7.

Sanosuke thought for sure he was going to be sick back there, but after four, five minutes that he'd been bent over the little white toilet, it was pretty apparent he wasn't going to spew anything up, after all. Which shouldn't be bad, actually, except that the sick feeling wouldn't yet leave him alone.

Damn. What the fuck was wrong with him, anyway? He was going to pull off the job on Wednesday night if he had to screw all of hell to do it -- that much he'd already sworn ten times over, so how could he let the image of Mifune with a dagger stuck in his throat even disturb him to the point of queasiness?

Ah, fuck it. He wasn't going to argue with himself right now, hell no. There was a big fight out there to watch, and regardless of what Uncle was out there in the crowd he was going to watch it all right like he'd fucking come here for in the first place.

...so, yeah.

Promptly now Sano pushed himself up from the toilet tank. Yanking open the door of the stall, he stepped out before the long, wide mirror that gave a glary reflection of his paled face. And then he heard it:

Someone was singing.

~ I feel pretty ~

Some guy.

~ Oh so pretty ~

And Sano was hearing him...like he was right inside his head.

~ I am PURT-tee, PURT-tee, pretty ~

Weird.

At that moment, then, something grazed right at the edge of his eye, something that was distinctly... orange.

"Well what a kitty cat surprise."

Fuck. Could it be --

That guy again. That Mifune bodyguard with the hair the color of...orange.

Just a tad stiffly Sano looked to his left, and as he'd figured much to his dismay there was Schuldig, no less, standing before one of the urinals a yard or two away. Although his back was to him, the guy had his face turned at an angle that revealed a large slice of a grin.

And Sano damned the world silently for being too fucking small. How was it that he always seemed to bump into the same one asshole, anyway? ...unless, of course, this was more than just utter bad coincidence to begin with.

"The hell d'you keep following me?" he muttered, brows twisting into a rigid scowl.

"Hey don't look at me like that. I was just taking an innocent little pee," Schuldig cooed, emphatically zipping up his fly.

If Schuldig hadn't been acting like a creepy dick in his face and giving him but the broadest hints he wanted something physical with him since the first night they'd met, Sano would've probably found it in himself to believe the guy...and, maybe, stand being alone in the men's room with him a second longer, too.

He was just about to stride his way calmly out the door, when Schuldig's next words nailed him completely inert to the shiny tile.

"That man with you. He's a cop, isn't he?"

"How d'you know that," Sano was quick to demand, irritated -- and maybe just a tad alarmed -- that Schuldig seemed to know a thing or two about a thing or two. ...Huh. This guy really worked hard at being unlikable.

Schuldig turned to step toward him now, stopping by the sink right next to the one before the boy. He slowly rubbed his hands together under the water flowing down the spigot, all the while grinning at the scowling Sano through the mirror. After a moment, he stopped washing his hands -- or, stopped pretending to wash his hands, Sano was more certain of this -- and shook them dry over the little white porcelain basin. Then, finally, he replied. "I can't tell you."

It wasn't the words so much as the pleased-with-himself way Schuldig had uttered them that prompted Sano to look long and hard at the man beside him, his deep brown eyes subjecting Schuldig's every detail to scrutiny, from the trivial, as the peaked lapels of his black suit and the pointed little pendant of his silver necklace, to the crucial, particularly those sharp green eyes that themselves were keenly, intensely, watching the younger man in the mirror.

And yet, for the life of him, it just beat Sano how the way Schuldig would look at him and speak to him and stand next to him gave him a feeling he couldn't keep any secrets at all from the bastard...or ever know at all the secrets the bastard kept from him.

It was too damn unnatural...and infuriating, shit.

Nevertheless, Sano refused somehow to be fazed. "You prob'ly think you're some kind of a hotshot, huh," he scoffed (uh, and maybe just overdoing it a bit). "You think you fucking know everything about me?"

Schuldig, on the other hand, never quite faltered in his stare. "Not yet," he continued to grin at Sano. "For one thing? I don't know what color your undies are today."

In pure, fear-of-molestation reflex, Sano drew the waist of his denim jeans as further as he could up his hips. "Che," he spat, "that's one thing you're never gonna find out." It rather pleased him to see his own flouting smirk in the mirror.

Schuldig burst out laughing just then, and for some screwy reason it made Sano feel as though what he'd just uttered was honest-to-goodness funny.

"I am tantalized," Schuldig then proclaimed.

"... What?"

"Never mind. Would you like to have some mint?"

Sano frowned at the little white packet Schuldig was offering to him all of a sudden, though it was mostly due to what he thought he just saw. Schuldig's hand seemed to have moved a little too fast just now for his eye. "Did you just fish that out of your crotch?"

Schuldig responded with a brief, low chortle that did nothing to confirm or disprove Sano's observation. "Here, have it," he insisted, holding the wrapped candy out to Sano...

...who casually declined. "That might be drugged, for all I know."

"No it isn't," Schuldig simply told him.

Contrary to its intention, however, this simple assurance only made him doubt Schuldig all the more. Besides, he really should be moving the hell along now. "Look I don't have time for this shit, alright. I've got a sumo match to watch."

