wall, just past
where Aya was standing in the doorway. Aya wanted to slap him for being so
rude, but he opted to be civil instead and sat
down across from the blonde. Leaning back with his arms crossed and one leg
over the other, he glared at Yohji, silently prodding him to say something.

The blonde
did the opposite and suddenly stood up and rummaged through the kitchen drawers
for a lighter, slamming them back into place when he was unsuccessful in his
search. He was always so rough, so quick to move and think without thought of
consequence. That was usually what got the playboy in so much trouble,
especially with Aya.

Tension was
evident in his back muscles through the tight black tee he wore, but Aya
assumed it was mostly due to the pain between his legs. The thought alone
almost brought a devious smirk to his lips, but he quickly hid it under a
nonchalant gaze as Yohji turned back around. The blonde pressed his hip against
the edge of the counter and lit up a new cigarette. Over the gray cloud of
smoke and unruly strands of sun-kissed hair, he eyed Aya warily.

“Why are we
going after Narushi so early?”

Aya
straightened, and placing all past grudges aside, he answered, “Whatever
Narushi is meeting about is important to Kritiker. I feel it’s too early as well, but we have to trust that Persia knows
what he is doing.”

Yohji
didn’t seem pleased. He puffed on his cigarette and grumbled audibly. “I have a
bad feeling about this mission.”

“If you
don’t screw up like last night, there shouldn’t be a problem,” Aya said,
relaxing in the chair and closing his lids at half-mast. He couldn’t help it;
he had to bring it up. It wasn’t as though he prided entirely in the satisfaction
of causing Yohji so much distress, he just wanted to get his point across of
how much he disapproved of the idiotic stunt.

The dulled
expression on the blonde’s face turned bitter and he snapped his cigarette in
the sink with disgust. He turned to Aya, his eyes narrowed and seething with
anger.

“How many
times?”

Aya acted
as though he didn’t know what Yohji was referring to, but he knew. He just
wanted to hear Yohji say it over and over until the blonde turned blue in the
face. He wanted to grovel at his feet to admit what he did was reckless and
selfish. That was how the vision played out in his mind, but he just stared
back at Yohji without a word.

“Damn it,
Aya,” Yohji groaned as he plowed a hand through his hair, pulling it back flat against
his head before releasing it. The thick locks fell freely, framing his face.
Aya had to divert his eyes; Yohji’s hair was definitely one of his weaknesses.
He always had an urge to run his fingers through it, feel its fine softness
from scalp to end. Yohji didn’t know it, though. Aya hid his guilty pleasures
well unless the blonde discovered them by
mistake. This was one secret Aya had kept to himself; something he enjoyed only
when Yohji slept.

“I know,”
Yohji said suddenly, “I made a poor judgment call. A terrible one.”

“Hn.”

Aya kept
his stare on a grease speck on the tabletop, refusing to look at Yohji for many
reasons other than just a desire to touch his hair.
There were now other body parts involved. Just
great, Aya thought, and tried to focus on other emotions besides lust. It didn’t work, even as he dug his nails into
his palm. Control, he needed to take back control. Damn it!

“C’mon,
Aya,” the blonde drawled.

“All is
forgiven.” But not forgotten. It wasn’t exactly the type of control that Aya
was going for, but he was tired of arguing, tired of listening to Yohji whine
and desperate to dissuade the sudden urge to jump Yohji and fuck him senseless
against the kitchen counter. He had to get out of the kitchen!

“Well, at
least there’s hope after all.”

Yohji
visibly relaxed, supporting his weight on his elbows, and propped himself up on
the countertop. He blew away a stray strand from his face and lazily looked at
Aya over the curves of his lashes. But he quickly straightened and blinked hard
as Aya stood and deliberately made a show of approaching Yohji like that of a
lion ready to pounce on its prey. The look in the violet gaze was dangerous and
Yohji couldn’t hide his apprehension. Aya found great satisfaction in that.

