Warnings etc in Part 1

Youji heard the back door slam. Immediately he headed up the stairs and changed into his mission gear. He wasn’t going to let Aya go off alone to die, not alone. The crop top was a little loose, his tight black pants not as hip hugging as they used to be, but Youji ignored it, pulling his long coat out of his closet.

He draped it over his arm as he bolted down the stairs. He couldn’t let Aya get too far ahead of him, but he needed to let Omi and Ken know what was up. “Omi?” he called from the hallway, gathering his keys and cell phone from the table.

“Hai?” Omi poked his head around the door to the kitchen.

“I’m going after Aya. Be ready to go if I need help?”

“Hai, Youji-kun. I’ll get Ken.”

“Thanks, chibi. I’m off.”

“Youji-kun?”

Youji paused on his way out the door, half in his coat. He turned.

“Be careful.” Omi’s eyes were grave.

“Aa,” Youji nodded and sprinted for the door. He caught sight of the white Porsche turning the corner down the block as he mounted Ken’s motorcycle. He’d already asked to borrow it, knowing that seeing 7 in his rearview mirror would tip Aya off. He pulled on the brunette’s helmet and started the bike, revving the engine before releasing the brake and speeding off after the swordsman.

It wasn’t hard to pick up Aya’s tail. Driving a Porsche in Tokyo wasn’t exactly the way to blend in. He followed a few cars back through the city to the part of town that wasn’t known for it’s hospitality. Youji slowed as Aya turned off the main road, passing the spot where he assumed that Aya was dumping the car. He made a note of the location as he sped around the block looking for a similar hidden enclave to ditch the bike.

He watched from the shadows as Aya crept toward the building with lights on. He’s not being very careful, Youji thought as he watched the redhead not bother with taking as much cover as he should. The door shut silently after Aya slipped inside the building.

Youji looked around, seeking another entrance to the building. His eyes lit on the fire escape. He used the wire in his watch to pull the ladder down and he scrambled up to the room, peeking over the edge before lightly jumping up and over the ledge onto the roof and crossing silently to the door.

Youji peered around the door for a good minute, searching for movement in the dim light. When he saw nothing, he skimmed through the smallest crack he could manage without opening the door all the way and letting the cold air blow through and announce his presence.

He waited against the wall for a moment, blending with the shadows on the ledge running around the perimeter of the building. He was maybe thirty feet off the floor on a balcony that was barely wide enough for two people to walk next to each other. It was shadowed and Youji was concealed enough if he stuck close to the wall.

“You’re late.” The voice carried through the empty warehouse, reverberating through the wide open spaces so that Youji could easily hear what was being said. He assumed that they were Aya’s targets and he listened in from his hiding place.

“My apologies.” One of the mystery men bowed slightly. “I had—an issue to take care of.”

“Hn,” the other replied. “This is the newest batch,” the man said after footsteps sounded. Youji didn’t dare approach the railing to see what was happening.

“Okay. Same drill as last time?”

“Aa. The effects should be the same, but enhanced. The dreams will be more vivid, seem more real. Hopefully we’ve worked the old bugs out.”

“I hope so. The results of those tests were gruesome.”

The sound of footsteps caught Youji’s ear. There were too many to belong to the two voices he heard, and were too audible to Aya. That meant that there were guards.

The familiar ring of Aya freeing his blade from its sheath rang through the empty warehouse. Youji risked being seen to creep to the edge of the balcony and peer over, seeing Aya face off against fifteen men armed with guns and a few more standing around two men in suits, presumably the voices he’d heard.

Silently, Youji rocked back on his heels and retrieved his phone from his pocket, hitting the speed dial for Omi’s cell, letting it ring once then disconnecting the call, replacing the phone in his pocket. The call had also activated the tracer inside. He stared in horror as Aya prepared to defend himself. But Youji knew he was in no position to help, not until his backup arrived.

Helplessly, Youji watched as they swarmed around Aya. A couple bodies fell before Aya was buried under a mountain of human flesh. He knew that Aya was no match for well fed, well rested, well-paid guards, and he watched as he was carried over to a chair. They stripped him down to his tee shirt and jeans, his boots, coat, and sword tossed well out of reach. Youji continued to stare as they tied Aya’s ankles to the legs of the chair and bound his wrists together behind the back of the chair.

The guards fanned back out to the perimeter of the first floor, concealing themselves in the shadow. Youji watched one of the men not carrying a weapon scoop the contents of the table into a briefcase and lock it shut, slipping quietly out the back door while the well-dressed man circled the chair Aya was secured to.