"What's the point, Honda's gonna lose to Gaijin, anyway."

As much as Sano thought it wiser to just turn the other way and proceed straight out of the goddamn room already, this was a remark he figured he couldn't simply let pass. It was one thing to talk shit; hell, it was another thing altogether to talk shit like it was the gospel. "Oh yeah, says who?"

It was actually just a rhetorical question, if anything, but Schuldig was only too willing to furnish an answer: "Crawford."

Sano's features writhed in a tight sneer. "W'll I don't really give a fuck what your boyfriend says."

"Welcome to the club," Schuldig concurred with a little simper. "But it's just our luck that guy's never wrong."

"Oh really? How come?"

"... Say that again."

A frown darkened the mockery across Sano's face. "Say what again?"

"Come," Schuldig replied, his jagged grin now a trace slyer.

He could be wrong, of course, but Sano thought he could feel waves of an urge-like nature from the guy.

...

Well, if only for the sake of jesting and shit Sano would've probably said the word alright a second time, but if there was one thing he knew he didn't need right that very moment, standing there just within grab range in his tight little white get-up, it was to give this green-eyed lecher the least smidgen of wrong ideas. And so yet once again Sano turned and attempted to head for the exit...

...as Schuldig yet once again held his steps back:

"Don't think we don't know what you're up to this Wednesday night."

Startled cold for a moment, Sano could do no more than blurt "Wednesday night?" out in reaction.

"Yeah," Schuldig rejoined, but only at that precise instant Sano slid his eyes back to the mirror and looked at him once anew, impressing on the boy a disturbing sense of confidence and validity in what he'd just disclosed. Suddenly Sano became aware of a loud, rapid pulse somewhere along his throat.

Meanwhile his thoughts were floundering. 'But, but no one else was supposed to... That shit is just between me and Mr. Shishio!... unless...? No that's impossible, goddamit! Hell...they couldn't know. How the fuck would they fucking know?!...'

The pulse in his throat seemed to have gained.

Still, by force of pride, or something, Sano choked down his growing apprehension and stuck to his guns with bravado.

Through the mirror, he trained an earnest scowl on the man beside him and, in an exacting voice, issued, "Just don't you think you can fucking stop me."

But Schuldig gave no sign he was listening, and/or taking the pissed young man seriously. "You sure you don't want this candy?"

Before Sano could lash out a word or ten in reply, Schuldig tore open the little packet and slid the smooth white candy out into his own mouth.

Then, "It'd be fun to see you try and do it, though," Schuldig winked.

Suddenly, ire all out propelling him, Sano at last turned to face Schuldig and seized the slightly taller man by the lapels. "Like I told you already," he growled right in that smirking face, so close to chomping his nose off, "you pussies don't scare me."

"Ooh. Cocky, eh?" And right as Schuldig said this Sano felt something -- a thigh, or the back of a hand, he couldn't say for sure -- brush up on purpose against his crotch.

"You fucking --!"

Unfortunately his mouth wasn't anywhere near as fast as Schuldig's maneuvers. Very soon after Sano found himself leaning forward against the mirror, his right arm wedged painfully between him and the sink and his left held twisted tight across his back by Schuldig, who was now leaning all his weight forward against him, rendering him immobile.

"Tell me how you wanna have it, kitty," Schuldig purred, his breath bitingly cool as mint in Sano's ear. "I could splay you out on your back here on the floor -- hmm, no, actually I can just do you right here up against the sink 'n you can watch us right in this squeaky clean mirror, how's that?"

Sano was now too heedlessly furious to come up with any wittier return than "FUCK YOU!"

"No, fuck you. I'm gonna fuck you alright 'til you can't tell white from red."

"Sure after I beat the shit out of you fucker!!" But at the first instant Sano tried to break free, Schuldig only pinned him harder against the sink and twisted his arm behind him with more sadistic force. And before the trapped young man could even cry out in pain, he felt the waist of his jeans being tugged down from behind, followed immediately by a cold finger slithering into the crack of his buttocks.

"I guessed right." Schuldig leered. "Fresh white cotton briefs, mmm --"

"Schuldig."

... The world froze.

Sano's eyes darted to the right opposite end of the long mirror. Standing still there across from them was the other Mifune bodyguard, the tall dark-haired one with the glasses.

"Niiice, Brad," Schuldig whined like a little girl.

Crawford, however, gave him nothing more than an incisive, shut-the-fuck-up scowl. He fixed his cold gaze on Sano and told him, without expression, "You just missed the match."

+

Tucking the micro disc in the right pocket of his pants, Saitou gave a slight nod to his informant in the red-and-black baseball cap, sending him off now to wriggle his way through the throng in the exit. Only then did Saitou lean his back away from the wall and looked frowning at the thinning crowd around him.

'Where the hell is that kid?'

It had been exactly 22 minutes since Sanosuke had left his seat for the bathroom, which wasn't entirely unusual, actually, except that it made very little sense, considering that Sano -- like the rest of the sumo faithful inside the stadium -- would have given anything to see the Yokozuna match first-hand. Wasn't that why Sano had come along in the first place?

