9.

"The cat's out of the bag, finally."

Crawford said so with barely a glance up to Sanosuke, his spec-shielded eyes drawn to the little screen of Mifune's camcorder, showing images of Sano taken not too many minutes ago.

It would've grossly peeved the young man, for this guy to watch his video -- free of charge, at that -- except he could hardly give a shit about anything at the moment besides, "What d'you mean you work for Shishio?!" he howled, hands clawing the sheets from the urge to shake Crawford. "Since the hell when?!"

Crawford still didn't look up as he replied. "Three years now, off and on. Mostly off since you got in."

"That why I never met you before?"

"No one has really met us."

Sano's upper lip curled. "What, like no one actually knows you guys? Not even Houji?"

"No, he and that Soujiro kid: they know."

"Soujiro knows?!" Sano dropped back limply against the pillows and rubbed the crease along his forehead. Fuck, this was getting screwier by the second. It'd be simple enough to believe this guy was just shitting him, but that seemed a stunt only his wenchy green-eyed partner would pull. ...then again, hadn't Schuldig been true about all his earlier claims either?

He could practically feel an ugly gob of questions now starting to breed in his head, and the more he learned about this whole shit, the faster they bred, seeping through every vein in his system and settling in the sore pit of his belly. If it was at all possible to puke them all out right now, he'd gladly stick a finger down his throat in a jiffy.

So. All this time, all these dicks:
(1.) Shishio
(2.) Houji
+ Soujiro
had been dealing with him just pretending they didn't know the two new dicks, and vice-versa? And, all along, these two bodyguard assholes -- Schuldig in particular -- had been suckering him making him believe they were at opposite poles on Mifune, when they couldn't have cared less what happened to the perverted old shit after all?

"Fuckers." Sano scowled hard at the pillow he held, squeezing its feathery stuffing in his fists. Then he turned sharply back to Crawford and cried, "Why the fuck didya have to harass me and shit then?! We were supposed to be on the same fucking page!"

Collectedly, Crawford pushed the thin rim of his glasses pressed to his face. His smirk was heavy on one side of his mouth as he slid his gaze up finally to Sano. "Schuldig enjoys fucking with people, that's basically why," he told him, in a way as if nothing else could be plainer. "But don't think just because you and us are with Shishio that we're...on the same page, as you say. Not necessarily."

Sano held his eyes fast on the older man, annoyance pinching his eyebrows. "What the hell does that mean."

But Crawford only reoccupied himself quietly with the video...

...eventually getting the boy worked up all the more. "Gimme that," Sano menaced, like a bully in the playground, almost.

With no apparent mite of resistance Crawford coolly, almost disinterestedly, reached his arm out to hand the camcorder to Sano, who then immediately hurled the expensive piece of equipment zooming across the length of the room.

At that absolute instant, the door flew open. With one hand Schuldig snatched hold of the darting camcorder, just before it was to sock him full in the face.

Looking on, Sano could only gawk. Stunned. He didn't think he knew many people with such...superhuman reflexes.

...Hell, he didn't know many people like these two, either, these guys who just seemed incapable of being fazed in any way. If Sano had any doubts at all as to why Shishio would hire these men, they were gone from his mind on the instant.

That, however, was only as high as his opinion would go. It didn't really follow he was awed or daunted by them. Not necessarily, hah.

"Throwing tantrums, now?" Schuldig teased, pushing the door shut with his hip. He slipped the little camcorder into his pants' pocket, and did it ever so nonchalantly, too, that Sano nearly didn't take notice.

"Hey give that back!" Sano hissed. Why the hell was this prick back so soon, anyway?

The grinning Schuldig brought more of his teeth into view as he traipsed his winding path over to the bed, stepping around Sano's articles of clothing strewn about the floor. "Uh-uh," he shook his head with each syllable.

Bright, brilliant red began to flood the world in Sano's sight, and in his head a fuming little voice shrieked, Attaaack! He was actually just a step away from launching himself at Schuldig when reason got the better of him at the very last second, prompting him to the realization that he was...in the buff. Why, he hadn't forgotten yet, of course: the last time he got too close to that prick -- and he was even fully clothed that time -- he'd almost gotten his ass force-entered.

