Girl
by Maya Tawi and Viridian5

part two

As Ken ran into the kitchen, Yohji asked, "Where’s the fire?"

"I walked in on Aya at a bad time."

Well, well. "How bad?"

"Topless bad. I didn’t mind to! I mean, mean to!"

Unwilling to just imagine the scene, Yohji grabbed his arm before he could take off again. "C’mon, you just saw the holy of holies. How were they? You have to tell."

Ken smiled. "They were spectacular."

"Thank you," Aya said from the doorway, fully dressed, unfortunately. "I hope they were worth dying for." Even as a woman he had a deep voice, and it had a huskiness to it that did things to a guy, even as Aya made threats. Sometimes especially as he made threats.

"Shit. Gotta go, Yohji. Aya, it was an accident! I didn’t know you were in there like that!" Ken yelled back on his way outside. Running as he tried to explain seemed like a good choice on Ken’s part.

Aya greeted Yohji with a terse nod as he followed Ken at a dangerous looking walk. Yohji nodded back, struggling to keep a straight face. Alone in the kitchen, he imagined what Ken had seen, smiled, and lit up a cigarette.


With parking almost impossible downtown, Aya was taking the train instead of his car, which turned out to be a mistake. He’d thought that it would be less crowded at this time of day, but he’d been wrong. Standing, compressed and encased by the hot, intruding bodies of strangers, he tried to think of other things to get him through the ride. Tranquil flowers, killing his enemies, killing the people pressing against him--

That did not just happen.

The man behind him was... rubbing against him in a very distinctive way. He’d heard that things like this happened on the train, but he’d never expected to be a recipient of it. As if the errand he had to run hadn’t already made him even more resentful to be a woman, he had to put up with this shit?

Aya looked over his shoulder and said, "Stop that." He couldn’t even turn around.

The bastard had a smug look on his face. "I can’t help it. It’s too tight in here, and I have nowhere else to go." And rubbed again, this time accompanying the humping with a hand on Aya’s hip. Aya’s height prevented the man from thrusting against quite the area he wanted, forcing him to content himself with Aya’s thighs, but the infringement remained.

Son of a bitch. This couldn’t be allowed to continue.

Aya put his hand back, searching, and the man made noises like a happy pig, backing off a little to allow better access, murmuring encouragement. The moron. Once Aya found his target, he grabbed and squeezed hard. The man made a pained sound that combined a squeal and a grunt.

"I’m sorry," Aya said softly. "I can’t help it. My hand has nowhere else to go."

"You... bitch," he wheezed, and Aya responded by tightening his grip, feeling clothed flesh compress within his fist in ways it wasn’t meant to.

He kept the grip until he saw his stop, then let go and hip-checked the man away so he could squeeze through the press of humanity to the door. Looking back, he saw that his molester’s face had turned very unhealthy colors, and only the people packed around him kept him upright. Aya might have done him permanent damage.

He could always hope.


Aya perched on the edge of his bunk and gave the pile of packages a baleful look. The packages sat placidly, as inanimate objects were wont to do.

He took a deep breath. He killed people for a living. He could handle this.

With great care, Aya inspected each package in turn, comparing the features of their contents, reading the instructions when such were listed. His mind absorbed and catalogued the clinical, occasionally fanciful words. Applicators. Wings. Flexi-wings. Liners. Weave. Super. Super-plus. Distancing words and ridiculous euphemisms.

After a moment’s consideration, he set the boxes of tampons aside. They seemed like they would be easier to move with, but he didn’t think he could face them just yet.

That still left him with a large selection of maxi-pads to choose from. Aya stared at them for a long moment. Then he buried his face in his hands.

He probably should have made his selection in the drugstore and saved himself some yen, but he hadn’t wanted to linger, not with Schuldig apparently taking an interest in him. Just the thought of Schuldig catching him shopping for feminine hygiene products made him shudder. Their last encounter had been humiliating enough; Aya certainly didn’t intend to give the telepath any more ammunition. So he’d just grabbed one of each package on the shelf. The cashier had given him a strange look, but Aya’s death glare kept her mouth shut.

He was getting a lot of mileage out of that particular glare lately.

At least the train ride back had been uneventful. Maybe carrying these products had changed his aura to ‘premenstrual woman’, keeping the perverts at bay.

Footsteps outside the door snapped his head back up, and he threw a blanket over the packages just as Omi poked his head into the room. "Aya?"

Aya waited.

"We’re having dinner now. Are you coming?"

"In a minute," Aya said.

Omi grinned at him and ducked back out of sight.

Aya sighed and, after a moment, uncovered the packages. He stared at them again, feeling helpless.