The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed through the mostly empty building. Youji couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene playing out on the floor below as blood trickled from the corner of Aya’s mouth.

“Who do you work for?” The man asked pleasantly, continuing his slow walk around Aya’s bound form. He knew what he was doing, Youji observed, wandering in and out of the redhead’s field of vision. Anyone other than the swordsman would have been craning his neck to see where the man was at all times.

Aya didn’t answer, didn’t make any attempt to lick away the blood at the corner of his mouth, didn’t react when the man hit him on the back of the head, knocking him forward.

“Who are you?” the man asked, still cordial, as if conducting a job interview.

Aya continued to stare straight forward as his tormenter came around to face him.

The next blow almost rocked the chair back on its hind legs; Aya’s weight would have toppled it over if the man had struck any harder.

Youji was fascinated by the stream of blood pouring from Aya’s nose, the bright red contrasting with the pallor of his face, but distressingly similar to the color of his hair in the dim light. Aya’s lack of response triggered something in Youji. Aya’s going to let him beat him to death without a word, Youji realized. Terror coursed like ice water through his veins. Aya had been seeking death through his missions and it seemed to Youji as if he’d finally found that which he had been looking for. And Youji knew that the easiest way to enrage a man to kill was to simply refuse to do what he wanted.

Unable to move without being seen, Youji was forced to remain crouched against the railing and watch as the man in the suit beckoned a guard over. The guard, dressed in a paramilitary style uniform, relinquished what looked to be a hunting knife to the waiting hand of the man in the suit.

The man continued to walk slow circles around Aya’s chair, slapping the blade of the knife idly against a palm as he spoke. “You’re quite good,” he spoke softly, but his words carried, “to have assassinated three of my partners and escaped. You’ve no doubt gathered some information on our business, and now, I want some information in return. An even trade.”

Youji had no idea who the man was that so easily carried a knife in his hand. But he was dangerous, that much was obvious as the knife went from being casually slapped against a palm to being easily manipulated by dexterous fingers and flexible wrists. Eyes fixed on the blade twisting through fingers, Youji saw the man’s grip shift and watched as the knife descended on Aya’s chest, ripping his sleeveless tee shirt open, leaving a thin line of red welling up in its wake from the base of Aya’s throat to his belly button.

From his vantage point, Youji couldn’t gauge the depth of the wound, but he watched Aya’s face for a reaction and found none. Mentally, Youji cursed his lover’s stubbornness, knowing that a lack of response would only goad the man, and there was no way of knowing how far he would go before back up arrived.

“I’m a very patient man,” the target was saying “and I can drag this out as long as I need to, to get the information I want. Now,” he positioned the knife. “Who do you work for?”

Youji braced himself for the blow he knew was coming when Aya didn’t answer. Watching blood be spilled was something they had all learned to deal with, but it was different when it was one of them. The knife bit into Aya’s left shoulder and was dragged diagonally down and across Aya’s chest and belly, the tee shirt falling away.

Blood issued from the new slice on his chest and trickled down his chin. Youji wished he could tell more about Aya’s state. A dark bruise was starting to form at the base of Aya’s neck, spreading over his shoulder, just above where the target had stuck the knife. Broken collarbone, Youji thought, wincing in sympathy.

“Who do you work for?” The man demanded, beginning to lose his cool as Aya refused to let go of his.

The next slash was less controlled, made more in anger than the calm the man had been clinging to, a mirror image of the one right before, though shorter.

“I can kill you right here,” the man hissed, resuming his slow circle around Aya. “I can flay you like a fish and leave you to drown in a pool of your own blood. A slow, painful death, I assure you.”

He made another cut, straight across Aya’s chest, from nipple to nipple. Blood flowed more freely from this cut, and Youji could see Aya’s hands clench behind his back.

“Still no words?” The knife dipped back into the still bleeding wounds, cutting them deeper. Youji closed his eyes against the flow of blood. He knew that the image would forever be imprinted on his mind, no matter how hard he tried to block it. With a deep breath he refocused his gaze on Aya’s face; at least he would be able to convince himself that Aya wasn’t alone.

Aya’s eyes were still open. Youji was amazed at the strength of will that his lover had to remain conscious.

The first sound Aya made was ripped from his throat as the man took hold of a piece of cut, bloodied skin where the four slashes came together and slid the knife underneath, severing skin from muscle and bone, pulling it away with his hands.