"You have the ring?" Crawford uttered in the interim. The look he threw at Schuldig hinted impatience.

At the foot of the bed now, Schuldig pressed his thighs against the edge of the mattress, smirking at Sano. He raised his left fist, knuckles faced away from himself, amethyst glittering on the pinky finger he'd stuck out. "This should be in your hot little paws now," he told the boy, shaking the loose ring around, "if you'd been a tad less cute in your...technique."

"How 'bout you shut the fuck up," Sano barked.

"How 'bout you make the fuck me," Schuldig chirped his return, his voice impishly flirtatious.

"I am sick of your shit! Just gimme that ring now, okay?!"

"Eh, that's no fair, kitten. We did the job -- we get to give this to Shishio, not you."

"The hell -- but...I thought you...I thought we were..."

"...in this together?" Schuldig let go of a jeering snicker.

"W'll if that's not the case," Sano sucked in an offended breath, "why did ya go save my ass, then?!"

Schuldig bit the seam of his lower lip. "Um, 'cos you won't be fun to play with dead?"

"Quit fucking around!"

"Because Shishio would need you alive, of course," Crawford granted the more sensible answer.

"But you knew why I had to pull off that goddam job in the first place!"

"Yes, but this was our job right at the onset, and you can't say you didn't get a crack at it, then again."

At that moment, then, Sano felt a fiery torrent of resentment surge up inside of him.

The nerve of these fuckers. It didn't matter a whole crap that they had gone and 'saved' his life -- they'd fucking toyed with him, screwed with his plan, snagged the only means for him to break the hell away from Shishio and be with Saitou. Because now that he thought about it, he could've probably worked a way out of his fix earlier to come through with the job, somehow, if they hadn't come knocking uninvited at the door to preempt it.

Shortly Crawford glanced at his wristwatch. "We should be going," he stated, uncrossing his legs.

"Awww." Schuldig made an all-too-dramatic pout. "Just lemme play with the kitty some more?"

"No. We're already pressed for time as it is." And Crawford stood up from the chair, started to make his way rigidly to the door. No further discussion.

"Waita minute." Sano leveled a helpless frown on Schuldig. "I really need that fucking ring." To implore was meaningless -- not to mention silly, and embarrassing, too -- but the boy was faced with just about zero other ideas at this point.

Schuldig folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to his shoulder going Hmm..., as if actually contemplating Sano's words. Then, "'Kay, I got an idea," he exclaimed. "I'll give you the ring if you let me between your legs and --"

"Schuldig." Crawford's tone commanded nothing less than compliance. Besides, he had one foot out onto the hall now.

"Oh, well." Simpering, Schuldig shrugged his shoulders at Sano and now whisked the ring away to some secret place inside his suit. "See ya -- hey, one o'these days we might even get to work together, you know..."

Panic drew its sharpest blade and struck.

This wasn't right at all. Saitou had been waiting expectantly for him at the lobby, and Sano hadn't intended for one second to go meet his lover down there just to spit out something as shitty as the fact that...that... they wouldn't be moving to Kyoto after all.

He just couldn't let these pricks go. He had to have that ring.

Right as Schuldig turned to leave, Sano made to lunge recklessly at him. Schuldig, however, shoved him back against the pillows and nailed him in place there, all with -- apparently -- just a single stare that emitted some sort of forceful, physical waves, after which all Sano could remember seeing was all the world in utter blackness.

+

The elevator's ascent was so outrageously slow that it felt almost as though it wasn't moving. In addition, all through the ride, Cho proved himself an exemplary source of vexation by yakking in Saitou's ear on and on.

"No frigging cop tells me what ta do! Y'should be grateful I gave ya the room number! But hey we can't break SOP, 'kay?! We can't just barge in th' room 'n stop everything!..."

If Saitou acted on violent thoughts at will, he would've mangled the broomhead's tongue by now with his bare hands. Why must everything always work at his inconvenience when he was in a hurry, anyway?

After what could have been the longest elevator ride of his life, "Seventeenth," the elevator girl brightly announced at last.

