Rating: R for violence and bad language
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ;
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations. This part is full of -spoilers- for ep. 8 of the show.
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally, Schuldig x Aya-chan, mentioning of Farfarello x Aya.
italics hand signals; thoughts
/ taking / telepathy

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- the memory remains -

Aya almost killed Yohji.

The built up frustration, coupled with Persia's growing demands for resolution and his own thoughts were grinding away at the ice of his control, letting his temper break free. The wrongness of Koua Academy needed to be set to rights, even if he had to work outside Persia's direct control in order to do it. If Persia had any of Omi left inside of him, he would understand and give them the time they needed.

That is, if Yohji would actually do more than ruin their timetable by making eyes at all the pretty teachers

He had slammed the bleached blond harder against the wall than he intended when he did finally managed to get Yohji to meet with him. Yohji barely flinched, his green eyes speaking volumes before he closed them, dipping his head. Aya could feel his teeth grind together, frustration warring with his rusty concern. Something was wrong with Yohji, something more than the blond's recent 'illness'.

His fingers gripped Yohji's shoulder harder, his voice sounding sharp even to his own ears. "Why didn't you contact us yesterday?"

"Sorry." Yohji sounded tired.

His fingers loosen their grip, though his voice remained sharp. Instead of concern, he heard himself snap back, "And before that too!"

Yohji was at least responding to the anger, his spine straightening and color returning to his cheeks. It was no secret that Yohji disliked his uptightness while he disliked Yohji's easy-going manners. They had always snipped at each other about it, but for the most part, he and Yohji got along. But that had changed as Aya withdrew more into himself and Yohji fell into his own bitter memories.

"If you got time to contact people, you can do it," Yohji replied, his voice once again smooth. He brushed Aya's hand off his shoulder, looking up at him. "I'll be waiting for you too. So hurry up and finish."

Aya turned to face the sunset, not wanting to read the message in those damnable green eyes. "Tell me about her."

"Tsujii Mayumi. She's been with the school since it's founding. Other than that her past is pretty clean."

"Second hand information cannot be trusted."

"You're harsh, you Kritiker people." Aya glanced back at Yohji, watching the blond smile faintly at his own words. "She's got a house outside the campus, it seems."

"That's . . ." Aya begun to say but Yohji guessed his question.

"Let's just say I know that first hand."

Aya stared at Yohji, feeling the sudden chill settling in his skin at those words. He was doing it to himself again. Yohji was placing his heart on his sleeve for anyone to trample it, leaving him more shattered than before Asuka's death. He wanted to tell Yohji not to do this to himself but the words would not form. Business always came before the sanity of his team, even when he could feel the daggers of regret digging into his brain.

"I'll try to find out where the school is getting it's funding," he said, ground out between his teeth and around the concern he had. "Continue to stay in touch."

"You sound just like Persia," Yohji commented dryly, pushing off the wall.

"If you don't like it. . . "

"I'm working on the case," Yohji replied with a small grin, head down as he headed for the door.

Aya turned around fully to look at him, now that it was safe enough to do so. "Tell me what you find out."

Yohji waved a hand in his direction, back to his normal flippant self in actions if not in spirit. "See ya."

The words he was fighting against finally ground themselves out, sounding harsh even to his ears. "Yohji, what is wrong with you?"

It looked for a moment like Yohji would tell him, stopping with a hand on the door and shoulders slumping. Then the blond straightened, continuing on his way down the stairs. Aya watched him go, gritting his teeth against the frustration rising inside. He couldn't even scream out the emotions at the blond, not around here where he was just the history teacher Aya Fujimiya.

Turning on his heel, he went to the edge of the building to look down, trying to gain the tattered remains of his control. He was prevented from doing that when he heard someone call out to him in a breathless voice.

"Fujimiya-sensei. . . !"

He schooled his features into a pleasant smile and turned again. It was that hyper teacher Asami, the one that was becoming like his shadow any more. He briefly wondered why him, why did he attract such bubbling personalities before he raised a hand in greeting.

"Yes, Asami-sensei?"

She fidgeted for a moment then looked up at him, a light blush appearing on her cheeks. "I was wondering. . . if you would help me with the computer system?"

"Aa, it locked you out again?"

She giggled and nodded. "I'm so helpless. . ."

Aya headed for the stairs down. Maybe he needed a distraction from his own worries right now. "Let's see if we can get it to cooperate and let you back in."

It took him a few minutes to finally get the computer to let her back in. Listening to her chatter on about the cultural festival she was planning, he reviewed the information they had gathered since the withdrawal order. It wasn't enough to prove who or what was behind the school, but Aya had a feeling he knew who was behind it. Instinct, something that he was used to denying, was all but screaming the name in his mind.