Oh, well. He was just going to have to fetch that stupid kid, in any case.

Nonchalantly, now, the man threw his black trench coat around his shoulders and began to tread to the first men's room down the corridor. But then, just as he did so, he spotted Sano walking toward him (or in his direction, at least) -- and walking somewhat aimlessly, too, as though he wasn't sure where he was supposed to be headed.

At once Saitou lengthened his steps, and right as he reached Sano he took a solid grasp of his wrist, demanding, "Where the hell've you been?" and causing the boy to jump in reaction.

The moment he took in Saitou's presence before him, Sano's face sparked up with a flitting smile of relief. "I was just in the bathroom," he explained, scratching slowly at his forehead. "Sorry I took so long."

If Saitou thought he sensed a sort of quiver in his voice, he gave no real immediate attention to it. "Come on, we're leaving. As you can well see it's over." He let go of Sano's wrist, and was right about to turn to walk off, when:

"Who won?" Sano asked him. He seemed desperate to know.

Saitou shook his head, displeased. "Gaijin. Honda was too slow for the bastard."

And then came the giveaway. The boy took the bad news with a mere quiet "Fuck," a far cry from the enraged, spirited outburst Saitou was mostly ready to hear from him. Even more out of kilter, Sano's face was suddenly drained of its lovely color, as though he was horrified more than anything by the knowledge of Honda's defeat.

In the light of Sano's behavior, Saitou thought it needless to ask him if he was all right. It was clear enough that he wasn't. Just before he'd gone to the bathroom Sano was in perfectly good spirits enjoying himself watching the sumo; now here he was twenty-two minutes later acting little short of abnormal.

Suspicions aroused -- the kind he wasn't keen to entertain in any way -- Saitou just had to ask: "What happened to you in that bathroom? What exactly took you that long in there?"

For several moments Sano only stared up at Saitou in silence, a response that thoroughly irritated the man, especially as Sano's eyes appeared to speak a million things that his mouth just seemed unable -- or perhaps unwilling -- to put in plain words.

Ah, but Saitou was patient, and Sano was someone he genuinely cared for; he wouldn't command an instant proper reply from the boy if it so distressed him.

A little while after they'd stood there still staring at each other, Sano asked him back something that sounded decidedly stupid -- particularly coming from the kid -- and just completely out of place in every respect: "Will you let me hug you, right now? Saitou?"

Saitou's initial thought was to grunt something sarcastic, but apparently Sano was, for once, quicker with his own initiative.

He took the man's wrist in his steady grip and told him, "Just a sec," before he turned to stalk away.

With a thin, resigned frown Saitou let his young lover lead him unwaveringly down the long corridor, half-dashing against the dense tide of people, until they made a turn at one corner and slipped into a short and narrow passageway where their footsteps echoed in its hollowness.

Once there, Sano released his tightened hold on Saitou's wrist finally and flung his bare arms around him, giving him an embrace that was just insanely tight and seemed almost enough to actually unnerve the man with its...ferociousness.

"Just let me hug you, Saitou," Sano murmured, hugging him as further close as he could to himself. "I just wanna fucking hug you right now, this is... fuck you feel so good..."

While Saitou was mostly perplexed as to what in the world brought this on all of a sudden, he was no less compliant to Sano's request, letting the boy hug him all right as he liked. If this was supposed to mean an awful lot right now to Sano, then Saitou was not about to question the whole thing, nor take exception to it, either.

Not long after, Saitou himself wrapped his arms around Sano and hugged him as ferociously in return, even twice as much, too, that they about lost their balance together.

Then, he heard, as much as he felt, a deep, gratified sigh against his hair.

"I love you, man. Thisis just sooo fucking good."

"... Hn."

"What, you don't like this?"

"I like this better." And slowly then Saitou rubbed himself against Sano.

"Oooh yeah." Half-tittering, half-gasping, Sano pulled themselves back toward the wall and very eagerly returned the favor.

Saitou shut his eyes in bliss...and smirked.

Well. All was back to normal now, he supposed.

+

"Yes?"

"Soujiro. Hey it's me."

"Sanosuke? Hi! It's so nice of you to call!"

"Yeah. Where are ya?"

"I'm in my hotel room!"

"Are you busy or --"

"No, I was just watching the TV! I'm alone at the moment, Ken- um Mr. Himura went out to get us some food."

"Oh. You sound like you're havin' a ball up there."

"I am, actually. So what's -- where are you calling from?"

"Saitou's. We're packing and shit right now."

"Aa, I see. Getting ready for the big move, huh?"

"Yeah. It's all we've been doing, packing the shit outta stuff. Anyway I just wanted to ask you sumthing."

"Okay."

"Um...y'remember that li'l dagger you gave me? Could you, like, go over one more time how I'm suppose'ta use it? Y'know, as in how to do the actual...you know."

"Is that all? I'd be glad to!"

While Sanosuke wasn't looking, Monday and Tuesday slipped by quietly like a thief in the night, allowing Wednesday to calmly sneak up on him. Before he knew it, he was on his way to his 8-pm appointment half-slumped in the back seat of one of Shishio's posh convertibles, flanked by Cho, who had fetched him as he always did, and...Saitou, from whom Sano had been practically inseparable over the past couple of days.