Even before the doors could fully open, Saitou stepped out to the left and started down the posh wide hall...only to halt abruptly in his stride.

He was positive he saw something. Someone.

"Whatsa matter?" asked Cho.

Saitou swung his narrowed gaze over his shoulder, past Cho, in time to see a tall, black-haired man in glasses step into the other, adjacent elevator car.

Yes, it was him alright. Bradley Crawford. And partly hidden just beside him was his younger companion with the long orange hair, Schuldig. While Crawford merely gave him a fleeting sidelong look, Schuldig made overt enough the fact they knew Saitou was watching them with a smirk right in his direction, just shortly before the doors of the elevator rolled to an emphatic close.

"Hey now wasn't that Jerk 1 and Jerk 2." Cho gave a loud snort. "Session must be over then."

"You know those two."

"Che, Mifune's bodyguards."

"Mifune -- the Uncle?" queried Saitou, sorting through all Shishio-related data he'd filed in his brain.

"Yeah, ugly pig Uncle Mifune."

Well...no, the name didn't exactly ring a bell, but knowing those two had just been around Sanosuke was enough to get Saitou going down the hall now in any case.

Fortunately Sano's room was just close by. Grabbing the doorknob, Saitou burst into the suite and was right away met by the sight of his young lover. There on the bed Sano lay back against the pillows, the rumpled white sheet barely covering the naked sprawl of his body.

Cho voiced out the same thought as Saitou's: "Huh, why's he sleepin'?"

Just as the broomhead came sauntering into the room, however, Saitou made a dash for the bed, pulling the sheet up to cover just about every exposed part of Sano.

"Che," the blond spat, drifting toward the right side of the bed, "like I've never seen 'im butt-naked bef -- hey, now whatta hell is this?" Bending over, Cho picked up a small, shiny dagger from the carpeted floor. "This is Soujiro's knife!"

"Are you sure?" frowned Saitou.

"Yep. Kid got this from Mr. Shishio, it's for 'im ta, to do 'is stuff, and all other crap...but never mind that. What's it doin' with ma boy?"

At that moment then the still-unconscious Sano began to roll his head from side to side, murmuring what sounded a lot like a plea of Stop over and over.

Saitou wasn't quite sure that was his chest he felt constrict for a second, for in his mind flashed the image of the smirking green-eyed German. Swiftly he sat himself down beside Sano, and stuck a hand under the sheet to feel for the cleft of the boy's buttocks. He grunted to himself in relief: "Good." It was mostly dry. Front, center, and back.

"What're you doing?!" piped Cho, apparently scandalized. He was looking at Saitou with the prudish gaze of an old woman, as though he should be horribly ashamed of his actions...

...thus obliging Saitou to explain himself. "Checking for signs of assault."

"Assault??"

"He's fine...but something's obviously happened here." As he couldn't keep guessing forever what went on in the session, Saitou now held the still-moaning Sano by the shoulders and gave him a firm shake. "Wake up," he boomed.

After two more shakes, finally, heavy lids lifted from deep brown eyes. "Whatcha doin' here?" were Sano's first mumbled words. With eyes still seeing through mere slits and lids flitting from the blare of the lights, Sano let a fumbling hand crawl up Saitou's arm and tried to focus his vision on him. "Fuck, feel like I just took a KO. Wha' happened?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" the older man rejoined.

"Yeah," briskly Cho nodded. "And what's Soujiro's knife doin' here anyways."

Only then did Sano's eyes shoot completely open. He stared up at the little dagger in Cho's hand and breathed out an oppressive sigh, his eyes closing again for a moment. "Shit. I'm sorry, Saitou," he groaned, clutching fiercely at the sheets. "I fucked up. I was supposed to kill that old fuckface but --"

"What?!" yipped Cho, almost dropping the dagger. "But ya never do that shit!"

"Was that part of the deal with Shishio?" Saitou asked the boy forthright. Somehow he couldn't say this was a surprise at all to him. Though it didn't mean, of course, that he was pleased just as well. "That you were to kill that Uncle before he'd let you go?"

