Gosh. Here's the start of part two. Here's to finishing this thing soon… I'm sorry if this lacks quality or is too short. My attention is wavering in the million things I'm doing right now. I hope to have this story down much better once I have a JOB….:sigh: thems the breaks. Anyways, hope you like. Even a little. And thanks for being patient.

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All night
autumn winds being heard
behind the mountains

Matsuo Basho

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Edo II, Chapter 1

Ran moved noiselessly down the hall in the wing of the palace he and Ken shared a room in. The door to their suite slid aside quietly, and Ran stepped up carefully, avoiding all the places that Ken had had turned into 'nightingale boards'. It had been a wise change; however, it had also opened the opportunity for a lot of mistaken nighttime attacks.

The lantern in their entryway was glowing softly, left in anticipation for his late return. A small white moth, a bit uncharacteristic for early spring, beat softly against the paper of the lantern with a relentlessness that would have grabbed hold of the ronin's thoughts if he hadn't been preoccupied already.

He slid the paper shield up, exposing the small flame, and the moth flew forward immediately, as if to embrace a lost love. It flared into a white haze, before disappearing completely. Ran blew out the flame, sliding the lantern back into place, his thoughts somewhere far from the tiny tragic tableau he'd just witnessed. Stepping up, he slid out of his palace slippers and carefully pulled the door to their inner sitting room aside. It was dark, but the red-head knew their room as easily as he knew the back of his hand by now. He crept over the low table, but somehow forgot about the small tray off to the side that usually held tea or sake. The result, of course, was that he went sprawling across the room, landing in an ungraceful pile directly in front of his and Ken's bedroom door. With a curse, the ronin kicked the offending tray aside, sending it ricocheting off a near-by low laying cabinet used to store the zabuton. With a wince, Ran slowly sat up. Doubtless, he'd done a bit of damage to himself and the furniture. Omi was going to have a fit, since he'd likely be the one to have to report it.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the door to their bedroom sliding open with a bang. Ken stood there, tense, a small dagger at ready in his hand, eyes wide in the darkness. It took him only a fraction of a moment to determine the culprit, however, and he immediately relaxed, crouching beside his prostrate lover.

"Having a bit of trouble?" he remarked lightly, sounding quite awake for someone who'd just woken in the dead of the night. Ran scowled into the darkness in the vague direction he'd kicked the drink tray.

"I'm sorry, I tried to keep quiet." he muttered, not sounding sorry in the least. Ken chuckled, and the ronin felt two strong, bandaged arms encircle his shoulders.

"You know I'm a light sleeper anyways, but thanks for the effort. Are you alright?" the arms withdrew and there was the sound of flint striking against flint before the room was cast into brilliance. Ran squinted and raised the back of his arm before his eyes.

"Relatively. I think I might have broke the furniture though." The brunette beside him chuckled softly.

"I think you're probably right. But let's deal with it in the morning." Ran nodded, allowing Ken to help him to his feet. He followed his lover into the room they shared, to see the futon unmade.

Turning an inquisitive stare upon the ninja's form, Ran studied the bandages around his lover's arms and torso. They were fresh, indicating they'd been changed recently. A glance around the room revealed a tiny lantern lit on a desk behind a screen painted delicately with scenes of Mount Fuji. Ken had been reading. He'd been reading the ronin's book on Zen. Ran smiled softly.

Insomnia was not uncommon for Ken; the small amount of time spent healing after Yanagi's death had done little to ease the sleeplessness. Or the haunted look shadowing his lover's eyes. Ken turned and smiled at him slyly, waggling his eyebrows.

"I kept the bed fresh…" he murmured knowingly.

Ran felt himself flush. Or the insomnia could be a different sort of ache tonight…

The ronin leaned forward and caught the brunet up in his arms.

"Hmmm…well, since you kept it so nice I suppose we could make use of it…are you sure the burns will be alright?" Ken sighed, rolling his eyes as he rolled himself from his lover's arms.

"Way to ruin the moment. I'll be fine Ran. I wouldn't be propositioning you otherwise." Ran chuckled, pulling Ken in once more by the wrist and kissing him soundly.

"Then by all means…" he replied, pulling the ninja towards the bed. Ken leered at him openly.

"You know, all that Bushido- Zen stuff is interesting….but honestly, how do they expect you to be a human?" he murmured jokingly. Ran pulled him close as they lay on the bed.

"It's really just a set of guidelines…" he murmured. "It's so new it hasn't really been tempered yet. Give it time." Beside him now, nose tucked to his neck, Ken snorted softly.

