"We need to contact Manx before we decide anything."

Aya thought that he was the only one reacting rationally. Omi was being impulsive, Ken was being emotional, and the two men waiting out in the main room of the flower shop were only seeking to resolve their own immediate problems. Especially that American, who didn't even know the full story of what had happened.

"I'm sure she'll agree that this is our best chance, Aya-kun," Omi argued. He sounded reasonable, but his cheeks were suspiciously flushed, and his eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. "Kritiker has been tracking the Slashers for over a month now, and this is the closest we've come to--"

"Our mission last night was the result of Kritiker's work," Aya interrupted, his voice cold. "We took out two of their members, and it didn't involve getting up onstage and playacting, prancing about in front of a huge audience of teenage girls!"

Omi looked hurt, but Aya was unmoved by this. It was Yoji and Shindou whose lives were at stake here. Omi seemed to be forgetting that fact in his enthusiasm.

"But it took us a month to get to that point," Omi asserted, refusing to be negated. "And we don't have that sort of time now. We have to lure the Slashers into a trap and get them to tell us where Yoji-kun and Shindou-san are! This is our best chance!"

"And why should they show up?" Aya asked caustically. He and the other remaining Weiss members had retreated to the back room to confer. Yuki and K had graciously consented to remain in the shop, but Aya was certain that it would take extreme measures to remove them until they'd gained the answer they wanted. And it wasn't as though it would solve anything for the Weiss members to duck out the back door. They were going to have to come to a decision. "It's just a concert with some rock band. It has no connection with Weiss."

"Oh, come on, Aya-kun!" Omi sounded exasperated now. "They're not stupid! Even if Shindou-san and I look similar in bad lighting, they *have* to have realized by now that they took the wrong person! If they hear that Bad Luck is going to perform tonight anyway, they're *sure* to figure out that it's me onstage instead of Shindou-san!"

"And they'll be sure to figure out that it's a trap," Aya rejoined, glaring at Omi, and then at Ken. The dark-haired young man was sulking, slumped on the sofa with his arms folded, his eyes smoldering under heavy lids and fixed on Omi.

"Then we'll just have to be smarter than them." Omi, it seemed, had a pat answer for everything. "We have all of Kritiker's intelligence to tap into, so it should be no problem."

"And if they manage to get in, and a sniper gets a clear shot at you on the stage?"

Omi turned a most angelic smile up at his irritated teammate. "I trust you and Ken-kun. Neither of you would let anything like that happen."

Aya's mouth twisted. Omi might have meant that honestly, but Aya knew all too well that no one was infallible. Just look at Yoji, who after almost a half dozen years in Weiss had somehow been taken off his guard the night before. With Omi up on stage, both highlighted and blinded by spotlights, all it might take would be one moment's hesitation, or one wrong decision on the part of himself or Ken. And then they would be short two members of Weiss, instead of one.

"Besides," Omi continued blithely, still with an innocent and guileless expression on his face. "It *is* my fault that Shindou-san can't perform at his concert. If K-san thinks that I can help, then I intend to do so. Whether the Slashers show up or not."

"Omi!" Explosively, Ken leapt up from the sofa. "How many times do I have to tell you that it wasn't your fault Yuki Eiri followed you into that alley?! And it's certainly not your fault Shindou and Yoji got nabbed! So K has no hold over you! You shouldn't do it -- it's too dangerous!

Aya subsided, pulling his cell phone out of his apron pocket and punching in Manx's number. He had already tried to contact their superior with no luck, but it would do no harm to try again while his two young teammates fought this out. As they most assuredly were about to do.

"Ken-kun--"

"No!" Ken blustered onward, ignoring Omi's sharp tone of voice. "You can't do it, Omi! I won't let you! They're trying to use you, and that's-- that's just not right!"

Omi's azure eyes had narrowed, and he planted his hands on his hips. "Last time I checked, Ken-kun, I was an adult. I think I can make my own decisions. If I say I'm going to do this, then I'm going to do it. And there's nothing that can stop me -- not even you!"

Ken's head snapped back as though he had been struck. "But, Omi...."

"No, Ken-kun." Omi was adamant, his face stern, not relenting even in response to Ken's doleful expression and outstretched hands. "I'm going to go onstage with Bad Luck to fill in for Shindou-san. And that's that."

"And Weiss will be there." Suddenly, Manx was standing in the doorway, her lips bright and her curls bobbing. "You'll have all the backup Kritiker can give you."

With a stormy scowl, Aya snapped his cell shut and shoved it in his pocket. He should have known Manx would fall in with this ridiculous plan. Still, it was good to know that they would have Kritiker backup, since Omi was set on doing this.

"But, Manx--" Ken started.

"Hush, Siberian." The woman held up a graceful hand. "K-san and Yuki-san have already informed me of the particulars. I think this is our best shot at getting Balinese and Shindou-san back."

"That's what I was saying!" Omi said, with a mixture of exasperation and smugness.

"Ah.... HELL!!" Ken threw himself back down onto the sofa.

Aya shrugged. If this was what they were reduced to.... He would definitely be at the concert tonight.

Behind Manx, the blonde American peered around the edge of the doorway. "Tsukiyono-san?"

"Hai?" Omi snapped to attention.

K smiled, flashing perfect white teeth. "Please ready yourself. We must depart soon, so that you don't miss too much of Shindou-kun's rehearsal time."

"Hai~!!"

"Wait!" Ken leapt to his feet. "I'm going along! Aya, you're coming too, right? You can give me a ride so I don't have to take my bike!" He pounded out after the others without awaiting a response.

Manx cast Aya an amused glance. Of course he was going to go along as well. They had to formulate a feasible plan, after all.

Aya very much hoped that they would be able to reclaim Shindou from the Slashers tonight. Being ordered around by an overconfident, pushy American was not something he was going to tolerate for long.

The members of the Slashers were going to pay for all of this. They were going to pay dearly.

****

Aya sighed, resting his cheek against his palm, feeling tired and irritable. There were bright lights trained on the stage but nowhere else, leaving the part of the auditorium he was seated in dark and quiet. It was cool here, and the chair was fairly comfortable, but he was unhappy.

He had already been through the entire auditorium; even up the catwalks and inside the empty women's restrooms. He would download, print off, and study the blueprints once he got back to the Koneko no Sumu Ie 2. Manx had promised to send them to Weiss' computer. Still, memorizing blueprints, no matter how thorough or up to date they were, was nothing to compare to actually covering the ground himself. He planned to get back to this auditorium hours before the concert was scheduled to start and do further reconnaissance.