A slow, timid nod. "Yeah, but I...dammit. I screwed the whole thing up. I dunno how the Uncle found me out, and he, he almost fucking shot me, the dick!"

"Holy shit --"

"Would it kill you to step out?" Saitou cut off Cho brusquely. "We need a moment alone."

It was obvious by the swollen veins on his face just how much Cho appreciated the curt brush-off, but an immediate backing of "Please, man?" from Sano sent the grumbling blond off to the hallway nonetheless.

The moment the door clicked shut, Saitou turned right back to Sano and scowled, "Why didn't you say anything."

"'Cos I knew you'd get mad and shit! ...well, which you are most o'the time anyway, but, I was afraid you'd do something crazy like, like go confront Mr. Shishio and just make things worse, y'know! Hell, Saitou, it wasn't like I had a goddam choice, okay, it was the only way Mr. Shishio said he'd lemme go." Sano impelled himself to sit up and leaned forward to Saitou as he spoke further. "Anyway it's all fucking over now, I didn't know he had the Uncle's own bodyguards on the same job -- and I just found out they weren't really his bodyguards, too --"

"Crawford and Schuldig?"

"Yeah," the boy grimaced. "You know those dicks?"

"Not personally," Saitou clarified, himself grimacing somewhat. "I came across them while looking up dirt on Takatori."

"W'll whaddaya know about 'em?"

"They're hired assassins with...special, abilities."

"Special?"

"Extrasensory. The American can tap into the future and the German can tune in on minds and screw with them if he wishes."

Sano coughed out a full gasp, eyes plate-wide. "So that's why..."

"Hn. At least now we know, the bastard was never serious about setting you free all along."

"...No, but, he said if he just didn't want me to leave he'd've threatened to kill me."

"He knew that would've put him in a bad light in your eyes." Saitou shook his head, looking gravely into Sano's attentive gaze. "He just wanted to make it seem like the ball was in your hands. That way if you failed you'd have no one to blame but yourself. And of course he knew you'd fail; what do you know about assassin work in the first place?"

"...Fuck." By now, Sano seemed only able to stare wordlessly at Saitou, the cold truth of the matter turning his young face pale to a snowy white.

In contrast, Saitou could almost feel the blazing fire of his rage reddening his own face. And part of this rage, actually, took aim at himself. Rather than bothering to entertain the whole A-Z gamut of suspicions, he'd allowed himself to be a slight too swayed in believing Shishio could ever at all be trusted. Or, that Sano would never dare do anything so stupid just to...be with him. Just to be all his. "You really are an idiot," he told Sano through clenched teeth, and took a thick lock of soft brown hair in his gentle grasp. "You could have gotten yourself hurt."

Sighing, Sano dipped his face in Saitou's throat and kissed the warm bare skin above the collar. "The hell with that, ol' man. ...What're we gonna do now?"

Saitou didn't need to brood over an answer. Instantly he stood from the bed and plucked Sano's clothes up from the floor, tossing them to the perplexed boy. "Move it. We're going to go see that bastard."

"Mr. Shishio? What, right now?"

"Yes. He'll have to let you go tonight, or I'll have to rip his fucking limbs off."

+

A brittle quiet hung over them for the first few miles from the hotel, until the taxicab driver made a hoarse coughing sound which he tried to stifle with a hand clamped to his mouth.

"Pardon me." With nary a peek back at his two passengers, the short, balding man gave a couple of short, apologetic bows, before resuming his stiff and silent drive along the avenue.

Crawford appeared to spare him a look, however brief, but made no attempt to do or say anything in response. Beside him Schuldig did even less, all his smirky-eyed attention centered on the digital screen of the camcorder atop his knee.

Outside, the city -- this district, anyway -- was bright and bustling in neon light gaiety, as it was still relatively early in the night, after all. It all seemed a dull, insipid sight nevertheless, or at least judging by the neutral cast of Crawford's gaze out his window. Either that, or he was simply too immersed in his own thoughts. ...though none the more so than Schuldig was in his own preoccupation, in the moving pictures of Sanosuke pleasuring himself in pure white sheets.

