Us. Our story.

The dream had the scratchy, dark quality of an old nior detective movie. What little light there was in the room seemed to be tinted blue. Yohji was sitting up in bed, talking on his cellphone. He was talking to Aya-chan. He'd never spoken to the girl before, but knew her voice anyway. It was similar to Sakura's, but older and more refined.

"Don't go," Aya-chan pleaded. "It was so hard to reach you. I need --" Static. "-- She needs you."

He could see Aya-chan pacing. He was sitting in his bedroom with the phone to his ear, but he could see Aya-chan in a library across the city. She was pacing, and she wasn't alone. There was a woman sitting on the floor, slouched against a self of books. At first all he could see was long, strong legs, then full breasts, then her face. God. Her face. It was Asuka. Not Neu. Neu never looked scared, determined, or defiant. It was Asuka, but she was... Not dead anymore somehow. And it had something to do with Aya-chan somehow.

"We need you. Please help." Dial tone.

The darkness returned to normal. Yohji was still sitting in bed with the phone in his hand, but all he could see was his bedroom wall.

( Read more... )

Sariel stepped out of the toy store onto the streets of the red light district with a touch of disappointment. Mostly they got things custom made, but sometimes they found commercial worth the money. This place hadn't really lived up to its reputation, though. A shame.

( Read more... )

The gentleman who answered the door wore a severe black suit that proclaimed him to be a butler. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair, particularly gray around the temples and penetrating brown eyes currently aimed at Kakyou and the little suitcase in his hands. ( Read more... )

[I am missing the best bits, including the beginning.]

( Read more... )