Now he was only waiting for Omi to finish his "rehearsing". Yuki, Ken, and K were standing to one side of the stage, watching as Bad Luck ran through their routine, over and over and over again. They had been joined by a dark-haired man named "Sakano", who was evidently the band's producer. He had been gleeful to see Omi, before realizing he was not Shindou. Then he had wanted to inform someone named "Seguchi" of what was going on -- this man appeared to be the owner of NG Productions as well as Yuki's brother-in-law. He had persisted until K had pulled his gun and intimidated him into holding his silence.

Aya thought that it was just as well. The fewer people who knew about Shindou's disappearance and the fact that they were putting Omi up on stage in his place, the better. They wouldn't have been able to explain to this Seguchi what they were doing without the man intuiting how dangerous this was; both to his band members and, possibly, to the audience.

Though Aya sincerely hoped to avoid getting any innocents involved in this. It was bad enough that they had to be here in the first place. But if Omi was so bound and determined to do this, then Weiss *had* to be involved, because the odds were that the Slashers *would* show up.

It had been decided that Omi would lip-synch to a pre-recording of Shindou singing, since his voice, unlike his looks, was too dissimilar to pass as the other youth's. The small, green-haired, very young keyboardist -- Fujisaki had been his name, if Aya remembered correctly -- had seemed ecstatic with Omi's performance, siting his willingness to take the rehearsal seriously, and his honest effort. He had even gone so far as to suggest that they take on Omi as the new lead singer of the band. The dark-haired guitarist had whacked him on the head with a clenched fist at this.

The guitarist, Nakano Hiro, had been quite belligerent and potentially violent in his demands to know the whereabouts of Shindou. Evidently they were more than fellow bandmates; they were also friends. Yuki, surprisingly, had been the one to pull Hiro aside, speaking quietly but urgently to him. Aya did not know what he had told the young man, but it had seemed to placate him. It couldn't have been the truth then.

Aya was just as glad he hadn't been called upon to deal with the situation. He was about fed up dealing with difficult people. Yuki himself being first and foremost on his current list.

He had to admit, reluctantly, that Omi looked good up there onstage. They had trained a couple of red spotlights on him. This had created the desired effect of turning his hair a pinkish shade and coloring his blue eyes violet without the need to fuss with hair dyes or colored contacts. Which was just as well, seeing as this was a one night only gig. Wearing some of Shindou's flamboyant clothing, there was little difference between Omi and the missing singer. So said his fellow band members, K, and Sakano. Yuki had said nothing.

Aya felt that they should be safe enough in their ruse, so long as Omi kept away from the edge of the stage and stayed in the red lighting. No one past the first couple of rows would be able to see him well enough to suspect anything, anyway.

With the scent of fresh cigarette smoke and subtle, musky cologne, Yuki slumped into the chair beside Aya. The redhead quirked a brow. There were several hundred seats in this auditorium and none of them were taken, but Aya could understand why Yuki had joined him. After all, misery loved company.

"How is it going?" he unbent enough to ask, glancing over at Yuki. He wanted to know how much longer he was going to be stuck here.

Yuki drew on the cigarette he was probably not supposed to be smoking in the auditorium, his eyes hidden behind thick bangs. He exhaled with a good deal more deliberation than necessary before he replied.

"Well enough. Your Omi seems to be an admirable replacement for Shuuichi."

"But only onstage," Aya said wryly, his lips twisting into what wasn't exactly a smile.

Yuki did not reply to this sally. Aya was just as glad. He wasn't in the mood to offer comfort when there was none to be had, nor did he want to get into an argument if Yuki got angry over his presumptiveness. He didn't know what had prompted him to voice the words; especially when it was a statement of the obvious. He supposed he was feeling a certain amount of pity for Yuki. Even though the man was obnoxious and arrogant, having his lover missing and in the clutches of unpredictable villains had to be driving him mad.

Aya shifted. The chair was fairly comfortable, but his ruminations were not. He wondered how much longer this would last. If they weren't finished soon, Ken would find himself taking the bus back to the Koneko. Aya had blueprints to study and plans to make. "Are they almost finished?" he asked Yuki.

"I think so."

The two men sat in silence for long minutes, listening to the music.

"Could I--" Aya paused, embarrassed. He avoided Yuki's curious glance, keeping his eyes fixed on the slim figure gyrating about on the stage. "Do you think I could..." he cleared his throat. "Er, bum a smoke off of you?"

Wordlessly, Yuki passed Aya his pack and lighter. Aya had quit smoking shortly before he had joined Weiss, but after the sting of the first drag, he found it was a knack he had not lost, and a taste he had not known he had so badly missed.

"Thanks."

Yuki nodded, then settled himself back in his chosen chair. Aya hunched forward in his seat, flicking ashes surreptitiously on the floor between his feet.

"You're worried too." It wasn't a question. "About your teammate."

Aya scowled down at the burning end of his cigarette Sheltered behind the back of the chair in front of him, it glowed like an unwinking crimson eye in the dark shadows. "I shouldn't be."

*But you are.* There was no need for Yuki to speak the words aloud and he did not. Still, they rang in the silent air between the two men.

"Shindou will be all right," Aya offered grudgingly, his voice flat. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor as he took a drag of his cigarette. Yuki shifted beside him. By now the novelist surely knew Aya well enough to realize that he would not make an offering like that as false reassurance.

"You...." Yuki paused, then crossed his legs, his fingers lacing together restlessly in his lap. Aya absently wondered what the other man had done with his cigarette butt.

Aya took a deep drag on his own cigarette, ignoring both the prickle in his throat and the red sparks that danced in the corners of his peripheral vision. He simply had to accustom himself once again to the tobacco. He ought to be inured to it, for all the secondhand smoke he breathed from Yoji's habit, but evidently his body disagreed. Still, he could feel the muscles in his shoulders loosening slightly, and he didn't think this was in any manner an effect of his conversation with Yuki Eiri.

"I can't say he'll be unharmed," Aya continued, when the other man evidently could think of nothing further to say. "But he'll be all right. And we'll get him back. Yoji may have been careless enough to have been captured, but he won't let anything happen to Shindou. Nothing... permanent, anyway."

"You have... that much faith in him, then?" Yuki asked. Aya could feel those narrow amber eyes fixed on the back of his head, but he did not raise his gaze.

"Yoji is...." He grimaced, finding the words bitter on his tongue, but discovering that he could not leave them unspoken. "Yoji may be lazy on occasion, and he was careless last night, but overall he is as well-trained and qualified as any of us. He was a private detective before he joined Weiss, and he has been 'Balinese' for over five years. He won't.... He may not come out of this disaster in one piece himself, but he won't let anything happen to Shindou."

Yuki was silent. Up on the stage things seemed to be winding down. Omi and the members of Bad Luck were huddled together with the manager and the producer, discussing something.

"I can't trust your Yoji," Yuki finally said, as Aya dropped his cigarette butt surreptitiously on the floor, crushing out the last spark and then shoving it under his chair with a booted foot. "I don't know him well enough myself for that. But I will trust to your trust in him."