After a still five or ten minutes, Schuldig spoke. "They're on their way." His tone was flat, and casual, as though he was uttering something Crawford scarcely needed to hear, because he either already knew it or didn't care.

So it probably made sense that Crawford said no word in response and only continued to sit unmoving, the lights ahead of the windshield shimmering harshly across his lenses.

Just the same Schuldig spoke on. Sano's video, incidentally, had just reached its end. "I like how that cop thinks," he remarked, tucking the tiny camcorder in his pants' pocket. "Got the same mind, you 'n that cop, you know. Only difference, if I could actually get into your thoughts, I'd prob'ly get lost in a bunch of running grid lines, or something."

If only for an instant, Crawford's lips crooked in a minute smirk. One that Schuldig didn't notice.

Schuldig slid himself down to a half-slouch position in the seat, and crossed his arms against his belly. He turned his roguish green eyes up to the man next to him, though stopped midway as he asked, "Will I get to see the kitten again?"

A soft grunt was the only reply Crawford came out with.

"Don't get too jealous, now."

"Stop presuming I am."

"Only if you start admitting you are."

"Unbelievable. You really do flatter yourself to a fault."

"Yeah, well, maybe." Schuldig made his right shoulder shrug.

After that he seemed to have lost all interest to open his mouth in any way, another kind of brittle quiet hanging over them once again. Meanwhile the uneasy-looking cabbie kept his eyes peeled on the road, trying to give the impression he was oblivious to the goings on inside his taxi.

The lights along the avenue grew less and less as the ride progressed. Soon enough they'd broken into the hub of the residential zone, and it was at this time that Schuldig began to shift this way and shift that way in his seat. On his face had formed -- and it wasn't usually it would -- a wince of pain.

Crawford didn't seem to mind this behavior in the least, perhaps from being used to Schuldig acting oddly at times, until Schuldig tugged down the zipper of his fly...and drew out his cock. Crawford sounded incredulous: "You choose this time and place to do that?"

"Shut up." Snap. Direct.

The swelling irritation in Crawford's eyes began to dissolve to some degree as, in the glow of street lamps they kept passing, he saw Schuldig frowning down at -- what appeared to be -- a bead of a sickly colored fluid on the tip of his cock.

"Fuck," Schuldig gnashed, "it's been leaking the whole goddamn night. I can't fucking take it like this."

A pause. Uncomfortable. Tense.

Then, calmly, as though this was nothing more than a part of their everyday routine, Crawford took out a neatly folded handkerchief from inside his suit jacket and turned fully to Schuldig.

"Get the fuck away from me, I can take care o'this myself."

But as was the case most of the time, Crawford gave no indication at all he gave a damn what Schuldig told him. Just avoiding naked contact with the tip, he took Schuldig's cock in his open palm and leaned down for a closer examination. Like he was actually a doctor.

With a stark tinge of discomfort across his scowl, Schuldig resisted, nearly writhing. "Forget it, I'll just see a fucking doctor when we get to Hong Kong."

Still Crawford simply turned a deaf ear and continued to hold Schuldig, wiping his cock clean with the handkerchief he'd just unfurled and even trying to squeeze all the pus out with a pinch or two.

"Damn you, Brad, that's my fucking dick you're manhandling!"

Up front, in totally hushed silence, the taxi driver could only drag a limp hand across the sweat on his brow.

Eventually the fluid let up its oozing. Or for the time being, at least.

After one last careful swipe on that tender skin, Crawford drew the four corners of his soiled handkerchief together, and asked the cabbie,

"Excuse me. Do you have a litter bin?"

"Yes, yes, I do have one," the cabbie replied with a drastic bow, at once handing him a small tin can with a swinging lid.

"Thank you," Crawford politely bowed back, dumping the hanky into the can.

All the while, Schuldig only sat there fixing Crawford an acute, searching stare, completely and unnaturally silent even as he zipped his fly back closed.

Having disposed of his trash, then, Crawford leaned back anew in the seat. "Are you all right now?"

Schuldig waited until the man spared him a look in the eye. "Yeah," he mumbled his response. "'Course I am."

"... You should have told me how bad it was."

And then Crawford looked away from Schuldig, and between them nothing more was said the rest of the ride.

