Of Music and Magic

Author's notes: Here's the third chapter! Thanks to Blythe for the review! That really gives me a boost to write. And to everyone that is enjoying this tale, thanks for reading and if I ever just disappear, it usually means that I've taken another journey to the hospital and the drugs they put me on have scared off my muse ;-) !



Beta: Everyone put your hands together for the magical, mystical Krysrobin! I couldn't do this without you, Kid!





Now on with the show!







PART THREE















Aya glanced at the address Manx had given them. Along with the house number there were instructions and an appointment time for them to keep. Well, here they stood on the steps of a large home set on a several acres in one of the wealthier neighborhoods outside of Tokyo, on time for the meeting and it looked like the house was deserted. The sound of heavy bass drew his attention to the backyard. With a quick nod to his team members, he followed the cement path to the back of the house, passing through a high, wooden gate. A small tingle shot throughout his body as he passed into the backyard.



Amidst the neatly kept garden, on the very edge of the property, stood a small building. It rose one story tall with a row of dormers set with windows that stretched the length of the roof. The pale yellow pine siding glistened like gold in the late afternoon sunlight. The rawness of the wood and the torn up ground around the foundation proclaimed loudly that this was a new construction. J-rock blared from the structure along with the repeated clanging of metal on metal and the sound of harsh panting.



Omi tried the windowless door set halfway in the middle of the front. It was locked. Yohji held up his set of lock-picks, stepped up to the door and worked on the lock for a moment. The tumblers sprang open with a quiet click. He flashed his teammates a smug grin.



Five and a half foot long blades caught the light and drew the eye. The nearly identical young men who wielded the double-edged swords with apparent ease, familiarity and grace, were the ones who had come to collect Aerune on that morning less than a week ago. Both sported various cuts, scrapes and bruises and as the dark-haired one swept out with his pommel-gripping fist, Aya understood how they managed to look the way they did. Neither one was holding back, fist struck flesh with a solid, resounding thwack and the slightly taller boy staggered back from the impact.



“Shit Jet!” he cried. “There’s no reason to be so mean about this.”



“Mean? Who’s being mean?” Jet shot back, bringing his fist around for another punch.



“You. I can’t understand why Sterling won’t let me continue practicing with him. I understood his way of fightin’,” the older boy whined. “Your sorry excuse for sportsmanship leaves me cold.”



“We both know why you’re stuck fighting me. You know Sterling’s way of fighting too well and were getting too complacent and lazy when you faced off against him.” One bare foot lashed out and connected with the side of Amber’s knee, forcing the other man down onto his backside. “With me you never know what’s going to happen and I can keep you on your toes, as the old cliché goes.”



“The gods must hate me.”



“Nope, they love you enough to give me to you.” He cocked his head to one side. “You ever get the feeling that we’re forgetting something important?”



“Like what?”



“Well, we got the lawn mowed, the garden weeded and we’re doing our Swordwork, but I still feel like there’s something . . . . . ah SHIT!”



“What?”



“Weiss!”



“Ah shit is right!” Both of the combatants stopped and moved over to where the scabbards for their blades lay. Catching them up, the swords slid into their sheathes with steely slithers and the weapons were carefully placed back in the spots were they had been taken from.



“Maybe we can get to the . . .” Amber started to say as he turned around. The look of shock on his face at seeing the four assassins almost made up for the rudeness of being made to wait. “Then again, maybe not. Welcome to our humble home,” he said, bowing slightly to his guests. “Sorry about making you wait, we kinda forgot that you were coming here tonight.”



“Yeah, most of the time we’re not such airheads, but things happen.”



“Do you mind telling us what the hell is going on?” Aya asked his brows pulled toward the bridge of his nose.



“I’d love too, but it’s not my place. Sterling will bring you all up to speed when he gets home.”



“And that will be when?”



“Um, it all depends on traffic. He insists on taking Aerune to work and picking him up. For some reason he doesn’t trust anybody with blind boy.”