Manx had said about a week. That had been a few days ago. The likelihood of him becoming male again, permanently, before the deadline was seeming more and more remote.

Aya sighed again and said flatly, "I hate my life."

He was, he thought, getting a lot of mileage out of that too.


"He’s handling it pretty well," Yohji said through a mouthful of curry rice, as Omi slid back into his seat. "I mean, I’m surprised. I would’ve expected him to fall on his katana by now."

Omi smiled, an expression that, on anyone less utterly wholesome-looking, Yohji would have called a smirk. "What?" Yohji asked.

Omi shrugged, still smiling. "That’s what he said you’d do, if it happened to you."

Ken snickered. Yohji cocked an eyebrow and said archly, "Did he?"

"Yep."

Yohji pondered the idea. "I don’t know. A change could be fun." He grinned. "I’d finally have a shot at all the hot dykes in Shinjuku."

Omi choked on his fish. Yohji watched narrowly as Ken pounded him on the back.

"What?" Omi asked nervously, once he could breathe again. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Yohji smiled. "Something you wanna tell us, kid?"

Ken’s eyes darted back and forth between them. "I’m not sure I should be hearing this."

"There’s nothing to hear," Omi insisted, his voice higher-pitched than usual. "I mean--"

"Yes?" Yohji purred.

Omi’s eyes went wide with relief. "Aya!"

Yohji and Ken turned. Aya stood in the doorway, looking uncannily like a rabbit caught in headlights.

Yohji turned back to Omi. "This isn’t over," he warned.

Omi smiled nervously.

Aya shook his head. "You’re all crazy."


"Aya, you haven’t been as effective a fighter lately, so I’m thinking that maybe we can utilize you in a different way," Manx said.

As if he didn’t already have enough reason to feel bitchy today. "How so?" he growled.

"Seduction of the target."

Yohji apparently found that hilarious. "Are you serious? I can just see his technique. It would probably be a blunt, impatient," Yohji changed his voice to approximate Aya’s irritated voice, girl version, "‘Do you want to fuck or not? I have things to do.’"

"You don’t want to try me on that. Nobody would want me right now," Aya said as he rubbed his stomach. Nothing helped the cramps, and he felt swollen and grotesque. The breasts felt bigger too, which shouldn’t have been possible.

"I think you’d be surprised," Manx said.

It was good to have an excuse aside from ‘I’d rather die’ for refusing to try a seduction attempt. "Do you remember our private conversation?"

"Yes." Then her expression changed. "Oh."

At least she hadn’t forced him to spell out his grotesque and disgusting situation in front of his teammates. "I’m going to fight instead. Trust me, I want to kill things with my bare hands right now." He’d also like to rip out his gut right now, but killing people was a more attainable goal.

"Like that’s anything new?" Yohji asked.

"You don’t want to know," Aya growled. He was bleeding, and wearing what felt like a diaper so he wouldn’t stain anything. Making others bleed seemed only fair.


He ended up killing a small army of bodyguards, which made him feel better mentally even if it didn’t do anything for his physical torment. If he stabbed and hacked a bit more viciously than usual, none of his teammates complained.

A psychiatrist might have something to say about the glee he took in wielding his phallic weapon, but he’d just kill the psychiatrist too.


Having... it also made him feel colder, so he wore his man’s leather jacket as he watered flowers in the trailer. The jacket still smelled the way he should. Working inside, out of sight, let him contribute without putting him under schoolgirl scrutiny. Tending the plants always made him feel a bit calmer too.

"Aya!" Ken yelled from outside.

What could possibly have gone wrong out there? Aya went to the door, only to have it open just as he reached for the doorknob. "Ran!" his sister shouted gleefully, then she took a closer look at him. "Oh my--"

"I’m fine!" he answered as he pulled her inside and closed the door.

"Is this why you didn’t want to talk to me? You could have told me about yourself!"

She looked hurt. Of course she looked hurt. She also looked stunned.

She also looked beautifully, vibrantly alive.

"I didn’t choose this for myself!" Aya protested, when he realized what she meant. She thought he... wanted to be a woman? Maybe he had stayed away from her too long.

"Someone did this to you?" she asked, sounding horrified and angry.

"We don’t know what happened. Maybe it’s a psychic power or magic or something."

Now she looked angrier. "I’m 18, Ran. You can’t lie that stupidly to me."

"I’m not lying. We don’t know what happened. And I would think that your own experiences would make you less likely to immediately dismiss such things out of hand."

"You’re... right," she said after a moment, looking abashed. "You’re--"

"I know. I am. Totally."