In a few more minutes the cab finally slowed down to a stop before an extensive driveway, just outside an imposing set of embellished black gates.

"The Sh-Shishio estate, sirs," the cabbie sputtered, suddenly lacking of all ability to turn his head.

"I will need you to wait here for fifteen minutes," Crawford firmly told him. Opening his door, he next turned to Schuldig. "I'm doing this alone. You, are staying put."

"Hell no, I'm coming with ya." Quickly, and without another word uttered, Schuldig opened his own door.

"Wait here, Schuldig," almost growling.

But Crawford was just a fraction too slow grabbing at the younger man, for Schuldig had already slammed his door shut behind him.

...Don't try to reach me 'cause I'd tear up your mind
I've seen the future and I've left it behind...

- from "Supernaut," by Black Sabbath

10.

Shishio had just pushed the OFF button on his TV remote when Crawford and Schuldig came standing in the den's entranceway.

"Right on time," Shishio drew leisurely on his pipe. "As always."

Stepping casually into the spacious, yet fairly cozy, room, together the pair gave him nothing more than a short bow. By the long coffee table they stood still, an arm's reach from the swivel chair in which Shishio sat.

"We have it," Crawford declared, discarding preliminaries. With a swift reach into his coat pocket he brought out the amethyst ring that was once Mifune's. He set it down on one corner of the coffee table.

"Aa." Puffing out thin smoke, Shishio ran a hand along his scarlet kimono as he stood up to approach, then picked up the ring in question. "What cheap taste," he sneered, rolling the carved purple stone between his thumb and index finger.

Crawford and Schuldig observed him without a word.

"You can input the number now," Shishio then said to Crawford, and gestured to the side of the den. Adjacent to the blind-shaded windows, a thin, gray laptop lay open on the small end table.

Promptly Crawford made his way over to it.

Shishio rounded the coffee table, resting his thin black pipe balanced on top of the square ashtray that sat on the window sill. With Crawford at work on the computer, the bandaged-up man inclined his gaze towards the still Schuldig and asked, "How did the boy do?"

A smirk. "Very badly."

Shishio scratched slowly at his cheek. "I'm not sorry at all."

"Heh, no doubt about it, though," Schuldig shrugged. "Kid's willing to do anything to ditch you."

Folding his arms over his chest, Shishio shot the younger man a cutting once-over. He was perfectly cool, though, in asserting, "Did I just ask for your opinion? Last I looked, I don't pay you to fill me in on your views."

"... Sorry, Mr. Shishio," Schuldig muttered after a while.

"You had damn better be."

Presently Crawford now stepped away from the desk and gestured at the laptop for Shishio, who promptly drew near.

After tapping softly on the keyboard, Shishio turned to his two guests and announced, "There. A million yen in your account."

"'Kay, then." Schuldig glanced meaningfully at Crawford.

"Pleasure doing business with you again."

Crawford nodded curtly in return. "As with you, Mr. Shishio."

"You're off to Hong Kong now. Is that right?"

"Yes. Our flight's in two hours."

The smile that Shishio wore was wry and askew. "Ah. Then I bid you bon voyage, gentlemen."

And the room fell into absolute stillness for a good plenty seconds, as Shishio kept his shadowed gaze steady on the pair across the room from him and Crawford and Schuldig themselves stared slap back at him, neither of the three men budging...

...until...

...Schuldig drew a gun from out of nowhere and fired a single shot that took Shishio in the head. Shishio's back hit the floor in a split-second.

"Damn it," Crawford snapped at his partner. "This is why I wanted to do this alone."

"What," Schuldig returned the glare, seemingly affronted, "you saw it, that was one zero less he dropped into the account. Like the fucking last time?"

"I was waiting for him to move first."

"What??"

Crawford's dark brows were snarled in apparent confoundment. "This shouldn't have happened. It wasn't his time tonight. We were supposed to discuss another job."

Schuldig's own brows twisted suddenly into a tight frown as he started to creep up to Shishio's body. "What the... I can hear something --"

And then --

Shishio moved.