"Hn." This statement rendered Aya unaccountably pleased. He still didn't think he liked Yuki Eiri, but he thought he was beginning to understand him, if only on the most surface level. And now he felt that Yuki might be coming to understand him as well. A confession of trust offered by someone such as Yuki was no small thing.

"You'll be attending the concert tonight?" he asked cautiously, tilting his head to glance at Yuki out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll be here."

Aya's lips curled. "Aa." It wasn't his place to tell Yuki to stay away. After all, it was the man's lover whose safety and life were at stake. He straightened. "Do you have a weapon?"

There was a hard gleam of amber beneath the fringe of Yuki's blonde bangs. "I don't need a weapon."

There was a certainty in the soft voice that chilled Aya's blood. He didn't bother doubting the man's claim. He'd known all along that there was something... dangerous about Yuki Eiri, something that belied his outward appearance of a simple romance novelist. Still....

"Don't get in our way," Aya warned, his voice equally low.

"So long as you don't get in my way," Yuki replied.

Aya simply shrugged, rising to his feet as Ken came stamping up the aisle toward them. He would make no promises. He didn't think they could work together, but perhaps they could give one another the necessary room to do what they had to do.

"Aya! Let's go!" Ken raised a hand, stopping at the end of the row. "Omi's going with Hiro, to watch some videos of Shindou in concert. I wanna head home and get something to eat."

With a last glance at the tall blonde who remained seated, Aya made his way toward Ken. Now that the course of action had been decided upon, the dark-haired young man seemed ready to support their youngest team member all the way. As it should be.

"You ought to get some rest when we get back to the Koneko," Ken suggested as the two Weiss members moved to exit the echoing auditorium. "You didn't get any sleep at all last night, did you?"

Aya shrugged. Sleep was a negligible loss when there was so much that needed to be done. He was tired, true, but he was feeling too worried to rest. Perhaps he would give it a try, but the most important thing was to get Yoji and Shindou back safely. Safely and soon.

He had made Yuki something that was nearly a promise. And he had no plans of letting the man down. As well, he intended to bring Yoji home. Otherwise, how would he get his chance to bitch Balinese out for letting down his guard enough that he had gotten captured?

****

"Waaaaaaaaaaaahhh~!!!"

"Shuuichi...."

Yoji sighed, closing his eyes and counting slowly to ten. The kid was sweet and all, but he was coming close to driving his fellow captive nuts.

Shindou had been unable to so much as loosen the tightly tied leather bonds around Yoji's wrists, and so the older man was perched uncomfortably on his left side, curled on the floor, his head resting, thankfully, in Shindou's lap, instead of on the cold cement. This did nothing for his cracked ribs, but it would have hurt far worse to settle all of his weight upon his arms, as well as leaving him in an awkwardly arched position.

They had been quietly, albeit fruitlessly, discussing alternate methods of escape, being unwilling to just lie still and wait for their captors to return. Shindou had refused flat-out to attempt to get away on his own, despite Yoji's argument that it was only the boy's hands that were bound. He supposed he admired Shindou's loyalty, and it was likely that all the exits were barricaded anyway, but he still had hopes of Shindou getting out. It would be foolish not to at least try.

Then Shindou had remembered a concert he was supposed to attend this evening, and had begun setting up a grand fuss that he was going to miss it. Yoji had never seen a young man of Shindou's age shed so many tears. He felt as though his whole head, where it rested in Shindou's lap, had been dampened from the overflow.

"Waaaaahhh~!!! I can't miss the concert!! I can't, I can't!!! Hiro is counting on me!! WAH~!! K will shoot me!!"

"Shindou-- OW!!!"

Yoji's ears rang as Shindou leapt to his feet, allowing Yoji's head to fall against the cement floor of the warehouse. He curled more tightly into himself, gritting his teeth. Stupid little sonofa--

"Yuki!! YUKI~!!!! Where are you?!?! Come and rescue me!!"

As he recovered, Yoji noticed something. "Uh, Shindou...."

"I have to get to the concert!!! YUKI~!!!!"

"SHINDOU!!"

"Ah!" Jolted from his wailing when Yoji raised his voice, Shindou fell immediately to his knees, his eyes now filled with tears of shame and contrition. "Oh no!! Gomen yo, Yoji-san! I hurt you!!"

Yoji took a deep breath, ignoring the twinge of his sore ribs and the pulse pounding in his temples. "Shindou," he said with admirable calm. "Your hands are free now."

"Huh?"

The pink-haired youth sat back on his heels, raising his hands and staring blankly down at his wrists. He had somehow, unbelievably snapped the thick rope binding them together, and it trailed down in ratty streamers. His violet eyes widened, his lush lips falling open.

"How did I do that?" he asked disingeniously.

Yoji smothered a heavy sigh, only because it would hurt his ribs. "Now will you listen to me?" he asked patiently. "You should be able to find a way out of here. Once you're free, you can bring help."

"Yadda!" Shindou shook his head resolutely. "I won't leave you here, Yoji-san!"

"What are you going to do, carry me out?" Yoji asked sardonically.

He didn't like the gleam that entered Shindou's vibrant eyes at this mocking suggestion. But at that moment they could hear footsteps approaching the entrance to the warehouse.

"Shuuichi!" Yoji hissed.

"Hai!" In a heartbeat, Shindou had hit the floor, lying roughly where he had awakened, pressing his wrists together as though they were still tied. Yoji was mildly startled, and decided that he had been underestimating the youth's intelligence.

Though, really, when he was wailing like a baby who had lost its rattle that was not difficult to do.

They lay still, listening to the sound of several locks being unlocked and bolts being shot. Yoji had to admit that it had been improbable to think that Shindou could have escaped unaided, but there had been no point to not trying. Now it was too late.

Its hinges squealing, one of the doors to the side of the warehouse opened. The sliver of sunlight that fell inside briefly was ruddy with the approach of sunset, and there was a damp scent of river water in the air.

It was only one of their captors who stepped into the building; the man with the sharp features whose name Yoji had not heard. He paced across the floor with deliberate steps, his dark eyes fixed on his prisoners, a gleaming gun held to the ready in his right hand, a cigarette burning lazily in the other.

Yoji's mouth twisted. He was wounded, weary, hungry, dehydrated, tied up like a spitted pig, and he swore he was suffering from nicotine withdrawal. If he could have felt his hands, he'd bet they would have been shaking, and the acrid yet seductive scent of the cigarette the man was holding certainly wasn't helping. For the first time Yoji was beginning to see a real downside to his long-standing habit.

There wasn't much chance he could do anything. And he was suddenly extremely fearful that Shindou would try something stupid. The man had a gun, and Shindou was... Shindou was unarmed and untrained. He might get really badly hurt, or worse, if he tried to attack.