"My ass. That's the kind of thing that's only going to get more "refined" as it's developed. You watch. And if you ever thought dying for Persia, or me was more honorable than living, I'd beat it right out of you…" Ran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Can we not talk about things like that while we're thinking about doing something a bit more earthly? I've no intentions, I insure you, of dying so stupidly. At least where Persia is concerned. And while we're discussing dying like an idiot, what about that lovely little human fireball stunt you pulled not too long ago with his royal highness?" Ken chuckled softly, nuzzling the fragile skin beneath Ran's jaw.

"That was different." he whispered. "If I hadn't done that we both would have died. Stupidly." It was Ran's turn to chuckle softly as he lipped the edge of the brunet's ear.

"Well then we'll call it an intelligent decision. Now enough. I've got something better for that mouth of yours to do…" Ken hardly had time to raise his eyebrows in response before Ran rolled on top of him.

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Bradley Crawford was fussing with his tie. Again. Schuldig was going to hang him with the bloody thing if he didn't leave off soon. It was perfect. As it always was. And as always, Brad was refusing to admit he was nervous.

Schuldig would have called it deja-vu if it weren't for the fact that he was dressed soberly in funeral blacks and Nagi and Farferello were in the room. They were to be meeting with Esstet today over the events of Takatori's (Yanagi's) death. He'd already written the report. Of course, Yanagi had died in relation to his own stupidity. But that didn't mean they were off the hook. Crawford would have been furious, but he'd already seen it coming.

Schuldig didn't particularly give a shit. In his opinion, here the Japanese Esstet had less control over Rosenkreuz, and it would be easier for them to be insubordinate before simply dropping off the face of the earth. It was Crawford who seemed to think this needed some sort of master plan to happen. Schuldig was growing bored, and wondering more and more why they couldn't just do it.

A quick glance told him Farfie was thinking about his knives and Nagi was a bored blank. The kid wanted a nap. And some time off. Not a bad request actually. Schuldig could've done with a holiday himself. Or five.

After an eternity of five more minutes, Crawford finally let go of his tie and snapped to attention.

"Coats. We're leaving." he announced briskly. "We're leaving now." Schuldig grinned like a predatory animal and donned a light cloak to ward off the chill. Nagi and Farferello merely followed woodenly; one uncaring and the other not in his own body in all likelihood. If only Crawford would be so catatonic.

Why don't I ever get to run the helm of this ship?

Obvious reasons. Don't make me embarrass you.

Hmph. I think you're being unfair. I bet I'd be brilliant.

Brilliantly inept. Why can't you ever leave things as they are Schuldig? Everything in it's own time…

Ch. I'm growing ill of waiting.

We won't be waiting much longer…

Schuldig shuddered with the dark vibrancy of that promise. It coursed through his veins like fire and set his skin to tingling. Perhaps some things truly were worth waiting for… He could only hope as he followed Crawford into the dark hours of the pre-dawn morning.

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Kudo, Yohji sat cloaked in a pipe smoke haze, wearing his ever-present smirk. A smirk, that infuriated his smaller companion, Tsukiyono, Omi as they sat side by side, waiting at the bar for the Kritiker agent to appear. He was late by exactly six minutes and 22 seconds. Normally Omi was not so easily ruffled, but any amount of time spent with Yohji in any izakaya sort of atmosphere tended to do unkind things with Omi's long-frayed patience where the ex-spy was concerned. He watched, with equal parts disgust and fascination as the fifth woman tried valiantly to lure him away for "talk". Although Omi did admire the way Yohji was sticking to business. Mostly.

He turned towards the bar and ordered two bowls of miso ramen and two bottles of warm sake. They may as well look occupied if they were going to be kept waiting. Honestly, why couldn't anyone be on time at these meetings anymore? Omi refused to let himself consider that something that happened to the agent. He liked to think that Kritiker agents were a notch above the rest and so tended to be not so easily caught. The process of choosing them was a grueling one.

And speaking of new agents, Omi wondered how Ken and Ran were doing on their evening off. Generally the youth didn't begrudge them time alone, but he had better things to do this evening, and generally, Ran and Ken appreciated each others' company a bit more. Not that he didn't appreciate Yohji's, but things became stretched a bit when the lanky play boy was around women.

At that moment, a man burst in through the door, breathing haggardly, and staggered over to Omi an Yohji. He garnered a brief cloud of attention from the other patrons, who wrote him off as another drunk and turned, once more, to their business. Omi rushed forward to greet him, Yohji on his heels.

"My lord", the man wheezed " they are coming…"

"Who's coming?" Omi asked quietly. He noted the man was bleeding, possibly dying. His rational brain took over, alerted him that they needed all of the message.

"It's…..esss…te..t. Co….mi…ng…." Too late. The man's eyes rolled into his head and he slumped forwards. Without a word, Omi and Yohji lifted him and carried him out into the night, and hopefully to a place he could be revived, or at least, buried with honor.

He did not like the look of this at all. And neither would Persia.

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