The Answer to the Question

Chapter 8: The First Question


“Why in the hell are they late?!” Hevn was beyond irritated. Usually it was her doing all the keeping others waiting for her on baited breath. She wasn’t used to being on the other side of that ‘no-regard-for-punctuality’ line.

At the bar counter, Paul shrugged and continued to wipe down glasses.

“Just be sure to have your money ready,” he said. “I don’t want any problems when it comes time to pay me.”

“Whatever!” Hevn grinned. “If what you say is true, I’ll pay you AND work as your barmaid for a week!”

Paul was about to reply when the front door jingled opened. What came in through it, put all thoughts out of both their heads and left them staring in sheer and utter disbelief.

Ban and Ginji…or what was left of them…came grunting and dragging down the aisle—limping, tipping, side-hopping and generally scraping along as best they could; using any means at their disposal to propel their ragged, tattered bodies one more step forward.

Neither Paul nor Hevn could figure out who looked more wretched.

Ginji’s clothes were in even worse shape than when they’d last seen him. His shirt had big holes in it and his vest AND his shorts were being held together and held ON him with what looked like telephone wire. Ginji’s hair was matted and every strand was going for itself. The poor boy’s eyes had dark raccoon-like rings beneath them as if he hadn’t slept in days. All along his skin that showed through the clothing tatters, especially about his neck and throat, black and blue spots and bite marks were living free and living large. They were everywhere that Paul and Hevn could see, including along his arms. He looked like a walking leopard. Make that a barely walking, geriatric leopard. Not only was what Ginji doing not really walking, more like a listless shuffle provided more by inertia and gravity than any internal manpower, but he was doing it badly! It clearly hurt him every time he moved as evidenced by the tiny whimpers of pain and squints of his eyes as they screwed up with each and every step.

And if Ginji was a mess, then Ban was an unholy sight! His normally spiky coif was spikier than usual; ending in eye-poking sticks that looked sharp enough to peel potatoes. And the tips of them were smoking, like they and possibly many other pliable parts of his body had been stuck into an electric socket—and not some sissy living room light socket, but one that could power up serious shit—like a nuclear reactor! In addition to matching grocery sacks beneath each eye large enough to carry a week’s ration of bread and rice, Ban’s cheeks were sunken and hollow. In fact, his entire body was rail-thin and gaunt as if he’d been exposed to some massive, strenuous, stamina-milking situation that had sucked the energy and nutrients from his very bones and had made all of his muscles implode on a cellular level for lack of anything left to hold them together. Ban’s mode of locomotion was no better than his friend’s. The Jagan Master had opted for a scoot-slide combo approach to forward movement. Baby steps and grunts got him where he was going…one pitiful inch at a time.

For once in her life, Hevn was entirely speechless.

“Here,” Ban said shortly after a two minute rest for the five minutes it’d taken him to reach her table. He nodded at Ginji.

“Tongs?”

Ginji pulled a pair of salad tongs out of his back pocket and handed them to Ban who used them to gingerly fish a black velvet drawstring bag from his front pants pocket. He set it on the table in front of Hevn with the UTMOST care and surgeon-like precision. Beside him, Ginji squeezed his eyes closed and held his breath.

“Done,” Ban wheezed. Ginji opened his eyes and coughed and hacked out a sigh of relief.

“Did…you two develop asthma since I saw you yesterday afternoon?” Hevn asked lightly trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

“No,” Ban tried to sneer. It didn’t work well. He was too tired. Plus he started coughing. “We’re just having some trouble breathing is all. I think we have some collapsed blood vessels or something. Anyway, it’s in the bag. We don’t have any boxes, because SOMEBODY, not naming any names—GINJI—left them under the bed!” he sighed; shooting Ginji a bad look. Ginji stared at the ceiling and started counting tiles.

“U n d e r the b e d ?” Paul questioned from behind the bar.

Ban ignored him. “Having no boxes is the least of your problems, ” he continued, getting back on subject. Alongside the bag, Ban dropped the tongs, then took out a blindfold, some rubber dish washing gloves and a clothespin. He tossed them all next to the salad tongs.

“There,” he said limply. “Call it after sales service. Tell the client, whoever it is, to take our advice and use ALL of them when handling that thing.” He held his hand out for the rest of their cash.

Hevn held up the clothespin and gave Ban a ‘what-the-hell?’ look.

“It’s for the nose of whoever doesn’t value their life enough to keep that thing closed,” Ban replied.

Still speechless, Hevn handed Ban an envelope with the other half of their pay. “Tell me you didn’t open it!” she spit out slowly. “And h...how do we know this is the real vial and not a decoy?”

Ginji just shook his head sadly as Ban hunched down in front of Hevn squarely and looked her straight in the eye.

“Take. My. Fucking. Word. For. It!”

Then he rose and nodded at Ginji.

“Ready?”

“Mmm…” Ginji replied. It was all he had left.

Without another word, Ban turned himself toward the door with Ginji’s help and revealed huge gashes in the back of his shirt that showed angry, red claw marks slashing across his skin.

