Beneath the deathly cloak of midnight, the storm rages on. The ancient drums pour out their rhythm, and their victims come in throngs to face the challenge of the savage moon. Refusing the name of God, they receive the baptism of Chaos, and as the cyclone rises high in the sky, the human race becomes slave to the beast within.

Lovely. Very nice. Schneider pushed back the sleeve of his trench-coat (he had stopped at the hotel for a quick change of attire) and peered at his watch again. Nine-thirteen. It wasn’t midnight yet, but the sky was now choked over with cancerous bluish-grey clouds that, as he passed through the street, slid over the stars and swallowed them one by one. Soon there would be nothing left, and the rain would come--he wasn’t prepared to be caught outside during a downpour, but he refused to return to the hotel and face another mob. Please, Mr. Shester, another autograph, Mr. Shester--damn it! He clenched his hands into fists so hard his arms began to shake. Shester had feigned innocence, as usual. Schneider knew he would. Shester was terribly dense, and his naiveté made him all the more annoying.

“I’m not going back, not until I....” Schneider’s voice trailed off helplessly as he realized that he had no idea what to do with himself. What was he waiting for? His disappearance would solve nothing, and he didn’t have an ulterior motive--not yet.

“So I’m having a temper tantrum,” he decided. “I’m entitled. No one should be subjected to this kind of stress.” Not that he doubted for an instant that he would win tomorrow’s game. Losing practice time was no great deal for him; he made more progress on his own, without the distractions of his erstwhile teammates. His new shoot would be enough to ensure at least five goals before half-time. Schneider worried more about the state the others were in. If the recent complications were enough to make the Kaiser lose his cool, how could he depend on the less resolute ones to stay on task? With Shester in the lead, they would probably be out gallivanting with the local wenches until dawn. Barhopping through every pub in the lousy city, no doubt!

“If any of them shows up at the game with a hangover,” Schneider assured himself, “I’ll dispose of them immediately.”

A drop of wetness hit him between the eyes. Damn, he thought. Here it comes... Within seconds, the rustle of gentle rain filled the street. He let out a frustrated sigh, feeling his white-blond hair droop against the back of his neck. Of all the nights to forget my umbrella! He had to find shelter, and fast. Although the day had been hot and muggy, this was clammy rain, and he didn’t want to risk becoming ill during the most important tournament of the year. Was there refuge in sight? One of his favorite haunts was within walking distance, but he needed to find some rudimentary shelter immediately, unless he wanted to go in looking like a car wash boy.

Schneider quickened his pace, ducking his head low to avoid being blinded by the precipitation. As he hurried down the glistening pavement, he noticed a man just starting to close down the news stand under the eaves of the florist shop. Sanctuary! A brilliant idea sprang into his mind. He hadn’t read the sports section of the morning paper yet, and even if he wasn’t pleased with what he saw, it would keep his hair dry until he found a place to wait out the storm! The young German made it over in three long strides and plucked a newspaper from the stack, scanning the front page.

“Hey there, Blondie,” the owner said, only mildly irritated. “Make it quick. I’m supposed to be closing up, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Schneider answered in English, wincing at his terrible accent. He usually gave his textbook a once-over before he went out in public, but he had been so preoccupied lately, he forgot entirely. “Just a moment, please.”

“Yeah, yeah,” was the distracted reply.

It was really pouring down now. Schneider, lost somewhere between the real estate section and the comics page, lowered his paper and gazed into the dripping street. He squinted as twin beams of yellow light cut through the rain. Maybe I should phone for a taxi, he thought. No, there’s no turning back now. I’ll have to brave it out here. I need to experience real pain if I want to be a true warrior..

He folded up the paper as neatly as he could and reached into his pocket for some change. He hated to leave the shelter of the awning, but he didn’t want to quarrel with the merchant over so petty a matter. He wouldn’t melt. Tucking the slightly deformed paper under his arm, he approached the man and thrust a handful of coins at him.

The man counted them, making a clucking noise with his tongue. Schneider, unable to wait any longer, turned on his heel and headed towards the sidewalk. “Keep the change,” he muttered.

