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Chapter 3 The name we gave him for the hit was real - no way to fake that without his knowing. The details were as complete as only Kritiker could make them; not surprising, since the hit we were feeding him was the very target our replacements had been after when he'd taken them out. It was, in fact, a little TOO complete, as Ran had pointed out. It looked like what it was - a briefing by professionals, for professionals - and not like what we were trying to make it, which was a contract by an anonymous nobody against a mob boss. So we'd stripped it of most of the information, eventually ending up with just the name, a photograph, and a couple of addresses where he was known to hang out. "That will be enough for him," Ran had asserted, sealing the envelope and handing it to Nishikawa. "Anything more would make it look suspicious." The drop had gone without a hitch. Nishikawa had received the second call less than 24 hours after we left the file in the lockbox, and had been instructed to leave the money, in unmarked bills of small denomination, in the lockbox that night, and told the 'rodents would be exterminated' within the week. Black Cat had taken the bait - now all we had to do was stake out the target without being noticed ourselves. Easier said than done. We took turns at it - his previous hits showed that he was equally willing to work in daylight or in darkness, and we couldn't ALL watch the target 24/7. We divided the watch up into three, 8 hours each. I'd drawn third watch, and it was my fourth shift watching the target when it happened. I was hidden inside an air vent high above a dim gambling room, watching the target play high-stakes poker with several other known mob associates. Not the best vantage point, but my first plan of posing as a waiter for the club had been shot down by Youji, when he'd pointed out that Omi would almost certainly see and recognize me. I was still blushing over that; I hated making myself look stupid. I didn't even register what had happened at first - there was just suddenly a tiny spot of red on the target's pristine white shirt. He seemed equally surprised - just stared down at it in shock. Then he choked and more blood poured from his mouth - shot in the lung, most likely. A really awful way to die, choking on your own blood. A second tiny spot joined the first, over the heart this time, and the man keeled over. There was pandemonium by now, the other mobsters diving for cover and pulling their guns, looking around frantically and trying to see where the shots were coming from. I almost missed it too, but a tiny glint of light on metal gave his cover away and I spotted him. He was almost directly across from me, also in the vents, and I felt a chill as I realized that if he'd decided to use the other side of the building, he'd have run right into me. It didn't matter now, though - all that mattered was wiggling out of the vents and heading for the roof as quickly as possible. I had to catch him on the way out, or, barring that, follow him back to where he went to ground, or this would all have been for nothing. I jammed briefly in the tight confines of the vent and swore. I'd let myself go since leaving Weiss - I was by no means overweight or out of shape, but I wasn't quite as lithe as I'd once been. I shoved myself through the tight spot with a scraped shoulder to show for it, but I made it to the roof in one piece. As I crawled up the vents, I took the time to contact the others, and hoped he wasn't monitoring the air waves. "Siberian to base - I've made contact. Am in pursuit. More when I've got him to ground." There was a crackle before Ran's soft "Abyssinian, acknowledged," came back. Then silence - we'd agreed to maintain as much radio silence as possible beforehand. As I climbed out of the last shaft, I could just make out his silhouette before me, perched on the edge of the roof, fiddling with something in his lap. He lifted it to his shoulder and I realized that it was his crossbow. I hung back as he fired it, and saw a long, light line trailing out behind the arrow. It thunked solidly into the next building over, and he quickly knotted the end of it to a post on this roof. Slinging the bow over his shoulder, he swung out onto the line hand-over-hand, scuttling across to the next building. Once there, he gave the line a sharp tug and it pulled away, allowing him to reel it in again. I whistled low in my throat - no traces of his passage, except for the small mark the crossbow bolt had made in the side of the building, and no one would be looking for that. Omi had not only improved his skills, he'd learned a whole set of new ones. As he reeled the line in, he lifted his face to the weak moonlight for just a moment, and I was surprised to see what looked like tear-tracks on his face. Not that I was really close enough to tell - but the suspicious glitter at the edge of his eyes and on his cheeks would certainly seem to indicate that. What on earth would he be crying about? I lost the chance to confirm what I'd seen as he turned away again, making his way down a rickety fire escape to the street below. Now, of course, the problem was following him. Darting to the edge of the roof, I could just make out a fire escape winding its way down the side of my building as well. The first platform was nearly two stories below me, which explained why he'd gone over to the next building, but I didn't have much of a choice. I lowered myself down over the side as far as possible, then let go and braced myself for the impact. I bent my knees as I landed and absorbed most of the shock as I'd been taught, and then I was off, thundering down the metal ladders. It made a hell of a lot of noise, but hopefully he'd just think it was someone coming after him from inside the building. The chase that followed was utterly wild, as he ducked and weaved and ran in circles to throw possible