Weiss Kreuz: Lady Killer 3
by K.Huntsman
released 24 December 1999

 

Evil people tended to be rich--perhaps as much because having money gave room for vices to grow as because evil people stopped at little to become rich.

Either way, it meant they hired a lot of guards.

Aya danced the dance of swords against too many enemies. For each that fell, another took his place. He was trapped in this back hallway of the large traditional home and the others were too far away, busy with another knot of guards up near the front of the building, to reach him before his opponents did serious damage.

Blood.

His foot slipped in it, and he slashed the katana in an arc, opening the chest of the man behind him.

More blood.

Another slash connected with the one who had raised his bokken above his head for a hasty strike.

That meant he'd turned his back on the others.

//Stupid!// he thought to himself about the entire situation as he turned quickly to keep eyes all around him. //You let yourself get cornered.//

A figure with a long black tail of hair did a flip over the heads of the guards on the garden side of the hall and landed by Aya. She held a staff, metal-colored against her black bodysuit, and took up position at his back.

"Magician," he said tersely, watching the pack in front of him.

"You seemed to be in a bit of a jam, Abyssinian," she replied. Her staff made a song as it swung in her hands, and he heard the soft crunch of flesh-covered bone and a gurgled sound of pain. He darted forward and severed another enemy's life, then retreated back to the clear circle the two of them kept. "I thought you might appreciate a bit of assistance."

He didn't answer, more concerned for the moment with keeping alive than with what she was implying.

Between the two of them, they were able to maintain their positions until the others arrived to help them mop up the last few.

"Kougawa's fled," Omi panted as the four... five... of them recovered. Then he noticed Magician. "Eh? You're...."

Magician smirked. "I said our paths would cross again." Aya wondered what she looked like beneath her paint. "Though this time it looks like you beat me to the chase." She sighed and looked around. "Fled, huh?"

"Completely gone," Youji corroborated.

She clenched a gloved fist. "Tch." Then she looked up at the four of them. "Well, then, later!" She did a handspring over the mounded bodies and was off running down the dimly lit hallway.

"Hey, wait, where are you going?!" Ken yelled after her.

She turned her head and glanced back at them as she ran. "To the hunt!"

Ken's gaze followed her as she vanished into black shadows. "I guess she really is on our side...."

"Looks can be deceiving," Aya reminded him.

"Hey, Aya, how can you be so cold after she just saved your life?" Youji wanted to know.

Aya looked at the long, flickering shadows Magician had disappeared into and didn't answer.

Omi knelt down and examined the corpse of one of the men the woman had taken down.

"What is it, Omi?" Youji wanted to know.

"Just... she must be very good with the staff. Look here." Omi indicated a spot on the man's chest. "And here, under the chin. She crushed his ribs with one blow and his trachea with the next." Omi put his fingers to his lips and hmm'd.

"So I guess poison isn't her only weapon," Youji said, straightening and looking as well in the direction she'd taken.

Kougawa's corpse was waiting for them in the snow drifts just outside the house. As if Magician was sending them a message, his lips bore the faintest blush of scarlet lipstick.

 

Omi walked down the stairs into the teen club. Rather than spending another night alone in his room, working on the computer and trying to crack the mystery of Magician, he'd decided to go clubbing instead. Maybe Youji-kun was rubbing off on him.

He sat at the counter and ordered an orange soda, watching the crowd of teenagers and almost-teenagers as they surged and ebbed in tides on the dance floor. He smiled and sipped, starting to relax.

A girl brushed past him, calling an apology over her shoulder as she moved on. He could only see the back of her head; her black hair was done up in a style that looked like a child's drawing of a daisy: eight delicate strands of hair looped themselves around a bun. He momentarily wondered how many chemicals she had to use to get her hair to stay like that, then forgot about her as she vanished into the crowd.

He finished his soda and stayed at the bar for a while more, then with a faint sigh headed towards the dance floor, letting himself be drawn by the beat of the music. So far the club hadn't distracted him enough, and while he was used to frequent difficulties in doing research for missions, Omi had to admit that for once he was blocked and frustrated. Nothing existed on Magician. None of the databases he'd hacked into held a shred of relative data. Information on her was as inaccessible as information on Weiss itself.

Sighing again, Omi gave himself up into the hands of the music and moved. He wasn't a bad dancer by any means, and even if he wasn't quite able to let go and lose himself in the flow of the crowd, some of his tension melted away. He executed a complex step which ended with a spin, and found himself face to face with a familiar shopkeeper.

