Dyed Crimson
The Weaver Atropos
Time Frame: ((August 2, 2004 8:15 pm—?))
Comments: Just something I thought up while watering my mom's plants…the idea itself has been rolling around in my head for a while, though. You can thank w-ind's 'Paradox' for this one…
Dyed Crimson, Crimson I

Ken glared….hard.

From the opposite side of the room, a taunting grin painted on a blonde head widened. "Almost got it there, Kenken—try to add a little more hatred in there."

Inadvertedly, and quite unconsciously, Ken's scowl deepened, eyes darkening accordingly.

"Got it. I didn't think it was possible, but yes, Ken, you have mastered the glare."

Chocolate eyes locked irately onto jade ones. "I don't see why I'm the one who has to impersonate him. Anyone else here is just as good, if not better."

Youji grinned. Maniacally. "Not quite, Kenken. You see, while I'm sure Omi would play an awesome katana-wielding Aya Fujimiya, I'm not sure our attackers would fall for a four-foot tall, wide-eyed school boy." Youji flashed Omi an endearing smile to quench the boy's protests. "And I'm certainly not cutting—much less dyeing—my hair red. How tacky…"

This time, two equally unamused pair of eyes focused on the rambling playboy. Ken was the first to speak. "I really don't see how that's any different from my excuse. I don't wanna dye my hair either."

"Oh, Kenken," Youji waved the brunette away, "hair's just hair. It'll grow back."

A growl was all that escaped said brunette's lips.

"And honestly…Black makes my skin sallow. Not to mention that I'm not thrilled about the idea of having to slice my enemies into pieces with a sword. Neither Omi nor I are used to that much blood splattering in random directions. You and Aya are used to that. You can handle it."

Ken really had no other way to retort to that. So, after stammering annoyedly for a few seconds, he turned—furious—in Manx's direction. "Can't Kritiker hire anyone! There's a damned Recon & Impersonations department, for god's sakes! It's their freakin' job to imitate people…"

Manx pursed her lips to avoid making her smile all that noticeable. Although she was normally all business, she couldn't help but be amused by the brunette's almost endearing hot-headed stubbornness. "Yes. We do. However, the act would be all the more believeable if one of Weiss did it. You're around Abyssinian nearly 24 hours a day. You're familiar with his moods, his mannerisms…his growls, according to Balinese."

Amethyst eyes narrowed at jade ones, but Manx continued, oblivious of the silent exchange. "Besides, there isn't enough time for Abyssinian to be observed. The mission is in exactly one week. It would be ridiculous—suicidal—to assume anyone could imitate him convincingly in that short a time."

Ken grumbled under his breath, very much aware that there was little else he could do. The judge had spoken. And, though Ken could very much protest and give a negative to his participation in the mission, he knew that would only result in his comrade's being in danger. Most especially Aya. The brunette flashed his leader an uncertain glance. Could he? Could he successfully pretend to be Aya Fujimiya…the stern, if slightly impassive, leader of Weiss? Well, Ken had to admit Manx was right about one thing. He did know Aya's quirks. After all, all he did in his spare time was take in the perfect vision that was Aya. A light blush settled in his cheeks.

He certainly didn't want Aya in danger…or the rest of Weiss, either. Biting his lower lip, and knowing he'd regret his heart-minded decision later, Ken gave his assent in a nod. "I'll do it, fine."

Manx reciprocated the action. "Here's your case file. Familiarize yourself with it. More information will be provided as the mission date approaches. Ken—"

Curiously, and wondering what else could go wrong for him, Ken raised dark brown eyes towards Manx. "Here's the name of the dye you'll need for your hair tone. You can either do this here, or," Manx paused and, after rummaging in her purse, handed him a small card, "call for a specialist. Kritiker's checked them all out. Anyone on this list is acceptable. As for other things, you know the drill. After your hair's dyed, no one's to see you with it until the mission date. Understood?"

Ken nodded, very reluctantly palming the dye and pocketing the card. Hell, but was a glorious week awaiting him! He watched, only half-awake, as Manx handed the rest of Weiss individually assorted packets, giving Omi blue-prints, hacking codes, and the like, Aya some probable assassination locations, and Youji random information.