If Aya
couldn’t grasp control of his emotions, he would at least act like he had that
strong hold over Yohji. Once he reached the blonde, he pulled him close by the
front of his shirt until their noses were scant inches apart. Yohji sucked in
his breath and didn’t remove his stare from Aya’s.

“If you
compromise this mission, I will cut off your dick and shove it down your
throat,” Aya threatened deeply, struggling with everything he had not to let
his voice shake. He was sure that Yohji was too dumbfounded to realize even if he had.

The blonde
gulped loudly, eyes wide and frightful. He looked like a rabbit cornered by a
ravenous fox and he didn’t dare move lest he provoke the predator even
further.

“Am I
understood, Balinese?”

Blinking
hard, dazed, Yohji answered, “Clearly.”

The shrill
whistle of the teakettle snapped both men’s attention in the direction of the
stove. Aya released Yohji’s shirt and poured the boiling water into the sink,
wasting a good opportunity for warm tea down the drain. As he set the kettle on
the stove, he spoke to Yohji without looking at him. “We leave in thirty
minutes. I suggest you get your things ready.”

Yohji
trudged out of the kitchen, his shoulders rigid with repressed anger and
defeat. When Aya judged that the blonde was finally out of sight, he slumped
forward as though the strings holding him up had snapped suddenly, and he
supported himself with his hands on either side of the stove. He breathed
deeply through his nostrils and closed his eyes, his mind begging for composure
faster than his body was able to process. He had been so close to losing it.

----

The
Shogoin-Gotenso was like every other traditional ryokan in Japan: drafty rooms
and dark halls, but excellent food and service. The garden was extravagant with
cherry blossom trees and lanterns framing a gravel path down to a pond at the
bottom of a small hill. The pond was complete with large koi and a fountain.

Aya
followed the innkeeper around the pond as the aging man gave him a guided tour
of the grounds. He posed as a wealthy businessman from Tokyo and had demanded a
tour as it was his first time visit, but it was in order to create a diversion
for Yohji to search the inn’s front desk for Narushi’s room and reservation
time. Aya and Yohji had arrived in Kyoto only three hours after leaving the
Koneko the night before. The trip on the train had been silent, but not
awkward. Aya had lost himself in his recent fiction novel while Yohji had dozed
off listening to music on his headphones.

The mission
plan had been set in motion the moment they had gotten to the Shogoin-Gotenso
and so far, so good. Aya couldn’t have been more relieved at that.

“Would you
like me to show you the public baths?”

“No,” Aya
answered. “You may go. Thank you.”

The
innkeeper bowed and left Aya in the garden by the pond. Aya gazed across the
expanse of the water, watching idly as the koi swam to the surface expecting
food from their new visitor. He stared at them for a moment longer before
switching his com-link on.

“Balinese,
do you copy?”

“Hai.”

“The
innkeeper is on his way back. Did you get the information?”

There was
silence on the other end. Aya checked his wristwatch, counting down the seconds
that passed. He knew if there were no distractions on the way, it would have
only taken the innkeeper exactly three minutes to reach the front desk. Aya was
hoping for distractions.

“How
ironic… his room is next to ours. He’s expected to arrive in three hours.”

“Copy. Get
out of there, Balinese.”

Aya
retreated up the path toward the main building of the inn. Once he reached the
honkan he found Yohji standing there under the awning of the porch, leaning
against a support column smoking a cigarette. The blonde looked as though he
had just stepped out of a model magazine in his black dress slacks and deep red
button-up shirt. The sleeves had been rolled up haphazardly, turning the
business apparel into a more casual look that fit Yohji perfectly. There was a
carry-on over one shoulder, which carried the surveillance equipment and extra
weapons such as two guns and two knives. Aya’s katana was in a spine holster
with the hilt peeking ever so slightly from the above the collar’s hem of his
black trench coat, brushing against the hairs along the nape of his neck. He
wasn’t taking any chances; they didn’t know how many people were coming along
with Narushi and he wanted to make sure all of his options were carefully
constructed and open.