“Did you get mauled by a wild animal?” Hevn called after Ban. “Is that what this stuff does? It attracts…” she searched for an appropriate word. “…b e a s t s?!”

Ginji covered his eyes and quickened his shuffle half a pace. If he’d had any blood left, he would have blushed violently. Ban shot Ginji another nasty look, ignored the question, and spoke to Paul instead.

“Tell Natsume I want a word with her after I’ve healed,” he muttered as he scooted past the bar. He and Ginji supported each other almost holding hands and carrying each other, all the way to the door. Then, without another word, they were gone.

Hevn looked at Paul.

Paul looked at Hevn…and smiled.

Silently, Hevn got up and walked over to Paul. She took the wallet out of her purse and slid him a modest sum of money. “I…I just never would have guessed that they…the two of them were…I mean…”

“Hope you like cosplay,” Paul said, counting his cash. “My customers love the Lolita look…”

*** ***

Back in the car, both Get Backers grunted from their trek inside the Tonk and tried to ease their pain and suffering.

“Say, Ban,” Ginji grit out through his aches, “who do you think the client really is?”

Ban blew out a grunt and fished his cell phone from a pocket.

“I have my suspicions,” he said, shoving a cig in his mouth. He scrolled down the list of his programmed quick-dial numbers.

“Say, Ban,” Ginji continued, “what do you think will happen when they see the room?”

“They’ll probably shit where they stand.” Ban selected a number and hit dial.

“Say, Ban,” Ginji went on, “can I call you my boyfriend now?”

Ban sucked on the cig noisily. “No, you most certainly can not!” He listened to the line ring on the other end and fumbled around the car for his lighter.

“Say, Ban,” Ginji said, yet again.

“What Ginji, what?! What could you possibly have left to ask me after all this?!”

The phone continued to ring.

“What happened to Lady Bug earlier this week? Did you accidentally use the Jagan on me and have your way with me causing me to blow up the engine? Did that really happen?”

The cig instantly dropped out of Ban’s mouth as pain and panic seized him right in the gut. He’d forgotten all about the very single thing that’d kicked started their freaky roller coaster ride to bottles, interceptors, man love orgies and finally love between men in the first place. HE had totally forgotten, but Ginji hadn’t. Not only that, he’d actually figured out what had really happened—something Ban had sworn on high he’d never tell him. He’d have outright lied first before coming clean and now the gig was seriously up!

“I mean, one minute, I was standing there jump starting the battery and the next, I was on the hood and you were all over me and there was this garden…and a fork…and it starting raining all over us and you put your mouth on my…”

Ban let go of the phone, lurched over the gearshift with a quickness that defied his decrepit state and slammed a kiss into Ginji full force, instantly shutting down all further questioning.

Ban held Ginji in that kiss for a long, long time.

After all, it really was the only way he could get him to shut up now…

*** ***

In the far distance, there was a phone ringing…

The ground was cold and uneven and it brutally scraped her skin as she swiftly slid down the cliff face. Thanks to the scree field of broken rock and gravel and the hard rain that was falling, the soft soil was slick and quickly becoming muddy; leaving very little to stop her rapid descent down the mountainside. On top of that, there was something sharp sticking into her leg.

Slowly, Himiko opened her eyes and was immediately assaulted with white-hot pain that radiated through every fiber of her being. She opened her mouth and screamed so hard in agony, she felt as if she were going to pass out again.

As good as it sounded, Himiko knew that passing out was not an option. To keep from slipping away, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. In slow…out slow…in slow…out slow…breathe in…pain out…air in…blood out…

Bit by bit as the long, seemingly endless seconds ticked by, Himiko fought for control of her body and won by degrees as the pain subsided enough for her to grasp handfuls of dirt and cling to the steep decline, halting her continual slide.

With one bloody hand, she held on to her position on the mountain’s cliff face and with the other battered appendage, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the thing torturing her otherwise numb leg. The object she withdrew was large, flat, slightly curled and…made of stone.

Himiko blinked her rain-dampened lashes and squinted through the darkness at it.

Then it hit her. The tooth! All the sordid events of the evening came rushing back to her—the tomb raiding…the ninja interceptors…the Lotus Elise and the decoy getaway that had gone heinously wrong…fire…Akabane…the knife assault…falling…

Somewhere in the distance there was a phone ringing…

Once again breathing through her pain, Himiko used the tooth as a sort of makeshift grappling hook to claw her way oh so slowly up the dark mountainside.

Dig in…pull up…breathe out…dig in…pull up…breathe out…

Himiko was covered in dozens of puncture wounds. She was bleeding. And the miserable pain that sliced through her chest every time she moved told her that she had cracked something, a rib maybe, possibly two, and probably had other broken things that she couldn’t even concentrate on yet.

Dig in…pull up…breathe out…dig in…pull up…breathe out…

The unending rain had no mercy on her. In shock from both the fight with Dr. Jackal and the resulting loss of blood, Himiko’s body was freezing and the rain did absolutely nothing to help it as it soaked her to the bone. It was a completely dismal situation, but she soldiered on.

