Under the Heavens: Part Two

By Mirrordance

They told us he was awake again, but tired. We could only go in for a visit for a few minutes. We had asked what the collapse had been all about, but the doctors wouldn't say. It wasn's his to tell, he said. Though I was sure Manx would be told of the exact situation, just to make sure what would be done. After all, as of the moment Ken was...a criminal.

We stepped into the ward. He was sitting up in bed, hoisted up by a host of pillows. He looked like a kid in them. He was thin and pallid. He plastered on a smile for us, though. Sheepish again.

"Some show, huh?" he asked, breaking into the silence.

"Yeah," agreed Yoji, "but what was that about?"

"Was that because of your injury from earlier, Ken?" asked Omi.

I didn't ask him anything. He would say everything now, I knew. We would make the best interrogators for each other. He would say the truth to us. We knew too much already about each other, to stop now.

"No," he admitted.

"What's going on?" Omi asked in a quiet voice.

"A year after I joined White Cross," he said, "I got some trouble. I went to the docs and they told me...stomach cancer" he laughed a little, mirthlessly. I caught my breath, though that pretty much amounted to the only reaction I could afford myself. "I went because I hurt. They said the pain comes in the late stages. They gave me painkillers and self-help books then sent me on my way. It was too late for me then and that was years ago.

"I've been cheating death not just for every mission, but...for another reason too. But I was on my way. I just knew it. I felt it breathing down my neck, you know? I skip some missions, to rest a bit. Well, anyway, so I went off to buy perscrbed drugs, and this other guy next to me on the counter handed me the address to the Circle. I went. And it helped. The pain was gone, and I didn't have to take anything. Been doing it for almost a year now. But I think, after all this time, payment's due"

I looked at his face. He looked wistful. Tired. He was running around just yesterday. How could I have not known? I thought Ken was the most transparent of us all. He has such an honest, open face. But he used it all to hide the saddest secret of all.

Manx stepped into the room. I knew by her eyes that she had known everything already.

"We had your blood checked," she told Ken, "the Circle used hallucinogens, Siberian. I'm not sure about faith healing, but...this wasn't it"

He blinked, nodded.

Payment's due.

"I always get betrayed," he said with a chuckle. He turned to the three of us. "Never thought I'd do it to anyone before, though. Mad?"

"How can we be," asked Yoji sharply, "after the bomb you just dropped on us?"

He grinned. Actually grinned. "Exactly. Works to my advantage, for the first damn time. If it makes you feel any better, though...I never meant for you to get caught. I warned Spira after Manx's briefing. He said he would just leave, so at worst I knew you guys would be walking into an empty warehouse. I never thought he would...well, anyway. When you didn't return, I had to...go"

"What now?" I asked Manx. I really wondered. Did this excuse Ken's actions? Would he be punished still? I mean, what could they do to him, kill him?

"It's a matter still under debate," she said. "In the meantime, you get your rest, Ken"

We filed out of his room.

I sank into a seat in the waiting area, feeling...washed out, suddenly.

It all just crasjed onto me.

"Ken's dying," Omi said.

"Everybody dies," I snapped at him, then was immediately annoyed at myself. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anybody's.

"If you look at a different way, kid," said Yoji, "we're all dying"

He stepped out of the room. He needs a cigarette everytime he gets bothered.


Late afternoon.

Omi and Yoji went out for lunch. I drifted toward Ken's room, hoping to find him asleep, but also half-wishing he was awake. I was driving myself crazy.

He was sitting up again, looking much better than he had earlier during the day. You couldn't see the sun from down here, though. I could scarcely think of a lonelier place for a guy like Ken.

"Hey, Ran!" he greeted brightly.

I nodded a greeting, and though he motioned for a chair I decided to remain on my feet.

He frowned at me, though his eyes teased. "If I didn't know you so well, I would think you were angry at me for getting sick"

I just snorted at him. Yeah. Of course you'd think that.

"Have you thought about what you wanted to do, when you get out of here?" I asked.

"No," he replied, "I try not to look too far beyond Kritiker, right now. But you obviously have"

I shrugged noncommittally. But of course I have. I think, a friend of mine deserves to get anything he wanted, given the situation. But I couldn't say it. He'd be surprised as hell. Would a heart attack help him any?

"So," he said, "ARE you mad? You never say anything"

"You know I'm not," I admitted.

He nodded. "That's good. But I'm still sorry. Lost so much, wouldn't want to lose you guys too"

You won't, I promised. This funny reverberating promise in my head. You won't.


