The four people around the corner are braced for danger, listening tensely to some sound from above. Totally clueless.

I lurk in the shadows behind them, fingering my watch. The easiest way to deal with this mess would be to just sneak up and strike. Severing Akira's head from his neck in one slice should avoid any argument.

Also startle my teammates and get me a nasty chest wound and a dart in my throat. The kid couldn't have picked better bodyguards on purpose.

Ken is the first to relax, grinning at the others. "Looks like the coast's clear."

Yes, and there's a reason we never send you out on recon. "You're not paying attention, Ken," I tell him.

And watch that little stillness descend on the group. No matter how skilled they are, when people meet they take an instant to size each other up. I can see the thoughts pooling in their eyes.

Ken's thinking: What the fuck is wrong with him? Is he still mad at me for leaving him?
Omi's thinking: Something's really wrong.
The girl is just barely starting to think: Who's that guy?
Akira's thinking: Body language says he's an ally, but -

If he were really a killer, he'd be moving for my throat on the "but". Instead he's still holding his sister protectively. Waiting for a cue.

Deliberately I click the watch open, spill a length of wire into my palm. "Get out of the way," I say bluntly.

"The hell's going on, Youji?" Ken's angry voice carries over Omi's shocked "Youji-kun!"

Sorry, bishounen. If we set it up we could take him without the girl Kaori watching, I suppose. But her life is ruined anyway and frankly, I'm just not in a charitable mood.

Aya is out there playing with soldiers alone.

"We've got another mission. The target is Hibana Akira."

Ken goes rigid.

Ah. This again. I watch him with narrowed eyes; if Ken's going to have another one of his little episodes then there won't be an argument after all.

* * *

It started five or six missions ago, or maybe that's just when we noticed. Ken's always been an enthusiastic and aggressive fighter and hell, noone wanted to say anything. Maybe all of us enjoy taking out the bastards sometimes.

But he's been taking more than his share. A lot more. And while he doesn't taunt them about it the way I've seen Aya do, he's not exactly quick with the kill either. And the look in his eyes as he flexes his claw through someone's heart...it's a bit peculiar. You might say.

He's been taking point every time and ignoring orders and just plain berserking now and then. It says a lot about the state of Weiss these days that Aya hasn't thrown him out. The rest of the time he's moody and short-fused and generally un-Kenlike.

And he hasn't turned down a chance to kill in months. He's holding his claws up like talismans now, breathing heavily; any second I expect him to complete his little ritual and rip open the blond kid's chest. Omi, who knows all about blood spatters, is stepping to one side.

The rest of the world might as well be in slow motion. Akira is starting to bring up his shotgun. Kaori is opening her mouth to scream. I watch them all and wonder, distantly, when we got so sloppy.

Abruptly Ken's eyes refocus. "W- wait a sec! There musta been some kind of mistake, Youji! Akira's not - " He gestures with a claw at himself.

Hm?

He actually snapped out of it. Omi's grinning like a fool, and I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth in response, even as I make scram-get-out-of-here gestures at him. The situation is not _actually_ any better.

"Ken," I say gently, "I saw the documents. You know the sort of thing." Unconsciously my voice drops into the pseudo-dramatic style of Persia's briefings. "His hands are soaked in blood. You saw it too, how he took the soldiers out. For revenge he's been using his own sister to hack information from the US military computers. He stole munitions and used his rank as a commanding officer just to expose Nichols and finally kill him."

And now you know all I know, so just get out of sight with the girl so none of you has to watch.

Finally Akira gets his shotgun pointed at me - how did this guy survive so long? - and shoves his sister to one side. "Just what the hell are you guys?"

Before the words are out of his mouth Ken pushes the barrel of the gun down. "Akira, don't." He looks back at me and his dark eyes are pleading now. /Can't we stop? I don't want to be a monster./

/I know/, my eyes say back to him. Bitterly, I quote one of Persia's stupid mission sayings. "A lamb who's tasted blood becomes a wolf. It can never return to the flock."

And I fling out the wire on its deadly silver trail toward Akira's neck. And Ken catches it.

We all stand frozen for a few seconds, just watching the blood trickle down. Wryly, I imagine the art reviews. Assassin Sculpture #1: the dull sheen of steel claws in the glittering tangle, set against dark leather with blood sprayed across the whole, makes for a showy but effective statement on the futile pain of existence. Don't miss the gallery opening.