What came next only took milliseconds to transpire. The 'dead' man sprang up to his elbows pointing a gun at Schuldig, and shot him. Schuldig went wide-eyed gripping at the base of his fast-bleeding throat even as Shishio, now back on his feet, fired a second shot by his ear. Just as Crawford pulled the trigger of his own gun Shishio shot him twice in the hand, before letting him have it in the side of his throat. Both men dropped to the floor clutching fast at their wounds, handguns forgotten, deep crimson beginning to soak their white, white suits.

Wrath was plain in Shishio's glowering eyes as he drew near to loom before them. He knocked the knuckles of his fist against his bandaged forehead, producing a dull metallic sound. "Impenetrable," he crowed, his voice proud and ominous.

Schuldig opened his trembling red mouth, and managed to whisper, "That's cheating."

"Fools," Shishio seethed. "That was the third pathetic attempt on my life. I'm disgusted I ever hired you two."

With that, Shishio fired yet another shot, but instead of the bullet hitting its intended target between Schuldig's eyes, it buried itself in the arm Crawford had stuck out to shield the younger man.

A rough cackle escaped Shishio. "Now isn't that sweet," he scoffed. "Why, didn't see this slut going tonight as well, Oracle?" He took one more shot aimed this time at Crawford's temple, but apparently Schuldig was still quick enough to push Crawford down and take the bullet in his own shoulder. "Bastards."

Refusing to lower his gun, it looked as though Shishio was just determined to empty his magazine, however his attention was snatched by the doorway before he could do so. Bounding into the den was Cho, Sanosuke and Saitou following.

"What the fuck?!" chorused Sano and Cho, staring pop-eyed at the fallen pair drenching in ghastly red.

"Ah, Detective Saitou," Shishio smirked at the scowling cop. "I must say, you do amaze me with your persistence." Keeping his poise, he very calmly slipped his handgun into a sleeve of his kimono.

"Huh? You've met?"

"Of course we have, Sanosuke." Turning to the boy, Shishio's chapped lips curved into a smile. "He'd once barged into my chamber demanding I let you go."

"What?!" Sano tossed a grimacing face to Saitou. "That true?"

Saitou half-gritted his teeth, before turning to meet the anxious eyes of his young lover. "I can't say it isn't."

"Dammit, man, then you're why he doesn't wanna lemme go!"

"On the contrary," Shishio raised an opposing hand, now padding across the room for the entranceway, "I've changed my mind on the matter."

Sano's huffish frown softened. "You...you have?"

Saitou's eyes, on the other hand, only narrowed further in skepticism.

"Yes. I've come to realize just now, it is such a headache to keep a child like you. Go with your Stick Daddy if you so wish. I don't care anymore. I know Soujiro will return."

"But Mr. Shishio --"

"Enough, Cho, I'm tired. Run and tell the maids to clean this mess."

And with that Shishio's figure faded down the dim, long hallway, leaving Saitou and Sano stock-still and speechless at the sudden tide in their favor.

"Dang!" Cho whined, before he broke into a sprint in the opposite direction of the hallway.

Through it all, meanwhile, Crawford and Schuldig had managed to get their bleeding selves up from the floor, and now hoisting each other's arm they began to hobble their way as quick as they could out of the den. Even in obvious distress, Schuldig pulled off an ugly-sounding laugh as they passed by the staring Saitou and Sano.

"They look like shit," softly Sano remarked. "You think they gonna make it?"

Saitou gave a brief shrug, watching the two hie themselves along before they bled to death, until he and Sano were the only souls left in the room.

Only then did a scowl slither back into his face. "...Stick Daddy?"

+

In his car parked along the curb, Saitou tapped his cigarette out of his rolled-down window and frowned at the apartment building across from him. It was a little over fifteen minutes now he'd been waiting; how long, really, should it take for Sanosuke to bid his roommate farewell, anyway?

Just then, a little girl in a blue dress and short pigtails came moseying up to his window. "Do you have an appendix?"

Saitou took a drag, his frown heavier now. What on earth was this girl talking about.

"I just had mine cut off," she sniffled.

Saitou was just about to take a rare shot at actually talking to a child, when he heard:

"Hey there, Maki!"