"You're free to go"

Ken looked at Manx blankly. "What?"

"You're free to go," she said again, patiently.

"Go where?" he asked.

"Home" she answered, "to the flower shop, where else?"

Where else?

"Cool!"

Typical.

"But no more missions for you," Manx said.

"But how can I pay--" Ken stuttered, his face flushing.

"I don't know," Manx said, irritable now. "Lug around sacks of fertilizer, arrange bouquets, whatever. Just...make yourself useful in some other way. You're free to go"

"I didn't want anyone's pity," Ken said darkly, "That's why I never said anything--"

"Will you just follow orders?" I snapped.

He looked at me and rolled back his eyes. It panicked me for a split-second. Was he going to collapse? What happened?

But then, he stuck his tongue out at me and otherwise fell silent.

TYPICAL.


Koneko.

I couldn't help but glance Ken's way as we neared the flower shop. I knew it looked nice, but through his glittering hazel eyes, I saw that I shouldn't ever want to be anywhere else in the world.

Home.

Home.

Momoe was just closing down the shop for the evening, as the sun set. We took over and bade her come to her own home already, as the night has almost come.

I found solace in the routine. Clean up the glass, turn the sign, lock the door, bring down the noisy metal shutters. Wipe at the table, check the figures, check the new orders.

The four of us each had his own duty, his own purpose. We were like clockwork. It was fast and clean and efficient. We were going to lose one of our hands soon. What would happen then?

I looked at Ken, from the corner of my eye. He was in charge of the broom, and he was whistling. It was just like yesterday, or a few days ago, as if nothing had changed.

It was the kind of person that he was, I suppose. Everything else could just crash around him in cold, blinding white. He'd just gamely spit on his palm and know which way was up and which way was down.

Or maybe nothing had changed for him; he has known his illness for years now. Maybe it was just me.

He looked up, feeling my stare and grinned. Actually, actually grinned.

Maybe he has lost his mind.


Next thing I know, I wake up one morning, pass by his room and see that he is packing his things. Whistling again.

"What are you doing?" I asked, and I think it was indication of my initial panic enough that I had actually voiced this out.

"Packing," he said, sounding preoccupied as he held up a gray sweater. "Do you think the shirt is a turn-on?"

I narrowed my eyes and scowled at him. "It does nothing for me"

He laughed. "The girls, Ran. For the girls"

Personally, I think he got women doing nothing. He certainly got women even falling on his face, at times. Look at the girls at the shop, I mean. Why worry about a goddamn sweater?

I didn't dignify his question with a reply.

He just whistled again and continued packing.

Yoji and Omi peered into the room beside me on the doorway.

"um..." that was Omi, thinking up a strategy of how to appease this madness. "Whatcha doing, Ken?"

"When my doc told me I was going to go real soon," he said, "he gave me self-help books, you know, all that inspirational mumbo- jumbo? I wasn't going to read 'em, but I did give the back covers a chance. One of 'em said there were four stages of the mind when it came to terminal cases. The first was denial, followed by anger, then fear, then acceptance. Since I spent two or so years on the denial part, I didn't believe it. Then I got into the anger part and took it all out on targets. Then the fear part when I went in with the Circle. I think I finally got to stage four. That is why I'm going to Australia"

His line of thought was beyond me. What did that place have to do with acceptance, just when I had seen his eyes glow at the thought of being home, right here?

From the corner of my eye, I saw Yoji's arms cross over his chest. Ah. He knew what this was about. And being that he was only in his boxers, he had no cigarettes lying around and could do nothing else but express his disapproval this way.

"What for?" Yoji asked irritably.

"I'm coming to get her," Ken said.

"And what?" snapped Yoji, "What after that? You leave, right? You keep lifting up her spirits then leaving"

"I love her," Ken said determinedly.

"Is that love?" asked Yoji.

"To me, it is," said Ken, "Some of us have to make do with what seems a whole lot less than the real thing to you. That means you're lucky"

"Damn it, Ken," said Yoji hotly, "Listen to me. I know what it's like being the one who's always left behind"

"Then I'm telling you what it's like to be the one who leaves," said Ken, "you'll always regret. It's better to have love and lost, than not to have loved at all"

There was more going on here than the words. Each man's separate memory made it harder for them to accept each other's views. But I think what Ken said sank in on Yoji, who just nodded. Was that Shakespeare?

What was going on here?

I looked at Omi, who was just as stunned.

Yoji would be grilled later.