“Thanks a lot!” the man said brightly, obviously pleased. How much had he given him, anyway? Better start checking those couch cushions-- “There’s quite a bit here. Do you want to pick up anything else?”

Schneider paused, thinking. “Yes,” he said decidedly, and selected a glossy-coated magazine. After a few seconds of contemplation, he also took a pack of gum. “Will that be all right, sir?”

The man was speechless. He stared at the magazine, taking in the bubble-gum pink letters and angelic coverboy with wide eyes. Muttering a brief curse, he slipped it into a bag with the other purchases and thrust the package into Schneider’s hands. “To each his own,” he said with a tight smile. “That’s what I always say.”

Schneider gazed at him, puzzled. Then realization dawned on him, and his fair cheeks reddened. “I’m not gay, you idiot!!” he spat out in German, then whipped around, stomping off into the swirling storm.

Looks like I’m in for a wild night. Hyuga took a luxurious gulp of Coke from the bottle and sank back into his seat, wiping off his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He had long since given up on the shot glass. After three full bottles he was only starting to feel a buzz--he needed it full and fast, and taking straight swigs seemed to be doing the trick. He felt so sleepy...the soft lull of the rain was an effective tranquilizer, thickening his senses around him in a soothing blanket of nothingness. The caffeine--why wasn’t it working any more? He should’ve been going into spasms by now. His hands fumbled for the bottle. Empty? Damn! Didn’t he have another? “Hey, you there..”

No answer. The top of the waiter’s head was visible from the counter; he had been cowering there since the player’s last order. Maybe he really shouldn’t have thrown him into that planter...

Who the hell cares? He gave up, letting his head roll back onto his shoulders. He’d be booted out soon enough, assuming the cafe wasn’t open all night. He might as well enjoy this quiet time and sleep...

CRASHHHH!!!! Thunder ripped through his ears, and hot light flashed before his closed lids. Time for the Coke to kick in.

“What the @#$#! was THAT?!” Hyuga choked, falling out of his seat. In his descent, his elbow knocked into edge of the table. He almost laughed. Icy liquid was seeping through his jacket and trickling off the table onto the floor in rhythmic drops. Looked like he had another one after all!

“Kusoooooo...” Hyuga said under his breath, holding his shirt away from his chest and stumbling towards the napkin dispenser near the counter. He stopped a few feet before it and turned to stare down the lingering customers, who looked in the other direction so fast they nearly gave themselves whiplash.

The doorchimes jangled, and a blast of wet air shot across the shop. Hyuga shivered, mopping furiously. Of all the days to be caught in a storm! If he were out training, it would be different, but-- the field was going to be like a swamp! Whoever just came in had to be crazy wandering around in that weather. Damn! Hyuga gave his jacket a final swipe and pitched the soggy lump of paper into the trash. He wanted another drink, but he held back.

Why not take a few for the road? he grinned to himself, stuffing a handful of sugar packets into his pocket. No one else is going to want these anytime soon--I have as much a right to them as anyone! Go for the straws! Go for the straws!! Straws were for girls, so he’d give them to Maki if he ever saw her again. Nothing like a little strategic money-saving to put a guy in a good mood!

He walked back to his seat, smiling jauntily. Who cared if everyone saw him? He could see the guilt in their faces. They wouldn’t rat out one of their own.

Yet, as he returned to his table, he noticed something disturbing out of the corner of his eye. The waiter who had served him was no longer behind the counter, but standing by the door, carrying on a tense conversation with another customer. It must’ve been the person who just came in; there was a growing puddle at the young man’s feet, and he periodically wrung out his coat as he talked. His voice rose angrily as he wiped his soaked hair out of his eyes, hair the color of unwoven flax.

“Oh, damn,” Hyuga cursed for what seemed like the hundredth time, his blood freezing over. It was HIM!! What the hell was he doing there?! The dark-skinned boy slunk down in his seat so far his eyes were parallel to the tabletop. What the hell?! That was Karl Heinz Schneider standing at the door, and he was looking right at him!