"Ken?"

He shakes his head. "Omi, get them out of here."

"But Ken-kun!" Stricken, the boy looks to me. Omi has only once to my knowledge refused to make a kill. If Manx told him to shoot Kaori here, he'd try to talk her out of it, but a mission actually assigned is a death sentence. Professionalism.

I'd have more respect for professionalism if it didn't involve waking up screaming most nights.

So I nod imperceptibly. /Screw the job, bishounen. Take care of the one you love./ For a moment more Omi hesitates; then he's grabbing the girl's hand and telling her and her brother to come on, pulling them down the tunnel.

Ken and I are left in our pretty tableau. Neither of us speaks for long minutes as the footsteps of the others echo faintly and then cease. Finally I shrug, twitching my nose to keep the sunglasses up since both hands are busy, and smile at him. /Bitch of a day, huh?/

He only pulls the wire tighter.

I suppose it isn't anything to smile about. "You do remember what it means to interfere in a mission, Ken?" We all read the contract. Manx could, technically, have him shot. She never has before, but...

"I know, Youji." Ken looks ready to swear or cry. "But I can't. I'm no different from Akira. Without Persia, I'd be just like him."

"Bullshit." Without Persia and Manx, you'd never have killed another human being. Not even that friend of yours who betrayed you. And you wouldn't be a little funny on missions and you wouldn't have that look in your eyes right now.

"Ken..."

This is stupid. A flick of the watch, and my wire disengages itself, slipping from between Ken's claws like water. He stares at me.

"Get out of here. Do what you have to. I'll talk to Aya."

And then I'm alone with my cigarette and the sound of running footsteps.

* * *

Naturally, Aya isn't answering his cellphone.

Four miles of walking back to our camping-spot, worrying over him and Ken and Omi and Weiss the whole way, does nothing to improve my mood, and by the time the ugly brown trailer comes into sight - he's alive! - I've given up on tactful approaches one through thirty-seven.

Instead I slam the door open and look around. Steam in the bathroom and a wet towel, the smell of blood and sweet herbal shampoo. I'm too angry to linger. His trenchcoat is cleaned and packed away. And the man himself?

Peacefully watering chrysanthemums in the plant room, in that godawful orange sweater. He doesn't even look up when I storm in.

Which makes it all too easy to catch him with the wire, kick his legs out from under him and send him sprawling. The watering can clatters to the floor as I straddle his hips. "_Don't_ move, Aya." I thump his head on the floor for emphasis.

He snarls up at me. Cautiously his arms test the wire looped around them; since Aya is no fool they barely shift. I can feel his legs tensing to throw me off, though, and glare at him.

"Hold still or I'll cut you. I've been meaning to say this for months and after today's incredible fuckups you are damn well going to listen."

Aya freezes up under me, his whole body going stiff. His eyes are wide with an expression I've never seen in them before. Part of me wants to stop and enjoy it, is busy filing all this away for my next late-night fantasy, but the anger carries me forward.

"You're trying to get us all killed, aren't you?" Now he looks confused. It's rather satisfying. "Aya, why isn't your cellphone on? Why wasn't it on so we could check in after the last mission, or the one before that? Maybe for the same reason our plans have been sketchy as hell, you go in with no backup, and you don't care that Ken's practically starting to lick his claws clean? Huh?"

I don't give him a chance to answer. "We're sloppy now, Aya. Sloppy and stupid when we used to be the best. Because you don't give a fuck. And you know why I think that is?" Leaning down, I brush locks of red hair away and whisper the bitter truths into his ear.

"Because you have no reason to live anymore, Aya. All that cold precision, all those drills, everything you put us through was to save your sister. And we did. She's safe and happy. Too bad you're afraid to even talk to her, because you think you breathe fumes of death now or something.

"So you don't want to be her brother, and you don't have anyone else to rescue, and that makes this just a job, doesn't it? And you don't see the point. Am I right, Aya?"

He hasn't moved, lying shocked and still beneath me. Now he turns his head and our noses touch and oh his eyes are cold. Violet ice. I wonder if glaciers are ever that color, down in their deep cracks. Aya must have dipped his voice in that ice and then honed it like his katana; it goes right through me.

"And just what do you think I should be living for, Youji?"