The girl in Australia was actually a Japanese emigrant. A biker chick Ken had fallen in love with shortly after the bastard Kase's assassination, but decided not to touch with his bloodied hands. She went away to Australia, and though he had promised he would go with her to pursue her dreams, he stuck with his duties in White Cross and she ended up leaving alone.

He was going to win her back.

His flight was tomorrow afternoon.

Come midday, Manx dropped in on the shop and gave Omi, Yoji and I folders. Ken watched, looking jittery. I knew how it felt like to not be part of a mission, for one reason or another. It made me worry about...outcomes. Who would come back, who wouldn't...

I opened the file and found...a roundtrip ticket to Sydney. There was a set of keys too. A cabin in the country, and a car parked in the airport.

Ken looked over Omi's shoulder and turned to Manx angrily. "What's this? I need babysitting now too? It's none of your or Kritiker's business"

Manx shrugged. "Everyone is our business"

"No!" Ken said indignantly, "I can't take this from you. It-- It..."

The Great Pity Argument again. People like us were given so few things so freely that it embarrassed us to receive. It was...sad.

"Just say 'thank you' like a good boy and go" Manx said, eyes teasing but also...glistening. Maybe it was the tears that finally got to Ken, lodged unreleased in her eyes.

The woman who keeps coming into the shop bearing folders that sent people to their deaths just came bearing one that sent us away for awhile to just...live.

Ken smiled, slowly and surely. "A man's got to do what a man's got to do"

Surprising us all, he stepped forward and gave Manx a kiss that made her face almost as red as her hair.

She laughed, and headed out of the basement through the spiral staircase, throwing one last, lingering look at Ken.

It was a good face to have to remember that way. He was beaming.

Birman was driving us to the airport and was waiting downstairs. I guess she wanted to say goodbye too, maybe set some things straight after that interrogation.

Lugging my bags, I stopped by Ken's door and watched him as his hands brushed through his apartment wall, lingering a bit on his trophies and framed photographs. I knew then, as surely as Manx knew that yesterday would be the last the two of them would see of each other, that he was saying goodbye to this place, and what was here.

I took a deep breath and moved forward, not wanting to disturb. Nor be disturbed by the fact that by the time we return here, there would only be just three of us left.

Momoe said goodbye to us, as did my sister and Sakura.

They didn't know Ken wasn't coming back and none of us was going to say so.

"Maybe Kritiker ought to join the Last Wish Foundation," Ken said in awe, looking over the house Manx had given us the keys and the map to.

The flight was restful and relatively short, and at first class, you don't really care how long it lasts. The car at the airport was a sleek black 4-wheel-drive, all-terrain and had the class of a Benz. And now, the house...

It wasn't in the city, but it wasn't too far either. It was tucked in behind a neat though unpaved road lined by a shade of trees. There were fields and small dots of forest here and there. It was big, and made up of logs and a lot of glass. From one of the rooms, you could see a nearby lake, just about a five-minute walk away.

Omi looked up the house. It was owned by Kitada Hanae. Which meant it was Manx's own gift, not just Kritiker's, though the tickets and the cars were their doing.

The idea sat strangely in my head. I supppose the situation hit some sort of weak-spot on the usually coldly efficient organization; I could hardly blame them, as somehow, the three men who were with me now, touched a sore-spot in the usually coldly efficient me too.


One thing the organization didn't think about, though, was stacking up the fridge.

No problem. I could scarcely have asked for more. So I got on the car, and told the guys I'm going out to get some food. They were pretty preoccupied and just waved me away.

Omi was on the computer trying to hack into whatever systems he used for information to look for the Yuriko girl. Ken was hovering behind him, laughingly embarrassed and saying, "You guys might think I'm some kind of stalker."

Yoji was on the phone talking to one of the girls he had met at the airport. Guy was fast, I'd give him that.

So I drove off to the Seven-Eleven we passed by earlier and shopped for the usual; years of living together pretty much drilled in me what preferences my friends had--and that's a feat, because we are very meticulous about our food.

The middle-aged woman at the counter looked at the purchases and gave me a knowing grin. I could read it in her eyes; "Bachelors."

I piled the paperbags in the back of the car and started to drive back. The evening was bright here, away from the city. You could clearly see a million stars overhead, the moon shone almost as brightly as the sun.

It was during this drive, that I spotted HER.

It might have been instinct. I'm not so sure. But somehow, I was so certain that the faceless woman on the side of the road wearing a helmet and working on her busted bike was Ken's Yuriko.