“I can understand his feelings,” Aya approved.



“You don’t get it, do you?”



“Get what?”



“Aerune is quite capable of taking care of himself,” Jet piped in. “If he weren’t, he’d still be home with his parents. They still think of and treat him like a child, but he’s all grow’d up. Anybody that messes with him is goin’ find himself on the ground hurting like a sonofabitch. ‘Rune wouldn’t risk the group by being defenseless.”



“Sorry,” Yohji said, holding his hands up to stem the tirade. “Aya is a little dense sometimes.”



“Am not. What about the night we found him, getting ready to wander into a building filled with men who would have had no problem with raping and killing him?”



“It was a set up,” came the dark voice from behind them. Sterling walked down the brick path that led to the building that they were currently standing in, Aerune’s hand rested on his elbow and the blind man kept pace with his taller companion.



“A what?!” Ken yelped.



“A set up,” Sterling calmly said. “We had a job offer from Kritiker and we weren’t going to bother with a group that didn’t or doesn’t have time for the innocent ones that get in the middle of their battles. So, I had ‘Rune play poor lost puppy for you.”



“Why?” Omi asked.



A sly smile crossed the silver-eyed man’s lips. “Kritiker isn’t the first group that’s approached us to work for them. Of course, we were forced to turn Esset down, but it was rather amusing to see how far they would go to ‘recruit’ us.”



“You could be very wealth men right now,” Aya stated softly. “Why didn’t you take them up on it?”



“I have always been told that with great power comes even greater responsibility. Esset doesn’t teach their people that. They are brought up to believe that anyone without gifts or powers is little better than an animal and their only purpose on this earth is to provide amusement for the higher class. I never have nor will I ever think that.” He stared intently at the assassins. “My responsibility is to protect those who can’t defend themselves.”



Aerune threaded his way through the group, not touching or brushing against any of them. Sterling’s eyes went blank as he followed the slim form. The sightless gaze gave Yohji the willies, with its intensity and passion. The slight young man walked over to the boom box and shut the pulsing music off.



“You’re like us,” Omi softly said. “In a way at least.”



“Exactly,” Aerune stated, as he wandered back toward the group. His blind eyes turned toward Jet and Amber. “Why don’t you take Omi and Ken into the house and start putting supper together while Sterling and I talk to Yohji and Aya?”



“Okie-dokie,” Jet piped. “C’mon let’s see about getting food on the table so that we all don’t starve. You’d think that those two were never young; they’ve forgotten what it’s like to need to eat more than once a day!” He grabbed Omi’s hand and bounded off toward the house. Amber motioned for Ken to follow the youngest two; the athlete threw his older two teammates a nervous glance and then trailed on behind his lover and the black-haired boy. A never-ending stream of inconsequent chatter drifted back toward the group left in the dojo.



“Trying to separate us?” Aya asked, his hand drifting toward the knife concealed on his person.



“In a way, yes,” Sterling responded. “There are things that you need to learn and the only way that can happen is if we take things slowly. I will teach you to protect yourselves from Mastermind’s prying thoughts and will give you the capably to block Oracle’s sight.” He stared at the leader of Weiss, “are you willing to take a chance on what we can teach the four of you, or are you going to go and reject the gift that is offered you? Either way, Kritiker pays us. Manx told me to inform you that this is a paid mission, so you won’t be losing out on any money.”



“Aya,” Yohji murmured, “that would explain the weirdness of the mission assignment she gave us.”



“Hmph,” Aya grunted, wordlessly ceding the point to the shaggy-headed blond. “All right, what do we need to know and how long will it take?”



“We can give you the training that you need and it will take as long as it takes. There is no set time; it all depends on how fast the four of you catch on and how good Schwarz truly is.”



“And this will protect us from them?”



“For the most part.”



