Iria: Zeiram The Animation Fan Fiction ❯ Fine, YOU Wear the Dress Next Time ❯ 02: In which Fuji pervs, and drives up the rating. ( Chapter 2 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]
Yashiro Kaneko was a conniving man who'd made his fortune through a series of rigged casinos. With his beautiful young mistress (Naoko, who stayed with him purely because he could afford her very expensive lifestyle) at his side, he approached the doorman and handed him their invitations. The doorman scarcely glanced at them before waving them on into the party.

The two entered and quickly mingled with the crowd. They wouldn't have stood out much even if one had bothered to watch them: just a rich man using his wealth to bring him the company of a younger woman. If someone had bothered to watch, and were sufficiently paranoid to do so for an extended length of time, they might have noticed that Yashiro was not pulled aside to greet friends or talk with business associates. No one seemed to know them, and besides the waiters and waitresses, they slipped through the crowd without speaking to anyone.

They made a nice enough picture, he with one arm around her waist in casual possessiveness. Smiling brilliantly, the redhead leaned in and whispered to him, something which brought an exceedingly odd look to his face.

"Fujikuro, if that hand goes any lower, I'll break your arm."



Their casual stroll through the ballroom lasted for about an hour, by the end of which Iria was considering hunting down the creator of high heels and stabbing him through the eye with his own creation.

They deemed it safe to slip away and do a bit of exploring once they noticed many other couples were missing. After all, there was a reason most of the doors into this room opened into private bedrooms. If their absence was noticed, hopefully it would be assumed they'd left in search of a private room.

They'd studied Fujikuro's map - more like blueprints, actually - enough so they could navigate the halls well enough that they wouldn't need the map again until they were sufficiently far from the party that they wouldn't be seen.

Iria set her wineglass down on a decorative table. It was still as full as it had been when she'd got it. It wouldn't do to be drunk on this mission.

After consulting the map, they flitted down the halls to the closest of the rooms they'd marked as places to check. The mansion was *huge*, and they'd be lucky to check all the rooms in one night.

They searched the rooms in a pattern that brought them steadily outward from the ballroom. In their search, they found more paperwork and files than they'd thought possible, but nothing of interest.

"Heh..." Fujikuro had stopped rifling through the drawers, and his surpressed laughter caught Iria's attention.

"What?" She moved towords him. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothin'." He glanced at the drawer and quickly shut it before she could see the contents. "Just a damn lot of porno."

...Perhaps they found a few things of interest, but nothing of importance.

Though they were nowhere near being done, they had moved a considerable distance from the main crush of people. They now felt free to speak more openly, without fear of being heard. They spoke softly, occasionally commenting on an oddity one or the other found.

So it was that the explosion found them.



Even as the building rocked on its foundations and she flew through the air, Iria curled up, her hands flying to protect her head and neck. The wall nearer to the ballroom disintegrated with the force of the blast.

Iria was stopped by the exposed portion of her back connecting sharply with the edge of a table too ancient and heavy to have been disturbed by some paltry explosion.

Her eyes watered involuntarily, but in a few moments the pain had abated slightly and she was on her feet, peering through the dusty air.

"Fujikuro!" She hissed his name, not quite daring to yell. "Fuji!" Squinting, she began a search of the room. "If you're dead, I swear I'll-"

Whatever her threat would have been, she abruptly cut herself off, having seen a familiar figure. Thanking whatever god protected profane, filthy-minded hunters, she saw he'd been mostly protected by lying on the sheltered side of an overturned couch. He'd been protected from rubble, except for a knock on the head which had left him unconscious.

"Lucky bastard," she muttered, her back screaming it's protest as she pulled him out, then half carried, half dragged him from the room.

Though he didn't weigh as much as she'd have guessed, he was still considerably heavier than she. It took a good bit of work to extricate them from the mansion. They made it out just in time for Iria to spy police coming to the scene. Moving much quicker than she'd have thought herself able while carrying his dead weight, she scrambled into a dark alley.

She settled into a niche barely big enough for them both. Dragging him in behind resulted in his lying half on top of her. As she watched the out of control flames consume the mansion and turn the night a gruesome red-orange, her hand idly twined in Fujikuro's surprisingly soft hair.



Fujikuro came back to consciousness quite suddenly, but years as a hunter had him feign sleep for a moment, analyzing his surroundings and trying to remember what had happened.

Cold ground. An alley, probably. Not his favourite place to wake, but not the worst.

A throbbing pain in his head. Well, that clearly explained why he'd been unconscious.

He opened his eyes a bare slit. The wavering light hurt, but he saw no guns pointed at him. That always spoke well of a situation.

Allowing his eyes to drift closed, he searched his memory. Party. Searching. Explosion. Iria!

Wait, she was here. Supporting him, infact. And he was lying on - oh. Damn. Those were - well, he could get used to waking up like this.

Perhaps it was the lecherous grin which had tipped her off, or perhaps she was just that good. Either way, the thoughts had barely gone through his mind, when with her hand still entwined it his hair, Iria pulled. Hard.

"Ow!" Fujikuro shot upwards and pulled away, swearing viciously. Iria instantly grabbed him and dragged him back.

"Sit down, idiot. You're going to let everyone know we're here." He grudgingly sank down next to her in the dark nook, this time in a much less satisfying position.

The Santori mansion was a burnt out shell. The ground was soaked with water from the firefighters' valiant struggle against the blaze. Now it was nearly out, producing the wavering light Fujikuro had noticed earlier. Police milled about, taking statements from the guests who hadn't perished or fled into the night.

"Goddamn..." Fujikuro breathed, looking at the destruction. "That bomb wasn't meant for us. The ballroom's gone. It must've gone off there."

Iria nodded her agreement. "I know, I was thinking that myself. Do you realize we're only alive because we were snooping so far away? This thing was meant to kill a lot of people at once."

They remained in the alley, huddled close together, until the fire was out and most of the people were gone. A pair of shadows in the darkness, they made their way to where the Kreper was parked, several miles away. The previous evening they'd taken a cab from it's parking spot to the mansion, thinking it too conspicuous. Now they had to walk the distance, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

When they arrived at the Kreper, they found Bob frantically trying to contact them. Having seen the explosion on the late night news, he had no idea if they'd lived, and had spent most of the night worrying.

After assuring Bob that they were, in fact, alive, and mostly unhurt, it was short work for Iria to drop Fujikuro off at his apartment. She then went home as dawn began to colour the skies.

Walking in the door, she saw a sight that brought her a smile despite her weariness: Kei had planned to wait up for them, and now slept on the couch, clutching the Hunter's rule book she'd been reading.

Iria went past, let herself into her bedroom, shed the vexing dress, and fell deeply into sleep within moments.