"Hello, boys," the man said, his voice laden with scorn, as he flicked his burning cigarette away and paced across the large warehouse to loom over his captives. He was dressed all in black, with a hood pulled over his head and gloves on his hands. "Hope you're enjoying our fine hospitality. Sorry we haven't been back to 'discuss' things more thoroughly, but you know how it is." He shrugged expansively. "There's a concert tonight that we simply cannot miss."

Yoji gritted his teeth, willing Shindou not to move, not to react, as the man lowered himself to one knee beside the youth. The mention of the concert... if that didn't set the young rock idol off....

The cold muzzle of the man's gun nudged Shindou's temple through the sweaty strands of his pink hair. Yoji's eyes widened and he bit off a curse before it could pass his lips. Shindou was, amazingly, lying placid and still, his eyes closed and his breathing regular.

"We've figured out your little game. Your decoy, bait and switch idea. If it's Shindou Shuuichi who's here, then it must be Tsukiyono Omi -- Bombay -- who is performing with Bad Luck tonight."

"Brilliant," Yoji said, just as mockingly as the man with the gun. He was beginning to think that maybe it would be better to get the gun focused on him. "Too bad you couldn't figure that out before you grabbed the wrong guy."

"Shut up!" Sure enough, the gun swung upward. Yoji grinned rakishly into the face of death. "This is all your fault! Who would have thought that a member of the infamous Weiss would be gallivanting around with the lead singer of Bad Luck?!"

"I think you underestimate me," Yoji purred, cocking a brow and giving the man his most seductive look. This might be a stupid move, but he was worried about Shindou. Nothing must happen to the boy while under Yoji's protection; even if it was neither his fault nor Shindou's that this had happened and even though Yoji had been rendered almost wholly incapable of providing any actual protection. "You've obviously been watching us for a while -- why should you be surprised at anyone I keep company with?"

The man sneered. "Think you're the shit, do you? Well, you're expendable now. We'll be taking care of Bombay and the rest of Weiss at the concert tonight. We don't need you anymore; either of you." The cocking of his gun echoed loud in the empty warehouse and Yoji felt the hair on his body prickle. "First we'll kill Shindou Shuuichi, then we'll take Bombay, who will be playing at being Shindou tonight, and then...."

Yoji could see the violet gleam of Shuuichi's eyes cracking open behind the shielding fringe of his pink bangs. He had the sinking sensation of a disaster looming that he was helpless to divert, and he began wondering how much he could do with his arms and legs tied so tightly and Shindou's prone form between himself and his enemy. No way was he going to just lie here and let the man kill the youth!

"And then?" a soft voice prompted.

The man chortled. "Well, for the sake of thoroughness we'd best take out everyone involved -- that includes the rest of Weiss, the members of Bad Luck... oh, and that tall blonde with the bad attitude that's been hanging around your flower shop."

Yoji's jaw clenched, but before he could speak, or even think of a response to this dire pronouncement, there was a flash of impossibly fast, pink-capped movement. Shindou surged upward and around, slamming into the startled man, who found unexpectedly that one of his captives was neither as helpless nor as powerless as he had thought.

"Shindou!!" Yoji writhed within his bonds, heedless of the resultant pain, cursing his own impotence. Shindou and the man were grappling, locked together -- it looked as though Shindou was trying to wrest the gun away from the other, and this could only end in the worst sort of tragedy. "Fuck! Shindou!" Yoji had to-- He had to--

*BLAM!*

Yoji froze, unable to breathe, and not only because of his cracked ribs. The gun had been cocked when Shindou had acted. The explosion had been nearly deafening in the empty warehouse, reverberating within its bare walls. As closely pressed as they had been, surely the bullet had struck one of the combatants. Who had...?

Emerald eyes watched in horrified fascination as the two figures wavered, then tumbled apart. But Shindou only fell on his rear, his hands clapped over his ears. "Ow!" the youth cried, his eyes squeezed tightly closed.

Their captor had fallen backwards, and there was a slowly spreading pool of dark blood staining the cement under his body, though from the angles at which they both were lying, Yoji could not tell where the bullet had hit him.

"Shindou!" his voice was urgent. "Shindou! Oi, Shuuichi, are you okay?!"

"Y-yeah." The young man sounded shaken, but he seemed mostly unharmed. His violet eyes were huge in a white face, but they were focused and not glazed over with shock. Yoji was glad. After all, it wasn't every day that one shot-- or, well, rather, that one caused another man to shoot himself, even though it had been accidental on both ends.

"Shindou." Yoji shifted, his breath hissing between clenched teeth. "Grab the gun."

Shindou complied, tugging the weapon away from the man's lax hand. Yoji breathed a little easier, though he still did not entirely trust the situation. An assassin that took *anything* for granted was an assassin that did not live long.

"All right. Now, Shindou.... I need to ask you to feel for his pulse. Carefully."

Yoji bit his lip as the youth reluctantly complied. He was risking Shuuichi's life, if their captor was faking it, or if he unexpectedly recovered at this moment. But with his limbs bound so tightly, Yoji could do nothing himself.

"He's.... I think he's dead, Yoji-san," Shindou said, finally. "I don't feel a pulse." He scooted back, opening and closing the hand he had pressed to the man's neck, then rubbing it against his thigh. *Now* his eyes were taking on a bit too much of a frenetic shine, and Yoji spoke quickly, to forestall any possible histrionics.

"Shindou!" The young man's gaze swung toward him. "I hate to ask you this, but can you check and see if he has anything -- a knife -- *anything* that you can cut me loose with?!"

"Ah! Yoji-san!" Being given something other than a corpse to focus on worked wonders. Shindou regained a little of his color, his expression contrite, his brow puckered. "I'm sorry! I totally forgot!! You must be so sore!! And we need to get to the concert and warn Yuki and Hiro!!"

It was without any further qualms that Shindou began raiding the man's pockets. Yoji grinned faintly, but he was all too ready to be freed of his bonds. Shindou was more right than he could possibly know; Yoji was well beyond sore. He could only think of two or three times in his life that he had felt this awful.

"Check his ankles," he suggested, when Shindou's search turned up nothing useful.

"Huh?!" Though he did not seem to understand, Shindou did as instructed. Then he crowed with pleasure as he discovered a thin knife strapped to the man's right calf beneath his pants leg. "How did you know, Yoji-san?"

"Hurry," Yoji gritted, shifting with a muffled groan so that he was lying more on his stomach. "And be careful!"

With as much care as Yoji could have wished, Shindou slit the leather straps binding his wrists to each opposite elbows. Yoji cried out in pain as his abruptly freed arms filled with something far too agonizing to be called pins and needles. His forehead pressed to the chill cement floor, beaded with sudden-rising perspiration.