A few minutes later, Manx was gone.

"Well," Ken reached up and ruffled his hair, blowing at the wisps that unwittingly fell into his face, "I guess I better enjoy it while it lasts."

Youji raised an amused eyebrow. Coming up behind the brunette, he draped an arm about his shoulders and grinned, "Stop being such a drama queen. You won't have to dye it until the day before the mission. And as for who'll do it, I will. As secure as Kritiker might think those 'specialists' are, we know better than to risk our cover like that."

"Youji's right."

That was Aya. Sighing, Ken nodded. The next to speak was Omi. "Aren't they going to question you, Ken-kun? I mean, they're obviously gonna be a bit unsettled when they find they've inadvertedly kidnapped an 'Aya Fujimiya' that doesn't exactly look like his picture. They might ask you some questions to make sure you're really you…or him, rather say."

Once more Aya nodded. "They will. They aren't stupid. Especially not if Schwatz is in any way associated with this. If they bring Mastermind into this, then we're screwed, but Persia says he doubts there are any collaborations going on. But, echoing Youji's thoughts, Kritiker isn't being too careful as of late. We were almost killed on last mission, and that was a dangerous slip. We might as well be working alone as of now."

They all nodded. Aya was right. Their last mission—which had taken place a little over six months ago, had left both Ken and Youji in near critical condition. Kritiker's recon agents hadn't done a very good job scouting the place. As a matter of fact, Aya doubted they'd ever even set foot in the Yamoi Building. The blueprints Weiss had been given were old, and—since the building had undergone renovations only 5 years earlier—the floorplans were scarcely the same. Thus, when the mission had been completed, albeit with complications, and Ken and Youji had made their way towards the highlighted exits, they were surprised to find sealed off office walls where their escape routes were supposed to be. Alone, and nearly at opposite sides of the building, they'd found themselves without much liberty as to what to do.

Ken, who had been in the left research wing at the time, had eased into the Chief Executive's office—which, according to the plans—held a secret exit—only to find that there was none and that he was trapped, a growing fire to the right (product of Omi's wirings) and attacking guards coming from the left. When Aya and Omi had found him, he had managed to fend off the attackers as best as he could've, but he'd been shot five times in the effort. Twice in his bugnuk arm, once in the abdomen, and his right thigh had been grazed twice. He'd nearly bled to death. He'd still been standing when they'd walked in, too…

As for Youji—Youji'd been knifed in the stomach with a wound that, had it not missed his appendix by a few centimeters, would have been fatal. Omi had fallen to his knees upon finding the older man, unconscious and curled in on himself against the cold marble floor. He'd lost a lot of color, too, his skin pale and sallow, eyes already showing the first signs of trauma—pupils dilated, color faded. Aya would've carried him up and out, had it not been that he already had Ken's weight to worry about. He had been surprised, actually, when Omi—the slight boy that he was—had picked up his comrade through tears, cumbersomely making his way out of the building, struggling against the smoke and blaring alarms.

Aya shook his head. That moment…when he'd taken sight of Ken's battered and broken form…the feeling he'd felt had rivaled that of finding his parents dead, his sister shortly falling into a coma. His heart had felt that same, painful jar…his jaw had clenched the same way…his eyes had shut in an effort to hold in the tears. And it had been bewildering…bewildering to note that he'd almost cried for Ken's sake.

Regardless…there were more important things to worry about, at the moment. For starters, Omi was right. Ken was liable to being questioned, and, should he not prove a very convincing Aya would surely be eliminated without a second thought. "Ken?"

Blank chocolate eyes looked around, searching for the one who'd called on him, before settling curiously on Aya. Pushing Youji's arm off his shoulder somewhat self-consciously, he waited for the redhead to continue. When he didn't, he simply shrugged, more to himself than at Youji, and made his way towards the computer, where Omi was currently verifying the blueprints had handed him.