He stared
at Yohji closely. The older man’s hair was pulled back from his face and tied
with a leather strap, giving the appearance that his hair was very short. Aya
wanted to devour him where he stood, and might have done just that if they
hadn’t been in a public place. Perhaps if he whisked Yohji into their room for
a quick one before-

Aya
clenched his jaw tightly along with his hands, forcing himself to staunch that
thought before it completed. There was no room for distractions or error during
this mission. After that, he would think about screwing Yohji senseless – if
Yohji didn’t do anything stupid until then.

“What?”

The
question caused Aya to look at Yohji’s inquisitive face.

“You’re so
tense. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,”
Aya lied. There was absolutely no need to stir something within Yohji that
didn’t need provocation in the first place. Once ignited, there was no stopping
him. Aya prided himself in his self-control; although there were many times it
had taken more than strong willpower to avoid Yohji’s ministrations. “We should
start the surveillance before Narushi arrives.”

“Hai.”

Aya glanced
at Yohji through the corner of his eye, watching as the older man sucked on his
cigarette with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants, walking leisurely
alongside of him. The blonde’s profile was flawless, especially with his hair
pulled back. Aya was able to enjoy every line and curve of that tanned face
along with the long dark lashes that lightly fanned across Yohji’s cheeks. Aya
quickly averted his eyes forward and concentrated on the mission ahead. It took
more effort than Aya cared to admit, and he almost wanted to scream out his
frustration. Instead he clenched his teeth.

“I’ve an
idea.”

He glanced
at Yohji, one brow raised in question.

Yohji
dropped the cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out with the heel of his
shoe. “After this mission, I want to treat you to a fine Italian restaurant.”
He turned his face toward Aya and gave a simple smile. It was a soft
expression, one that Yohji tended to use when he wanted to get into Aya’s good
graces. Most of the time it didn’t work. But Aya
wasn’t going to admit to that.

“Are you
trying to kiss up?”

“I usually
like to kiss down, but-“

“Stop,” Aya
said and closed his eyes, sighing.

“But
seriously,” Yohji said with a nervous laugh. “What about it?”

“If the
mission goes smoothly, maybe.”

It wasn’t a
promise, but Yohji’s body looked as though it had uncoiled itself like a
rattlesnake no longer threatened. His stride appeared lighter, happier and
relieved all in the same step. The movement was subtle, but it was there and
Aya recognized it instantly. The small lift at the corner of Yohji’s mouth only
proved further how pleased he was with Aya’s effort to forgive. He might’ve
forgiven, or simply pushed it aside, but he definitely wouldn’t forget the
botched mission as easily as Yohji had assumed. There was too much at stake
where a mission was concerned. Not only their lives, but the life of Aya’s
sister still in a coma, helpless and dependent upon her brother’s care and
money. If Yohji did anything to screw this mission up, Aya was going to kill
him, and there was no one to stop him. Not Omi. Not Ken.

Setting up
the equipment in Narushi’s room didn’t take long. There were three cameras and
two microphones strategically placed to see and hear everything that transpired
in the main area of the guest room. When Yohji and Aya set up everything in the
target’s room and their own, they waited. Yohji dozed off during that time, and
Aya woke him up rather violently by hitting him hard on the side of the head
with the hilt of his katana. The blonde rolled over, sputtering curses while
cradling his head in his hands.

“Was that
really necessary?”

“I was
tired of hearing you snore,” Aya said casually, never taking his eyes from the
laptop, which fed the videos through three separate windows on the screen. Each
camera was at a different angle, giving ample room to see from all positions.
There was no activity, yet, but Aya wasn’t going to let distractions get in the
way.

Yohji
crawled toward Aya, a slight grimace still marring his face as he peered over
the redhead’s shoulder. “Anything?”

“No.”

“Then wake
me up when there is.”

