……The rotors hummed quietly, breaking the silence of the black night. That sound and the soft glow of the control panel were the only clues to the senses revealing that the helicopter existed at all. Four young men stood in the wash of the rotor blades, dressed so as to blend into the night and armed so to mark them as assassins. The young men were muttering their good-byes. None of them had ever realized that the simple words would be so hard to say.
……Ken and Omi were the youngest of the young assassins, and for all that they had suffered through, they still had such potential. They could look into Omi's eyes and still see innocence. They could look into Ken's eyes and see hope, and Aya and Yohji knew that neither quality existed within themselves anymore. The four young men were strangers who had been forced onto each other out of necessity alone. They were forced to rely on themselves as a whole, as an entity rather than as individuals: they were Weiك. They trusted their lives with each other, staying alive as others died by their hands. Through such a harrowing existence came something none of them had expected: friendship.
……They were friends. And that was why, Yohji thought as he gently herded the younger boys towards the waiting helicopter. That was why they had to leave.
…… "It'll be fine," Yohji smiled, his green eyes shimmering in the rare bits of light. "Aya and I just need to… clean up a little mess, before we join you." The young man smiled over the rim of his dark glasses.
……Ken and Omi hung back hesitantly, and concerned looks flashed from Yohji to Aya. The red-haired man stood silently beyond the group. He didn't look at any of them, he kept his violet eyes gently shut. He stood with his arms wrapped around his chest, his dark coat fluttering around his legs in the wind from the rotors.
……Omi lifted large eyes at Yohji, who was also dressed in his assassin's gear. "Why don't I think you're telling us the whole truth, Yohji-kun?"
…… "Don't get any crazy ideas," Yohji waved away the boy's concern.
…… "Why won't you tell us what's going on?" Ken cried, frustrated, his hands clenching into brutally tight fists. "Why won't you let us help you?"
…… "We'll tell you all about it tomorrow," Yohji lied, nodding at the helicopter's crewmen, who slipped from the machine and came to guide the two boys safely under the rotors. "We'll join you at the seaside villa. Be sure to have breakfast ready!" Yohji called as the boys were led away. Yohji smiled and waved farewell as the hatch slid shut and was secured, and the young assassin backed away as the rotors increased speed. Dust swirled like mist and stung against their exposed skin. The engine roared and tires lifted inches, bumping the earth before leaving it completely. Yohji joined Aya as the helicopter rose into the pitch black sky. The fair-haired man wrapped an arm around Aya's shoulders and turned his grin skyward. Aya lifted his face and as he opened his eyes, they saw tears streaming down across his cheeks.
…… "Aya-kun," Omi whispered, pressing his palms against the glass.





……Four men watched unnoticed in the darkness, standing shoulder to shoulder. "Was ist los?" the orange-haired German squinted as the sounds of the chopper reached their ears. "What the hell are they planning?"
……The scarred young Irishman by his side allowed a slight, feral smile to bleed onto his face. "You can't tell, Schuldig?" he smirked, not bothering to offer eye contact. He could see the German clearly in his peripheral vision. Schuldig smiled his thin, patronizing smile.
…… "Habe ich dir schon gesagt, daك ich dich bumsen moechte?" Schuldig whispered, and Farfarello's mouth snapped shut. The Irishman looked suddenly angry.
…… "Quiet," the older man among them said. Light smeared off of Brad Crawford's clear glasses, and the American folded his arms across his chest and smiled, watching patiently.
…… "They've asked for help," Schuldig said, too far away still to see it all clearly.
…… "No," Crawford said, his smile carving deeper into his face as black hair fell over his eyes. "They're splitting up. They're sending the children away."
…… "Why would they do that?" Schuldig frowned, trying to catch hints of secrets in those far away minds.
…… "They're friends," the youngest of them said quietly, his head tilting as he listened to the sound of the chopper fading.
…… "That's stupid," Farfarello snarled, and the blade of his stiletto snapped out from its hilt. He dragged his tongue up along its sharp edges, tasting blood that seeped down into his throat. "They're asking to die."
…… "Wonderful," Schuldig laughed, draping an arm across Farfarello's shoulders. "Because I'm willing to kill them."