"They're recent, at least," he murmured under his breath, tone hardening slightly as unwanted memories filtered back to him. Catching sight of Ken, he flashed the brunette a warm smile. "Don't worry Ken-kun. Maybe you'll like the hair style, after all."

Ken shrugged, not entirely convinced. "Maybe. Maybe not. My skin's too dark for that, I think."

Omi seemed to consider the fact. "That's true…but…thanks, Ken-kun. I know why you did it," a warm smile lit the young man's face, "and I'm thankful for it."

A soft blush seeped into Ken's bronze cheeks. "Don't worry about it. I'm just worried about the actual mission. Aya's not exactly the easiest person to imitate."

"What are you talking about?" Youji sauntered into the room, nibbling on a piece of cheese, "You just have to scowl, growl, make feral animal noises and you're set. Even the chibi could do that."

"I don't growl."

Three heads turned guiltily—well, two did, the third was grinning—to meet a stony face. Youji patted Ken heartily on the back, "Well, there you go. That's your first lesson. 'How to make a Human Being look like a Marble Statue, but Scarier.'"

Ken smiled despite himself, offering Aya a sympathetic glance. If he was to be Aya, then it was crucial that he be on good terms with the one he was to be impersonating. At least, that way Aya would be more liable to open up; and Ken had to understand motivations before he could ever understand the front. "Come on."

"Huh?"

Aya turned at Ken's less than eloquent reaction. Motioning towards the stairs, he continued, "If you're going to be interrogated, you might as well know the answers to what they're going to ask you."

"Oh. Okay."

A bit hesitant, but not all that uncomfortable, the brunette followed Aya up the stairs, turning left once they hit the kitchen to climb the stairs towards their apartment. 'Their' in the sense that they shared the second floor of the Koneko. Nothing more. Actually, other than the one time Ken had helped carry Aya to his room, he doubted he'd ever lay a foot in the redhead's dormitory.

He walked in after Aya, feeling almost out of place in the all white room, assuaged only in the knowledge that he'd taken off his shoes at the entrance. Standing awkwardly at the door, Ken watched with inquisitive eyes as the older man methodically made his way about the room, glancing at his reflection as he walked past a mirror, the action nearly imperceptible, before settling down on the left hand side of his bed. Aware that he was being watched, but not particularly at ease with the fact, Aya's own amethyst eyes sought out the brunette's. Once he caught the man's glance, he was intrigued to note that a pale blush had settled itself in his comrade's cheeks. But he didn't apologize for the lingering stare…and Aya wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He wasn't stupid. He knew that his accepting the mission meant he was granting the hot-headed youth gratuitous looks at his general persona…but that didn't mean he was completely unflustered about it. Especially when Ken was making no move to curb his gaze.

Not that it was being intrusive. No…although the brunette was looking at him—and rather steadily at that—he wasn't being improper in his glances…nor unprofessional, for that matter. No…he was limiting himself to carefully studying and analyzing the redhead's every action. And that could be unnerving for anyone—the proverbial Man of Ice, included.

"Sit down."

"Oh…"

Again, another less than eloquent remark. That was one of the first things Ken would have to control if he hoped to pass for him. Unrequited words never escaped Aya's mouth. And…he was never surprised. Well, realistically, he was and could be, but outwardly…outwardly that surprise was undetectable. A narrowing of the eyes was the most that could give it a way. Nothing more. Certainly not an 'oh.'

Ken noted his mistake almost as soon as he'd made it. Not to mention that he'd been able to tell by Aya's disappointed expression. He wasn't going to beat around the bush about it. Ken had liked Aya for a long time. And…while he wasn't particularly sure how his sexuality was affected by the fact, he knew that the other reason why he'd taken the mission had been merely selfish one. Accepting meant that he'd be able to, for once, unabashedly look at Aya whenever he wanted without having to look away for fear of getting caught.