Dig in…pull up…breathe out…dig in…pull up…breathe out…

She continued with one goal spurring her on. The re-possession of that which had been taken from her. The thing that she wanted…no, needed most that shouldn’t be gone.

Dig in…pull up…breathe out…dig in…pull up…breathe out…

After what seemed like an eternity but was actually no more than the better part of an hour, Himiko could just make out the blurry shape of the guardrail above her in the darkness. So close, yet so far away, she collapsed where she lay, hanging on by that palm-sized tooth she’d broken off in order to steal the treasure of a lifetime.

Just when she didn’t think she could go any further or haul herself up another inch, hands reached for her—strong hands that were connected to strong arms. They enfolded her and held her tightly, aggravating her terrible injuries, yet, at the same time, feeling wonderfully secure. Himiko held on as best she could as she and the arms that held her were towed up a mechanical pulley to the top of the cliff face.

In the very far distance, a phone was still ringing…

Once at the top of the cliff, more arms reached for her and she was lifted over the guardrail. Behind her, the truck and the bodies that used to be her secondary decoy team were still stretched across the two-lane mountain pass. The fire had already consumed most of the second team’s truck and was still crackling loudly in spite of the rain that poured down on them.

“You haven’t been down long,” one of the men surrounding her said. He pulled a blanket over her and carried her as gently as he could to their waiting truck, where a driver sat behind the wheel with a loaded shotgun out and at the ready. The men placed Himiko in the truck cab’s back seat and stretched her out as much as the cramped space would allow. Then all three of them crowded into the front seat, revved up the engine and rolled full steam ahead toward the burning wreckage. They plowed through the remaining carcass of the dead interceptors’ vehicle and drove with reckless speed through the night.

Someone held water to her lips.

“Can’t…breathe…” she rasped. “Help…vest…”

One of the men nodded and with no thought to gender differences, immediately tore open her shirt. There in the middle of her chest a broken knife blade was buried up to its jagged edge. With no handle to pull it by, the man told Himiko to brace herself. When she was ready, he grabbed the ragged piece of steel, then, without hesitation, ripped it free.

Sprawled across the backseat, Himiko screamed and gasped for air. When she was finally able to open her eyes again, the man held up the scalpel shard for her to see.

“Good thing you had on that Kevlar vest,” he said, turning it this way and that, showing her the blade’s clean, bloodless steel. “Without it, this would have gone straight into your chest for real and our job would already be over.”

Himiko was sweating profusely from the pain and the culmination of her wounds, but she understood. Her eyes fluttered while hands released her bullet-proof vest’s clasps. She heaved, grabbing all the fresh air her lungs could get as it was completely removed from covering her chest and belly. After that, the next few moments passed in a barely conscious blur for her. Someone covered her with a blanket. More water was dotted across her lips. Voices talked to her, but Himiko barely registered what they were saying. She kept drifting in and out of consciousness catching only snatches of phrases and words here and there.

“Lotus…gone…”

“Three interceptor teams…maybe more…”

“Hat guy knocked out but not dead…”

“First decoy driver got away but being hunted…”

“Hat guy took the car…”

“Heading toward Tokyo…”

“Someone else in the temple…”

And finally the question everyone in the truck waited for was asked.

“Your orders?”

Just before Himiko blacked out for good, she managed to find enough voice to engage her contingency plan.

“Plan B,” she whispered weakly.

The man nodded and took out a cell phone to make the call.

Himiko’s eyes shut heavily and she phased out of consciousness into the warm arms of deep sleep. As she drifted away from the world of the living, her last waking thought was that, if she lived, she’d really have to thank her source of intelligence. Without it, she’d have never known Dr. Jackal and all the rest would come after her to take the box and without knowing that, she’d have never hired not one but two decoy teams to throw the dogs off her scent. And beyond that, she certainly wouldn’t have been worried enough to wear the snug bullet-proof Kevlar vest under shirt which had acted as a barrier between her and dozens of blades—saving her life over and over again. And, of course, without her intelligence, she wouldn’t have had hired an emergency back-up team whose only mission in life was to find and rescue her if things went terribly wrong.

And things had gone very terribly wrong.

The last thing Himiko heard before she heard no more was the deep masculine voice of one of her personal guard on the phone asking to speak to someone named Hevn about a retrieval job…

And somewhere in the distance, the very far distance, a phone was ringing…

*** ***

The insistent phone finally stopped ringing just as Himiko opened her eyes.

She was in her own bed, in her own flat, safe and sound and far from the mountainside nightmare she’d just relived in her dreams. Making sure the cliff, and the rain, and all that she had endured that night were soundly behind her, she searched through her bedroom for familiar things to assure herself that she was indeed in the comfort of her own home. In the weak light that managed to filter through the curtains drawn against the day's bright sunlight, her eyes settled on a familiar photo on the dresser. A sign of better days and a reminder of a happiness that had long since eluded her, the framed photo was one of her and Ban Midou. She was smiling for the camera. He was complaining loudly about being hungry. Even though it hurt, Himiko smiled, like she always did whenever she saw that picture, in her darkened room, far away from prying eyes that might see past her bitter facade and into her heart. Himiko traced the contour of Ban’s face with her gaze. Not that she needed to…every curve, every line, even his ever-present scowl was forever branded in her memory and though she was truly loathe to admit it, branded in her heart as well. Those were the days, so simple and carefree, and they would never come again…or would they?