Did I know Ken so well that I knew his type, without seeing her face or hearing her voice? Then again, I may be wrong. I don't know him as well as I thought I did. I hadn't known he was sick; but he used irritation to ward off my prying, in that case. I was blinded by my annoyance at him to look into the matter. It happens. I'm more impulsive than is popularly believed, in certain cases.

I remember Reiji Takatori, and that time at the roof of a building. I was just so mad. Ken held me back and was saying the mission was already over...

Anyway, I pulled the car over, made sure whatever she was working on was illuminated by the taillights of the car. Then, taking a deep breath, I walked towards her and offered her a tentative smile.

She looked at me and from what little I could see of her face, I noticed her discreetly roll back her eyes.

Ah, now I know. This is a no-win situation for a man. If you stop and help out, you're hitting on her. If you drive by and ignore, you aren't a gentleman. Women.

"Need help?" I asked.

"No," she replied, voice muffled by her helmet. Maybe that was why she didn't want to remove it; didn't want any hasslers this time of night. But from what I hear, this place was supposed to be safe.

"I could give you a lift to where you need to go," I offered. I'd know where she lived, and this whole mission-thing for Ken would be a whole lot easier.

She glanced at me, avoided the question. "You're Japanese"

"So are you," I pointed out.

"That means I could trust you?" she asked with a laugh. I watched her gloved hands working on her bike. Those hands would know where to go and what to do even in the dark, I could tell.

"Not necessarily," I said.

"Good," she said, "I hate Japanese men"

There's a story here I'm supposed to know.

"Well, that's sad," I said instead.

She grunted in reply, and for the first time I noticed I was saying more than the person whom I was talking to.

"Blast!" she muttered, cursing at her machine. "Old baby let me down"

Old baby. That's a contradiction--

She looked at me warily. "Okay. You can give me that ride now. But remember..."

"What?" I asked.

"Don't try anything stupid," she said, "I have a wrench"

God help me, I almost laughed.


We tied up the bike on the roof of the car. I could tell she liked the old motor, though she was telling IT that she didn't care if the worthless thing got stolen, so we might as well leave it behind.

I found her strange.

In the passenger chair, she finally removed her helmet and I thought she looked funny with her hair matted to her head. She shook it down, and the long auburn locks fell past her shoulders.

"You gonna look or you gonna drive?" she asked.

"You look funny," I told her, and then kept my eyes on the road.

"I'm Yuriko," she said with a chuckle.

"Ran," I tell her.

"Your name is funny"

I take it in stride; she's only trying to get back at me.


She directed me to her house.

I'm not sure if it was Manx, or Kritiker, or Fate or God. But she was a mere fifteen-minute drive from our place. Her home was smaller than where we stayed, but no less beautiful. Almost every house here was.

I helped her disentangle her bike from the car, and walked her to her door. I've not walked a girl to her door since the prom. I felt like an idiot.

"Thank you, Ran" she said with a smile, hesitated a little, then opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in for coffee--"

She was asking, when a man's arms encircled her waist from inside and she let out a delighted squeal. Then the tall, lean man in dark slacks, a crisp white shirt and a tie finally noticed I was there. He paused, uncertain. Then looked at Yuriko with jokes in his eyes.

"I was just thinking of surprising you with my culinary expertise and you arrive with a man?! Are you cheating on me?" he asked in mock anger, a booming voice that made her laugh.

"My bike betrayed me," she said, "Ran here helped me out"

"Ah," he said shaking my hand jovially. He had an Australian accent, and dark blond hair in a patrician cut. A yuppie. Everything Ken wasn't. For a moment it made my blood boil.

"You're a fine, fine man," he told me.

Damn. Now I can't be openly rude to him.

"I'd best get going," I tell them.

"No!" he said, "join us for dinner, Ran! It would be an honor to have you at our table--"

"I have..." I said tightly, "an egagement of my own"

He whistled. "Hot date, huh? Well, if she gets mad at you for being late, refer her to us, 'kay? It's the least we could do for you"

I didn't bother to correct his assumptions. It was a waste of time; almost as wasted as how much we were given to come here, only to be met by this...

I shook hands with them again, before leaving. As I suspected, when Yuriko removed her gloves, a ring with a diamond winked from her finger. I knew from whom it was.

I walked to the car and drove home, deep in thought.

What could the man who doesn't say anything tell the man who's dying and came thousands of miles from home to get his supposed girlfriend back that she is now on the verge of marrying someone else?