"Tell me why y'have ta bring along that cop?" Cho had grumbled to him just moments back, when he was climbing into the car.

Sano had been succinct in his response. "'Cos I want to."

Then Cho had looked at him funny, evidently unconvinced. "What? Why??"

"Hell just shut your face, Cho." And Sano had left it at that.

He couldn't begin to tell Cho, or anyone else for that matter, how much he needed Saitou by his side right now, anyway. No one just would begin to understand.

This was going to be a long, difficult night, that much he was certain, and with thoughts of Mifune and Shishio and Kyoto and everything else drawn into the fucked-up summation making it a hell of an arduous time for him all at once, he could sure use the near, tangible presence of Saitou, the only one who brought all his dreams and his goals and his motivations into focus, the one man he was utterly willing to do this goddamn shit for in the first place.

Sighing to himself now at that thought, Sano took Saitou's left hand in his right and held it there nice and tight. He looked up into those golden eyes he fucking adored, and although there was more of a reserved scowl to them than, say, a fond look, they just infinitely soothed the boy nonetheless.

"I'm real glad you're here with me, Saitou," he couldn't help expressing his thanks.

The older man held Sano's hand as nice-and-tightly in return, but his voice sounded a little puzzled as he noted, "Your hand's freezing cold."

Sano blinked. It took him an extended moment to dumbly respond, "Is it?"

"Ya want the air conditionin' down?" shortly Cho asked.

"Not really," Sano shrugged. He wasn't really cold in that sense; he was cozy enough wrapped in that trench coat of Saitou's, after all. And no doubt Saitou knew this.

As he gradually felt the man's questioning gaze on him, Sano looked back up and gave Saitou what was hopefully a valid smile, or at least something that'd leave no trace of doubt he was going to do no more than pose for an Uncle. ...Man. If Saitou ever found out what stinking bullshit that was...

Oh heck, no matter. That was the least of Sano's concerns at this point.

In any case, now, much to his heart's ease, Saitou not once broke his hand loose from his hold.

Rubbing the pad of his thumb affectionately across Saitou's palm, Sano fixed vehement eyes on his lover and, with scarcely any thought Cho might be listening, professed, "I love you, Saitou. I hope you fucking know that." Sano leaned forward right that instant for an impassioned attack on Saitou's mouth, but Cho let out a far-too-obvious cough to perfectly ruin the moment.

Arms crossed before him, the broomheaded bodyguard was glowering sideways at his two companions.

Sano noticed that his eyes -- both cracked open -- were flashing...red? "What's up with you?" he frowned.

"I think we've hurt his feelings," sniffed Saitou.

"Hey stuff it, ya fucking old copper!" the blond flared up.

Saitou merely grunted, a stoic face staring out his violet-tinted window.

"Anyways ye're gonna get in trouble, y'know," Cho turned abruptly to Sano, "if Mr. Houji finds out he's with us."

Sano merely smiled. "Who gives a fuck."

Cho's eyes squinted in a disapproving grimace. "What the hell're you sayin'?"

'Oh, right,' Sano mused. 'Cho still doesn't know shit.' But the boy could only shrug again, finding no real urge in himself to break to Cho that Houji wouldn't have anything more to do with his ass after tonight, anyway. Because after tonight -- barring hitches in the form of green- and amber-eyed bodyguard assholes -- he'd have done the fucking job already for Shishio.

Anyway, while they were on the subject, Sano thought he might as well ask,

"So is Houji gonna be at the hotel too?"

Cho shook his head. "The man ain't even in town. He took off for Hakodate."

"He did?"

"Yeah, just now he did."

"Why?"

"Mr. Shishio sent 'im. He wants ta know what kinda shit's really goin' on up there with Soujiro."

"Oh." Sano near damn snickered out loud, thinking the now-paranoid Shishio was probably worried his favorite baby might be up to something, like not coming back, for starters, to run away with little red-headed detectives.

Cho then leaned a little forward in the seat to aim his glare right at the disinterested Saitou. "Hey ya can't come up with 'im, y'know. Ye're gonna havta wait for us in the lobby."

"Actually, Cho," Sano made a nervous little chuckle, "I'd ask you to wait in the lobby, too."

"Wha?? But why?"

Because I can't have anyone around to stop me, Sano wanted to tell him, but realizing how screwy that would sound he chose instead to say, "Just trust me," and patted Cho in the thigh to keep him from questioning any further.

Cho stiffened slightly beside him, but nodded his head momentarily in agreement.

"How long will it be?" Saitou now turned back to Sano, pulling a cigarette out of his suit jacket's pocket.

"A half-hour, maybe less," Sano nodded, "it really shouldn't take too long," before he gave Saitou a soft kiss on the shoulder and rested his head easefully on it, closing his eyes in contentment. For now.

Moments later, he thought he could feel Soujiro's sharp little dagger in the back pocket of his jeans, scratching away at his skin.

