Chapter 2
The small village near the Taketori organization base in Germany was a delightfully quaint place where everyone seemed to be friendly and the beer was always flowing. Good conversation, good food, good people - what more could one ask for? Well, perhaps an uncomplicated job and a clean slate to start on? He couldn't have that though and in some respects he didn't want that, either. Where would be the challenge in life if everything were easy and one didn't have a dark, miserable path? Certainly he wouldn't know how to function if he were just a normal everyday person!
"Taketori-sama?"
With a sigh he nodded at the black-clad bodyguard-type person next to him. They absolutely refused to allow him to go anywhere by himself and sometimes it was just too much effort to sneak away, even if it was usually more interesting. If he ditched his guards they had a tendency to panic and start huge search parties and then there would be the lengthy, "Taketori-sama, you know we can't protect you if we don't know where you are" speeches that were simply not worth the trouble. He still snuck out at night, however, when they thought he was sound asleep. It was the assassin in him, he supposed, that liked nighttime walks and creeping around in the dark.
"Yes, I suppose I should be going now," he admitted quietly as he admired the small tavern once more before reluctantly dragging himself to his feet. This, like everywhere else he seemed to go, was not a vacation where he could enjoy himself, but a place where he had been sent to perform some job. A mission for his family this time, rather than as an assassin, though he knew well enough that if they had need of an assassin he would fulfill that role, as well. That's how things were. Nice to have an assassin in the family, especially if you were a member of the Taketori family, he knew.
Of course, being an assassin in his family could also be a bad thing. "Mamoru, why don't you just kill them? Mamoru, you have assassins, so send them out to kill people." It was never, "Nice job, Mamoru, but we don't have anyone to kill today." Was that all he was to them? A relative that could get rid of their problems by making sure they simply didn't exist anymore? Life couldn't be just a bit more pleasant or easy, could it?
As far as he knew, they had heard reports that their opposing force, the organization called Esset, had set up a base in Germany as well, perhaps to counteract their own. It was his duty, his mission, to find out what the hell they were doing there and if he could stop them before they did something annoying and or harmful to their organization, Kritiker. In essence it was a simple task, but in reality it was very difficult and complicated. After all, Esset had never exactly been predictable.
Mamoru ducked into the back of the black car and reflected on everything that they had managed to dig up so far. Esset had made no moves whatsoever, being the dark, looming, ambiguous people that they normally were. There were no clear motives for them even WANTING to put a base in Germany and they also had no idea how long they had been there, either. For all they knew, Esset could have been secretly working in Germany for longer than Kritiker had, but for some reason he didn't think that was true. They had come here for some reason and he had to find out why. Had they wanted to get away from the prying eyes of Kritiker? If so, they had failed miserably at that.
He had managed to discover the existence of a group called Rosenkreuz within the Esset organization; reports indicated that there were as many as twelve people within this group, possibly more. From what they had learned they were trained fighters, most likely assassins, but that wasn't their only purpose in Esset; they were also thieves, saboteurs, scientists, and oh so many other things. Rosenkreuz was, for all they had seen, a multi- talented all-purpose group of people, some of which were even gifted in psychic, telekinetic, or other ways, though none of them were as dangerous as the members of Weiss's old rivals, Schwartz.
Schwartz. Odd that he should think of them now. He wondered what had become of them; he had not seen or heard of them for quite some time, which was most likely a very, very good thing because they tended to bring trouble wherever they went. Still, if Esset was involved here it was possible that he could run across them again and this time he would have none of his friends to back him up. There would be his team here, of course, but he would never be as close to them as he had been with his fellow Weiss assassins and he wasn't sure how they would react if they should encounter Schwartz. Battling the other assassin group was stressful, to say the least. He could recall having been slammed into many walls with astonishing force despite the fact that he had never been physically touched. The headaches, bruises, and often broken bones that resulted had been less than pleasant and he was certainly not in a big hurry to repeat those experiences, either.