“Don’t you
go back to sleep. I will hit you again.”

“You’re a
bastard.”

“Hn.”

Yohji
grumbled loudly and decided to join Aya on the tatami mat, staring at a screen
that hadn’t seen activity in the last four hours. He mimicked Aya’s position
with his arms and legs crossed and a small frown tugging at the corners of his
lips.

“He’s
late.”

“A wealthy
CEO of a pharmaceutical company can be as late as he desires. Everyone goes by
his time.”

Two men
suddenly entered Narushi’s guest room courtesy of the elderly innkeeper’s wife
sliding the shoji doors open for them. They spilled into the room, their eyes
darting from corner to corner, searching for threats. Luckily, Kritiker and Omi
had designed a new camera and microphone device that were too small to detect
with the untrained eye. If Narushi’s men decided to bring in surveillance
detectors, then they were in trouble. That wasn’t the case, however, and Aya couldn’t help but feel relieved. He certainly
didn’t want to do this mission the old fashioned way of spying.

The taller
man of the two signaled that everything was clear and Narushi finally entered
the room, two more men trailing him. There was a sixth with the group, but he
appeared very detached from the rest of the guard, most likely Narushi’s second
in command. Narushi was quite handsome for a man in his fifties, though a little short. His cropped hair was like salt and pepper with gray that blended in with the
natural black color. There were few wrinkles or any other signs of aging on his
face, which gave way to the conclusion of plastic surgery. Odd, since he hadn’t
taken the effort to hide the graying. He walked into the room with an air of
confidence, as though he couldn’t be touched by anyone, not even by the devil
himself. Quite ironic, if that was the case, he definitely had enough
bodyguards surrounding him for such arrogance.

Aya took
note of each bodyguard, measuring their weight and size, observing the way they
moved about the room and how much it would take to get through them to Narushi.
The sixth man Aya paid particular attention to. Long black hair that brushed
just past his shoulder blades was tied in a low ponytail, showing off high,
prominent cheekbones and menacing crystal blue eyes. Odd for a Japanese, but it
was obvious there was a mixture in his blood, possibly American. He was very
familiar to Aya, as though they had run into each other in the past before, but
he couldn’t discern where. It was driving him mad, racking his brain intensely.
Where had he seen that man before?

Narushi
allowed his four bodyguards to fan out in the room while he sat at the low
wooden table where a kettle of tea and cups had already been set out for him.
Two of the hired muscle remained at his back, each one standing on either side
of a tokonoma - while the other two bodyguards
took a position by the shoji doors.

It suddenly
came back to Aya, in full force, when the
mysterious man unbuttoned his suit jacket before he sat down next to Narushi.
That movement was so simple that anyone would have overlooked it. But the man’s
right hand was covered in a tattoo of a skeletal dragon with wings protracting
its claws, ready for an attack even after death had passed long ago. Aya
remembered him from his Crasher days. Makoto Ryu was his name and he was a
member of the yakuza, the one man that bested Aya in everything including
swordsmanship. The bastard had broken Aya’s arm once. It had taken months of
rehab for him to be able to regain enough strength to hold his sword one-handed
after that. How could he have forgotten?

“What’s
wrong? You look ready to attack the screen.”

Aya shook
his head, erasing the images of that night from his mind, of that dragon hand
around his throat, stealing the life from his lungs slowly. He had truly
experienced fear in the face of Makoto. The man was a true warrior of numerous
strengths. If Aya hadn’t retreated from that battle years ago, there was no
doubt that he would have died, much less escaped with only a broken arm and a
few abrasions.

“I know
that man,” Aya said, pointing at Makoto with derision. “He broke my arm once.”

Yohji
hissed. “You think you can take him tonight?”

Aya
honestly didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to try. Those cool eyes,
calculating and very, very dangerous. The eyes of a natural born killer. Makoto
lived in that moment, nothing else brought him more pleasure than the need for
blood and despair.

“Aya?”