"Oh, Yoji-san!" the young man gasped, dropping the knife and grasping Yoji's hands. With more gentleness than Yoji had excepted, Shindou lowered his arms to his sides, chafing them carefully, avoiding the raw, welted flesh of his wrists, until Yoji felt that he could move without the danger of passing out.

"Th-thanks," he muttered, his teeth still clenched against further venting of his pain.

"Yoji-san, are you really all right?" Shindou helped Yoji into a sitting position, though the older man was slumped over, his aching arms folded about his chest.

"Damn...." Yoji took a moment to get his breathing under control. "I will be.... Just gimme a couple of minutes, okay, Shindou?"

"Hai!"

Without being asked, Shindou sliced through the bonds at Yoji's knees and ankles. It was a relief to be able to spread his legs. Shindou was awkwardly fumbling with the ropes around his wrists, trying to find the right approach to cut them away, when Yoji began to feel as though he could possibly begin to function again. Before Shindou could slice himself, Yoji commandeered the knife. He freed the young man of the trailing remains of his bonds, and they were set to go on their way.

If Yoji could manage to stand.

It took them a couple of false starts and Yoji nearly fell over before Shindou caught him in remarkably strong arms, but finally they were both upright and Yoji was fairly stable on his feet. Being so closely restricted by such tight bonds for almost twenty-four hours had done its damage, and there were the cracked ribs to avoid jarring as well. Never mind the fact that neither of them had had anything to eat or drink in about twenty-four hours.

"Don't think I'll be much good at the concert," Yoji muttered bitterly, shoving their captor's gun into the waistband of his jeans.

"What was that, Yoji-san?"

Yoji angled a weak grin at the young rock idol. Shindou looked like an eager little puppy again, already getting over the man he had accidentally helped to shoot himself, and only thinking about seeing his Yuki. Yoji wanted to help him in this. Even if he wasn't sure how they were going to get there, or whether he'd be able to do anything once he got there. He'd functioned on a mission after getting shot in the chest, when Weiss had taken down Ryotto.... Well, he'd manage.

At least he had a gun, thanks to the man lying on the floor. Weiss didn't usually use firearms, since they were too loud and could be unreliable, but Yoji felt that in case he would gladly make an exception. It would be far easier to pull a trigger than it would be to wield his wires with his cracked ribs and aching arms.

"Matte, Shindou," Yoji said suddenly, as they moved to walk around the body and leave the warehouse. "I want to get something."

"What?" Shindou blinked almost audibly as Yoji, with a stifled groan, knelt beside the man. Shindou had conveniently emptied his pockets in his hunt for a knife, and so Yoji had no trouble finding what he sought.

"Ah. Not my brand, but...."

Shindou watched with understanding as Yoji stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit up, taking a drag as deep as his cracked ribs would allow. Then he helped the older man back to his feet, and acted as a crutch as they limped out of the warehouse.

After all, Yuki was a smoker. Shindou knew how important that longed-for cigarette was to Yoji.

"Ikou, Yoji-san!"

"I'm moving as fast as I can, kiddo."

****

There was a loud hum of conversation punctuated by the occasional excited squeal; the auditorium was almost full, and it was less than ten minutes before the concert would start.

Aya was impressed despite himself. Evidently Bad Luck was quite popular -- the place was sold out.

He wondered whether his sister listened to Bad Luck, whether she was a fan of Shindou Shuuichi, or perhaps of one of the other boys in the band.

It made his heart ache in a way more painful than pleasant to think of his sister living a happy normal life. She thought that he had been killed in Weiss' final battle with Schwarz. Abyssinian, risen from the briny depths, had requested that it be this way, and Manx had facilitated the matter. Aya-chan would never meet the members of Weiss. She would never know the man who had killed more people than he could count while bearing her name as his own. This man was not her Ran-nii any longer, and she could have nothing to do with him. Or, rather, he must have nothing to do with her.

The original and true Fujimiya Aya was safely attending school in America, using the money that she thought came from her brother's life insurance as well as a trust fund that he had indeed set up for her to fund her education and the new life she had begun. And that was the way that her brother wanted it, even though he knew that it meant he would never see his imouto's smile again, never hear her laugh or her kind voice. The things which he had done, and continued to do, so that he could support her were the very things that now kept him away from her. There was an irony in this, but it was bitter in flavor.

Ken and Omi didn't understand why he had sent his sister away and refused to let her know that he was alive. But he thought that Yoji, the man who had first called him by his sister's name without knowing it, could see what was in his heart. How could Aya ever hold his sister with the blood of his victims staining his hands? He could never be Ran again, and so Ran was dead. The man who had lived on was a new person, and was not suitable to be Aya-chan's oniisan.

Shaking off this momentary fugue of melancholy, Aya brought his mind sharply back to the task at hand. He missed his sister, and he was sorry to bring her pain in leading her to believe that he was dead, but now she had a chance to build a new life, free of the shadow of Takatori and Este. She deserved that much and more.

Aya rubbed the crease that had formed between his brows, turning his attention back to the stage and, beyond it, the packed auditorium. There would be no room for mistakes, and he must not let anything distract him.

The very fact that Bad Luck was such a popular band was bad luck of another sort for Weiss. If the Slashers did show up, there would be a greater chance that they could slip in without being noticed, and there were more innocents that might get in the way of an assassination attempt.

Omi was wearing a bulletproof vest beneath the shirt and jacket that he had borrowed from Shindou's wardrobe -- Ken and Manx had both insisted on this, and the youngest Weiss member wasn't headstrong or foolish enough to refuse -- but that wouldn't do him much good if the Slashers went for a head-shot.

Aya was beginning to feel that this had been a bad idea from start to finish. No matter how important K and Sakano insisted this concert was to Bad Luck and Shindou, it could have been canceled or postponed. Should have been, and they should be trying to find Yoji and Shindou through Kritiker's network.

It was too late now, however.

Ken was in position up in the catwalks, while Aya had staked out the side of the stage that was not bustling with activity. They had agreed that the two most likely spots for the Slashers to attempt anything would be from above or from the less busy side of the stage. Manx, Birman, and some other Kritiker operatives were watching the entrances to the auditorium, and were in radio contact. They were trying to cover as many bases as they could with one of Weiss' members missing and the other very much occupied.

Aya thought that the whole thing felt as though it had been pasted together out of pieces that fit poorly, and he had the sinking sensation that things were not going to go smoothly this evening.

Well, how could they be expected to? Weiss usually tried to function from the shadows, where they could take out their targets without involving civilians. The Slashers had forced their hand and while Aya would not say that the enemy group had the advantage, there was nothing to be happy about, trying to undertake a mission in an auditorium full of loud music and louder fangirls.

Beside Aya, reminding him abruptly that it was not merely Weiss and Kritiker that were involved in this mess, Yuki Eiri shifted, flexing his wounded arm with a faint hiss. Aya spared the man a glance. Yuki seemed to holding up fairly well, all things considered, but he was something of a wild card, and Aya still wasn't entirely certain that it had been a good idea to encourage him to participate.