+

Switching off the floor lamp by the desk, Crawford now walked his way out of the empty, dark study, down the short, dark hallway. Just ahead of him was a diffused glow of sharp yellow light, blazing out of the only room left illuminated in the house. Crawford halted his measured, quiet steps to stand straight in the gaping doorway.

Inside the room, sitting there on the bed with his back to the door, was Schuldig. He was slightly arched, his head slightly bowed, and he seemed to be attending to something on his lap. Just behind him were a pair of sleek, white suitcases, as sleek and as white as the suits that both men were wearing.

"It's time to go," Crawford tersely announced.

Schuldig barely stirred, even after Crawford had already stepped up to the bed and picked up the suitcases to carry out of the room.

As the man in the glasses went quietly further down the hallway, he called out, "Make sure you shut the light off."

Finally, Schuldig tore his eyes off his lap and rose hauling himself away from the bed. His face held the littlest hint of a wince as he moseyed out of the room and followed Crawford outside the house. He left the bedroom light on.

8.

"Has he gone up to the room already?"

"Yes, he has."

"What about the cop?"

"Waiting down here at the lobby."

"I see. Very well, then. I'll see you later."

"Certainly, Mr. Shishio."

Bleep.

+

Saitou wasn't going to kid himself. It would be far from perfect, of course -- life in Kyoto?

His new partner would be an oaf, or worse, a smart-ass neophyte. His new commissioner would be an old dolt; the department not any better, with more than enough idiocy to go around. He would be squandering the better part of his mornings just trying to kick Sanosuke off the bed. There would be a nightly siege of Sano's giggling schoolgirl admirers by way of the phone -- the damned thing wouldn't stop ringing. He and Sano would be at each other's throat every chance they could spot.

In the first week alone, they'd probably wish they had never laid eyes on each other.

"Yeah, well," Sano had declaimed to him in response, Tuesday night when the subject was broached, "at least, y'know, I wouldn't be posing for rich old pigs anymore, and we'd get to screw like monkeys night and day, and, and maybe soak and eat in the bath all we want before bed, and snuggle together in our li'l own private balcony gabbing 'bout the neighbors, whatever... Hell, and just think about it, in a couple more years I'd be knocking the shit outta challengers again, and you'd've done up half the dirt in town already, and we'd prolly be harder for each other than we'd ever been..."

...true, and they would still be having it out on end and life would still be less than perfect...

but...

perhaps, by then, in a way that was most comfortable and not too mushy for his taste, Saitou would be able to tell Sano to his face finally that he... Yes, that.

Saitou coughed briefly into his fist.

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, then, he threw a pensive glance across the extensive hotel foyer. Only a little more time now and Sano should be ambling back into the lobby for him, 'officially' free at last of Shishio's hold.

...unless, that was...Saitou's misgivings were not without grounds, and there really was something about the way Sano's hand was freezing the whole time in the car. For no clear, explicit reason, it felt to him like Sano was... fearful... about coming here, as though things weren't going to turn out as they should.

However convinced he'd been of the boy's constant assurances, Saitou couldn't help musing, somehow, if there was some detail in this arrangement he wasn't at all privy to. Could there be something more to this appointment than just Sano posing one last time for an Uncle?

His thoughts were snapped short just then by the gruff tone of a male voice.

"Is it true," Cho was demanding, "that my boy's ditchin' us after the session?"

Saitou cast his eyes at the scowling broomhead in one of the armchairs before him. It was evident how little even Sano's own bodyguard knew of the situation.

The detective tapped his cigarette over the ashtray close by, before flatly replying, "That's correct."

With a rough jerk Cho dug into his breast pocket for his own pack of smokes, his scowl slashed deep across half-lidded eyes. "I hope Mr. Shishio does sumthin' fucked-up to you fer that."

It was all Saitou could do not to snort. But of course -- there was no question all right Shishio would deal him something fucked-up to get even. Rotten bastards did that.

"You can bet your sad life," Saitou told Cho, his tone severe and fearless, "I'll be more than ready for it."

+

As Shishio had pointedly mentioned to him, it wasn't like Sanosuke had never gone and tried to do someone in once before. Under the circumstances, then, taking the life of Mifune Taizo shouldn't be anything too ambitious for him.

Still, for all the sense this seemed to make, Sano was loath to presume it'd be easy as pie, either. With the first guy, that Ozeki fathead, it was all to avenge the murder of his Taicho; Mifune, however... Heck, how could Sano kill a person he didn't at least feel extreme loathing for, anyway?

Much to his convenience, Soujiro had had a ready answer for him: "Mr. Mifune is nothing more than scum, Sanosuke. If you need one honest reason, then rest assured you're doing society a lot of good by getting rid of him."

Oh, okay then. End of story.

+

Mifune was a little slow to answer his knock, that for a second there Sanosuke feared he got the doors wrong.

"It's open," the old man beckoned from inside the room. The low-pitched voice held a punchy note of excitement, and even from this side of the door Sano could almost see the flash of dentured pearly whites.

'Shit.' His eyes closed tight for a moment. 'Here we go, Sanosuke.'

Drawing a good breath, then, he cupped his hand over the polished doorknob, but stopped just before he was to turn it, deciding he could use a quick mental review of his notes first. (Just to make sure he wouldn't bungle anything once he got in.)