He blinked
hard, facing Yohji expectantly.

“Can you do
this?”

Aya didn’t
answer. He turned and stared at Makoto for a moment longer before he settled
his attention on the four bodyguards. They were like statues, melded into the
scenery of the room, barely moving. It was evident they were Makoto’s trained
men, and whatever deal Narushi and Makoto had, it was a strong bond for Narushi
to place his full trust in those four men that had started their allegiance
with Makoto first. It caused Aya to wonder if Makoto had finally stepped up as
the leader of the yakuza.

“We weren’t
sent to kill Makoto, just Narushi. If we can come up with a good plan to get
around Makoto, we can pull this off,” Yohji said thoughtfully, rolling a fresh
cigarette between his fingers out of habit. He did it mostly when he was
thinking hard.

“Easier
said than done,” Aya replied nostalgically. “That was what happened the last we
met. And he almost killed me.”

“But you
are stronger now than you were before,” Yohji supplied with a bit of
confidence.

Aya
massaged the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed, as though he could
shut out the memories and the headache that was forming. “As I’m sure he’s
grown as well.”

“Should we
step out?”

The idea
caused Aya to tense abruptly, which only made his headache pound heavier
against his temples. He couldn’t hold back a small grimace, but luckily his
face was turned far enough away from Yohji for him not to notice. “No. I don’t
back away from any mission.” He narrowed his eyes at the screen, at Makoto,
promising himself that there would be a final confrontation with the monster,
whether he liked the idea or not. “I will kill Makoto tonight.”

Yohji’s
stare on Aya’s back was like a branding iron, but he knew he couldn’t look at
the blonde. He knew what awaited him in that stare and he couldn’t afford to
feel anything now, if he was going to pull off another battle with
Makoto and expect to survive. For Aya-chan’s sake, it was for her, he reminded
himself.

“I need a
cigarette,” Yohji muttered and heavily padded towards the engawa, leaving Aya
alone in the dreadful silence of the room. Alone with his troubled, conflicting
thoughts.

Moments
later, Yohji still hadn’t returned when a new arrival entered Narushi’s room.
He was of Russian or Ukrainian descent and walked with a heavy limp to his left
leg. Looked like a bullet wound, Aya observed, as the man still appeared he
hadn’t adjusted to the disability. A scar, ragged and deep, made a gruesome
pattern down the side of the man’s face, starting just above his right eyebrow
and trailing down until it disappeared into the collar of his crisp button-down
shirt. It had impaired the man with only one useful eye, dark and haunting.

Narushi
stood and formally bowed while the Russian just curtly nodded. He set his
walking cane on the floor and gracefully despite
the leg injury, sat on one of the cushions. There was a black briefcase by his
side. If this was a meeting about a deal, it appeared that the Russian was the
buyer and Narushi was the seller. Aya wondered what Narushi could possibly be
selling to a dangerous Russian. There had been no information in the database
Omi was able to retrieve about certain prospects of selling something illegal
in the near future.

“It is nice
to finally meet you in person, Mr. Skolov.”

Skolov only
nodded, waving his hand in a gesture that meant he wanted to skip formalities
and start business. Whatever that business was unsettled Aya’s stomach. Makoto
set a silver briefcase on the table, and the impish grin that played the man’s
handsome face caused an involuntary shiver to run up and down Aya’s spine. He
had seen that grin only once, right before Makoto snapped Aya’s arm like a
simple twig.

Access to
the briefcase was only allowed with a security card that Narushi swiped in the
coder. The case was then pushed across the table to Skolov, who slowly opened
it to reveal the contents inside. Narushi had settled back against the
cushioned seat, sipping his tea, unconstrained. Makoto stared at Skolov, arms
crossed, his eyes holding just a small bit of mirth, as though he found this
whole thing entertaining. And he most likely did.