"Shirayuki-san?" he asked, surprised enough to fall out of step for a minute. She smiled at him, didn't say a word, and danced away. Looking after her, he realized she was the girl who'd brushed against him earlier, the one with the daisy hairdo. "I wonder how old she is...?" he said aloud; he would have thought she was too old for this club. Then he smiled, gave a mental shrug, and fell back in with the music.

She was waiting for him at the top of the stairs when he left the dance floor, a drink held in either hand. She offered one to him. "I asked the bartender what you'd had before," she said as explanation.

She'd known that was him? "Thank you," Omi said, accepting the soda. "What are you doing here, Shirayuki-san?"

She gestured back towards the dance floor, towards the mob of teenagers thrashing about to the music. "The same thing they are, and you were. Dancing."

"But this is a teen club..." Omi protested without thinking.

Shirayuki looked taken aback, then smiled and gestured to herself. "Tsukiyono-san, how old do you really think I am?"

Omi took a second look at her. She was dressed in a short skirt and nylons, sweetheart bodice and black ankle boots. A crystal snowflake hung on a chain around her throat. He'd thought her to be in her early twenties, perhaps around Youji-kun's age, but now he could see that wasn't quite right. Her face wasn't old enough; it had been her mannerisms and sober dress which had thrown him off earlier, made him think her older.

"I'm only eighteen, Tsukiyono-san," Shirayuki said gently.

"But you seem so much older!"

She smiled at him and leaned against the railing which held them back from falling down a flight onto the dance floor. "I should. I've led a pretty focused and intense lifestyle for many years."

"Oh?" Omi leaned against the railing as well and watched her face.

"I'm a gymnast. I've been working hard at it since I was three. My dream has always been an Olympic gold medal. I was to compete for a position on the next Olympic team." She sipped at her own drink, something clear and sparkly. "I would have made it... I know the competition, and I know my own skills. But things happened."

Omi looked out over the dance floor, trying to remember if he'd ever heard her name. But he was more of an ice skating fan than a gymnastics fan, and had never watched those competitions on television. "I'm sorry."

Shirayuki shrugged a little. "It's life. Dreams get deferred. People die, or they move on and live with it." She lowered her glass and the ice shifted. "Besides, life isn't so bad now. I have a cute shop, good neighbors, and a rooftop to practice on. What more do I really need?"

"You practice on the rooftop?"

 

Youji opened the door and softly closed it behind himself, sneaking in on quiet feet after replacing the lockpick into his pocket. The rooms were still the same as when he'd seen them last, nearly empty and as neat as a pin. As neat as his own room, and as neat as the others'.

--"Youji, straighten up your room! It's a disgrace!"--

--"Yes, Mother."--

"If you are Magician," he murmured, "there will be something somewhere. Even if it's just the clothes you wore."

He went through her closet first, searching for those black garments. He didn't find them among the neatly hung outfits nor among the kimono on the shelves. A futon was folded on the floor of the closet, and that at least solved the question of what she slept on. But over half of her clothes still had pricetags on them. In fact, the only ones which didn't were the ones he remembered seeing her wearing.

"Really...!" he said, annoyed as he glanced around her empty bedroom with its empty walls. "Not even a poster!" Then he glanced back at the closet, with its closed door, and remembered all those pricetags. His face softened a little. "I guess she really did lose everything in that fire..." he murmured.

Sighing, he left the room and headed for the front door. He'd obviously been wrong in his suspicions, and was glad now he hadn't told the others about them.

The white tulips caught his eye, glowing against the darkness.

--"...They're for someone who died. Someone I kissed once."--

...It couldn't be....

His breath held, Youji went over to the flowers and incense and ribbon. He took them off the box they rested on top of, and opened it, reaching inside.

His fingers touched a fold of satin, and he pulled it out, holding up a familiar black skirt.

"She is..." he breathed. "But... why here? Why us? Unless she's as blind as we are, she's gotta know that we're Weiss. What does she have planned?"

He fished out a small makeup kit, one with brushes and the chalk-white geisha makeup she used. There was red lipstick within, which he didn't touch, and a small case. He opened it and looked at the black contact lenses. There were also a couple of perfume bottles. He frowned; he didn't remember Magician wearing any scent, and he usually didn't forget something like that. He sniffed at one, hoping to identify it.

He blinked and crumbled as he got dizzy. The room spiralled and darkened around him. //Poison,// he belatedly realized, just before slipping into emptiness. //Stupid, Kudou....//

Then there was nothing more.