Soujiro's Sure-Fire Guide to Putting Bad Old Men to Sleep:
* DON'T rush it. But be quick!
* Act normal; don't give anything away.
* Aim for the neck.

Then, to cap these off, at the last minute, Sano made a teeny addendum of his own:

* You CAN'T fucking blow this chance, or you are fucking done for.

...

Um. That should probably do it.

Only at that moment that he glanced down by chance did Sano notice the small piece of Post It just below the doorknob. Curious, he detached the pink-colored paper from the door and read the handwriting on it, in elegant kanji:

Kitten,
Good luck.

'What the...' Instantly he balled the note and pounded it out on the carpet with his foot, shoving away the image -- and the sound -- of a snickering Schuldig and Crawford from his mind. Fuckers just weren't quitting, were they. Hah. They could mock him all they pleased and carry the joke as far as they liked, but if they were dumb enough to believe they could cow Sano into backing off then they could both just fucking go to hell.

Without another moment wasted Sano finally turned the knob, stuck his head in the open door. On the colossal bed across the colossal room, seated back against the headboard holding up a pocket-size camcorder in Sano's direction, was the bad old man he was going to put to sleep.

"Good evening, Sanosuke," greeted Mifune, in his crinkly blue business suit and purple socks and pomaded graying black hair, smiling at him through the little viewfinder. In just three days, the hair on his chin seemed to have grown doubly thicker.

Ignoring whatever it was crawling on the back of his neck, as well as whatever it was turning in his midsection, Sano screwed an equally amiable smile on his face. "Good evening, Uncle," he said, which, even at his most earnest, still managed to sound fake.

Nevertheless, he half-lurched now into the room, taking a long time shutting the door gently behind him. He opted not to lock it, just in case...well, in case of emergency and shit like that, who knew what could happen.

The next thing that struck him was the conspicuous absence of a tall creep in glasses and an orange-haired tramp.

"Uh, you alone, Uncle?" he inquired, trying not to sound too much like it mattered. "Where're your bodyguards?"

"My bodyguards, oh. They should be somewhere out around. I had bid them to leave us alone until we've finished."

At this bit of good news Sano had to resist the urge to burst into sinister cackling. That was at least two less obstacles out of the way, after all. Pity the fuckers couldn't see him right now sticking out his tongue at them.

"Will you take off your coat, please?" Mifune was both mannerly and direct in his request.

The young man nodded his silent okay, subservient as an olden-time housewife. He tugged at the loose knot around his waist to allow the dark blue trench coat to slide off his body, baring his coyly immodest attire of sleeveless Chinese-red midriff and skin-tight jeans.

"Very lovely," gushed Mifune, his smile widening.

"Thank you, Uncle," returned Sano, who wouldn't have so much as bothered if he wasn't wont to act like Soujiro by now, anyway.

His small eyes never straying off the viewfinder, Mifune resumed, "Now, will you walk up slowly towards me while you take your clothes off piece by piece?"

Sano arched his brows. "We're starting?"

"We're starting, yes."

Hmm, this was new. Most cases, the Uncles usually preferred a delightful getting-to-know-you chitchat over drinks first. Not that Sano was complaining. The earlier he could start this, the better.

Lifting his right foot now, Sano slipped off his boot, then the other one, before he began to walk -- or rather vamp, his way down the carpet in his socked feet.

"That's good," Mifune nodded, tucking his legs together under him. "Keep walking to me."

So Sano did, pausing every two or three steps to pull off his left sock, then his right, and then his top.

"Will you put a little more sexiness into it, please?"

Sano felt a frown creep unwittingly across his face, but luckily he was quick enough to hide it behind a smile. Phew. Until he got the job done, he had better not displease Mifune in any way.

Finding he was down to his jeans, however, Sano was suddenly faced with a bit of dilemma. If he peeled them off now, how the hell could he bring the dagger to the bed without Mifune catching him? So he ventured, "Um, can I just take these off when I get there?"

"When you get here, no," came Mifune's snappy reply. "Take it all off now. I would like you entirely naked when you get to this bed."

'Asshole.' Oh hell, then he'd just have to deal with the dagger later. Also he kept in mind to wreck the camcorder to bits.

Avoiding to appear in some sort of hurry, Sano then tore the jeans off him little by little, and then his briefs, again almost forgetting he wasn't supposed to frown as Mifune began to stroke his crotch without shame before him. Not like he'd seen only a handful of them do this; just that he wished he didn't have to go through all this shit first before he killed the stupid old bastard.

Reaching the bed in a little while, Sano posed his nude self at the foot of it and waited tolerantly for any further instructions. His gaze zeroed itself in on the amethyst ring that glittered on Mifune's finger, and a tingle chased along the vein in Sano's own finger at the thought of handing the ring later to Shishio, as proof that he had indeed carried out his task.

"You haven't taken off your headband yet," Mifune pointed out.

"Oh, sorry." Slowly Sano brought his hands up behind his head and undid the knot of his headband, letting the long red strip of cloth drop twirling to the floor.