Sighing, Himiko lay back on the pile of pillows behind her and quietly wondered if everything she’d been through the past few days had been worth it. Her brother was still gone and she still missed him so much. And she was still so angry at Ban after all these years and yet, she gazed at that picture every single day and every single day, she smiled. Just like she secretly smiled whenever she bumped into Ban…

To get her mind off the source of her anguish, Himiko stared at the many pieces of paper that lay littered all around her. Surrounding her on the bed covers, on the night side table and on the floor, were piles of books, newspaper clippings, maps and articles printed out from the internet—all of which had very interesting titles:

“Mountain Seismic Activity Damages Shrine; Reveals Underground Chamber…”

“Greek, Roman, and Sumerian Gods of Love, War and Eroticism…”

“Ancient Map of Babylonian Shipping Routes Found Intact Off the Coast of the Sea of Japan…”

“How Religion Won the World, One Civilization At a Time: An In-Depth Look at How the World’s Early Religions Were Used for Political Gain…”

“Translated Pharaoh’s Journal Documenting Artifacts from First Egyptian Dynasty Stolen from Tokyo University Department of Ancient History…”

“The Legend of Eros and the Thirteen Phials of Tears: A Treatise on the Wondrous Provocation of Sexual Stimulation and Astounding Mystical Healing and Metaphysical Properties Therein…”

“Excerpts from Alexander the Great’s Treasure Room…”

“Man Claims Possession by Mysterious Liquid Led to Orgy…”

“The Tears of Eros: Legend, Myth and Fact…”

“The Dragon Chariot: Emperor Burial Rites and Mystical Symbolism During Feudal Japan…”

“An Interview with Professor Kenji Hirata: Scholar and Historian of Erotic Myths, Gods and Goddesses from Around the World…”

“Ancient Drawings on Stone Tablets Discovered at Construction Site Resemble Fabled Tears of Eros…”

On and on the titles read. Curiously, along with the many books and other resources were also sonar diagrams of a mountain temple revealing a large, square-shaped chamber hidden far beneath the stone foundation. It had taken Himiko months and months of research—skulking through libraries and archives, hunched over computers, and watching Discovery Channel documentaries to amass more information on the one thing that might bring those days of happiness Himiko missed so much back to her: the legendary Tears of Eros. With just one drop, the mysterious substance known as the Tears of Eros was rumored to be able to heal a body of any ailment, show one’s heart’s deepest desire or guarantee love and all its many splendors to be yours for the taking from the person you wanted most.

Even someone that had become an enemy to hate…

A mysterious substance whose origin had been lost in the veils of time, stories of the Tears of Eros appeared repeatedly over the centuries in myths throughout the world. Wars had been fought over it, emperors and kings had died for it. Civilizations and kingdoms had crumbled because of it. And it was just the thing a young, angry, lonely girl on the verge of being a young, angry, lonely woman might need to try to reclaim all that had been taken from her. While the Tears of Eros would not be able to grant Himiko’s number one wish of bringing her brother back from the dead, it might be able to grant her heart’s deepest desire and give her back life and happiness and the love that had left her when her brother had been…murdered. If there was a chance, even a tiny one, for Himiko to somehow live again—to banish the deep cold that had become her constant companion, to take away that raw, aching loneliness within her that marked every day she woke and haunted her every night as she slept, then maybe, just maybe, the pursuit of a dream that seemed impossible, might be worth it after all.

It had been 48 hours since Himiko’s tomb raiding career began and ended on the same tragic day. Ever since, she’d been laying low, both literally and figuratively, as the fever pitch over the vials finally began to subside. Interest in the T.o.E.s immediately began to wane after a university professor named Kenji Hirata, who was an apparent expert in mythology and who had hired an interceptor team to snatch the true prize for himself, concluded in a live BBC TV interview that the Tears of Eros myth was still just that…a myth. He postulated that after his intense “research into the matter,” none of the vials floating around rumored to be the actual Tears of Eros were real and that the original bottle stolen from the emperor’s tomb itself had been just another red herring; a powerful aphrodisiac that had possibly been substituted for the real thing and placed in the feudal crypt centuries ago.

Since all they had to go on were myths and a handful of centuries-old drawings and sketches, Professor Hirata said, no one really knew what the original vial and its contents truly looked like. Because of this, no one could even be sure that a true Tears of Eros had ever existed at all. The only thing the Professor could conclude for certain was that the substituted aphrodisiac, while awesome in its own right, had none of the other properties ascribed to the true Tears of Eros. Among other things, the true Tears of Eros could grant the love or unadulterated sex of anyone with a single whiff of its erotic fragrance. That’s what the substance was most known for. However, the true Tears of Eros was also much more. It was described as an almost sentient substance able to speak to the user with the voice of the gods. The true Tears of Eros could heal the user with fantastic healing attributes said to be able to mend any bodily ailment with just a single drop. The true Tears of Eros could choose to grant the user almost clairvoyant abilities to see things past, things present and things future. And after intense “testing” with his two field crew members, both of whom refused to be interviewed or appear on camera, Professor Hirata concluded that the “found” substance had none of those abilities, so therefore could not have been the true Tears of Eros.

