Yohji sighed deeply. He kept his left arm around Aya, keeping the limp body propped against his and with his right hand he lifted his cigarette to his lips to take a long, last pull before the filter began to curl. He flicked the cigarette away and watched it fly, a red glowing point of light arcing across the night sky before landing in the grass somewhere off the road.

"What do we do?" Omi cried, his voice high with panic.

"Calm down, Omi," Ken said tightly, speaking for the first time since he'd let out a cry when the bullet struck Aya-chan in the heart.

Omi looked at Ken in surprise, then nodded and took a deep breath. Yohji pulled Aya closer and said, "Well, I suggest that we get out of here before some local farmer realizes that the loud noise he just heard was gun fire and calls the police. Or," he added quietly, dangerously, "before Farfarello comes back with the rest of Schwarz."

They all turned to look at the forest that began at the edge of the cul-de-sac. Yohji could swear that the shadows between the trees were darker, blacker where the insane Irishman had disappeared, laughing and screaming both at the same time as Ken howled and chased after him.

The young assassin had ripped a belt of poisoned darts from around Omi's waist and thrown them wildly after the retreating maniac. Ken’s aim, however, was impaired by the darkness and his anger—there were darts imbedded in the trees and ground near the edge of the forest.

"What about Aya-chan?" Omi asked quietly, stooping to gather his bow from where he had dropped it.

Yohji fixed his eyes absently on Aya in his arms. The full moon leeched the color from everything it touched, leaving Aya's hair gray and dark as his long leather trench coat.

"We'll leave her here and place an anonymous tip with the police."

"What?!" Ken exclaimed, eyes burning.

"Ken," Yohji said evenly, "Think about it. If we take her with us, we'll have to take her body to the hospital, or the mortuary. Questions will be asked. It would take too much time—time we need to take care of him." He jerked his chin at the prone form draped on his arm.

"Take care—?" Omi asked with a start, turning to stare at Aya.

Yohji sighed and narrowed his eyes at the kid. "Do you really think that when he wakes up he'll be fine and dandy and over his sudden death wish? Ten seconds after Aya-chan's heart stopped Aya wedged his katana in the ground and would have thrown himself on it if you hadn't stopped him in time," he said coldly. "We need to get him back to the house and lock him up somewhere with no sharp objects."

Ken and Omi were both silent. Yohji knew that they were having trouble coming to grips with his harsh logic. They didn't have the time to stand around waiting while they adjusted, though. Yohji threw Aya over his shoulder and walked past them on down the road to where his jeep was parked.

"Coming, or are you gonna walk?"

He did not wait for their answers before he opened the back door and threw Aya—still wrapped in wires—in the back seat. He walked around and got into the driver's seat and had started the car when Omi and Ken jumped in. Yohji did not spare a glance at Ken in the passenger's seat, he simply slammed on the gas and peeled away.

They rode the whole way home in silence. Yohji drove with one hand on the wheel and the other buried in his thick hair. He massaged his scalp, trying to ease the sharp pains that shot through his skull. In the back, Aya made small noises, moans and cries and muttered nonsense. Omi turned around in his seat to watch over Aya as they rode.

Ken was still, rock-hard and unmoving the entire ride. Yohji did not turn to look, but out of the corner of his eye he could see the other’s tense form. He thought of Ken’s cry when Aya-chan was shot, his fury as he chased Farfarello, and wondered if perhaps his sorrow over Aya’s sister was deeper and more personal than Yohji’s and Omi’s. If, perhaps, there was something more to his grief.

Yohji pursed his lips and dismissed the thought. Time to take care of the living and leave the dead to itself.

When their rented house came in sight, Omi reported that Aya appeared to be stirring. Yohji grunted acknowledgement and pulled into the alley beside the house.

As he slipped the car into Park, Yohji turned slightly in his seat and tugged Omi’s sleeve to get his attention.

"Omi, I want you to go into the basement and clear out that room we use for storage. Take everything out. That door locks, right? Good, find the key. Ken, strip Aya’s bed and bring down his mattress and blanket. When the room’s all set, come back out here and help me carry Aya down."

Omi stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. Ken merely hopped out of the car and strode to the house, Omi close behind.

Yohji waited until they were both inside before he got out of the car. He locked the doors behind him and walked back to the trunk. He peered in and saw Aya stirring within. Yohji trusted the strength of his wires, though, and he rested his back against the jeep. He took out his cigarette box and shook one out.

When Omi and Ken came out of the house, Yohji was just finishing his cigarette. He stubbed it out under his boot and pushed himself off of the jeep. He turned and opened the trunk, reached in with both hands and yanked Aya out. The redhead fell to the ground, unable to get his hands free to stop his fall.

Yohji stooped and lifted Aya, tossing his prone form over one shoulder as he stood.

"Lem’go," Aya slurred and Yohji wondered if he had hit Aya too hard. He shrugged and preceded Omi and Ken into the house.

The basement was reached through a door in the living room. Aya was moving around sluggishly as Yohji descended the staircase, squirming against his back. He walked to the door of the basement room; it was slightly ajar and he kicked it open.