She hugged him, then recoiled. "Those are--"

He disgusted her. Of course. He disgusted himself. "This is the kind of thing I stayed away from you over." Almost a lie. He had many reasons to stay away. More truthfully, he continued, "My life is insane, and I didn’t want that touching you."

But then she hugged him tighter. "I’m sorry. It was just such a shock to feel them. And I’m jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Because you’re--" She made a gesture with her hands suggesting a big, somewhat heavy bounty.

She couldn’t be serious. He said, "Their size makes it much worse. You’re beautiful just the way you are." Unlike some people.

"Ran, you’re beautiful too. I love you no matter what you look like, though." She almost seemed to smirk at that, then sobered again. "Or what you do for a living. Sakura told me about it."

She already knew and... accepted him?

He put his arms around her and hugged back. "I was ashamed. I couldn’t see you."

"You’re an idiot."

She accepted him. He answered, "You’re not the first person to suggest that."

"You’re an idiot with no taste. You still dress like a boy."

"I’m sure you can guess why."

"A sloppy boy."

"I’m not sloppy." He wore new boots and a perfectly serviceable T-shirt and new pair of pants. The moderately expensive leather jacket looked better on his natural frame, but it hardly looked sloppy.

"I’m taking you shopping." Her eyes sparkled, suddenly mischievous. "I always wanted a sister to shop with."

He groaned inwardly. "I have to stop thinking that life can’t get any more horrible. Aya, I bought things for myself."

"And I’m sure they’re as close to boy things as you could get them."

"Except for the limitations the breasts impose, yes, and can you blame me?"

"I’m taking you out." She pulled on his arm and started to drag him.

She couldn’t know that that phrase usually had more sinister connotations for him. Then again, a shopping trip in which his sister tried to feminize him more sounded fairly sinister. "Aya...."

She beamed at him. "Do you love me?"

"Not right now."

She just put more strength into her dragging as she said, "I know you don’t mean that."

"At least let me leave a note for the others."

She let him, since she knew she’d won.


"Stop staring at me," Aya ordered, then immediately regretted it. He’d fought and almost died for his sister. He shouldn’t snap at her. Her stare just felt so intense at such close range, and he couldn’t get away from it while driving.

Luckily, she didn’t take offense. "Sorry," she said with an apologetic smile. "It’s just... really weird."

"You’re telling me?"

"Can I touch them?"

What? "No!"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aya blush. "Sorry," she said. "That’s kind of inappropriate, isn’t it?"

"Just a bit," he said dryly.

"It’s just-- Ran, what happened?"

He sighed. "I don’t know," he said, for what felt like the thousandth time. "I was in the middle of a--" He hesitated, and reminded himself that she knew, and she accepted.

They were going to have to have a long talk about that sometime soon. Preferably sometime when he didn’t have breasts.

"A fight," he finished, and tensed, but Aya-chan didn’t react. "And, well. I stood up, and I was... like this."

"Hmm."

"Hmm? Do you have any thoughts about it?"

"No, sorry. It was just a considering ‘hmm.’ But I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on."

"I just hope I’m not an old woman by the time I do."


Aya sipped her soda through a straw and sighed. "I can’t believe how hard it is to find shirts for you."

At least he wasn’t the only one. "The breasts are the problem. They’re so big that they get in the way of the rest of anything fitting me."

She smirked. "The breasts?"

"They’re not my breasts."

"Some people would disagree."

Aya leaned back in his chair. "Some people don’t know what they’re talking about."

"I’m sure we can find something. We haven’t yet, but we will."

"I’m done."

Shopping with his sister hadn’t been so bad, since she’d concerned herself more with the way things looked on and fit him than with making him girly, but he’d been glad to hear her call a refreshment break. Shopping wore him down. Thus, he’d be even gladder to call an end to it.

"But you don’t have to go back yet, right?" She put her hand over his, then twined their fingers.

Aya said, "I don’t have to go back yet," through the lump in his throat. "But I don’t know how long we’ll be in Tokyo."

"I’ll enjoy the time we have. I’m not giving you any excuses. There won’t be any staying away from me for my own good." She looked down at his hand. "I want to do your nails."

He could get whiplash from listening to her. "That’s why you want me to stick around?"

"Idiot. No. But I also want to do your nails."

"No way in--" Well.... "What color?" If it made her happy, why not?

"Dark red, I think. You’re so pale that light colors would get lost on you anyway, so a dark red would be nice and dramatic. It would match your hair."

"I may not know a lot about female nail polishing rituals, but I don’t think they try to match their nails to their hair."

She smiled. "Most people don’t have your hair."

"And what are you doing with dark red?"

"Don’t be such a big brother. I can wear red polish without attracting the wrong kind of boys. There’s a whole modern world out there."