Because of the professor and his BBC interview, the furor over the bottles died down and everyone came to the conclusion that there was no point in pursuing something that wasn’t real. Then, as other things became available and worth stealing, people forgot the bottles and moved on to the next hot thing.

Himiko had no idea where the other three decoy vials or their boxes were. The only thing she was certain of was that Professor Hirata probably didn’t believe a single word he’d stated. Himiko had absolutely no doubt that for just an instant, he and his nameless two crew members had been touched by the real Tears of Eros and she was positive that he’d put out those statements in an effort to discount the real vial’s existence so others would stop looking for it and he could quietly continue his search unmolested.

Himiko sat up stiffly in bed, reached beneath her pillow to withdraw a small, extremely worn leather-bound book that had been burned with hieroglyphic engravings on the front. She ran a finger lightly over the front of the Pharaoh’s Journal and wondered if the time was right to conduct “testing” of her own—to finally ask for and receive all that she’d stolen the precious vial to get.

To get back what shouldn’t have been gone from her in the first place…

Sucking back a sigh of pain, Himiko reached out, withdrew the drawer from her night side table and pushed a button that unlatched a false bottom. From it, she pulled out the now pieced-back-together original box she’d paid the retrieval team to find on the mountainside cliff and from inside it, the vial itself—the holy grail of love—that fabulous treasure known as the Tears of Eros.

Himiko’s movements caused her to wince in pain as she moved. She clumsily shoved the drawer back into place and knocked over several items on the tabletop in the process. Among them were the keys to the Lotus Elise and a small vase of flowers, both of which had arrived early that morning from Dr. Jackal with a note thanking her for playing with him and for the use of her “sporty little vehicle.” It went on to say that he’d filled up the gas tank for her, run the car through the wash, and that he hoped she’d make a speedy recovery so they could “play” together in the future. “Please don’t think badly of me,” the note had ended with its curiously elegant handwriting, “after all, it was only business. I continue to be impressed by you, Lady Poison, particularly so after realizing targeted areas of your body were not bleeding because of what was almost surely a bulletproof vest preventing your vital areas from being penetrated by my blades. Such cleverness, my good Lady! My intimate encounter with you gave me a measure of delight I have not had in a very long time. Please do recover soon, dear Himiko, so that maybe in the near future, I might penetrate you again…”

Himiko paid no heed to the scattered yellow flowers, or the water spilling from the vase or even to the perversely genteel note attached to it. Not that she could if she wanted to. The light from the vial in her hands held her enraptured in its pale pinkish-purple glow. The falling stars inside the suspended liquid, fell and twirled and glittered seemingly just for her.

“Please…” she asked of the vial as warmth seeped into her from the contact her skin made with the smooth surface of the bottle. “Please…” her voice became soft and dreamy and her eyes began to lose focus on the world around her as the bottle and its contents bade her release the stopper.

*Let me out…open me…*

The voice was silent and whispery inside her head as she slowly removed the stopper.

Sparkles filled the darkened room’s air and shone brightly like fairy lights that eagerly surrounded Himiko and lighted on her body; seeped into her breathing, and invaded her very being…

*Drink me…let me heal thee...*

“Just…a…drop…”

Almost as if some external force guided her hand, Himiko tipped the vial to her cracked, dry lips and a single drop of the sweet and salty liquid slipped into her mouth.

Instantly, she fell back against the bed and dropped the bottle. As she lay twitching from the ingestion, she completely missed the bottle eerily righting itself on the bed and calling its stopper back to it to prevent anything from spilling.

After drinking the drop, Himiko became as if her skin were the only thing keeping her from looking as if she were made of pure pale light. It seeped out of her from every opening and entrance—her eyes, her ears, her nose, her mouth, even down to the pores of her skin. They all shone with a crystalline glow that was otherworldly. The liquid spread everywhere at once inside her body; lighting up her veins and arteries like an internal network of highways and road systems through which it traveled at incredible speeds. Wherever the substance touched, it healed whatever injury it found. Bones mended with almost audible creaks and groans; popping back into place on their own and rejoining themselves where fractures had separated them. Punctures made from knifepoints quickly scabbed over and became whole, smooth skin in the blink of an eye. Torn ligaments grew new bridges to close the gaps. Strained muscles relieved themselves of unnecessary stresses and scrapes and abrasions became non-existent.