 

Yuki laughed and unlocked her door. Running into Tsukiyono at the dance hall had been nice, and she'd rather enjoyed the evening in his company. When they got back to the apartment building, she'd invited him up for tea and he'd accepted. She was glad she was good at making tea.

She stepped inside and flicked on the lights and went shock-still. Behind her, Tsukiyono saw what she saw. "Youji-kun?" he whispered, horror in his voice.

She was across the floor in a second, turning him over. A small red bottle rolled out of his hand as she put her ear to his chest and listened, relieved to find a thready pulse. She snatched up another small bottle, the blue one, and sprayed it into the air. She inhaled, then sealed her mouth around his, pinched his nose closed, and blew the tainted air into his lungs, hard.

"Breathe, Balinese, dammit," she cursed, only able to wait for the counter-poison to take effect. "Breathe, damn your green eyes!" Bombay was on his knees beside her as she watched for the smallest sign.

Balinese's hand twitched, just a tiny movement, but she'd been waiting for it. She put her hands on his chest and pushed down, making him exhale the chemical-laden air, then put her mouth to his again and breathed new air into him. He choked and coughed and rolled over onto his side, gasping for air, for life. Yuki silently blessed the deity who watched over fools.

"Youji-kun!" That was Bombay. "Youji-kun, are you all right?!"

"Fine," the Balinese managed between teary-eyed gasps. "Never been better."

Yuki picked up the two bottles and restored them, along with her other things which had been scattered, into the makeup case. "Stupid, Balinese," she said in a soft voice, hiding her anger and fright. "Very stupid. You break into my apartment, looking for an assassin you know uses poison, and inhale my perfume? You're just lucky we didn't come back two minutes later."

"Then, Shirayuki-san," Bombay said, wide-eyed, "you're...?"

Yuki ignored his question and closed her eyes, pressing on one of her silver cross earrings. "Manx?" she asked.

"Yes?" the question came back from the transceiver, audible to the two members of Weiss in the silence which had suddenly descended upon her rooms.

"The test is over. Balinese broke into my apartment and poisoned himself on my perfume."

There was a gasp at the other end.

"Don't worry, he's fine. I got to him in time."

A relieved sigh. "Thank goodness. Hold position until I get there."

"Bombay is here as well."

Another sigh. "Then it won't be long until Abyssinian and Siberian know too. Send Bombay to fetch them; they'll need to be present for the new debriefing anyway."

Yuki opened her eyes and studied the two faces before her, both slightly shocked. She smiled a little at that surprise, then got up to go make tea, letting her back hide the brief misery which crossed her face.

 

The woman called Manx knocked on Magician's door and was let in by the quiet girl. She was shown down a short hall to a room where all four members of Weiss sat around a table, having tea. They cleared a space for her, and Magician poured her a cup as well, then retreated to a corner of the room and knelt there. Manx sipped the excellent tea and smiled charmingly at the four young men. "You're feeling well, Youji?" she questioned.

He grimaced. "Yeah. Though not thanks to my own intelligence."

"What's going on, Manx?" Ken demanded, with a quick glance at Shirayuki in her corner, where she sat waiting. "Omi said this was about Magician."

Manx shot Omi a startled glance. "You didn't tell them?"

Omi shook his head. "I wasn't really sure on what was going on, and neither was Youji-kun."

"I see." Manx closed her eyes, then opened them. "In which case, introductions seem to be in order." She beckoned the black-haired girl from the corner. "Weiss, let me introduce you to Shirayuki Akayuki, otherwise known as Magician."

Aya's eyes narrowed.

"Magician?!" Ken demanded, starting and staring at Shirayuki.

Youji whistled.

"...'Akayuki'?" Omi asked.

"Akayuki is my true name," the girl said softly, not meeting anyone's eyes. "But now I use that name only as Magician."

"She was assigned here by Kritiker to test the four of you, to see how aware you were. Earlier this evening Youji, acting on his suspicions, discovered her secret."

"And nearly killed myself on her poisons," Youji added.

Manx turned to face Shirayuki. "When you gave yourself into our hands, you said you didn't care what missions we gave you. I'm delighted to say that you've performed wonderfully so far, and that we have a new assignment for you."

"Oh? What is it this time, Manx?" Her voice was soft, precise.

Manx opened her purse and fished out a brown envelope with "Magician" written upon it. "You're being assigned permanently to work with Weiss."

The reaction was unexpected.

"No," Akayuki refused.

 

"No?" Manx asked, sounding dumbfounded.

"No?!" Ken echoed, surprised.