pursuit off his trail. We went all the way across town and halfway back, and I nearly lost him at least four times. After the first few miles, he didn't seem to be aware that he was being tailed, it just seemed like he always did this to confuse any possible followers. I marveled over how paranoid he'd become, while also being in awe of his prowess. Anyone other than someone who knew him as well as I did would have been left floundering long ago. I was panting and out of breath by the time I finally got to stop in front of a small apartment building. He'd entered the door just moments before, and I stopped to catch my breath before following him in. Didn't want him seeing me, I reasoned, but I knew I was just making excuses. Damn, apparently I WAS getting out of shape! Finally I made my way to the door. There were fifteen apartments in the building, each with their own little mailbox with the names plastered across the front. I scanned them rapidly, not really expecting to see anything I recognized, surprised when I did. Apartment 14, Tsukiyono, O. and N. N? Who the hell was N? Had the kid gone and gotten MARRIED? Well, not that that was any weirder than him going off on this killing spree. In fact, maybe it was part of the explanation. "Siberian to base. Target has gone to ground." I murmured into my throat mike, and gave the address. "Balinese here," Youji's voice returned, made tinny by the earpiece. "We'll be there in half an hour, tops. Can you handle it that long?" "Roger that." I paused, remembering the tears shining on his face in the moonlight. Softly, I added, "I don't think he's far enough gone that he'd shoot one of us in cold blood." "Be careful, Siberian," Aya replied, voice gentle. "Don't underestimate him - he's not the Omi we all knew. He's changed, and we don't know what his limits are now." "Hai. I'll be careful. See you soon." I pulled the headpiece off completely, and pulled out my lockpicks. I wasn't nearly as good at this break and enter stuff as Youji, but the lock on the inside door was a pathetic attempt at security and I didn't have much trouble with it. Making my way to the second floor, I prowled down the hall until I reached the door marked 14, and then I hesitated. What the hell was I supposed to do now, knock? I finally decided to do just that. With a glance I could see that the lock on this door was NOT the same as those on the other doors in the hall - probably something Omi had added after moving in, and that meant I wasn't likely to be able to pick it. Certainly not without him noticing the sound. So I knocked. There was a faint shuffle behind the door, and I could almost feel him hovering there. There was no peep hole, so he couldn't peak out to see who it was, and he almost certainly wasn't expecting anybody. Finally, his voice came through the door, muffled by the wood. "Hai? Dare ka?" I had to smile. It was the same voice, though it had lost quite a bit of its vibrancy. He still sounded like he hadn't quite finished going through puberty yet. Poor guy was gonna stay an alto for the rest of his life, most likely. He shifted impatiently, and I belatedly realized I hadn't answered him yet. Having come this far, I decided the direct route was best. "Omittchi? It's me. Ken. Can I come in?" I heard him draw in a sharp breath, and then there was a long, expectant pause. I was just about ready to give up and try smashing the door down, when I heard a bolt being drawn. At least four separate locks and bolts were undone before the door cracked open, and I felt even more incredulous. There was caution, and there was paranoia, and then there was ridiculous! A bright blue eye peered out at me from the crack, widened in shock, then the door was rapidly shut again. The sound of a chain sliding across answered my unasked question, and the door was flung all the way open. He stood there, framed in the doorway, looking more exhausted and in pain than I'd ever seen him before. He was still dressed in the form-fitting dusky black outfit he'd worn for the hit, and it showed his thin ribs and spindly limbs. He'd lost a hell of a lot of weight since I'd seen him last. His hair was longer than I remembered and hung wildly about him, and the shadows around his blue eyes looked like giant bruises in the center of his face. He stared at me wordlessly, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Finally, he stepped back and silently gestured for me to enter. I moved forward into the tiny space that was his front hall, and he shut the door behind me, closing all the locks again with a slightly desperate look in his eyes. He padded past me into what I guess was the living room, then stood staring about him like he wasn't sure what to do next. Except for the first question, through the door, he hadn't said a word to me. "Omittchi?" I used the old nickname Youji had coined for him, somehow feeling that it would open him to me a little. He jumped and swung to face me, as if he'd forgotten I was there. "Omi, what happened to you? What..." "What are you doing here?" He interrupted, his voice and expression fragile, as though he would break if I gave the wrong answer. "How did you find me?" I paused on that one for a long moment, and his gaze flicked over me assessingly. I was just wearing jeans and a sweater, not my old assassin gear, but something in my posture must have given me away. He gave a brittle little laugh, and slumped down into a chair. "Weiss is hunting me? They brought you back just for me? I suppose I should be honoured." He shook his head, looking lost and hurt. "Omi, why are you doing this?" I asked gently, hoping he wouldn't break on me and go for a weapon. There were plenty of them strewn around - knives, guns, rifles, daggers, you name it. No darts though, and that surprised me. His face tightened. "I didn't have a choice. I don't have a choice." He raised his face to me, and I could see the tears in his eyes again. "Ken-kun..." he