“For the most part?” Aya groused, his lavender eyes snapping. “What the hell does that mean? Will it protect us or not?”



Aerune laid a gentle hand on the redhead’s arm. “No spell is unbreakable. If it can be made, it can be unmade. But the good news is that the person to do the unmaking will have to be as powerful as Sterling, if not more so.”



“Really?” Aya asked, his curiosity roused by the offer of new learning.



“Really. Magic follows a set of flexible, but unbreakable rules.” He motioned for the group to be seated on the benches surrounding the perimeter of the practice area. “Let’s get comfortable and then we can explain everything to you.”







# # # # # #









Jet led the group of younger members into the expansive room the mansion called a kitchen. A five-star chef wouldn’t find himself out of place in the echoing room. Two convection ovens glistened from their places in the wall and the dark, cast-iron of the stove and matching indoor grill detracted from the matte-finished side-by-side refrigerator. The place looked like it belonged at the Tokyo Hilton.



“What the hell?” Ken sputtered, looking about the room in amazement.



“Sterling takes his cooking very seriously,” Amber answered.



“Sterling takes everything seriously,” Jet grumbled. He walked over to the dull surfaced refrigerator, opened the door and began removing the ingredients for the meal. Raw meat made into three-quarter pound burgers, potatoes sliced into thick wedges, the fixings for a large green salad and a homemade cheesecake with the choice of four different toppings.



Omi’s jaw dropped in astonishment at the food. This definitely wouldn’t be the normal light meal that either he or Aya usually cobbled together for the group. He and the leader of Weiss took turns cooking for the others. Yohji didn’t know how to cook and had no inclination to learn and Ken was too dangerous to leave alone anywhere near the stove; the athlete could burn water. So it wasn’t safe to have him even try to make ramen. “You’re going to make all that?”



“Of course,” Jet said, grinning back at his counterpart. “I hope that you guys all like American food.”



“As long as it doesn’t come from below the yellow arches, I think we’ll be able to take it,” Omi teased back. “I have one question, though.”



“And that would be?”



“Why in the world are the two of you cooking?”



“Punishment,” Amber responded, sounding chagrined.



“What did you do to deserve that?”



“Sterling caught us playing a practical joke on ‘Rune and this is our sentence, six weeks of KP.”



“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Omi asked, not all that sure about the meal.



“Nope,” Jet shot back. “One of the first things that Sterling taught us was how to cook.”



“How long have you been with Sterling and Aerune?”



“Well, I’ve been with Sterling for about seven years and Amber’s been with him almost as long.” Jet gave the young blond a wry smile. “You see, Sterling found me on the street and took me in. Along with a new home, he also gave me a new name. Not that I can remember my old one. He said that it would be best to start a new life with a new identity, so I became Jet Black.”



“And I was born Amber,” the golden-haired beauty smiled at the two assassins. “But Sterling gave me a new last name. Thus, Amber Whatevermylastnameusedtobe became Amber Waves.”



Jet turned on the built-in CD player and the soft sound of a guitar drifted out. The minor cords of the song brought tears to Omi’s eyes, the youngest member of Weiss also being the most sensitive. He couldn’t understand the words; they weren’t in either of the two languages he spoke fluently.



“Ah geez!” Jet exclaimed, pushing the button to eject the disc. “‘Rune’s been using the player to listen to that disc he burned. Gods! It would be a lot better if we could at least understand what the hell he was saying.”



“What language is that?” Omi asked.



“Gaelic I think or Celtic. But to be sure, you’d have to ask ‘Rune and while you’re at it, ask him what the hell it means,” the black-haired boy grumbled putting a different CD in the player. The drum line of “Ballroom Blitz” rang out from the speakers scattered about the room. With a sensuous rock of his hips, Jet began the process of getting food on the grill. Amber joined him, their lower bodies grinding together in a parody of a more primitive act that caused Omi’s pants to become much too tight.