It should have been unbearable torture, that scorching hot liquid that lit up Himiko from the inside out making so many internal changes so quickly. But it wasn’t. In fact, just the opposite. Blood that had been lost on the mountain was replaced with blood of fire and Himiko, now whole and healed and completely free of pain, writhed with unadulterated passion on the bed, completely forgetting that just moments before she hadn’t even been able to walk. Now she touched herself everywhere and tore at her bedclothes to drive her fingers into places that set her on fire with need. She pleasured herself, and rubbed herself; sliding her fingers in and out of herself, with an abandon that just couldn’t seem the satisfy the carnal thirst that had completely overtaken her. Her voice that was once scratchy and hoarse, wailed clear and loud with the unimaginable cravings that occupied her every cell.

*Ask…ask the first question…*

“Ahh! AHHHHH….” Himiko couldn’t help the loud and growing louder screams of need.

*Ask the first question, see with me, see with me, see with me…*

“YES,….OHHH…YESSSS…”

*The first question…see what I see…*

Himiko panted hard, trying to stay the wails that seemed forced from her every time she touched herself.

“Do…does…’’

*Ask it and you will see…*

“Does Ban…Ban Midou…AHHH…”

*Yesss…take what you need, see what you will…*

“WHO DOES BAN MIDOU REALLY LOVE?”

Before the first question was even finished being asked, inside her mind’s eye, Himiko saw the answer. A barrage of images as vivid and colorful as if she were watching a movie assaulted her. And with each frame of that movie that Himiko found herself forced to watch, the answer to her question became all too clear.

She saw Ban spying on Ginji out of the window of a seedy hotel in the early hours of the morning while Ginji played with lightning in the rain…

She saw Ban and Ginji together at the inn…

“Oh…no…”

She saw Ban and Ginji in the closet of the Mugs’ room…

“Please…no…”

Ban and Ginji in the grotto…

“STOP!”

Ban and Ginji back in their room…

“STOP…PLEASE!”

Ban calling Himiko several times to check on her…

Her phone ringing as she awoke in bed…

Ban and Ginji asleep together in Lady Bug with Ban’s arm wound around Ginji’s shoulders and Ginji fast asleep with his head resting on Ban’s chest…

Faster and faster the images scrolled and began repeating themselves over and over again.

There was nothing she could do to stop from touching herself long enough to shield herself from the scenes that played out over and over again before her very eyes. There was nothing Himiko could do to stop them or herself at all.

And there was nothing Himiko could do to keep tears from sliding down her face or keep her heart from shattering into a million heartbroken pieces even while everything else in her body healed.

She had found the answer to a question she wished she had never asked.


End Chapter 8: The First Question


End Story: The Answer to the Question


End Credits: The Sweetest Taboo: Sade


If I tell you, if I tell you now,
Will you keep on, will you keep on loving me?


Photo: Still shot from “Just One Minute”—Ginji stands with the Lady Bug’s hood up, bent over the engine. From behind him, Ban gazes appreciatively at Ginji’s ass with a small smile on his face…


…If I tell you, if I tell you how I feel,
Will you keep bringing out the best in me?…


Photo: Still shot from “Prelude to the Answer”—Ban is spying on Ginji through the window of a seedy motel as his partner uses lightning to pleasure himself during an early morning thunderstorm. Ban is astonished at what he sees…and more than a little aroused…


…You give me, you give me the sweetest taboo…
You give me, you give me the sweetest taboo…
Too good for me…

Photo: Still shot from “The Answer to the Question”—Ban laying a serious kiss on Ginji to divert the Mugs’ attention in the lobby of the Secret Inn. Ginji is backed up against the wall, Ban is wrapped up into Ginji and Mug One is doing his best to pass out while his partner can’t stop watching. At the desk, Miko is smiling…well…almost…


…There’s a quiet storm,
And it never felt like this before…


Photo: Still Shot from “The Answer to the Question,”—Lying on his stomach in the darkness, Ginji holds the true Tears of Eros beneath the bed. The light from the vial illuminates his face and his eyes are sleepy and dreamy as he listens to the voice inside his head describe all the delicious things he wants to do to Ban. There is a wicked smile on his face…


…There’s a quiet storm that is you…
There’s a quiet storm,
And it never felt this hot before…


Photo: Still shot from “The Answer to the Question,”—Ban and Ginji in an aphrodisiac-fueled embrace. Ban, completely naked, is on his knees on top of the four-poster bed with his back to Ginji. Behind him, Ginji, also completely naked except for his gloves, has one arm wrapped around Ban’s chest to draw him close and the other runs a trace down the curve of Ban’s face, turning it so that he can kiss the lips that are just a breath away from his…


…You’re giving me something, that’s taboo…


Photo: Still shot from “The Answer to the Question,”—Ban walking through the gardens of the Secret Inn. It’s night outside and the sky is full of stars that are bright and distant. Ban is surrounded by lush foliage and greenery and seems to be walking in paradise, yet his face tells a different story. In the golden glow of a tall coach lamp that lines the path he walks, his features are plainly visible. They’re drawn and tense and there’s a hint of sadness to the way he holds his body. In his hand, he carries a black velvet draw string bag…


…Sometimes I think you’re just too good for me…


Photo: Still shot from “The Answer to the Question,”—Ban and Ginji in the grotto. Ban is kissing Ginji to shut him up and Ginji’s surprised eyes are wide and shocked, yet he doesn’t let go of Ban. Behind them, a waterfall shields them from the world outside the cave…