It was too late to change his mind now, though. And even if Aya changed his own mind, he would never be able to convince Yuki to bow out gracefully.

"Are you ready?" he asked, even as the lights went down in the house, the announcement of Bad Luck's performance heralded by shrill shrieks of glee from the audience, as well as wildly swinging spotlights. At least Aya could be certain that the red lights would remain trained on Omi -- K was up in the booth with his gun, making sure of that. After all, he had as much to lose as Weiss, if not more, if the ruse was discovered. Sakano was in the sound booth, making sure that the correct songs were played at the right times -- he had told the men there that Shindou was suffering from laryngitis.

Yuki nodded sharply, as the swell of music would have drown out any verbal answer. His gleaming amber eyes were fixed on the stage, where "Shindou Shuuichi" had started in on Bad Luck's first song of the night.

Aya cast his gaze that way briefly. Omi was certainly putting on a good show, jumping and writhing about the stage, the red lights following him faithfully as he mouthed into a dead microphone, lip-synching perfectly to Shindou's recorded voice.

Yuki appeared particularly morose, his handsome features hard and cold, his lips taut. He was still wearing the white shirt, though it was covered up with a black jacket, along with dark jeans and running shoes. He looked ready for anything. Aya, of course, was in his full mission gear, his katana a comforting weight against his left thigh beneath the cloaking folds of his trench coat.

Ignoring the sound and spectacle on the stage, Aya cast his narrow violet gaze about the shadows surrounding them. If the Slashers did indeed show up, Aya wanted to be the first to question one of them.

He'd find out where Yoji and Shindou were. And then the Slashers would die.

****

"This is your place?" Shindou looked around with large violet eyes, as Yoji flopped down onto his bed, already rooting through the drawer of the small table beside it.

"Aa." Yoji's generous mouth curled into a wicked grin as he brought out his weapon. Sure, it looked like a simple watch, but....

"So many books!" Shindou seemed awed. "Even Yuki doesn't have this many books!"

Yoji chuckled. "Well, your boyfriend's an author, kiddo. People who write have to spend more time writing and less time reading than untalented jerks like me."

"Yoji-san, don't call yourself names!" Shindou looked severe; rather amusing with his boyish features. There were smudges of dirt and flowering bruises on his face, but his eyes were bright. "After all, not everyone can be as wonderful as Yuki!"

"Sure thing." Yoji grinned wryly, touched in spite of himself. Shindou was nothing if he was not loyal. "Hey, can you go get the first aid kit?" he asked more seriously, reaching up a shaking hand to push tattered chestnut bangs out of his eyes. "It's in the cupboard in the bathroom. Big white box with a red cross on it. You can't miss it."

"Right away!"

Shindou scampered out willingly, and Yoji breathed a soft sigh of relief. How the kid could have so much energy after all the two of them had been through....

Well, he was just glad that Shindou hadn't made a fuss about stopping off at the Koneko. Yoji had argued that he needed his weapon, some bandages, and a change of clothes, and they both needed something to eat and drink before they rushed off the concert. The point that had won Yoji his case had been when he had mentioned driving his Jeep over. That had gotten Shindou to come along obediently, though Yoji knew there wasn't going to be any stalling.

Yoji felt he could be reasonably sure that Aya and the others would have surmised that their enemies would show up the concert, and would be waiting accordingly. He felt shitty enough that he was tempted to remain here, keeping Shindou out of further danger, but he knew that they really had to go to the concert. Even wounded and weak, an extra Weiss member might tip the odds in their favor. As well, Aya and Ken would be more free to kill rather than capture if they knew that Yoji and Shindou had escaped by themselves.

"Here it is!" Shindou darted into the room, brandishing the requested box. "What do you want me to do, Yoji-san?"

Yoji needed Shindou's help more than he wished to admit. His shirt had to be cut off, since he couldn't raise his arms high enough to strip off the skin-tight material, and then his ribs had to be bound. He just about passed out from the pain, and he barely noticed as Shindou carefully rubbed antibacterial ointment into his wrists and gently wrapped them in gauze.

"Doumo." Yoji took a deep breath and stood, feeling the world spin around him. Ignoring the darkness spotting the edges of his vision, he made his way to his closet and donned his mission clothing. It felt wonderful to be wearing something that was *clean*. He'd have felt even better if he'd been able to take a shower as well, but there definitely wasn't time enough for that.

"I found some sandwiches in the fridge that look fresh, Yoji-san!" Shindou announced, as Yoji strapped his weapon about his wrist with a muted wince. It hurt, even through the padding of the bandage Shindou had wrapped around it. "And there's bottled water! We can eat and drink on the way to the auditorium!"

"All right," Yoji said agreeably. Omi must have done some shopping since the night before -- he was grateful. He accepted the bottle of water from Shindou, checked his pocket to make sure he had his smokes, and then jingled his keys in his free hand.

"Yoji-san?"

"Let's get this show on the road, kiddo!"

The answering smile could have lighted up the evening sky. "Let's go to Yuki!!!"

****

"Spicy... marmalade?" Aya muttered, risking the diverting of his attention from scanning his surroundings to glance toward the stage, one red brow cocked in disbelief.

"Don't ask," Yuki responded, shaking his head. There was a strange quirk to his mouth, as though he wasn't sure whether he was feeling bitter or amused. Caustic humor in a strained situation. "Shuuichi writes all the lyrics for his band."

"Ah." Aya tried to ignore the oddly catchy song that Bad Luck was ripping through, his gaze once more scanning the area around him. Strange that someone so... well, inept with song lyrics was living with a hugely popular novelist. But Shindou Shuuichi probably had other strong points. Aya hadn't seen enough of him to take in anything except the fact that the young man was tremendously obnoxious, but Yuki clearly cared about him a great deal, as did the members of his band.

And it wasn't as though Yuki Eiri was any great prize himself, no matter how good an author he was. Aya had to give Shindou credit for putting up with the sullen blonde for more than a day, much less sharing a living space with the man and putting up with his foibles on a regular basis. By comparison, Yoji and the other Weiss members' bad habits were positively--

"Abyssinian!"

Aya stiffened, one hand sliding under his coat to grasp the hilt of his katana, while his other pressed against the small earphone he was wearing. "Here!"

"One male, dark clothing, dark hair, entering through the door in sector three-B! Not carrying a visible weapon, but consider him armed. He fits the description we have of the leader of the Slashers!"

"On my way," Aya growled, already sprinting down the halls. He was glad he had memorized the blueprints and then had traversed the floors himself several times; it would have been all too easy to get lost, otherwise. He could hear Yuki pounding along behind him, but he didn't have the time to tell the man not to follow him. It would have been a waste of breath, at any rate.