“You don’t understand,” Schneider repeated over and over, his voice tightening with frustration. The waiter wasn’t budging. He gestured in the direction of Hyuga’s table, much to the Japanese player’s consternation. “I will--I need to have this table tonight. It’s been mine since the first day I arrived here, and I have--”

“Really,” the waiter said slowly, not interested. “So it’s your table now, is it? You’ve gone ahead and called the table.”

Schneider blinked as the adolescent shook his head in disbelief. “Called?”

“That’s right, called.” The waiter smirked and took a step closer.

Hyuga gulped. Why was this guy being so bold all of a sudden? Was Schneider that less imposing than him? He hoped it was sleep deprivation.

“You, without any consideration for this establishment or the people who work in it, have come here with from God-knows-where with your...magazines...and claimed that table right over there for your very own, barred from every other customer who’s unfortunate enough to come through this door--and to top it off, you haven’t even bought a damn thing! Why--”

Schneider growled low in his throat and let his reading material slide from his hand. In a shocking motion, he seized the boy by the shoulder and held him at arm’s length, glowering at him with eyes that glinted like an arctic river. “I came in here to buy a damn thing,” he said with measured patience. The boy spluttered. “ Maybe some damn coffee or, God forbid, a damn piece of cake. And then...” He released his victim and swept past, staring directly into Hyuga’s eyes. “I was going to sit down at that table and read my damn newspaper.”

Hyuga straightened, his expression hardening at the challenge.

“Of course, sir! I mean....please, take it up with him! I just work here, honest, I--”

“Believe me, I will.” Schneider stooped down and retrieved his paper in a fluid motion, his blond brows knit together. Tucking it under his arm, he approached Hyuga, leaving the waiter free to dive for cover under an empty booth. To hell with overtime, he was going home!

Schneider stood at Hyuga’s elbow, deathly silent. “Is there a problem?” the Japanese player asked coolly, not looking up.

The German scowled and tossed his soggy bundle onto the table. “You’re sitting in my seat,” was his flat reply. “I had to go through a lot to get this far, and I’m tired as hell. I want to sit down.”

Hyuga kept his expression blank, but inside he bristled. What was the matter with Schneider? Was he...begging? “So take a number.”

Schneider closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. “All right, all right, I suppose I asked for that. We are rivals, after all. It would be beneath you to surrender anything to the enemy the night before a game. I understand completely.”

“Good.” Hyuga stretched, swinging his legs up on the pair of chairs to the left of him. “Hey!” he called to the twitching mass of fear under the booth, holding up his empty bottle. “Can I have another one of these?”

No response. The waiter had reached an advanced stage of catatonia.

The dark-skinned player heaved a great sigh and turned to the ball sitting across from him. “Nice service this place has, don’t you think?”

“I agree,” someone said close to his ear. Hyuga stiffened. That voice...He whirled around, his temper flaring. “What the HELL are you still doing here?!” he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Schneider.

The blond gave him an imperious look. “I’m waiting for you to leave.”

Hyuga snorted, slouching forward on his elbows. “Mattaku..”he muttered. “You’re persistent...don’t you have a game to practice for?”

“I’d like to ask the same of you.”

Hyuga’s face darkened. “Oh, that’s right. The Kaiser never needs to practice. How silly of me to forget.”

Schneider gritted his teeth. “Enough!!!” he shouted, slamming his fist down on the table and ignoring the stares of the other customers. “You---Kojiro Hyuga! You dare to deny me a worthy challenge?! Where is your sense?! Tsubasa’s going to burst in here any minute and demand that you haul your butt back to home base. Do you really want to humiliate yourself in front of all these people, in a country that’s not your own?! Where’s your sense of duty?! Where’s your team spirit?! Where’s your--”

“Screw you!” Hyuga said hotly, rising and pulling himself to his full height before his adversary. “This has nothing to do with you! I’m not wasting any more time listening to this garbage! You want a piece of me?!” He struck a fighting pose. “Then come get some!!”

Schneider narrowed his eyes, his body tensing like a spring.