Of course, there hadn't been any sightings of Schwartz yet, so he was probably just over reacting; then again, if Esset was up to something big, then they would definitely be invited to join the party. Rosenkreuz was good, but they were nothing compared to Schwartz. The four members of Schwartz could accomplish things much more efficiently together than the entirety of Esset could. On the other hand, they had to have the same goals as Esset, otherwise they tended to do what they wanted or what was in their own best interests. Despite the oddity of the members of Schwartz, they certainly stuck together; group cohesiveness, which was what he was lacking in those he was currently working with. Not only that, but did they not understand HIM, all they saw him as was a Takatori, someone who could change their futures for better or for worse, someone powerful. With them he couldn't be Omi. He had to be Mamoru. Well, Mamoru-sama. Mostly it was just Takatori-sama, which was even more impersonal.
Sometimes he would look at himself and wonder what had become of Omi, the perpetual optimist who had adored his friends and would have done anything to help them. Other times he could pretend he was still Omi and he had pretended so well that he had been completely unable to respond to his "real" name. Part of him still refused to admit he was a Takatori, even though logically he knew he was and that that was a fact he could not alter. The rest of him knew he was Omi and that Omi was being suppressed behind this cold front that was Takatori Mamoru.
A giggle escaped him, but he stopped it quickly, knowing otherwise he might lose control and become hysterical. He had been doing that more and more often lately. It was like schizophrenia! Almost exactly like schizophrenia, only he was much more aware of it happening than most schizophrenic people would have been. Most people had more than two personalities, though, and could have as many as a hundred. The average was likely to be around twelve or so and he certainly didn't have that many. Mamoru, Omi, and Bombay? Three, perhaps? And what of Persia, now? Was Persia an alter-ego of the alter-ego of Mamoru? No, perhaps there were only two. Omi had not changed much even when he was killing and that had been perfectly acceptable. As for Mamoru, he was already too complex to understand and he wasn't sure he had to change to fit the role of Persia.
Two personalities, but which was the real one, the dominant one? There was always a main one and sometimes he wasn't sure which it was. He would have said Omi was the real one, definitely, but it was Mamoru who was the REAL person, right? Maybe he had always been Mamoru under the surface and he had merely created Omi as an escape from reality, in order to keep some semblance of sanity in his chaotic world. Maybe he had only convinced himself that Omi was the real one because that was what he wanted to believe. Omi had been loved, after all.
No one loved Mamoru. Not even what was left of his family.
Of course, it was all nonsense. What did it matter who he was as long as he accomplished the tasks set before him? Wasn't that life? Performing tasks like a trained dog in order to serve those who were more powerful? In his case he was supposed to hold power, but even though in power were controlled by those around them because how could they possibly make a move without millions of others talking about them, second guessing their actions? It was maddening, all of it. Sometimes he didn't think it was worth it; he knew it wasn't worth it, but what could he do? He had to live, had to continue on for some reason, some higher purpose, perhaps?
Schizophrenia. He could just claim that as an excuse and admit himself to a mental hospital. Nothing would be solved but at least someone would listen to him for once. He couldn't remember the last time he had sat down and had a simple conversation with someone. He gave orders as Persia. People obeyed. They didn't question, they carried out their orders. He gave orders as Takatori Mamoru, people obeyed. No one asked, "How are you doing?" "Well, thank you for asking - I'm going insane."
He missed talking with Ken and even Youji. He missed being a person. Somewhere along the line he had become a soulless, inhumane being and that was where the multiple personality disorder kicked in. Or, at least that was where he would imagine it would kick in. Had he become Mamoru in order to escape the reality of becoming a cold, influential Takatori who had to make difficult decisions, which would mean he was really Omi, or was he actually someone entirely different, a personality he had never met because he had forced it back?
Professional, mental help would have done some good, but Takatoris did not seek help from anyone, efficiently damning him. If he were just Omi it wouldn't be a problem, which was also a problem because he didn't know which one was real! And all the while he was going crazy thinking about it and what did it matter because all he had to do was take care of the Esset problem. Somehow.
Maybe Schwartz would come. Maybe this time they would kill him and there would be no problems at all and it wouldn't be a dishonorable death to be killed by a strong foe. Was it dishonorable to want to die?