……The chopper rose so high as to become a star in the starless night. It's better this way, Yohji thought, and turned solemnly to Aya. Wounded purple eyes stared back at Yohji, and quiet tears streamed down a quiet face. Yohji gripped the man's shoulder firmly. "Can you do this, Aya?"
……Aya closed his eyes.
…… "You can change your mind, of course," Yohji told him. "We can run like cowardly dogs and piss ourselves stupid, you know. That's always an option."
……Aya's face didn't change.
…… "Or we could go have breakfast with Omi and Ken and let God sort out the rest!" Yohji laughed, flipping shoulder-length hair back away from his pretty face. "Why not, Aya? Why don't we live like dogs rather than die like lions?"
……Aya gripped his katana, and the sheath broke away from the leather hilt to reveal four inches of the polished steel. Light glanced across it, and Aya opened his eyes. The tears had dried. "Aya," he whispered, and drew his sword.




…… "Ran! Oh, it's lovely," Aya-chan gasped, cupping a delicate blossom in her hands and inhaling it's fragrant aroma. "What's this one called?"
……He smiled and taught her the names of each flower in the shop. It was strange to him, to have her laughing by his side after so long. He lost her when she was 16. She was alive but dead to the world, sleeping and never waking. He had vowed and had won revenge on the man who had hurt her so bad. He had murdered so many people while she slept, his hands were so bloody and he didn't know what he would say when she asked him a simple question:
…… "What did you do while I was sleeping?"
……She smiled up at him, her large eyes merry in her sweet young face, and what could he tell her? Could he admit to her that he was a sinner?
……She recognized the differences in him. He was too quiet, she said. He didn't smile enough anymore, she noticed, and wondered why he had nothing to smile about. He was cold with strangers and short with friends, and she noticed it all. She looked into his eyes and saw that there was pain he was trying to hide. She realized that Ran wasn't who he used to be. He wasn't the brother that she knew.
……She remembered their parents, murdered in their own house on her 16th birthday, and her grief was still fresh. She could not mourn while she slept, and so sometimes she cried for them. Ran didn't know what to say in the face of her tears. He didn't know how to comfort her when she cried for her losses. He didn't know what to do.
……He had fought for her so hard, and now…
……Now, he felt shamed. Life wasn't going to be the way it was before, no; Yohji's eyes reminded him of that hard truth. Yohji had learned that lesson already, and green eyes would look on the brother and sister and say: "It's not the same. It can never be the way it was, and you know it."
……Ran taught her the names of the flowers in the shop, telling her how often to water them and how much sunlight they needed. Some demanded a lot of attention, and others could be ignored for days at a time. Some of them liked to be alone.




……Blood shimmered out of Aya's mouth as Farfarello's knife cut through his chest. Crawford merely watched as the young assassin sunk to his knees, and smiled as he aimed his handgun. Should he shoot the annoying bug in the back of the head or between the shoulder blades? A bullet through the skull would spiral through brain and obliterate it, destroying the spongy pink tissue and the very mind itself. A bullet between the vulnerable shoulder blades would sever through the spine, cracking the backbone and crushing the nerves that kept the futile heart beating. Crawford smiled, his finger dancing on the trigger.
……Nagi deflected the wire without a move, and with a simple thought sent it snaking back through air at its master. It coiled around Yohji's neck and pulled tight, choking off breath and closing the vessels that pushed blood up into and drained blood away from the brain. Hands reflexively clutched at the wire, scratching the neck until blood seeped out from beneath the fingernails. The mouth gaped open and green eyes dulled as he dropped to his knees.
…… "Why did you do it?" Schuldig wondered, sneering down into dying eyes. The German listened to the words screaming in his head, and some of them were his own, and some belonged to the minds of other people. "You have very hateful, very bitter, very noble thoughts, you know," Schuldig laughed, slipping one hand into his hip pocket. "You tell yourself that you deserve to die because you're a murderer, when all you've ever done is try to help the innocent people. You think this is your punishment? Are you glad to die this way?"
……Crawford lifted his eyes away from the sights of his gun.
…… "It's a shame, really," Schuldig cooed, dipping close to the bloody, contorted face. "We really shouldn't let you die so easy."



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