“Knock it off, you two!!” the hapless waiter cried, tears streaming down his face. “Please! There’s a police box right down the street, and if I have to, I’ll--”

Hyuga turned to the booth and gave the boy a diabolical grin. His left eyebrow twitched.

“Sit down, you idiot,” Schneider hissed. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not spend the rest of the night sharing your prison cell!”

Surprisingly, the Japanese player obeyed, sinking down into his seat and burying his face in his hands. However, just as Schneider attempted to claim a spot for himself, his foot shot out, knocking the chair out of his reach. “KIEROOOOU!”

The blond jumped back, startled. “Mein Gott, are you telling me you can’t spare one chair?!”

Hyuga lifted his head and gave him a rabid smile. “Sorry, there’s not a chair to spare.”

For a moment, Schneider was mystified. Then he swiped his newspaper back in an angry motion, the magazine sliding out from between its folds and hitting the floor. “You worm,” he spat out. “You miserable excuse for humanity!!! You are the devil’s own son!”

“What is with you?!” Hyuga shot back, enraged. “Take a look around, dammit--the whole place is empty. Empty!! You can sit at any table you want, take any chair you want! Why does it have to be mine?! Why why WHY?! Do you have your name on one of these, or what?!”

Schneider made a choking sound, suddenly very aware of the presence of the third party huddled close by. He gave Hyuga a long, hard look, tears welling in his eyes. Cursing in German, he turned on his heel and stomped off.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the shop; the waiter, grateful for the opening, scampered out the emergency exit with such enthusiasm that the door swung to and fro on its hinges for a full minute. Hyuga shivered, chilled by the resulting gust. His gaze wandered to the ground, fixing on the magazine lying spread open at his feet. Alone again... A strange weight settled on his chest and a familiar image lingered on in his mind for longer than he liked. Another pair of wounded eyes, tears fighting their way out of the corners against a smile that masked the pain. A brave smile that strained against itself until it could bear no more.

“Oh, God, what have I become?” he whispered, picking up the magazine with trembling fingers and placing it on the table in front of him. He turned it over in his hands, biting his lower lip. Then he saw the cover, and fire flooded his face. The blindingly bright lettering. The candy colored bubble hearts floating around in a sea of vile Pepto Bismol pink, all centering around one blushing male visage.

Honey Boy?!

His palms began to sweat. “Good lord,” he muttered. “What the heck kind of a magazine is this?!” He squinted, half-expecting the disturbing semblance vanish into thin air. No such luck. That Schneider, was this what he like to do with his spare time? Hyuga’s flush deepened. He was never very popular with the ladies, but he was not lacking in male admirers. So Schneider--well, wasn’t this just GREAT!!?

“This was what he wanted all along?” Hyuga said weakly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so indelicate..his heart must be very fragile...”

He leaned over, trying to get a better look. The blue-eyed, blond coverboy smiled a mouthful of pearls at him, his fingers touching his lips in a playful gesture. Franz Shester has a secret, the caption read. Take a peek inside and find out what!

Shock.

“Holy sh---t!” Hyuga said in a very loud voice. No wonder Schneider was is such a lousy mood! Who wouldn’t be, knowing that pristine puss was beaming out of every teenybopper publication in the country? Franz Shester...a male model?! Hyuga covered his mouth with both hands, stifling his giggles. Oh, what a night!

“I see you have something of mine.” Schneider glowered from the counter, a white paper bag in his hand. He raised his free hand and clenched it into a tight fist. “Kojiro Hyuga,” he threatened, “I swear to the holy sun above, I will cut off your head before that magazine leaves this coffee shop!!”

“Calm down, will ya?” Hyuga smiled devilishly, kicking his soccer ball out of its chair and waving the German over. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not budging an inch till some light breaks through those clouds. Have a seat.”

Schneider made his way over, eyeing the Japanese player suspiciously. “Hyuga...you...” He pulled the chair over to him, examining its back. Karl Heinz Schneider...it was his, all right. Giving Hyuga a smirk of his own, he settled down and prepared to relax. At last.