Jumping up from her seat and running to the printer, Asami smiled widely at him, hugging the papers to her chest. Giving her a smile he didn't feel inside, he listened to her patiently. She was so happy and bubbling over with glee at the upcoming festival that he could think of her like she was his sister, smiling at him with all the hope and light of the world in her eyes. It was enough to make him want to scream at her, to rage at his imposed loneness.

She danced in place, chattering on about the festival, his simple, distracted replies not curbing her enthusiasm for her obsession. He vaguely wondered over how he was going to cut their talk short when she asked him about meeting tomorrow to shop. He blinked at her in surprise, trying to formulate which way to go on the subject as she stumbled over her words, flushing like a student with a crush.

Going shopping had some merits; he wouldn't be stuck watching Yohji destroy himself with drink, seeing Ken babble to himself, and trying to convince Sena to find a different line of work. He could also learn more about her and the school, and even learn more about the other teachers through patient questioning. It would help their investigations a lot more if he could cross her off the list of suspects, and find the hints that could narrow their search.

He agreed to meet her tomorrow near the water fountain and watched her as she did a victory bounce before becoming flustered again. She glanced at her watch then, gave out a yell and started to gather everything together in a rush, stumbling over herself and her words, talking about the doors needing locking and a list of items needed for the festival. He told her not to worry, and watched as a blush turned her pink cheeks even pinker. Running into the door, she excused herself yet again for her clumsiness then left.

He kept his smile for a few moments more just in case she came rushing in to retrieve something forgotten. The smile faded as he easily slipped back into his Abyssinian mask.

"Come out," he said, the words cracking in still air.

Sliding into view, Hidaka Ken, his hair worn long in his face, and the glint of something testing the line between sanity and insanity glinting in his eyes. He grinned at Aya, looking ready to spring from his position against the wall.

"I'm sorry to intrude," he said, giving a shrug.

Aya gritted his teeth and stood up, sweeping his papers into his briefcase with his hand and snapping it shut. He saw the frown Ken gave him, but ignored it as he made sure everything as secured before heading for the door.

"We can't talk here," Aya said, flicking the lights out and securing the door, and heading down the long hallway. "Outside, the gazebo in the pond."

"I don't think. . ."

Aya quickened his stride not wanting to hear what Ken thought, and making sure to lock the other doors and giving Ken more then enough time to reach the gazebo. He secured the outside doors, even though he knew how easily to open them were even without the keys, then went to his car, tossing his briefcase into the back seat. If he was lucky, Ken would not be in the mood to fight, but he didn't think so. Ken was always in the mood to fight these days.

Yohji was lost in finding love. Ken was lost to the killing rage. Omi was lost to Takatori. What was he lost to? The dream of Weiss had been shattered years ago. He was just too stubborn to end his slumber.

The air was getting chilly, the leaves turning colors and fading overhead. Aya stopped just inside the arched entrance, watching Ken as the brunet fidgeted. The silence spread around them, even the rustling of the leaves and the whisper of the wind stilling. At one time, Ken had tried to prove himself worthy of being more then just Aya's co-worker. He had never recovered completely from the rejection.

Even his words held the edge of past frustrations to Aya's throat. His bland reply to the threat of the Crashers made the brunet glare and his voice get louder. Aya glared back at Ken, not raising his voice, struggling again between concern and anger. He never asked Ken to intrude on this investigation; like Yohji, the brunet was given a totally different task and was only following Aya's orders out of some sort of misguided friendship.

Or was it his long harbored feelings, as misplaced as they were? Aya watched Ken, barely hearing his words and feeling his frustrations grow. Ken should not follow him out of a misguided love. Aya knew that he was no longer capable of feeling anything but anger and rage and an icy control.

This conversation was wasting their time and placing Ken in danger since their enemy already knew who Aya was. It would be easily enough for their enemies to figure out that Ken was Weiss too if they kept standing outside talking about Kritiker business. He tried to say that to Ken, but the brunet kept on blathering about Aya's real reasons for not leaving the Academy. Aya ground his teeth, not wanting this conversation in the middle of hostile territory. He snapped a fist towards Ken's jaw to get him to shut up, but Ken was faster, catching his hand in mid-strike.

"Do you. . ." Ken panted, his hand closing tightly around Aya's fist. "Intend to leave Weiss?"

"I don't know," he replied, quietly. The wind whistled past them, Aya stepping up to Ken, his left hand sinking into Ken's gut. Turning his back on the bent over brunet, he added, "The night air is bad for your health."