…You give me the sweetest taboo,
That’s why I’m in love with you…


Photo: Still shot from “The Answer to the Question,”—Miko, Yurika and Ayumi stand outside the ‘Wake Up, We’re Not Here to Sleep Suite.’ They’re all staring at the damage that has totally destroyed what used to be a lovely suite. Miko is gazing with unblinking eyes. Yurika looks completely disgusted and Ayumi is shaking her head silently. There’s water seeping down the hallway around their ankles from a room several doors away…


…You give me the sweetest taboo…
Too good for me,
Sometimes I think you’re just too good for me…


Photo: Still shot from “The Answer to the Question,”—Himiko in bed holding the Tears of Eros. The room is dark save the bright light spilling from the open bottle. A dense cloud of golden, shimmery sparkles is wafting from the opening of the vial and surrounding Himiko as she opens her mouth to ask a single question…


…I’d do anything for you,
I’d stand out in the rain…


Photo: Professor Kenji Hirata sneaking back into the mountainside temple to look for more clues. Beside him is Mug Two. With one hand, he is holding up a flashlight for the professor to study one of the painted murals situated between the fluted columns. With the other, he is holding the professor’s hand like a lover…


…Anything you want me to do,
Don’t let it slip away…


Photo: Mug One in therapy. He is lying across the psychiatrist’s couch crying fiercely and shielding his eyes as the therapist holds up a half naked picture of Brad Pitt…


…There’s a quiet storm,
And it never felt like this before…


Photo: A busy day at the Honky Tonk. The bar is filled to capacity with customers who are all male, all drinking heavily and all staring at the pub’s newest waitress—a tall, buxom beauty with long flowing hair and breasts that could defy gravity in any universe. She is wearing a very frilly, very short , very low cut black and white loligoth maid’s uniform and is bent over retrieving yet another fallen glass that yet another customer has “accidentally” dropped. A few tables over, Natsume is handing out boxes of tissues for the dozens of nosebleeds that are springing all over the place. At the bar, Paul is counting a serious wad of cash…


…There’s a quiet storm,
And I think it’s you…


Photo: Akabane at the post office. He is trying to mail a beautifully wrapped package with a lovely mint-green bow that is addressed to Himiko. The package keeps giving the parcel metal detector fits and seizures. Behind the counter, one of the postal employees passes out and another starts crying as he points to the x-ray image of the package that is filled from the top of the screen to the bottom with what looks like knife blades. Dr. Jackal just can’t understand what the problem is…


…There’s a quiet storm,
And I never felt this hot before…


Photo: Ban and Ginji on a new Get Backers mission. The two of them are surveilling a residence to watch for the owner to return with a stolen briefcase. The two are sitting inside Lady Bug across the street. Ban should be watching the residence building but instead has focused all of his attention on the rear view mirror which has a thank you card and a photo of a group of mechanics waving at the camera taped inside it. But Ban is paying no attention to the picture of the grease monkeys. In the rear view mirror, Ban watches with a quiet smile as Ginji naps in the backseat before it’s his turn to watch for their mark.


…You’re giving me something that’s taboo…
You give me the sweetest taboo…
That’s why I’m in love with you…


Photo: Ginji’s turn at surveillance on their new Get Backer’s mission. Instead of watching the building residence, he is nose-deep in a book that Natsume lent him. The book is by Eiri Yuki. Ginji is blushing furiously with his mouth hanging open. In the backseat, Ban is supposed to be napping. Instead he’s watching Ginji completely mess up that whole “We’re Not Gay Thing,” with a small smile on his face…


…You’re giving…keep giving me the sweetest taboo…
Too good for me…


Photo: Special guests at the Honky Tonk. Miko, Ayumi and Yurika sit in a booth across from Hevn. Between them on the table is a white box filled with pastries and a coupon for a free night’s stay at the inn with a complimentary life-sized deluxe vibrator on the house. Next to the goods is a piece of paper with both Ban and Ginji’s phone numbers on it and their full names, their ages, height, hair color, favorite foods, and Lady Bug’s license plate number. Hevn has completely sold the boys out for a box of fruit tarts, a free night’s stay at the inn and a life-sized deluxe vibrator…


…You got the biggest heart,
Sometimes I think you’re just too good for me…


Photo: Himiko with the Tears of Eros. It’s several days after the vial has revealed the truth about Ban and Ginji’s relationship. She has opened the stopper and again is surrounded by shimmering twinkles released from the bottle. Himiko holds the vial before her eyes and asks it another question. This time, however, it’s not about about love at all.

This time, it’s about revenge…


…Everyday is Christmas,
And every night is New Year’s Eve…


Author’s Note: I want to thank you for taking the time to read my story! Though it took me three years to go back and finish this fic after starting it in 2005, I’ve really enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoyed reading it.

The two songs used in this fic were “Freetime,” by Kenna. It can be found on his New Sacred Cow album, and “Sweetest Taboo,” by Sade. That song can be found on her Best of Sade cd. I don’t own either of them in any way, shape or form.