Youji pushed down the urge to vomit as the man followed through on his threat to skin Aya like a fish. He couldn’t wait for Ken and Omi any longer. Waited too long already, he thought as he hit one of the buttons on his watch. Youji deployed the load bearing wire spun through the timepiece, aiming it down to the floor. He pressed a release and anchored the wire to a bolt in the ceiling above him.

The man was focused on Aya, who was deathly pale and barely breathing, Youji saw from his position above and behind the man with the knife. The blonde flexed his fingers once inside his gloves and took hold of his makeshift drop line.

Before he could slide down, one of the doors downstairs flew open and a battle cry sounded around the building. Youji grinned wryly; Ken had a habit of announcing his presence everywhere. He swung his legs over the railing and let himself fall, hands tight on the wire as he sped to the floor.

“Kill them,” the man with the knife ordered as he stepped away from Aya, guards already moving to intercept the rest of the team. The echo of gunfire mixed with the softer hiss of Omi’s crossbow, barely heard over the wind whistling past Youji’s ears.

The line shook suddenly and Youji lost his grip, a burning pain shooting through his side and a crunch reaching his ears when he hit the floor. Stabbing pain shot through his leg as he tried to get up off the floor. He ignored it, pulling himself up and staggering forward where the man was still close to Aya, knife lowered. The paramilitary man stood nearby, gun trained on Aya’s forehead.

As silently as he could, Youji crept up behind the man, the noise from Omi and Ken’s battles carrying in the large room neatly covering the sound of his uneven steps. He readied the garroting wire in his hands. There was a hitch in his side, a dampness soaking through his shirt. He ignored it, meeting Aya’s gaze as he moved closer.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” the man was saying, somehow having already exchanged his knife for Aya’s katana. “Who are you?”

“Weiss,” Youji growled, throwing his wire around the man’s neck and yanking tight, close enough he could hear the neck bones snap. The man went limp and Youji shoved him aside.

Youji readied the wire again, the guard having turned on him, gun trained on his chest. Before either of them could strike, the guard crumpled, one of Omi’s darts sticking out of the back of his neck.

Letting the wire snake back inside his watch, Youji took a lunging step toward the chair Aya was still bound to. “Aya?” he questioned as he fumbled with the knots holding the redhead to the chair. He worked on his hands first, seeing the dusky purple of lost circulation. “Aya, talk to me.”

“You-ji?” Aya gasped.

“Aa.” He spared a moment to cup Aya’s cheek gently, reassurance for them both and so Youji could try to assess anything about his condition. He was cold. Too cold. “Omi!” he yelled, wincing in pain. He abandoned the bindings for a moment, stripping off his coat and tucking it awkwardly around Aya’s upright form.

“You’re hurt,” Aya said faintly.

“What?” Youji focused on getting the knots untied, the throbbing in his ankle and the twinge in his side interfering with his ability to concentrate. Finally the knot came free. Aya hadn’t said anything further and he was worried that he’d slid into unconsciousness, until the redhead looked down at the hands that Youji placed in his lap.

“Blood,” he muttered. “So much blood.”

“Aya, stay with me,” Youji said, the redhead’s voice growing faint. He shifted to work at the ties on Aya’s ankles. Pain stabbed through his chest and side at the motion. Youji pressed a hand to his side and it came away wet and sticky with blood. “K’so,” Youji muttered. His coat shifted in Aya’s lap and Youji forced his eyes upwards to find the redhead slumped over, unconscious.

Omi hit his knees and slid the last few feet to where Youji was crouched. “He’s out,” Youji said, going back to work on the bindings. “He’s cut up pretty bad, going into shock.” It hurt to breathe, but Youji pressed on. “He’s already lost a lot of blood.”

“Youji-kun, you’re bleeding,” Omi said as he set to work on the other tie.

“Hai. I think my ankle is twisted too.” Adrenaline is a wonderful thing, Youji mused. He glanced up. “Where’s Ken?”

His question was answered as Ken streaked by, a huge grin on his face as he attached charges to the walls. Youji redoubled his efforts to get Aya untied.

“Youji?” Aya’s voice was faint.

“Aa?” Youji looked up. Aya’s eyes were half open, and what Youji could see of them were dark and tired.

“Youji, I-”

“No,” Youji affirmed, sitting up slightly. “No death bed confessions,” he growled.

Aya’s eyes slid closed again. “Omi,” Youji prompted.

“Done,” Omi proclaimed, holding up a dart. He’d sliced through the ropes. “Let’s get you both out of here.”



Part 11 Part 13



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