"Light pink is a nice shade for you."

"That’s a little girl color!"

At that rather inopportune moment, a stranger stopped at their table, some boy. "I’m Yutaka."

Why should Aya care? But instead of being that blatant, he answered with "Yes?"

Yutaka put on what he must have thought was his most charming look and proceeded to address Aya’s breasts instead of his face, something a lot of men had been doing lately. "I’m wondering if you’re doing anything tonight."

This could not be happening.

Aya stared at the boy, wondering how best to extricate himself from the situation. If his sister hadn’t been here, he would have just punched the guy and had it over with, but he had sisterly standards to live up to. So instead he answered, "I’m already taken," and stroked Aya’s hand. Her eyes twinkled at him. It looked like she was struggling not to laugh.

"I was counting on that," Yutaka answered with a smarmy smile.

The urge to punch him grew. Aya countered with a chilly "And I’m wearing our boyfriend’s jacket. He gets possessive about the two of us." If he couldn’t use violence, he’d hide behind someone who could.

After all, he couldn’t lose face when the face wasn’t even his.

"But--"

Aya gave him the full death glare. "Go. Away."

"But--"

"He should be arriving in," Aya made a show of looking at his watch, "ten minutes. As much fun as it might be to watch him kick your ass across the floor, it would draw attention and disrupt other people’s lives. Go. Away."

"Bitch." But he walked away. Under other circumstances, Aya might have gone after him and tried to teach him some manners, futile as that attempt might have been.

"I’m part of a threesome with a man and my brother who’s currently in a woman’s body?" Aya asked, her eyes glinting with amusement.

"I told you my life was crazy."

"Come home with me."

"Yutaka’s gone."

She smacked his wrist. "I’m not saying that as part of an act, and you know it."

"I can’t go in through the front door looking like this. The Tomoes will ask questions." More questions than they already had.

"Sakura told me how she found you on her balcony. You had to get up there somehow."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

"Does it have to be?"


Climbing up to the roof turned out to be a joy as well as a challenge. He didn’t have as much reach as he had last time, but his new body didn’t fail him either, proving to be as strong and agile as it needed to be. Aya’s bedroom didn’t have a balcony, so he’d have to walk along the roof and climb through her open window, where Aya cheered him on quietly, trying not to attract the attention of her guardians downstairs. He walked the roof’s edge easily, perfectly balanced, then pulled himself in through the window.

Only to be nearly knocked back out, taking her with him, when Aya leapt on him and hugged him. If not for his instinctive reach and death grip on the window frame, they would have flown outside and off the roof. She blushed as he pulled them both back in.

"Sorry," she said. "But that was great!"

"I hope I haven’t given you any ideas."

"None."

"Right." He tried to tell himself that she would have been roof-walking soon no matter what he did.

She sat him down in front of a vanity table and mirror. "Hands," she commanded.

He didn’t look too closely at his face that wasn’t his face in the mirror. "And?"

"Give ’em to me, Ran. Don’t make me get rough with you."

He set his hands down flat on the table and smiled as she scrutinized them, then searched for the right bottle of polish. She looked so adorably focused as she neatly applied red to his nails. But his hands looked even more foreign now.

"Now makeup," she said.

Give in on one little thing.... "That wasn’t part of the deal."

"Please, Ran? Pleeeeease?"

"You’re evil."

"C’mon. It’ll be cool. Besides, you can’t fend me off with wet polish on. You’d smudge."

As much as he loved her, he didn’t need this. "I feel like some kind of doll."

She put her arms around his neck. "Every girl wants a sister once in a while. Me too, and I figure I should take advantage while you still are one, because I know you’ll figure out how to get back to your usual self."

He leaned back into her embrace but asked softly, "You think you have me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?"

She finger combed his hair. "If I turned into a guy, I’d be trying all kinds of things."

"I’m afraid to speculate about that."

"When did you get this pierced?" she asked.

He’d pierced his left ear to put her earring through it, to remind himself that he had to sacrifice his life and morals to avenge her and their parents. "A while ago. You can make me up."

"Yeah? Are you okay, Ran?"

"The past is past. I’m okay."

"All right." She obviously didn’t believe him but must have decided to play along. "You want to go natural or dramatic?"

"Natural? How can makeup look natural?"

"It’s just used to define your face a little further and not call attention to itself."

"But it’s there."

"Okay. Dramatic it is. I think it suits you better anyway. You always were such a drama queen."

"Was not." He sighed. "You know that I love you more than life itself... but if you tell anyone about this, I will have to kill you."

"Of course."

With her standing in front of him focusing on his face, he couldn’t see his reflection. Probably for the best. At least the lip-gloss tasted nice, though she yelled at him for licking his lips. The applicator wand felt strange as she swept it above his eyes.