"Sanosuke!" the little girl squealed, her little hand closing around the hem of Sano's white shirt.

"Who's this?" Saitou asked the young man.

"She lives next door, the sweetest little thing on the block," Sano smiled, giving Maki a gentle pat on the head. "Be nice to her, she just had appendicitis, y'know."

"Is he your friend, Sanosuke?" Maki asked, swaying her little hips to the left and to the right.

"Who, this old guy?" Sano leaned down to whisper his answer in his young friend's ear.

Maki's frowning eyes registered confusion. "...He's your bitch?"

Saitou shot the tittering Sano a look that guaranteed thorough pain for the boy later.

"Are you goin' away now though?"

"Yeah, I guess I am, Maki. I did say I'll come see you when I can, though, didn't I?"

"Promise?"

"It's a promise."

"Yay!" Maki broke into a smile shinier than the sun that shone on them, before she skipped away waving the lovers a big bye-bye.

Saitou threw his crushed cigarette butt into the gutter. "Well, are we ready finally?" he snorted. "The movers should be days ahead of us now."

"Such a crank," Sano pouted. Without warning he pulled Saitou's door open and plopped himself face-to-face with the man on his very lap, straddling him.

"What're you doing." Saitou scowled. "Get in your own car."

Clearly not listening, Sano looped his arms around Saitou and snared his mouth with a deep kiss.

Despite being utterly aware they were out in broad daylight, the older man couldn't find it in himself to discourage such indecent behavior. He gave in to his instinctual reaction and clung fast to Sano's hips, sustaining the fervor of the kiss until he heard Sano, and himself, make a little sound of pleasure into their lip-lock. In the course of necking, he even found himself thrusting his hardness up against Sano, too.

After about a minute Saitou had to cut short the intimate moment, trying to convince his lover, and himself at that, "We really have to start moving, or we won't get anywhere if we keep at this." (Not that sitting here in this cramped space with this boy in his lap was a bad place to be, anyway.)

Sano, however, only squished himself down onto Saitou, and moaned in a way that would easily call passerby attention.

"Idiot, we can do this later!" Glancing warily around them (and finding people were too polite not to look, anyway), Saitou tried to shove Sano off him, but only managed to push a ticklish button in the process. Sano let loose a peal of laughter, but much to Saitou's relief began to get off him now nevertheless.

"Okay, Detective," Sano grinned, "then let's roll!"

The detective watched Sano hop out and then hop into his own car parked behind his. He locked earnest eyes on his rearview mirror, started up his engine, and smirked. Never had Saitou looked this forward to getting to Kyoto.

END

Epilogue

A year or so later...

Sanosuke rubbed his wet hair against his towel, sliding open the glass door to the little balcony.

"'Morning, Kyoto!" he sang, smiling at the warm beams of the sun that beat against his bare chest. "Nothing like a hot shower to start the day right, huh, Hajime?"

"Go shout it out to the entire neighborhood, why don't you," Saitou frowned, sitting his naked self on the bed as he towel-dried his own hair. "And slap something on if you're stepping out there."

"Oh, right," Sano chuckled, wrapping his damp towel around his nude hips. Then, he stepped his bare feet onto the balcony, stretched his arms out breathing in the crisp, clean air. He could smell the waft of freshly baked bread from the little window next door. Down below on the street, a couple of cute little girls played hopscotch. Off in the distance, couples and parents and kids lounged about in the little park. Sano smiled zealously at it all. Sunday morning had never been fucking lovelier.

"I'm going to make breakfast," Saitou called from inside.

"Be there in a sec!" Sano called back. He was just about to step back inside their bedroom, when he thought he saw something.

Someone.

Taking a second look...Sano gasped.

Standing down there. At the corner of the street. A familiar pair of tall men in white suits.

The one wearing eyeglasses was smirking at Saitou and Sano's house, the one sporting long, dyed hair -- it was a shocking strawberry blond now -- grinning right up at Sano.

And then, it was that same smooth voice in his head, all over again.

Heeere, kitty kitty.

Sano inched his way backward, feeling his spine go entirely numb. "Fuck..."