Aya was feeling a certain amount of deja vu as he made his way swiftly toward the intruder. This reminded him of the mission where he had first met Schreient. Bad memories, best left far behind.

At least they were leaving the busy sections of the backstage area. As they entered the corridor that led to the sector indicated, Aya drew his katana. There would be no witnesses and Abyssinian was in business.

The hairs on the nape of his neck prickled in warning, and he belted out a warning to Yuki. The two men threw themselves in opposite directions as a gunshot sounded. The bullet whined through the air between them, and flecks of the wall scattered through the air as it struck harmlessly.

"Shit!" Abyssinian growled. He had fully expected that their enemy would be armed, but now he had to worry about Yuki. It was never a good thing when an assassin had to factor in the presence of a civilian--

"Don't worry about me!" Yuki shouted, as though he had read Abyssinian's thoughts. "Just take care of him!!"

Deciding to take the man at his word, Abyssinian forged onward, recklessly rounding the corner from which the ambush had been effected.

The member of the Slashers had retreated during their momentary pause, and was further down the hall than Abyssinian might have expected. He dodged another shot, which was fired with haste rather than precision, and closed on his target.

The man cursed and aimed for Abyssinian's head. He ducked beneath the wild shots and brought up his katana. He was handicapped in that he was trying to capture rather than kill, but within a moment he had the man pinned against the wall, the gun falling to the floor.

Coming up behind the Weiss assassin, Yuki kicked the weapon aside with a distasteful snarl.

"Where are Balinese and Shindou?" Abyssinian growled, narrow violet eyes flashing. His blade was poised at the Slasher's neck, unwavering and menacing.

But the man only laughed, his dark face twisted in a mocking expression. "By now, I'd say they're finding out whether there is an afterlife or not," he sneered. "And you've played right into our hands. I'm afraid that the concert is going to be called off, rather abruptly."

"You're a decoy," Abyssinian breathed furiously, ignoring the statement about Yoji and Shindou that settled like a cold lump in the pit of his belly. Time enough to deal with that boastful claim later.

"You think you're the only one that can play that game?" The man chortled, his dark eyes burning with scorn and twisted amusement. "We're more than you can handle, Weiss."

"Then maybe you should be dealing with me."

Abyssinian had to pull his katana back swiftly to avoid decapitating the man as Yuki grasped the Slasher's collar and jerked him forward. Before he could voice a protest, the blonde novelist's fist had struck the man's face with enough force to cause Abyssinian to wince. Yuki Eiri meant business.

"Siberian! Manx!" Abyssinian barked into his communications device, trying to figure out how to interrupt the fight getting underway before him. Yuki looked to be giving the member of the Slashers a sound beating, and Abyssinian would have had trouble coming between the two even if he wasn't handicapped by the need to capture the man alive. "Shit!"

****

Up in the catwalks, Siberian was having his own difficulties. It had been hard enough to keep an eye out for members of the Slashers when Omi was wriggling about in short shorts down below him on the stage.... If that wasn't a distraction, Siberian had never experienced one before.

Then there had been the prickle at the top of his nasal passages, without a doubt the presage to an incipient nosebleed.

"Crap!" Siberian clapped a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the flow, and averted his eyes.

In the nick of time, it proved, for when he raised his gaze up he caught sight of him; the sniper with his rifle aimed at the young man fronting the band onstage.

"Bastard!" Siberian yelled, clenching his fist, blades sliding out with a metallic whine as he leapt toward the black-clad assassin.

There were two catwalks between Siberian and his target, no straight path, but he hurdled the spaces reflexively, heedless of the dark yawning abyss below him. Several hundred meters down, fangirls waved their arms, squealing, screaming, and singing along with the music pumping out of the speakers, unaware of anything that might be going on so far overhead.

A hooded head shot up at Siberian's shout, smooth features, angry azure eyes, and a flicker of golden hair reminding Siberian more than a little of another blonde he had faced off with... but this was a man, and he had a gun, not a whip.

A gun which he brought up quickly to prevent Siberian's claws from scoring his face and ripping out his neck.

"Damn!" Siberian pressed in, pushing for an advantage, and to prevent the Slasher from being able to lower the rifle and aim it at him. "Hold still, you fuck! Let me kill you!!"

"In your dreams!" the blonde sneered, his mouth twisted in a manic smirk. He didn't look pretty so much anymore as rabid; like a starving dog that had been uncaged. Siberian bristled, flexing his claws. His enemy was about to discover that he had bitten off more than he could chew!

"Siberian!" Aya's deep voice blasted in his ear, causing him to flinch momentarily. That was all the member of the Slashers needed. He jumped back, dropping his gun; fortunately it caught in the catwalk and did not fall down onto the audience. He tugged his hood off with one hand, a long, gleaming strip of silver appearing in the other.

Siberian swore, ripping out his earpiece. Now his enemy had a hand weapon, and the odds were closer once more. But he had five blades and his opponent only had one. The advantage was still his.

It was a dangerous dance that played out in the catwalks. Siberian did his best to lead his enemy so that they were over the stage rather than over the audience. When the other man had no such compunctions, it reduced what lead Siberian had, and more than once he was forced to jump backwards to avoid a particularly aggressive slash of the thin knife.

"Jumping, jumping around like a little frog," the member of the Slashers mocked him, his eyes glinting. "Are you so afraid of getting cut? Not much of an assassin, are you?"

Siberian felt his feet hit the solid surface of a platform, and a crooked grin caught his mouth up at the corners, flashing a sharp slice of white teeth. Long-range killing was the forte of Balinese and Bombay. He preferred to feel the lives he was taking, the resistance of flesh and the tearing as he robbed the evil ones of the vital bits they needed.

"Come and get me," he growled, bracing himself on the platform and beckoning with one begloved, bugnuk-adorned hand. "Come on and try."

He had five blades and his opponent had only one. His footing was firm. The final strike was over within a moment. The yell of his enemy was still ringing in the air as the sound of his body striking the mesh rattled the catwalk.

Siberian smirked, giving the corpse a small kick before he turned to make his way down to the ground level. He was needed backstage.

****

Fujisaki, his dark eyes widening, missed a beat, gaining himself a fierce glare from Hiro. He had thought he had seen....

But surely it must have been a trick of the red lightning they were using for Tsukiyono-kun.

He couldn't have seen what he had thought he had seen; thick drops of blood falling down from somewhere above and striking the stage just in front of his keyboard.

Focusing his attention on the fixed reality of his instrument, Fujisaki concentrated on the music he was creating.

There were strange things going on, and having a stand-in for Shindou-kun at this concert was the least of it.

****

"Damn it... Yuki, get out of the way!"

The tall blonde paid absolutely no attention to this command -- not that Aya had expected him to, but he had to at least try.