"Make this face," she said and demonstrated.

"You look like a fish."

"It makes it easier to apply eyeliner. Really."

"You just want me to look like an idiot."

"No, that’s just a nice side effect."

He did the fish face. Yes, she had him wrapped around her finger.

Once she finished smudging the liner under his eye, she moved out of the way so he could see himself. He looked... looked like a beautiful woman preparing for a night out. The dark smokiness did suit him. If he had to be a woman, this would be how he’d make himself up.

If he had to be a woman.

"I could have done a better job with the liner," he had to say.

Aya laughed. "What?"

"I’ve had to line my eyes for an assignment now and then." Talking about that took his mind off of what he looked like.

"Oh, you’re so edgy."

"Enough about me."

"We barely started with you!"

"Tell me about yourself. I really want to know."

"I’m sure your life is much more exciting."

"Too much."

"Okay, but I’ll stop if I notice your eyes glazing."

As they sprawled on her bed, she told him about her friends, schoolwork, and life. It was all so mundane, special only for being her mundane life, and thus wonderful.

"Any boyfriends?" he asked.

"I’ll never tell. You just want to know so you can beat them up. Oh, I just had a horrible thought. They’ll see you and ask you out."

"I’m way out of their league," he answered. Aya suddenly threw herself at him and clung to his shoulder. He pulled her in for a hug. "What’s wrong? Aya, don’t cry. Please." Not knowing what had upset her only made it worse.

"I’m sorry," she sniffled. "It’s just... this is the way it should have been."

Except for him being female, but that was nitpicking. He knew what she meant. "Don’t apologize. I’m glad you came to see me today."

"I realized that you wouldn’t come to me. Sakura told me that you were heroes, but I know you well enough to realize that you’re ashamed of what you do. ‘I don’t deserve to be loved,’ she told me you said. So it was up to me." She sniffled again. "I’ve been trying to see all the new things as an adventure, and that works a lot of the time, but sometimes I just want to curl into a ball and cry over everything I’ve lost. Or turn back time to when life made sense. But you must know what that’s like."

"Then you should cry. You deserve time to mourn."

"They died two years ago."

"You lost those two years. It’s fresh to you. Now is your time. You lost the whole life you had. You’re living with people you didn’t even know prior to... what had happened to you." He felt guilty about letting the Tomoes house her, but Weiß’s small trailer wasn’t an appropriate place for a young woman.

"You had your life torn away too."

Having her here, warm and conscious against him, crying into his shirt, made something that had been knotted for a long time inside him ease. He kissed the top of her head. "I love you, Aya. That brought me through." That and the hate and the vengeance and the ice....

She had one hand in his hair and one clenched against his back under his jacket. "Don’t let this be the last time we see each other. Swear it to me, Ran."

He felt warm and cared for. "It won’t be."

"Aya!" a woman called from downstairs, and his head whipped up at the sound of his name.

Aya smiled at him. "You really have been using my name for the last few years. That’s really kind of... uh...."

"Sick and wrong?"

"Sweet. But sick and wrong too. I don’t want you to go."

"I have to go?" Of course he did, eventually, but now?

"That was Mrs. Tomoe. I better go downstairs." She rubbed her eyes. "See you again soon?"

"Yes."

She kissed the tip of his nose. "Love you."

"Love you too."

He went out the window, walked the roof again, and slid down the side of the house to the lawn. He finally had the knack of this body. It felt wonderful. In the window, Aya made clapping motions with her hands, and he bowed showily to her.


When the trailer door opened, Yohji reached for the wire in his watch and Omi picked up some cutlery from the kitchen table, but only an unarmed pretty woman walked in. No, not a stranger, Aya. Had to be with that hair. But Aya had a soft, dreamy smile on his face--Aya smiling!--and his eyes partially shut and makeup on? How did that happen? The soft, dark shadow and liner gave him an air of feminine mystery. The slick looking gloss on his lips called attention to his mouth and invited kisses.

At least it wasn’t a full grin on Aya’s face. That might have killed Yohji.

Aya was a woman. He’d known that and seen it, but somehow the makeup finally brought it home.

Ken and Omi also stared. Yohji hoped he didn’t look that stupidly stunned, but he probably did.

Aya opened her-- his eyes and noticed them staring. "What?" he asked as his face settled into his more accustomed still, somewhat sullen stone.

The weirdest thing about the transformation-- okay, aside from the very fact it had happened and the lovely size of those breasts-- was seeing Aya’s facial expressions and stances being done by a woman. It was blatantly Aya in that body.

Did Aya have nail polish on?