It hurts. Enough to knock me back a little with the force of it, enough that I catch my breath with a funny noise. Too much to hide it. Fuck, that's cruel, Aya. He hasn't bothered to move; his eyes are tracking something wet moving on my cheek. I suppose he's known all along then.

It's not like I ever thought he would say yes.

Firmly, I push it all back. Control, Kudou. Deep breath. "That's your business. But do you really think Omi deserves to die? Ken? Me? Would you kill us with your own hands? Because that's what it'll be, if you keep slacking on the job. Lead or don't, Aya."

And I loose the wire from his arms and roll off him, staring at the ceiling. Are you happy now, Youji? You said everything you wanted to, even the snippy little thoughts you shouldn't have. Now he's going to beat you into the dirt and then grab his things and leave forever. You lost him. Was it worth it?

I can hear him getting to his feet, brushing off wet soil. I even hear the small noise of annoyance he suppresses at the state of his clothes; it almost makes me smile even now. Why anyone who wears orange with red hair should care about dirt stains is beyond me. I would care, but I still have my leather mission coat on. Oh, that and I'm about to get bloodied anyway. I pull my sunglasses off and slip them into the pocket for safety.

Aya stalks out of the room.

What? I sit up. He's just going to _leave_? Am I not even worth beating up? Is there some rule not to hit Youji now because of that stupid thing I was doing way back when?

"Aya, wait!" Scrambling through to the main room I find nothing. His things are still here. Cautiously, expecting an ambush, I peer out the door.

He's leaning against the side of the trailer with arms folded, staring at the ground and scowling. Perfectly normal Aya pose. This is very strange...but I'm not complaining. Casually I slide the door shut behind me and lean against it, not too near him.

"What happened on the mission?" Aya asks after a minute.

Oh. "The others were there." Lighting a cigarette buys me a second of time to think how to put this. "Ken decided he'd had enough of killing and took off with the target, the sister, and Omi."

Aya puts his face in his hands, eloquently.

"Yeah." Looking at him still hurts, so I put the sunglasses back on and push them up against my eyes. Armor for the soul. "I hate to say it, but have you thought he might be better off quitting? We could try and pressure Manx to let him and Omi go. They could get jobs somewhere, actually have a life." And Ken would have to actually face up to why Omi follows him everywhere.

He glances at me sideways. "With Ken the way he is now, how long would it be before he lost his temper?"

"Um."

"Now his need to kill is fed by targets, evil men and women for the most part. Kritiker holds the hand of legality over us all. If they withdraw that hand Ken will soon become a murderer."

The thought tastes like ashes. "So he's trapped. Damn it, he doesn't want to be like this. How can he ever get better if his little demons come out to play every time we get a mission? Do we have to tell Manx about this and let the men in white coats drag him off? They might never bring him _back_, Aya!" My voice sounds panicky in my own ears, too high-pitched. I hate shrinks.

"We tell her nothing," Aya says flatly. "The mission deadline is midnight; before then you will separate the others from the target. Omi can decide what to do with the girl. Afterwards the four of us will meet here and discuss Ken's problem."

He's looking right at me. Waiting for something. I swallow, and nod. "Okay."

And we both go back to looking at our feet. It's snowing, I realize belatedly, thick flakes drifting down fast, and the air is chilly. But my lungs and mouth are filled with warm smoke and my thoughts are full of him and he's not leaving. It's kind of peaceful.

There's a faint bleeping noise from inside the trailer. Has been for a while.

I sigh, turning my hands out in mock plea. "What now? A third mission call in two days? If the woman's insatiable she could at least let me date her." Personally I'd sooner date a cobra, but it's part of the routine. I slide open the door and wave Aya in ahead of me.

The large TV screen in the main room is on, displaying the stupid computer-generated Persia they insist on using. I make a face at it. It is, I suppose, reasonable security practice not to show us our new boss. But why go to the trouble of reanimating a dead man and his bad speeches, except to annoy me? Wait. That might be the reason. Act indifferent from now on, Kudou.

The image sits there blipping in an endless loop until we've covered the windows and turned off the lights. Then "Persia" leans forward.

"It is unfortunate," booms the voice, "but traitors have appeared within Weiss. If they will not comply with the mission, they are naught but ordinary murderers. These traitors, Bombay and Siberian, have willfully taken of blood and sin for others. White hunters of evil, hunt the futures of these dark beasts"!

* * *
Part Four | Part Two

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