Nestled
inside a foam cushion was the plutonium alloy core of a nuclear bomb. It was
the size of a man’s palm, and Skolov had to gently pick it up with two hands.
He inspected it, examined it with meticulous grace with his one eye. Aya held his breath the entire time, blood pounding
furiously in his ears. A core that size, if it was dropped or installed in a
shell would cause mass destruction beyond epic proportions. They had to get
that core out of the wrong hands, and Skolov’s were definitely the wrong ones.

“What’d I
miss?” Yohji sat heavily next to Aya, jarring him from his momentary shock.

“We have a
problem,” Aya said softly.

Yohji
stared at the screen and his eyes widened as well. “Well damn. That dampers
things a bit.”

“Is it to
your liking,” Narushi asked.

“Yes.”
Skolov’s accent was heavy; it was hard to discern if he really agreed. He
placed the core back into the cushions of the briefcase and closed the lid, but
the case remained by his side. He placed the black briefcase on the table, next
to the core’s case, and opened it up to show the money inside. There was no
telling how much it was, but something so deadly as an atomic core wasn’t
cheap, and Narushi had asked very high prices for a simple gatling gun
once.

“Contact
Kritiker, Yohji.” Aya’s voice was a little too frantic, but he had every reason
to panic. They were dealing with someone far more dangerous than they had
expected from the beginning. Kritiker had to be notified, and Aya needed to
know what to do about it.

While Yohji
contacted Birman on his cellular, Aya continued to watch the deal over the
laptop. Narushi had agreed to the amount and the black briefcase was
transferred to his side, and Makoto began to sift through the newly printed
bills to make a quick count of the funds. When he nodded, the deal was set.
Though Aya couldn’t have felt any more
apprehensive about it.

“It was a
pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Skolov,” Narushi said cheerfully, like a
father that had just heard the good news that his son made the soccer team.

Skolov
stood, retrieving his cane and bending low to grab the case carrying the core.
Aya’s breath hitched when Makoto reached across the table like a cobra striking
to attack, firmly placing his tattooed hand over Skolov’s, stopping him from
picking up the case. Both men stared at one another, and there was a slight
lift to Makoto’s lips, a devious shine in his eyes.

“Get off,”
Skolov demanded breathlessly. The cool stare from Makoto’s clear blue eyes had
caused the Russian to feel frightened, but he made a good show of hiding it,
despite the small trembling of his other hand propped on his cane.

“Tell me,
Mr. Skolov,” Makoto said in fine, educated English, “How did you get that scar
on your face? I am very curious.” The grin grew wider and before Skolov could
open his mouth to protest or even tell the story, Makoto had pulled a silver
magnum equipped with a silencer from inside of his suit jacket, quicker than
anyone anticipated, and shot the Russian between the eyes.

Narushi
hadn’t expected the sudden show of violence and he scampered to his feet,
opening his mouth to scream. He was shot in the face before any sound escaped
aside from the thud his body made when it fell to the floor heavily.

“Shit!”
Yohji hissed into the phone. “Narushi was just shot!”

Aya
whirled, snatching the phone from Yohji’s listless hands. “Birman, what is the
plan? Makoto has the core and the money.”

“Kill him.
Bring the core to me.” The call was ended.

Aya threw
the phone down and in a frantic state grabbed the carry-on that had their
back-up weapons inside. He tossed one of the guns to Yohji and stuffed the
other between his pants and the small of his back. With his katana in hand, he
signaled Yohji to keep silent and stay behind him as they entered the halls of
the ryokan.

The halls
were quiet, very still, but Aya knew Makoto and his men were still in the room
adjacent to his. He decided to blend into the shadows, Yohji beside him, and
they waited for them to come out before attacking. The pattern of the guards
when they had entered the room gave Aya enough evidence as to how they would
exit, two in front, Makoto in between with the other two trailing him. With
millions of yen in one hand and a deadly atomic core in the other, there was
going to be heavy protection.