"We have a mission tonight," Omi said quietly. This situation had to be doing a number on the kid’s head. Hell, it was doing a number on Yohji’s head.

Aya was beautiful.

"Thank you. I’ll change."

Not long after Aya entered the bathroom, they heard a thud. Ken asked, "Wanna bet that Aya just noticed that he still has makeup on?"


Damn. He’d walked past them looking like this. No wonder they’d looked shell-shocked. They would never let him hear the end of it.

He still had some makeup remover wipes, so he started to obliterate the pretty woman in fast strokes. The face that looked back at him in the mirror afterward more resembled his own, though traces of eyeliner clung. He’d already licked off most of the gloss, but his lips continued to look darker than usual anyway.

He’d changed. He was different on the inside, literally. If he returned to his true self, could he possibly be the same Aya he’d been? Probably not.

He walked out of the bathroom to get away from his reflection.

Gathering an outfit together for the mission, Aya stopped at one of the shirts he’d bought, the one with the black-painted zippers in strategic places. Why not? They’d already seen him in makeup tonight. Once he finished dressing, he slipped black gloves over his foreign hands, hiding the red polish he couldn’t bring himself to take off. His white coat looked incongruous over all the black, but it expressed him somehow.

When Aya walked out to meet them, Yohji said, "You didn’t have to take it off on our account."

"It wasn’t appropriate," Aya answered.

Ken stared at his chest. "And that is?"

"I’m expressing myself."

"Please, express yourself more often," Yohji said, smiling.

"If you guys are done admiring Aya’s outfit, can we get going?" Omi asked with a sigh. Omi had been looking sad and more worried lately, and Aya regretted his part in that.

They left the trailer in silence, ready to kill.


Aya cut a swathe through the minions. The last one gaped at him, a deadly lapse in concentration, since it made it easier for Aya to cut him down. The hallway cleared, Aya stopped a moment to orient himself and felt something slightly off, slightly wrong. He looked down to see that a flap of his shirt had come loose, leaving his neck and the right side of his upper chest bare, revealing his white sports bra. That would explain the man’s distraction, especially if he thought he’d get a more revealing look than was actually coming. Only one thing could complete this moment.

"Hey, Aya, I told you that might work," Yohji said as he approached, with a smile that Aya should slit his throat for.

And now the moment was perfect.

Aya zipped his shirt back up. He decided to never wear it out again.

"Your breasts pulled it down?" Yohji asked. "They can’t be restrained!" Fortunately, incoming gunfire shut him up.

Aya had to refasten that flap three more times during the mission, and each time it came down his kill turned out to be far easier than it would have been otherwise. He had to give this some thought. Surely it didn’t demean him if the sight of his new chest could turn some opponents into slow, drooling idiots. Though he wouldn’t be able to use this as a weapon around Yohji, who’d become more and more flustered, and thus useless, as the night went on. One time Omi had to smack him back to sense.

Aya probably shouldn’t have taken quite so much satisfaction from seeing that.


It amazed Yohji how Aya could take the fun out of anything. Aya should have been mortally embarrassed by the way his shirt kept falling open, yet after the initial blush and sigh he seemed to have resigned himself to it. Worse than resigned himself to it, decided to treat it like a kind of weapon, while being so damned practical and... coy about it. Meanwhile, Yohji kept getting distracted by those glimpses of pale skin and paler undergarment. Which was actually still kind of fun, but in a sweatier and less lighthearted way.

How could Aya match that tight black zippered thing with a plain white bra? And why was it so sexy that way?

Yohji didn’t know anymore if he was superimposing sex over the new body or whether Aya really was more sexual as a woman. He could swear that Aya as a woman had a bit of a... strut while on their missions that he’d never shown as a man, though Yohji had initially chalked it up to Aya having to learn a different way of walking with no blueprints. Surely he didn’t know what he was doing to people who watched him.... At least that had been Yohji’s thinking then. Before, there’d been no question that he’d been letting his dirty mind run away with him, but now? He thought that Aya’s prey saw it too-- the sex and violence twined together in one dangerous, beautiful, fucked-up package-- and they froze for a moment, making it easier for Aya to kill them.

Aya had transformed into something of a walking wet dream for Yohji, and that was dangerous. And really unfair.


Omi watched Aya over dinner and worried. Aya had been so happy to see his sister yesterday, but that high had faded almost as soon as he’d returned to the trailer, and now he looked wan and unwell, as he had for the last few days. Would it have been different if he hadn’t been expected to go on a mission right after visiting with his sister? Not that it made that much difference now, when nothing could be done about it.