The young killer squirmed, trying to hide his very obvious arousal from the collective group. The look on Ken’s face told him that his friend, partner and sometime lover was as disturbed by the blatant show of sexuality as he was. Somehow that made him feel much better.



“Why don’t you two get a room?” Ken muttered, trying to find a safe place to put his eyes.



“ ‘Cause we’ve got to get supper on the table. But maybe after we eat, the four of us can get to know each other a lot better?” Jet grinned at him and raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated lewd way. “I mean, two’s company, three’s a crowd and four’s an orgy!”



“I. . . um . . . yeah,” Ken sputtered, his face turning bright red.



“Jet,” Amber softly warned. “Guests, remember? And guesting rules.”



“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”



The four young men worked together, cobbling a meal fit for a king. The American food smelled so different, but still delicious, compared to the Japanese fare that they usually shared. And the amounts were astounding.



“Will you eat all of this?” Omi asked. “I mean there’s a ton of food.”



“Between the eight of us I’m sure that we can handle all of this. Besides, it’s not really all that much food.”



A thought occurred to Ken as he watched the carefully choreographed dance in the kitchen. “How did Aerune do that?” he asked.



“How’d he do what?”



“I thought he was blind.”



“So?”



“So, he moved between us like he could see.” His brows pulled into a scowl. “He didn’t shit us on being blind, did he?”



“Nope, ‘Rune’s as blind as they come. But he has a slight advantage,” Jet quipped, a mischievous grin flitting across his face.



“And that would be?” came the exasperated question. “Please stop make this like a trip to the dentist’s.”



“What my impish friend is trying to say it that Aerune can use our eyes,” Amber said, placing a calming hand on Ken’s shoulder. “We can all volunteer our sense of sight to him and he’s learned to compensate for the difference in either height or angle.”



“Not only that, but he’s also pretty deadly with a pistol too. With or without the borrowed eyes.”



“Really? I’d like to see that,” Omi chirped, getting more and more excited about their new partners.



“Maybe one day you will. Now let’s concentrate on the important things.”



“Like?”



“Like supper!”







% % % % % %







Schuldig followed the kittens as they left the Koneko, hoping that they would lead him to the foursome that he had seen all those days ago. For some reason, the quartet seemed to just vanish; there was no sign of them and four such unique looking young men should stand out like sore thumbs. They had faded into the seamy underbelly of the city and now Crawford was threatening him with dire consequences if he didn’t find them. He had resorted to tailing Weiss as a last ditch effort to avoid Oracle’s foul temper.



He stood in the shadows of a neighboring house, watching the peaceful yard that the four rival assassins had disappeared into. The faint boom of bass reached his ears and perked his curiosity; soon he would know all the secrets of the mysterious quartet. Riddles tweaked his inquisitive side, making him itch to know all about the strange foursome that had swept into the kittens’ lives. A lower, louder rumble caught his attention and the monstrous black and chrome motorcycle he had seen leaving the Koneko roared around the far corner.



The serious one with the shoulder-length, white streaked, dark chocolate hair sat in the driver’s seat with the frail, white-haired waif nestled tightly against his back. The flame-haired psychic reached out and tried to grasp the mind of either of the men, his touch sliding off their minds like glass. The pair had shields like he had only heard of, but never encountered. The strength of the defenses scared him and he nearly turned tail and headed back to the safety of the Schwarz stronghold. But the thought of Crawford’s face, screwed up in anger, held him to the spot.



He smirked at the pair as they vanished into the green expanse of the backyard. Everyone had a weakness or a period of defenselessness; all he had to do was wait for their protections to be down and then they would see the true power of the Mastermind. With those happy thought, he settled back to wait on the departure of the kittens and the momentary lapse of the newcomers. Soon everyone would come to fear him and he would get that oh so addicting taste of ruined lives and the honey that accompanied them.



Mustn’t forget the bees, he thought, snickering to himself at Brad’s warning words.