Aya was
proved very wrong however, when the first guard
came through the shoji doors carrying the black briefcase. There was no time to
waste and Aya ran forward, slashing the nameless man across the middle,
splaying his insides out on the polished wood flooring. The briefcase clattered
to the floor, the locks breaking open, and the money spilled out in the hall in
a spray of freshly printed paper.

Two more
guards surged from the room in a blinding rush, forming a strong muscled wall
between the two of them as they came at Aya with full force. One was able to
barely skim Aya’s side with his fist, but there was no damage and barely any
pain. Aya cut off his hand at the wrist then came back around with an upward
slash. The sword cut deep, starting from the
navel to the chin, almost splitting the guard in two. Blood and thicker things
splattered everywhere, covering most of Aya’s face and hair, but it didn’t
deter him from seeing the second guard advancing from the side. Aya jumped
backward just before the man was able to plunge a blade into his stomach, but
if it hadn’t been for Yohji’s wire suspending the man by his throat in the
rafters above at the last minute, the guard would have been able to feint the
middle attack with a forward slash across Aya’s neck. Aya couldn’t have been
more thankful for the help, and gave a slight nod toward Yohji, acknowledging
the blonde’s intention.

A spray of
bullets coming from inside Narushi’s room suddenly forced the two assassins to
take cover on the floor. The surface was littered with pools of blood so dark
it appeared black, and wads of cash were soaking
up the fluid like a sponge. The silenced bullets penetrated the wall above
their heads, causing small bits of debris to fall onto their backs. Aya watched
from the safety cover of his arms as Yohji threw his wire through the open
doorway with that meticulous ease that Aya admired even to this day. The wire
became taut and Yohji pulled hard even as he remained flat on his stomach on
the floor.

The last
guard stumbled through the doorway, grasping the wire that was around his
throat, sputtering and clawing for air while the wire continued to cut deep
into the man’s neck. With one snap of Yohji’s wrist, the wire tightened and the
guard’s head tumbled off of his shoulders and rolled across the floor, stopping
just inches from Aya’s face. He blinked at those wide, lifeless eyes and felt
nothing. In the midst of battle, Aya was numb to his surroundings, every
emotion pushed deep down to where his body acted upon the feelings of the
assassin within him. For following a man like Makoto, the guard truly deserved
his fate, Aya convinced himself.

“…
escaped!” Yohji was yelling, but the words were muted, as though Aya was
underwater. He shook his head and blinked up at Yohji who was standing, his
shadow hovering over Aya. “Are you all right?”

Aya nodded
and straightened to his feet, holding his katana loosely in his right hand.
Droplets of crimson ran off the sharp tip and dripped into a puddle inches from
Aya’s bare feet. The coagulated blood seeped in between his toes, and each time he moved it made a sticky, squishing
sound underneath his feet. It penetrated through the barriers of his numbed
coherency and he couldn’t suppress the slight cringe.

“Hey, Aya,”
Yohji spoke again, this time barely nudging the redhead in the shoulder.

The
movement caused him to jerk in surprise and he stared at Yohji, face painted
gruesomely with other men’s blood. He blinked hard when a drop fell from his
eyelash to land on the curve of his cheek.

“I think
Makoto escaped. There’s no sound coming from inside the room.”

When Yohji
whispered the words, Aya felt his body move on its own accord to protest the
blonde’s intent, before the words were able to surface from his throat. He was
too late, however and Yohji was already halfway through the threshold of the
room when a single shot pierced the deadly silence. It caused both assassins to
start, and Yohji stumbled backward out of the doorway, clutching his stomach
with an expression of pure disbelief and pain marring his handsome face. There
was blood seeping through the cloth of his shirt, escaping from between his
fingertips in a steady flow of crimson.

“A-ya?”

“Yohji!”