"Won't you show me an erection, Sanosuke?" Mifune entreated, his articulation a bit slurred (probably because he had yet to cease rubbing himself).

Sano bit his tongue hard before he could grumble aloud his unwillingness. Other than that he least liked touching himself before the Uncles, he usually had trouble giving them a hard-on without Soujiro to help him along. Not like he had much choice at the moment, anyway.

Raising his right knee onto the thigh-high bed, Sano leaned himself slightly forward, arching his spine, and slid a hand over to his crotch. With the invaluable aid of imagination, Sano stroked himself unfaltering before the Uncle, before his profoundly arousing vision of Saitou lying naked on the same bed, ardent golden eyes gazing up at him, until Mifune yanked him away from his little fantasy by springing up to his knees, his mouth practically close to slavering and his flushed face instinct with rut. Sano stared coldly at that face, that face that, in only a matter of minutes, would lose all its ability to see and to smell and to hear and to taste anything more of the young man posing for the likes of him for the last time.

"Do I light your fire, Sanosuke?"

'The crude prick.' Sano moaned out his bullshit of a response, "Yes, you light my fire, Uncle." He even made his pelvis buck for good measure.

Meanwhile Mifune now began to edge himself off the bed, never lifting his metallic blue camera off Sano. "Lie down on the bed. Do it slowly."

As told, Sano climbed slowly across the velveteen white sheets and laid himself supine on the bed, leaning his partly stiffened upper back against the soft mass of pillows at the head. Then, with one hand gripping at the headboard for dear life and the other stroking the rose-colored hardness of his cock, Sano flexed out a leg here, twisted his hips there, did everything crass he had ever learned, when suddenly Mifune laid his camcorder down on the bedside table and announced,

"Will you excuse me for a moment, Sanosuke? I have to go to the bathroom."

Sano couldn't help but crack a deriding smirk as he watched the man scuttle off to the adjacent room of the suite, hissing while he fumbled with the fly of his trousers. Heh, well, at least he was bashful enough to jack off in private.

As soon as he heard Mifune slam the bathroom door shut, Sano made a swift lunge for his jeans on the floor and pulled out Soujiro's shiny little dagger in the right back pocket. Quickly he slid it nice and out of sight in between the right side of the mattresses, just making sure it wasn't too deeply lodged for him to have trouble pulling it back out. Then, he lay calmly back on the bed, just a tad concerned that he seemed unable to rid his face of a goofy simper.

Mifune made his reappearance shortly. His face was a sweaty mess, and looked more flushed than it'd been only a few moments ago.

Now more than ever, Sano could scarcely wait to get this shit over with, and get the hell out of this goddamned room, and get to his lover waiting for him down at the lobby. If he was going to start the job at last, right now would definitely be a good time to do it.

+

"Dear? Aren't you coming to bed yet?"

Shishio swiftly slid his eyes away from the TV set, swiveling his seat to face the arched doorway from across the den. Standing there was his better half, with a thick black silken quilt wrapped languidly about her pale shoulders, a fine white hand patting her small, yawning mouth.

"In a little while, Yumi," the man in bandages smiled. "I'm having a couple of people over to discuss some business."

"Oh." Loosening her hairbun, Yumi glanced over to the far corner of the room, at the black and white images on the television. "What are you watching?"

"Nothing, it's just an old samurai movie."

"Are you going to take long?"

"No. You just go on ahead, I promise I'll be joining you shortly."

"All right." Sighing under her breath, Yumi then turned to glide away, but before she could completely leave Shishio's sight, she bewailed, "I miss the boys terribly, dear. I hope you can get them both to come back."

Slowly, Shishio swiveled his seat back in the direction of the TV. He propped his left elbow onto the arm of the chair, resting his cheek against his hand. "Don't worry, dear," he murmured, smirking to himself. "I've made certain they will come back..."

+

"Uncle Mifune?"

"Yes?" Mifune eagerly replied at the sensuous call.

"Would you like to taste me, down here?" Sanosuke crooned, just struggling not to retch all over himself.

"Taste you down there?" Mifune seemed taken by surprise. "But I thought you boys don't allow that."

Sano coerced his long eyelashes to flutter. "We can make exceptions if we like."

"If you like. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure (,you damn pervert, so get down on me now so I could bury that knife already in the back o'your neck!)."

"You're sure." A thick grin smeared its wantonness across Mifune's face, but it faded all too soon as he fixed darker, more intent eyes on Sano and remarked, "I don't think that would be a good idea, though, Sanosuke."

Which caught the boy this time unaware. "Why not?"

"Why not. Well, you see," Mifune demonstrated, slinking to the right side of the bed, "I'm afraid that might give you the chance to use this." And right as he said so he bent down low and, without even groping, reached for the very dagger Sano had slipped in between the mattresses.

'Fuck.' Sano darted up against the pillows, mouth broke wide open. 'How did he -- fuck...'

"Did you think I was that stupid not to see you, my boy?" Mifune clasped the dagger high in the air, its sharp, little blade glinting in the white and buff sparkle of the chandelier.

'...fuck...I screwed up...fuck...it's over...'