They knew nothing about the causes and effects of Aya’s transformation. It might be affecting his health. He could be ill as well as depressed. Omi had noticed that Aya slept more as a woman. Something had to be done.

Yohji and Ken kept talking on as they ate, seeing nothing wrong, and Omi didn’t entirely blame them for it, since Aya being quiet and deep in his own thoughts wasn’t unusual. But too many times Omi felt as if he didn’t live in the same world they did.

Eventually Yohji and Ken left the table, and only Omi and Aya remained, with Aya eating well though slowly and Omi thinking of a way to start a conversation. Aya finally looked at him and said, "You’ve been staring at me for fifteen minutes. What’s wrong?"

Omi wanted to say, "You are, and I want to help you," but settled on, "You don’t look well, Aya, and I wanted to ask you how you felt."

Aya’s mouth twitched. "I look terrible?"

"You look beautiful--" damn, he hadn’t meant to say that and in such a fervent way, "--but worn out."

"It’s nothing."

"Aya."

"You don’t really want to know."

"Aya."

Aya sighed. "I’m bleeding," he said quietly. "I feel disgusting."

Omi felt a stab of panic. "You’re--" Then he saw the other possibility. "Oh." Aya really was a woman, inside and out. That was.... "That must be scary." It scared him just thinking about it.

"I knew it was coming but... seeing it... was still very disturbing."

"Yeah." Understatement. Omi didn’t want to think about it, but he had asked and was determined to see it through. "How long do you have on it?"

"Today’s the fourth day. Since it’s tapering off, I think I’m nearly done."

The fourth day? "We had no idea!"

"I’d prefer it if Yohji and Ken remained ignorant."

Something about the look on Aya’s face.... "You expected me to walk away and stop bothering you if you told me."

"It didn’t work."

"I know your tricks."

Aya raised an eyebrow. "I commonly use my period as a means to disgust men into leaving me be?"

"You commonly use misdirection."

"I never realized."

"Liar."

Aya nearly smiled. It may have been a near Aya smile and thus barely a curve of his lips, but it counted.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Omi asked.

"I don’t think so. I may be the only one who can help myself, but I don’t know how to do it. Still, thank you for the offer." Aya stood.

As Aya started to walk away, Omi said, "Anything you need, I’m here for you."

"I know."

Omi sighed, knowing that Aya really didn’t know. Or if he did know, he wouldn’t call on Omi for it.


Over at last. No more bleeding, cold flashes, or bulky, uncomfortable undergarments. He felt more like himself again now. Actually, he felt more like his woman self, but he’d learned to settle. Aya had been half-afraid that it would never stop, since he was hardly a normal woman.

He was hardly a woman at all.

How did they do this every month?

At least maybe now he’d get a break from the incessant parade of sex hormones he’d faced.


"Have you stopped--"

"No."

Manx frowned. "It hasn’t ended yet?"

"Yes, it’s over, no, I’m not going to seduce anybody," Aya said. "I have work to do."

Manx surveyed the room with raised eyebrows. "I think the flowers can wait, don’t you?"

Aya fiddled with an arrangement and said nothing. In truth, there was nothing for him to do in the shop-- he’d watered all the potted plants already, changed the water for the cut ones, and perfected every arrangement to his satisfaction. Even the financial records were all up to date.

He was bored, but not bored enough to argue with Manx about whoring himself out to their targets.

She seemed determined to press the issue, however. "We don’t have enough female agents to go around. And one with your skills... Aya, if you’d just--"

"No," he repeated, still staring at the flowers. It seemed the safest response.

"What, it’s beneath you?" Manx demanded, a hint of anger creeping into her voice. "You’ll kill, but you’ll be chaste about it?"

Aya snorted. "Manx. I can’t seduce anyone."

She narrowed her eyes. "You’re a quick learner, though, aren’t you? But I suppose you’d rather risk your teammates’ lives than compromise your virtue."

"‘Risk their lives,’" Aya echoed, glaring at her. The words he didn’t say hung in the air between them. They already risked their lives, all of them, for Kritiker; Aya had no say in that.

She met his glare steadily. "If you could get your targets to trust you, how much less dangerous would it be for the others? You could keep them out of the line of fire just by showing a little skin."

Aya turned away. "That’s not my responsibility."

"You’re team leader. It is your responsibility."

"I won’t do it," he said, with as much finality as he could. His voice had dropped to something approaching his lower male register, his usual deadly, don’t-fuck-with-me voice, and he felt Manx pause behind him, re-evaluating the situation.

After a moment, she said coldly, "Your prerogative."

"Yes."


"And we meet again. You know, a man might think he was being followed."

Aya took a deep breath, shifting his stance. He was well armed this time. He was dangerous. He really wanted to kill something.