The room was Spartan and bare. The walls were whitewashed dry wall, the floor gray concrete. The ceiling was tiled with pockmarked white mortarboard and five flickering rectangles of fluorescent lights. Some of the mortarboard tiles were missing, showing pipes and recessed areas of darkness. The places where tiles were lost next to the long fluorescent purple light bulb tubes cast odd pools of shadow around the room.

Yohji threw Aya to the ground hard enough so the redhead grunted out a loud breath. He grabbed Aya and jerked him to his knees. Aya’s head dropped forward but he trembled and held himself upright.

"Grab him if he tries to get away," Yohji muttered as he took hold of his wire around Aya and started to unwind it. Ken and Omi stood beside him, but Aya did not seem inclined to bolt any time soon. Yohji had to work to untangle the mess of wire around the redhead. He finally tugged the garrote off and started coiling it around his arm.

Omi came forward then and bent slightly to look into Aya’s face. The violet eyes stayed lowered and Omi frowned.

"Aya, I’m just going to take off your coat now, okay? I want to see if you’re hurt anywhere. Okay?" Not waiting for an answer, Omi began to unbuckle the various leather straps all over Aya’s purple-black trench coat. Yohji watched with narrowed eyes as he continued to coil the wire around his forearm, wrapping it from hand to elbow.

"There," Omi said as he pulled off Aya’s coat and placed it carefully on the floor.

Without warning, and as soon as Omi’s back was turned, Aya sprang from his kneeling position and shot towards the door. Yohji’s hands were tangled in his wire and Omi was turning around with his mouth open in awe, but Ken was free and still tense and tight as a guitar string. The brown-haired young man leapt after Aya. On a good day, Aya might be hard-pressed to outrun the agile former athlete, and Aya was already weak from grief and a blow to the head. Ken easily caught up with the beleaguered assassin and tackled him to the ground. Yohji strode to the door and tossed his wire out of the room before stooping to grab Aya’s arms and pull them behind his back.

"That’s enough of that," Yohji snapped as he bodily dragged Aya back into the room. The redhead was fully awake now, and he struggled with Yohji every step of the way. Irritated and fed up, Yohji threw Aya into the dark corner of the room and turned to walk out of the room.

"Make sure to lock the door when you leave," Yohji said curtly over his shoulder and started up the stairs.

The sky was electric blue like the base of a flame. The light of dawn diluted the darkened night sky. Yohji was staring out the big picture window in the living room, smoking a cigarette and watching the sun rise when Ken and Omi came upstairs from the basement and closed the door behind them.

Yohji half stood from his seat in the armchair and hooked the ottoman with his foot. He pulled it over and propped his feet up. Omi collapsed onto the sofa and Ken went over to stand by the window.

"What do we do now?" Omi asked.

Yohji glanced over at the kid and lifted one eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"Well—I—" Omi trailed off and shrugged. "I mean, what do we do? Should we just leave Aya down there, or maybe take him someplace?"

"Like where?" Yohji asked skeptically.

"The hospital?"

"They wouldn't know what to do with him. We can't hand him off to doctors or even the police. He'd manage to escape from them and wouldn't care about killing them all in the attempt."

Ken opened his mouth but Yohji cut him off before he could speak.

"Don't even think it," Yohji snapped, crushing his cigarette into the gaudy ceramic ashtray that Omi had brought home from a pottery class one day.

"What?" Ken asked, confused.

"You were going to suggest we call Manx or Birman, weren't you? Or someone else in Kritiker?"

Ken winced and shrugged. "Yeah. I thought that maybe they could--"

"Well don't," Yohji said shortly. "We can't trust them not to just let him kill himself. Even Manx and Birman," he said as Omi opened his mouth.

Omi spoke anyway. "But, Yohji-kun, Manx and Birman...they care about us, I know they do."

Yohji smirked. "Maybe yes, maybe no. But even if they do give a shit about Aya staying alive, they know when something's a waste of their time. And time is money, Omi-kun," Yohji said mockingly, rubbing his fingers together as if he had a wad of yen folded there.

Ken pressed his lips together grimly. "You think they'd let Aya kill himself just because it would take too much time to watch after him?"

"You don't?" Yohji asked, lighting up a new cigarette.

Omi glared at the thin wisp of smoke coming from Yohji's cigarette before looking away. He sighed deeply and nodded.

"You're right, Yohji. We have to take care of Aya. He's one of us, Weiß, we have to take care of our own."

Yohji smiled despite himself. "Very winning sentiment, Omi."

Ken grunted and walked away from the window to fall gracelessly into the other armchair. "All right, then, what do we do with him? I guess he's okay in that cellar room for now, with all of the stuff taken out."

Omi nodded. "I scoured the room; you saw it. There's nothing in there but the mattress and blanket."

"Good," Ken said, nodding absently

"Yeah," Yohji said quietly.

"Yeah," Omi echoed softly.

Yohji stood then, and strode out of the room. He heard someone calling his name and he shouted back, "I’m going to sleep for a few hours. Wake me." He reached the staircase and climbed quickly to the second floor.

Once in his room, he closed and locked his door behind him. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the blank wall opposite. His sheets were twisted, his pillows rumpled. On his pillowcase he saw the sunlight glinting off of a strand of red hair. He shut his eyes and slammed his fist into the wall. When he looked, there was a broken-edged dent in the wall where his fist had hit.