The grin on Mifune's face was more of a leer now, his eyes slit in roguish laughter as he sent the dagger plunging to a muffled thud down the carpet, and reached inside the pocket of his trousers.

'...fuck...what about Kyoto now...fuck...what'm I gonna tell Saitou...fffuuck...'

In the midst of his many lovely dreams falling to incalculable little pieces, Sano felt something clutch at his heart as he caught Mifune take out of his pocket:

a handgun.

"The fuck is that?!" Sano gave a yelp. All of a sudden then the room began to shrink all around him, his world now seemingly reduced to only himself and that menacing little firearm.

"The fuck is this?" Mifune smirked, shaking his weapon. "A loaded automatic, that's what this is. A very handy little fella."

Arrested to his ass on the bed, Sano could do no more than swallow the gargantuan lump in his throat and stammer, "Y-you don't wan-wanna d-do this, old fucker. M-M-Mr. Shishio...he'll... He won't l-let you get away with this."

But Mifune only shook his head at him going tsk, tsk. The grim set of his face didn't look too good, either. "You have disappointed me, Sanosuke, just when I've come to take quite a liking to you. I thought you were a nice boy all this time, not like Soujiro. Ah, that idiot Shishio, sending a poor fledgling like you to take care of his foes. "

Slowly, then, Mifune moved to aim his gun at Sano, who just couldn't for the life of him find it in his soul to budge.

"Much as I regret it, do you think I could just let you walk away from this, alive?"

Right that moment, as if on cue, they were interrupted by a curt knock at the door.

"Who could that be now?" Mifune wondered, sharp irritation in his voice.

It's me, Sano thought he heard.

Wait a minute. That voice.

Without meaning to, "Schuldig?" Sano blurted.

"Schuldig, is that you?" Mifune called out, and right thereafter the door swung open to reveal the orange-haired bodyguard all right.

Sano couldn't quite decide at the moment if he ought to sigh relieved at this guy butting into the picture, or pray even ten times harder for divine intervention.

Across the room Schuldig made a short bow, grinning at the still-motionless Sano for a moment before fully addressing his boss. "Sir, your partners are all in the conference room now."

"In the conference room. Already?" Mifune cried, scarcely hiding his disappointment.

"Yes, and I've been told Mr. Ginzo's waiting for you in his car right this moment, too. He has to rush to another meeting afterwards."

"Another meeting afterwards. Damn," Mifune groaned, but was prompt to step into his shoes now nonetheless. Giving Sano one last, long lick of his gaze, the old man then calmly replaced his gun in his pocket and took his first couple of strides away from the bed. "Where's Crawford?"

"Right here, sir," replied the black-haired bodyguard, only now making his presence known in the doorway.

"Stay here with the boy until I return. Make sure he doesn't step a foot out of this room."

"Yes, sir."

"You Schuldig come with me."

Crawford stepped aside then into the room, allowing Mifune to march out into the hallway with a frowning Schuldig at his heels.

In spite of himself Sano caught the two men in white exchange glimpses, like they were on to something perhaps not even Mifune was aware of.

Pushing the door shut behind Schuldig, Crawford now turned to the young man on the bed, a smirk settled squarely on his lips.

Quickly Sano drew the edge of the sheets up to himself, just enough to cover his groin. With no idea what exactly to do next, he watched Crawford nonchalantly cross the room toward him, then take a seat on one of the chairs against the wall, just an arm's reach from the left side of the bed.

"Don't you fucking come near me," Sano barked.

The older man raised a stiff brow. "Is this the thanks we get for saving your life?"

"You didn't save my life, you asshole."

"Aa. What was Mifune pointing at you just now?"

...And Sano was struck dumb, not so much by the realization that they did indeed, somehow, thwart that old dickhead's attempt to shoot him, as he was by the fact that Crawford seemed to know all that had been transpiring within these walls all along. He tried to disguise his astonishment though with a huffy, "W'll if you're that keen on seeing me live you'd fuckin' get me outta here before he comes back."

"He won't be coming back."

Crawford had divulged the words so matter-of-factly that Sano found himself accepting them beyond doubt. But he still had to find out, "How do you know that?"

"Because Schuldig is taking him outside to kill him."

"Huh?" Sano frowned. If there was a punchline in this joke somewhere, he sure as hell couldn't see it. "Why in hell would you guys kill 'im? I thought you were trying to protect that old bastard."

"Of course not."

"What??"

"We were just interested in seeing you try to do it. Obviously you failed, so that leaves us to do the job now."

Sano's laugh came out dry. "This is getting way too screwy, man, I mean -- Mifune's your fucking boss!"

"That's right, but he isn't our only boss." Crawford smirked wider as he crossed his legs and reached for the camcorder on the bedside table. "For instance, we work for Shishio, too."

"...WHADDAFUCK?!"

+

Ten to nine. Almost an hour now. Still no sign of the boy.

With a quiet sigh Saitou ground out his cigarette on the ashtray, deciding he could no longer wait simply sitting here -- not with more than one perturbing thought pounding relentlessly away at his head. Promptly he turned to Cho and demanded,

"What room is Sanosuke in?"

5-6. 9-10.