Panic,
blind and raw, caused Aya to drop his defenses and he rushed forward to catch
Yohji before he collapsed. But Aya was suddenly falling himself, his legs
giving out from underneath him, and the jarring impact of his knees hitting the
floor sent sharp, hot needles up his thighs. He fell forward on his hands and
grit his teeth against the pain. His breathing hitched and he found his vision
dancing. Gods, it hurt. It felt as though his kneecaps had busted out the backs
of his legs and there was nothing left but a gaping hole where they were
supposed to be. But amidst all that pain he finally experienced the source of
his fall - a gunshot wound in his right thigh. Fresh blood poured out of the
wound and blended into the blackness of his slacks, running along his leg in a
trail of warmth like a snake slithering across his skin.

There was
so little time to mull over the new hurt when his left shoulder suddenly
exploded in much the same way his leg had, sending him reeling. He was sprawled
on his back before he even comprehended, and he blinked up at the ceiling
dazedly, soaking into the blood of his fallen victims and his own. There was no
way to control all the points of agony in his body. It was as if his entire
form had ignited into white-hot intensity, and
there was no stopping the flames as they continued their assault. He squeezed
his eyes shut and tried to relearn to breathe, gulping in air through his
mouth.

“Aya…”

It was
Yohji, Aya realized as he blinked the involuntary tears that dotted his lashes.
The ceiling wasn’t what he was staring at when he opened his eyes fully - but
two beautiful and deadly crystal blue eyes brimming with unbridled fury. Makoto
Ryu loomed over Aya, his menacing shadow cast over his prone body, the magnum
dangling by the yakuza’s hip. Aya’s hand instinctively reached for his sword,
but it was kicked away from him, clattering along the floor to the other side
of the hall. He gasped, his body convulsing when Makoto’s boot heel slammed
against the bullet wound in his shoulder, pressing him further down on the
floor, grinding the injury like one would snuff a cigarette out on the
pavement. He couldn’t hold back a strangled cry. He writhed underneath the
yakuza, his body acting upon impulse to escape the pain only for it to cause
more. The edges of Aya’s vision turned gray and he thought he was going to pass
out.

“You did a
fine job here today.” Makoto’s words were mocking, bringing Aya back to
awareness. “I would love to commend you for your wonderful work, but I have a
plane to catch.”

“I will
kill you. I will hunt you down, Makoto Ryu,” Aya vowed breathlessly, his voice
wracked with tremors from the pain. He found his vision fading in and out
again, but he miraculously didn’t lose consciousness.

Makoto’s
eyes lit up in recognition, as he said thoughtfully, “I remember you. Rook, is
it not?”

He grinned
and it was a handsome gesture, very charming and appealing, but it only caused
a shiver of revulsion to dance up and down Aya’s spine. The man was nefarious
even with his charm. There was a vicious gleam in his eyes when he spoke again,
and Aya had seen the expression before, fear once more empowering him. “It
appears that I didn’t do enough damage back then. Perhaps I can change that
tonight.”

The
yakuza’s gaze grew darker, more malevolent as he leveled the magnum at Aya’s
forehead, marking his fate indefinitely. Aya was helpless to stop it; there was
nowhere for him to go, trapped underneath the yakuza like an insect pinned on a
board ready for dissection.

“Too bad we
won’t be able to spend more time together. I actually did like you, Rook, but I
can’t have you following me again.”

The trigger
was pulled and the gun fired. Aya felt no pain as he drifted along a sea of
darkness. The void swallowed him whole like a blanket covering him in its downy
comfort. He wanted to burrow deeper, but he saw visions of his sister and Yohji
before his eyes. He reached out to them, pleaded for them to stay even as he fought to reach them. Yet only a thick shroud
embraced his body tightly, and Aya finally succumbed to the darkness – to where
nothing could follow.

TBC…

Terms:
Tatami - woven straw
flooring
Ryokan – Japanese style bed
and breakfast
Honkan – main building of a
ryokan
Koi – Japanese goldfish
Shoji – Sliding doors made
of paper
Tokonoma – Raised alcove in
the wall to hang scrolls or flower arrangements
Hai - Yes
- 1
- 2
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Dragon\'s Dance