Shirayuki turned to face him and bowed slightly. "Please do not misunderstand my intentions, Hidaka-san. It is nothing personal against you or any member of Weiss. I hold each of you in high regard. But... I do not work well with others, I do not like men, and our styles are polar in any case."

"Polar?" Aya questioned.

Her glance fell away from Ken; she studied the wall. "I kill like a woman; you kill like men." Her voice was soft. He wondered what she found lacking in how they carried out missions.

"We are men," Youji pointed out.

"As I said. Your methods are blunt and frequently lack subtlety."

"You're refusing?" Manx asked. Ken's eyes shifted to Manx, to the anger on her face.

"I am refusing, Manx." Shirayuki glanced at the table. "Let me get some more tea." She walked towards the kitchen, her feet silent.

Manx drew a pistol out of her purse and cocked it, pointing it at Shirayuki's back. The young woman stopped at the sound.

"Are you going to kill me, Manx?" she asked without turning around.

"You know the rules. You work where we assign you."

Shirayuki turned back to them, and Ken blinked as he saw what was in her eyes. She laughed. "Then kill me," she invited cheerfully. "My dreams are gone, my family is gone, and I never had any friends. Please, do try your best to find a reason why I should care if you fire that cute little pistol at me or not." Her eyes narrowed, and one corner of her mouth turned up in a cruel smirk. "You're bluffing, and we both know it. You have no holds over me." Her voice held the echoes of an empty life.

Manx smiled at her. "You're right. I am bluffing. You don't care if your life is wasted or not. However, I think you might care more about someone else's." The pistol flashed until its muzzle just rested on Omi's temple.

Everyone around the table tensed.

Magician nearly bent double with her renewed laughter. "Oh my, you are bad at bluffs, aren't you, Manx? You'd never kill him."

"What makes you so sure?" Manx's voice was calm and even. Ken stared at her.

"Manx--" he said.

"Stay out of this!" she snapped.

Magician smiled, and leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms casually across her chest. "One, he's the brains of Weiss. I'll wager he does all the research for the missions you give them. Two, the others have loyalties to him. Three, you're not stupid enough to waste such an asset, because four, all of Weiss would be lost to you at that point." Her eyes met Omi's where he was staying very still and sweating from the touch of that cold metal to his head. "Trust me, Tsukiyono-san, she's bluffing. I will place both your life and my own on that bet."

"Are you so sure?" Manx's voice was cold.

"Perfectly sure."

"Hmf." Manx smiled as she tucked the pistol away in her purse. Everyone at the table breathed a sigh of relief--especially Omi. "Well done, Magician. You pass this test. Despite your objections, however, you will be working with Weiss."

 

Akayuki shook her head and replied, "Kritiker owns my body, not my soul. I reserve the right to refuse."

//Because if I don't, Manx, then you'll walk all over me.//

Manx shook flaming red curls. "Has it occurred to you that you're not thinking objectively about this?"

Akayuki pursed her lips. "That's a point," she allowed. "Objectivity is a human illusion, however. You are not neutral on this point, neither am I, and neither are they."

"Then we seem to be at an impasse."

She studied the four young men who sat around the table. She had almost enjoyed this mission, playing out a waiting game to see who would discover her identity and when.

//I don't really have any objections to working with them, do I?// Akayuki wondered. //If I don't agree, Manx is going to drag this out until I do, and that will become rather tedious.// She sighed to herself. //I might as well let a magician's skill determine the path of the Magician.//

 

Shirayuki straightened and walked away from the doorframe. "Perhaps," she said. Suddenly there was a deck of cards fanned in her hand again. She offered them to Youji. "Kudou-san, as it was my weapon which nearly killed you earlier, I give you the power over my fate. Choose a card. Red for blood, black for death."

Youji blinked at her, then reached out to pick a card. Her eyes never left his face. "Knave of hearts," she said when he'd chosen. Youji blinked again, looked at the card, and showed it to the others. It was indeed the jack of hearts. Shirayuki looked at Manx. "You win, Manx. The cards rule in your favor. I'll work with them."

"Excellent." Manx opened her purse again and drew out four more envelopes, passing them to each member of Weiss. "Your new mission."

 

This story owes many thanks to the members of the Charmurai mailing list, especially Ali and Mari for comments, and Mel and Sandy for help with Japanese customs. Additional credits have to go to Evelyn Loh Shi Lin, Ariane Kovacevic, and Deena for their comments. My friend N-chan must have the biggest thanks, though, for putting up with endless pestering, and also for comma-dancing (a waltz or a tango, I wonder?) the story for me, correcting my horrid grammar. Minna-sama, doumo arigatou gozaimasu~!

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