He flexed his fingers around the hilt of his katana, the leather of his gloves creaking, narrow violet eyes alert for his chance to break in.

Really, for a civilian, Yuki wasn't doing badly. In fact, the leader of the Slashers was currently getting the everloving shit beaten out of him, and Yuki had fielded only one or two blows, which he had shrugged off, barely seeming to notice. Aya was almost tempted to let Yuki continue, but there was always the chance that the blonde's opponent might have a hidden weapon. Yuki needed to get the hell out of the way, and let Aya get in a good shot with his katana.

Yuki seemed increasingly feral, however, and Aya was reluctant to approach him. He had the powerful feeling that Yuki would turn on him if he attempted to interfere, and that would do none of them -- except the member of the Slashers, of course -- any good.

No wonder Yuki had said that he hadn't needed a weapon....

"YUKI!!!"

Aya tried his best flower shop-clearing bellow, but with no effect. The leader of the Slashers had been holding out under the relentless barrage, pinned in the corner though he was and unable to break free. He had blocked some of the worst blows, so he was still conscious and still standing, but now he seemed to be swaying. His face was something of a mess, blood running down to drip off the tip of his chin, his nose most definitely broken, one of his eyes already swollen nearly closed.

Knuckles white, Yuki grasped the collar of the man's shirt, dragging him in close. His other hand was cocked, ready to deliver a blow that Aya couldn't help but believe might very well be the ending of the Slashers' life. At this point, he fully believed Yuki to be capable of this. Look at what he had already reduced the man too. Even if the Slashers weren't of a level of ability as high as Weiss -- and they might very well be, since they had managed to capture Yoji -- they were still assassins. Yuki Eiri was a novelist, but he was also a man with a great deal of untapped rage. Now that rage had found a target.

"I think you had better tell me where I can find Shindou Shuuichi," Yuki was saying in an eerily soft tone of voice. It raised all the hairs on Aya's body, sending a shiver through him, hardened killer that he was.

"Go t' hell," the leader of the Slashers growled, his eyes hard and angry. Aya might have been impressed by this, but he thought that the man was more than a little mad.

He tried to think of some way he could get the two apart before the worst happened, but his brain didn't seem to be working fast enough. Not as fast as Yuki's fist was going to fly, and they'd miss their best chance at finding out where Yoji and Shindou were, because Aya was sure that Ken had already killed whomever this man had been acting as a decoy for.

Still, he had to try-- "Yuki!"

The muscles of Yuki's arm corded as, ignoring Aya's cry, he prepared to strike his last blow.

"YUKI!! STOP!!!"

Aya jumped, startled, as a familiar voice sounded out loudly behind them. Yuki froze mid-swing, his head snapping over his shoulder, eyes rounded.

"Yuki!!" Feet pounded up the hall toward the small group huddled in the corner.

"Shuu...ichi...."

The leader of the Slashers slumped back against the joining of the walls, as Yuki abruptly released him.

"I'm here, Yuki! We're all right! Well... mostly all right...."

Aya felt his heart lighten as he caught the "we", but he didn't dare to glance back as Yuki turned and strode away from the man he had been pounding. He raised his katana, ready to move in for the killing blow, now that Yuki was out of the way and now that they had Shindou back.

"Yo. Rex. Long time no see."

The lazy drawl that sounded from close behind him almost brought a relieved smile to Aya's face. He could see the man's eyes flickering over his shoulder, filled with an intimidating amount of ire.

"Kisama!"

Almost faster than sight, the leader of the Slashers went for his inner jacket pocket, bringing out a small pistol. His right arm stretched out over Aya's left shoulder as the redhead leapt forward, plunging his katana into the man's chest.

The pistol, which had been aimed at Yoji's head, slipped from lax fingers, skittering over the hard floor toward Yuki and Shindou.

Aya wrenched his blade free as Rex's lifeless body slid slowly down the wall.

Yoji casually kicked this second gun to rest near the first.

Yuki glowered at both weapons, wrapping a long arm around his lover and trying to turn him away as Aya cleaned his katana on his victim's jacket.

"Come on, Shuuichi. Let's go home."

Shindou resisted. "But I want to see the rest of the concert! Tsukiyono-san is performing as me, right? I wanna watch!"

"Shuuichi." Yuki gave the young man an exasperated look, though his arm was not moving, locked unshiftingly around his boyfriend.

"I know, I know." Shindou sighed unhappily, his pink head drooping. "I've been tied up for a whole night and day. I need some sleep."

"And a bath."

"Yuki!!"

"In fact, first thing a bath. I'm not even sure I want you in my car. Maybe I should make you walk home."

"Yuki!! Hido~i!!! You wouldn't really make me walk, would you?"

"I might."

"Yuki!!!!"

The squabbling couple made its way up the hall without a backwards glance.

"So."

Aya sheathed his katana. Yoji was leaning up against the wall nearby. It appeared as though that was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

"So."

"Looks as though you didn't need me after all." Yoji chuckled faintly, then winced and pressed a hand to his side.

Aya looked at Yoji. Yoji looked at Aya.

"Oi!"

Ken pounded up the hall toward them. "Aya! I just saw Yuki with Shindou!! Does that mean-- Yoji! You're back! Great!"

Yoji held up a hand to forestall his younger teammate, in case he was even thinking of hugging him. "I'm back. I've got some cracked ribs, I'm in desperate need of a shower and bed, but I'm back."

"Aw!" Ken's gaze flickered over to the slumped body in the corner, and the thick scarlet puddle leaking out around it. "You finished up without me!"

"Looks like you had enough trouble," Aya said flatly, gesturing with a gloved hand. "Your nose is bleeding, Siberian."

"Eh?" Ken blinked, reaching up to rub at his upper lip. "Shit! How did that-- Oh...."

Aya gave the young man a skeptical look as his cheeks took on a pinkish tinge.

"Good work, Weiss."

Yoji turned to grin at the shapely auburn-haired woman who had appeared. "Manx!"

"We'll get things cleaned up here," she said briskly, all business. "You should make yourselves scarce."

"I left another up in the catwalks," Ken declared, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kinda awkward." He shrugged. "I'm gonna get changed and wait for Omi to finish. See you guys later!"

With a little wave, the dark-haired Weiss member was trotting up the hall.

"I'll take you home," Aya said to Yoji, his voice hard and flat.

"Thanks." Yoji only sounded weary. "I'll have to leave Seven here, but I don't think I could have driven back anyhow. The adrenaline has definitely run its course."

"Balinese!" Manx called as the two young men moved to exit the building. They paused. "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back." Yoji offered a sliver of his usual charming grin.

"I'll expect your full report in the morning." Manx smiled in return, then glanced at her red-haired operative as Yoji grimaced. "Take good care of him, Abyssinian."

Aya grunted, and led Yoji out to where he had parked his Porsche.