Regardless, after a few seconds of internal reverie, Ken sat. He mimicked Aya's pose almost subconsciously, it being something he'd always innately done, and frowned when Aya's eyes bore into his, thoroughly displeased. He hadn't done it on purpose…though, realistically, he knew that he should be copying his leader anyway…it was one of his hidden talents. More or less, anyway. Ken had found, through the years, that people seemed to enjoy being around him because he made them feel at ease with themselves. He postured himself so much to their liking—or, to their identity—that they couldn't help but like 'themselves.' Even in soccer matches…it was one of the things that made him such a good goalie; Ken was able to effortlessly mirror everyone's move.

"That's not how I usually sit."

Ken shrugged a bit, "I know. But it's stupid to think anyone would always sit the same."

"How much do you know about me, already?"

Ken shuffled uncomfortably at the question. How much did he know? Quite a lot, actually. He knew that Aya had a sister, one that was in a coma, and he knew—through his own detective work—that Aya's parents had been killed and framed by Reiji Takatori. Aya had never really come out and told them about it…each Weiss had come to their own conclusions regarding that. He also knew that Aya had a penchant for wearing orange turtle necks, even in the middle of summer, but all that was relative. "Exactly in what sense do you mean that?"

At the question, Aya remained thoughtful. Then, finally, looking at Ken with serious lilac eyes, he responded. "My routine."

Routine?

"Okay…uh…You wake up at five in the morning, the very minute your alarm goes off. As far as I know, you haven't—to this day—ever hit the snooze button. From what I can hear from my room, you brush your teeth first, then shower—always in that order. Oh, and…you prefer Zest shampoo," Ken paused and took in Aya's startled look at the confident knowledge of the intimate fact. "And then you dress…Sometimes you go wake Omi up…and, just for the hell of it, apparently, since Youji's room is closest to the kitchen, you make a racket during breakfast. You open the shop at six, even though you know no one's going to show up until much later, and…though you cook breakfast, you hardly ever do anything but drink coffee."

Ken trailed off, "Is that enough…I mean—"

But Aya wasn't really listening. He was staring at the young man before him, wondering how someone he talked so little to, could know so very much about him. Ken shifted a bit uncomfortably. "And about me?"

Dark brown eyebrows furrowed. "About you? What about you?"

"My body."

"Oh."

Once more, dark eyebrows knit together. "I…I don't really know." And that was the truth. Ken had only every seen Aya wearing that horrid sundusk turtle-neck. And if it wasn't that, then it was his black trenchcoat. "How tall am I?"

A shrug. "Like 3 inches taller than me, I guess."

"And my weight?"

"…why is this even important?"

Aya was silent. And then, "You seem to know things about me one couldn't simply know by looking. Especially not if you don't know my height, or weight…or what my body looks like. Why do you know so much? What intrigues you so much about me?"

Ken turned away. "I don't do it on purpose."

"Do what on purpose?"

"Know how you are. I just know."

Aya didn't seem convinced, but he let it go. There was no use chasing the rabbit; it would trap itself of its own accord eventually. "I take it you know about Aya, then?"

All-too-aware of what he was doing, Ken nodded, chocolate locks falling into his face to obscure his eyes. "And about everything else that happened?"

Another nod.

"You haven't read the mission files yet, have you?"

"Huh? No…why?"

"They state the reason why I'm to be the 'decoy.' Or you, since you're pretending to be me."

Ken considered the information. "And why is that?"

"Because someone knows who Weiss is. And they only know who I am. For now we can't risk any other Weiss being discovered. Relatively speaking, you and I will be the only ones exposed during the mission. Youji and Omi will be far away. Monitoring us."

That still didn't explain things, in Ken's eyes. "How'd they find out?"

"It was easy enough. There's no reason why a florist would have sufficient income to support someone in a coma in a police hospital. Not to mention that my hair makes me identifiable wherever I go."

"This could just be a stupid kid playing games—"

"Or it could be Schwartz. Or Schrient. All under the pretense of Yamoi."

"I still don't understand how my being you is supposed to help matters."

"It's simple enough. If it's a worthwhile enemy, they should have a reason for wanting me…if they can't really even tell us apart…then it's a worthless adversary. But, apparently, they think I know something I don't—or, I might actually—and Kritiker doesn't want to risk my accidentally exposing the knowledge."

Just taking my usual break from In Fear Of...