He heard the hissed in swear from Ken's lips and could feel the glare boring into his back, but he continued walking. He let Ken yell at him and kept walking, not replying to the words that were too close to his own thoughts. Weiss was no longer what they were supposed to be. Weiss were nothing more than tools to be used and tossed away by Takatori's greed. Weiss no longer fought for justice. To be Weiss, they had to leave their orders and show what it meant to wear the cross of sins.

A cross that Aya could feel even now, digging into his shoulders as he walked to his car. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he looked up at the sky tracing the consolations among the stars, trying to remember how it felt when he was young, his family alive, and his future was promising to be one of normalcy.

He sighed, letting his gaze drop as he let go of that fantasy. He chose his path, chose his sins, and chose his cross. If he were a normal person, he would have found a different way to make money and a different way to get revenge on Takatori. That he went into killing for a living only meant that he had a taste for it long before he took the path to Weiss.

His musings took him to the parking lot where he saw his car still sitting where he left it. Years of caution slowed his steps, as he looked the area over, noting the shadows and the lit areas. He stopped, a frown marring his features when he realized that the parking lot appeared brighter than it normally was at that time of night. He crouched instinctively among the shadows, trying to determine where the extra light was coming from. The school itself was dark and quirt. However, the stadium beyond it was lit up as if for a game.

Thinking furiously behind his blank expression, Aya walked into the lit parking lot, giving the impression of a teacher who had to take one last walk before going home and going to bed. He automatically checked his car even as he unlocked it, tensing because if someone were to attack, this would be the time for it, with his back bent and his attention focused on his door. Nothing happened and he got into his car relieved. He drove out, heading down the road until the bulk of the school was lost in the gloom. Checking for anyone following, he pulled off to the side and turned his car off. The stadium was a short distance away, close enough to walk to, though not close enough to hear exactly what was going on.

Aya got out of his car, looking around at the tangle of trees and the slicked blackness of the road. With sensitive fingers, he felt along the passenger side seat and found the small switch that opened the hidden compartment in the back seat. From that, he took out by feel his real work clothing. He changed quickly then hefted his sword, pausing a moment to bring the hilt to his forehead, taking a deep breath and letting it go. Eyes opening, he shut his car door, locking it, then he turned on his heel and stalked into the shadows, the white of his costume dull in the gloom.

As he got closer to the stadium he could hear three familiar voices rise and fall around the sounds of battle. The one voice he heard caused him to curse under his breath, easing through the shadows and into the entrance. The door was wide open and if anyone was paying attention, he would have been spotted as he lingered under the archway.

Sena was fighting with two members of the Class Z project and losing badly. Aya winced as he watched the boy get tossed around by the two people, purple eyes narrowed as he studied Sena's two attackers' movements. They were not in the same league as any member of Schwarz, even though Weiss information had found that they – like other members of Class Z – were genetically enhanced. Watching a moment longer, nodding in silent approval that Sena was still not giving up despite his beating, Aya decided it was their lack of focus that made them pathetic.

He stepped out into the stadium, drawing his blade and moving in a silent rush towards the girl and Sena, his katana cutting the air as he brought it low and hard. She went down, screaming at the bite of his blade, Sena falling in the other direction. He spared the youth a glance, noting that he was still breathing and coherent despite the pain. Turning, Aya faced the male, holding his blade at the ready and feeling the rush of the fight filling him. His opponent was little more then a boy, so smug in his special skills and the victory against Aya a few weeks back. Aya did not have the heart to tell him that he fought better and stronger people then a poor genetic copy.

They exchanged words, Aya dodging the first attack easily, jumping the second attack. After fighting against the Berserker, the child's moves were just that – childish, crude and lacking rhythm. Aya easily moved from blows that would have crushed him, waiting for an opening. Then, with a yell of 'Shi-ne', the boy came all out, leaving his torso open for attack. Aya stepped to the side, turned his blade and easily slide it along the boy's unguarded belly. Only the boy's ribs prevented the katana from cutting his body in two.

He watched the boy collapsed, wiping his blade clean. Aya slid it back into its sheath then moved to examine Sena, bending over him to check his pulse. He felt a whisper of movement behind him and spun around, whipping out his tanto and sliced thin air. A hand encased in black leather caught his wrist, twisting it back and a heavily built body pressed closer to him, wolf yellow eyes glittering in amusement.

"Jumpy, are you?"

Aya cursed and yanked at his hand, glancing down to make sure that Sena did not see this. He was pulled forward against his stockier opponent, the man's eyes glittering in amusement and hunger. His pale tongue briefly touched Aya's lips then he was released, nearly stumbling over Sena's form.

"Take care of your friend. We'll talk later." Farfarello faded into the night.