choked, hugged himself, and tried again. "I tried to call you," he whispered, rocking back and forth a little. "A year ago. I tried to call all of you, but I couldn't reach any of you. Email, phone, everything had been changed. I kept trying with you the longest." He glared up at me suddenly, his blue eyes accusing. "Ken-kun, why did you shut me out? You promised you'd always be there if I needed you!" Guiltily, I remembered making the promise, the last time I'd seen him. I'd given him a paper with my new email and phone number on it - the same email and phone number I'd had changed to avoid the press a little over a year ago. "God... god, Omi, I'm sorry. I never thought... I had to change all my contact info a while ago, but it never occurred to me... I'm sorry." Apologizing didn't seem good enough somehow, but then nothing really seemed good enough. My friend had tried to ask me for help, and I hadn't been there when he'd needed me. He hugged himself a little tighter. "It doesn't matter any more," He said brokenly. "I did what I had to do, and you can't change that now. No one can." He stood again, paced back and forth a few times, then turned to face me with his fists clenched. "Go away, Ken-kun. Go away and tell them you couldn't find me. Please." His voice was desperate, but his gaze was steady on mine, and I knew abruptly that he was offering me my life. If I didn't leave, he was going to kill me, to keep his secret safe. "The others are already on their way," I said, stalling for time. He shook his head. "I'll be gone by the time they get here. Please, Ken-kun, for our old friendship. Don't make me break the last piece of my soul." He sounded so pitiful when he said it, like he was begging me. Hell, he WAS begging me. But I couldn't just let it go, and leave him like this. Not like this. I took a step closer to him, hands out to my side unthreateningly. "Omittchi, I can't leave. They sent us after you first, because we knew you best, and they were hoping we could bring you back alive so they could help you. If we fail, the next people they send will have orders to kill. Omi, please. Come back with me, let us help you. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me, but please let me help now!" He shook his head again, but there was a weary resignation in his eyes. "I can't run away, Ken-kun. I can't run away from what I've done, what I've become. I made my choices, and I'll have to live with them. If I have to die... then so be it. But don't let it be at your hands, please!" "I can't kill you," I said truthfully. I'd known from the first moment I saw those haunted, hopeless eyes that I wouldn't be able to bring myself to kill him. He was my friend, and he needed my help. "I only want to help you. Omi..." Instinctively I gathered him up in a hug, holding him tightly to me. He shuddered in my embrace, struggling for a moment, before collapsing against my shoulder and sobbing in despair. I hushed him and stroked his hair, rocking him gently and murmuring soothing words. For the first time, he didn't try to hide his sorrow from me, and let it come pouring out against my shirt. Maybe, I thought, just maybe, we could save him yet. "Omi?" the hesitant, half-familiar voice came from behind me, and Omi jerked back from me like he'd been shot. "Iiya... dame!" he cried, and I had half a second to realize that he was yelling at the person behind me before I was picked up and slammed into a wall. Crushing force pinned me there, my face shoved against the hard surface until I could barely breathe, though I couldn't feel a hand on me. Dimly, in the background, I could hear Omi pleading with someone to let me go, but whoever it was apparently wasn't listening. The vise-like grip on my whole body tightened, and I suddenly remembered where I'd felt this particular sensation before. "Nagi..." I gritted out, forcing my head to turn against the pain, until I could see him. He stood in the doorway to the rest of the house, his power crackling in the air around him as he stared straight at me, his gaze wild and unfocused. Abruptly, Omi darted between us, trying to break his concentration. "Nagi! Nagi, don't! It's Ken-kun, you remember, my friend! Nagi, please, let him go! He wasn't hurting me! Gods, Nagi, you can't use your powers like this, it'll kill you! PLEASE!" He latched onto the younger boy's arm and tugged frantically, and finally succeeded in turning Nagi's attention to him instead of me. "Ken?" He sounded bewildered, as though he'd never heard the name before. The force holding me against the wall vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving me staggering and trying to catch both my breath and my balance. He turned towards me again, but his gaze was still unfocused. "Ken. I remember. I... I'm sorry..." Now that he wasn't pinning me, I had a chance to notice a bit more of his appearance. His t-shirt hung on his body like he had more bone than muscle, his skeletal frame making Omi look like the poster child for the terminally chubby. His mouth was drawn as if against a constant pain, his pale hands fluttered nervously before him, and his hair fell about his face as though it hadn't been brushed in days. "Nagi..." Omi said softly, reaching out one hand to the ex-Schwartz boy's face in what had to be the tenderest gesture I'd ever seen him make - which, for Omi, was saying a lot. The younger assassin turned to face him, but never quite made it around. His knees seemed to give out on him before he could complete the movement, and he sagged slowly to the floor in Omi's arms. Omi went down with him, clearly unable to support even the slight weight of the other boy, and sat on the floor with Nagi's head on his lap, fingers gently stroking the dark strands of hair. He turned pain-filled blue eyes to me. "You see, Ken-kun? This is why I can't just give up. He's dying, and I won't leave him to be alone!"
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