Schuldig was going to die.

He kept his mind carefully blank as he turned slowly, right hand resting on the hilt of his katana. Schuldig’s eyes met his, their expression fading from gleeful to vaguely puzzled. In one swift movement, Aya drew his blade and attacked--

And ended up with his back against the wall, ears ringing from the smack of his head against brick, his own katana pressed to his throat.

Aya closed his eyes. Manx had been right, about this one thing at least. He couldn’t fight like this, not against a truly capable enemy. Ordinary bodyguards and minions were one thing, but Schwarz was... far from ordinary. And now he would die for his arrogance.

At least he’d seen his sister one last time....

A sudden heat rushed through him as he felt a body moving close. Warily he opened his eyes.

Schuldig was watching him with his ever-present smirk. "So eager to die?"

Aya bared his teeth. "Get it over with," he growled.

"Oh, no." Schuldig pressed closer, one hand trailing down Aya’s... breasts; the other hand still held the katana against his throat. "I think this time we’ll take it slow."

And then, as Aya’s eyes widened in shock and horror, Schuldig’s hand moved inexorably downwards, settling between Aya’s legs, covering the part of him that was undeniably her.

"Not your type," Aya gasped, brandishing the words like a cross before a vampire, his only possible defense. This could not be happening. It could not.

Schuldig smiled. "Funny thing about that," he purred. "For many people, sex is largely intellectual. For a telepath, well. You can only imagine."

He pressed closer. Aya gulped.

"Knowing intellectually that you’re a boy, trapped inside this... admittedly shapely body...." Schuldig let his voice trail off, hands caressing the aforementioned shapes.

Aya just stared at him, panic-stricken, his body reacting automatically to the attentions. There was no precedent for this sort of situation. He had no idea how to react. Trapped by one’s mortal enemy, who seemed intent on wrenching sensations out of his borrowed body that he’d never even dreamed he could experience....

"I’m... not a boy," he choked out, and even managed to sound slightly indignant.

"Well, no." Schuldig smiled. "Not at the moment."

"That’s not-- oh...."

Schuldig’s hand slid back between Aya’s legs and began to expertly manipulate his new anatomy. Aya whimpered. His hips began to roll of their own accord.

Glittering blue eyes pinned him like a butterfly; he gazed back, helpless, as the telepath murmured, "Delicious...."

Aya closed his eyes again, a chalky, metallic taste pricking at the back of his mouth. He was close to something, he knew, rising, rising, almost there....

And the hand withdrew, and Schuldig smiled and said, "Was it good for you?", and then he was gone. Breathing hard, stunned on one level and utterly resigned on another, Aya tried to reclaim his scattered thoughts.

If Aya had still been a man, the level of sexual frustration he’d faced since his transformation would have killed him long ago.

This was ridiculous and humiliating and couldn’t be borne any longer. As he was now, he was a liability to the team. He had to train harder and regain his old skill level. Then he’d slice off Schuldig’s cock and balls before killing him. It would be apt, and maybe the German wouldn’t find the situation so funny then.


As Aya approached the kitchen for breakfast, he heard Yohji say, "Maybe you’ll call me crazy-- oh, shut up-- but Aya’s more fun as a woman."

Aya stopped. Eavesdropping would be wrong. It would be wrong, but he intended to do it anyway.

"You just think the scenery’s improved," Ken said.

"Yeah, he’s a pretty woman, but he’s more fun too. We rib him, he ribs back. I can’t say that he’s pleasant, but he’s more approachable."

"Are you saying that becoming a woman made him more like he’s one of the guys?" Omi asked.

"I think my brain just fried," Ken said.

Aya tried to figure out how he felt about Yohji’s assertion. Aside from hurt. Damned hormones. Like it mattered what people thought of him. And of course Yohji liked him better as a woman. It had nothing to do with him as a person.

Aya schooled his face to stillness and made far more noise than usual as he walked to the kitchen. They all sat straighter and tried to look innocent. If he hadn’t heard them talking, their reaction when he walked in would have worried him.

He shook his head and started making breakfast. He needed fortification for another day working alone in the trailer. Amazing how solitude could suddenly wear on him when he had no choice in it. Right now, solitude wouldn’t help because it would give him time to think about last night. He may have been outclassed physically, but he still hadn’t fought as hard as he could have, especially after Schuldig had his hand in place....

Flowers, he told himself decisively. Flowers were a good thing to think about.

Flowers didn’t have fucking hands.


Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten

E-mail the authors:
Maya Tawi - mayatawi@populli.net
Viridian5 - Viridian5@aol.com

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The Green Room version 3.0 (Viridian5's fanfiction)