For more information on this fic and other stories,please stop by my Live Journal site at http://asrella.livejournal.com/.

Cheers and Beers--Asrella


…Will you keep on loving me?
Will you keep on,
Will you keep on bringing out the best in me?…


Final Scene: Back at the Secret Inn

Over the bed, there used to hang a beautiful ceiling light fashioned into the shape of a glass lotus flower.

It was gone—obliterated into what had to be the fine dusting of lavender colored glass debris that gently coated what was left of the furniture in the room.

The bedside night tables had been reduced to mere sticks and where a heavy armoire and television had stood in the corner, was now a thick black scorch against the carpet and four little pedestal marks hinting where the armoire feet had stood.

And speaking of scorch marks, the walls were literally littered with them and curiously, the ceiling held even more. They were uneven and of different sizes and shapes. Some were jagged streaks while others looked like rounded inkblots that were hazy and had singeing around the edges. Others even went to the trouble of actually piercing through the structure of the building in places. Through them could be seen other rooms, outside into the courtyard and for the ones on the ceiling, the actual sky, which was blue and pretty and held no hint of the carnage that had happened beneath it.

The sleigh bed, which had once been the most elegant piece in the room with its antique blackened wood and its hand-carved features, now lay in a shattered heap on the floor. The only identifiable bit of it that still existed was the scrolled headboard and even that was severely distressed. All along the top of it, hand-shaped depressions littered its surface as if a massive force had clutched it many times over and over again, squeezing the hard wood into a molded shape that looked a lot like fingers—fingers that had been in the grip of a serious ecstasy. The mattress looked as if it had gone through a four-alarm fire. The poor thing could only still be called a mattress, not because of the stuffing that was everywhere in the room except on the inside of the mattress where it belonged, or because here and there, bits of white quilting from its surface could still be identified, but because the “Do-Not-Remove-Upon-Penalty-Of-Law” tag, of all things, was still miraculously intact and none the worse for wear. The pillows were nowhere to be found. The once beautiful tapestry bedcover was discovered outside in the courtyard, presumably having been flung there through the large hole in the wall behind where the bed used to stand. The hole looked a lot like a hole a forceful fist would leave if it were suddenly shoved through the plaster, wood, insulation and framing in one ultra outstanding second of massive orgasm.

The bathroom was in even worse shape. Tiles from the shower stall were missing and the same fist grip that had ruined the bed headboard and the wall behind it had also seen fit to break off the water control, allowing a steady stream of cold liquid to gush from the ragged hole where the showerhead was once installed, leaving a good foot of water to spill out over the bathroom floor and of course, be absorbed by the bedroom carpeting.

“Miko,” Yurika called as she walked up to her boss who was standing in the hallway observing the damage through where the door to the room used to be.

“The entire fuse box is melted into a solid block. I can’t even open it—the door to it doesn’t exist anymore! The whole thing is going to have to be cut out and replaced, along with the wiring attached to it. Right now, we’re living on generator power.”

Miko sighed heavily.

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Ayumi said, joining her dismayed staff mates in the hall.

“The man directly across the courtyard from here in the ‘Sheep Are People Too Suite’ wants to speak to you, Miko.” Ayumi stood beside Miko with the registry book her boss had requested. “He said that at some point during the night a metal ball came crashing through the wall of his room and hit him in the head. He’s talking about suing.” Ayumi handed her the book.

“The registry book isn’t going to help. Everybody signed in with an alias, including those two guys. How are we going to track them down to get them to pay for this if we don’t know their real names?”

Miko thumbed through the pages ‘til she came to the most recent entry under the ‘Wake Up, We’re Not Here to Sleep Suite’ and read the guest names:

J. Master Stud McMuffin and Hot Boy.

Miko sighed again, turned the registry book to the reservation section and scrolled down to view the name of the person that had made the reservation for the suite in the first place:

Heavenly.

Immediately, visions of a luscious body, long, flowing hair and breasts that could defy gravity in any universe bounced like well-supported D cups before Miko’s eyes. Miko knew just who could help them track down Spiky and Goldilocks and she knew just what buttons to push to ensure cooperation. She turned to Ayumi.

“Looks like we’re going on a field trip. Would you please go to the restaurant and have them box up half a dozen pastries to go? When you’re done there, bring me the Frequent Liars Club book,” she said calmly. “And the phone.”

“Ok.” Ayumi turned to leave. “By the way, Miko, the ‘Hole in One Suite’ is flooding out into the hallway.”

Yurika smacked a hand across her face and cursed out loud.

Miko just twitched.

“In the whole time I’ve worked here, this is the scariest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ayumi said walking away. “That includes the time the circus stayed here! What could possibly do something like this in a single night?”

Yurika looked at Miko.

Miko watched the rest of the sleigh bed wobble, then crash into a dusty heap in the middle of the room.

“Dick,” they both answered.

Neither of them blinked.


*** ***

…You give me the sweetest taboo…


End Story: The Answer to the Question


Fade to black…