Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Ties of Blood ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

TIES OF BLOOD

By Shi-koi

Fandom: Harry Potter / Weiss Kreuz

Rating: R

Spoilers: HP up to OotP...in other words, OotP never happened, never will happen and shall never be referred to again! ::holds up banner saying 'Sirius 4ever'::, for Weiss: the first series and manga, some stuff from 'Crashers Knight & Ran' and some mentions of Weiss's past.

Pairing: Severus x Aya, Lucius x Aya (slightly non-con). Eventual Yohji x Aya. Draco x Harry.

Status: In-Progress

Warnings: Aya-centric, crossover, humor, lotsa violence and bloody stuff, romance, sap, fluff, angst, bad language, yaoi/slash (which is sex and/or relationships between men and/or boys over the legal age), shades of coercion/non-con .

Disclaimer: If I had a penny for every series I owned, I'd still be broke. *sigh* Ah well, at least I still get to play with them. Heh. *wink*

Summary: Heavily wounded, Aya stumbles onto another world within our own. Can he learn to trust in time to save his life and those of his friends and teammates?

Notes: Japanese people introduce themselves last name first, ie, John Doe would be Doe John.

Japanese - English

Bishonen - Pretty boy

Name: Tsukiyono Omi
Codename: Bombay
Nickname: Omittchi
Age: 16
Height: 5ft 3in
Bloodtype: O
Birthdate: February 29th
Flower: Freesia
Weapon: Darts & Crossbow

Name: Hidaka Ken
Codename: Siberian
Nickname: Kenken
Age: 19
Height: 5ft 7in
Bloodtype: B
Birthdate: December 23rd
Flower: Gentian
Weapon: Bugnuk

Name: Kudou Yohji
Codename: Balinese
Nickname: Yotan
Age: 21
Height: 5ft 9in
Bloodtype: AB
Birthdate: March 3rd
Flower: Cattleya
Weapon: Wire

Name: Fujimiya Ran (aka Aya)
Codename: Abyssinian
Nickname: Ayan
Age: 20
Height: 5ft 8in
Bloodtype: A
Birthdate: July 4th
Flower: Rose
Weapon: Katana

--->>>*<<<--- < p class="c43">Chapter One

--->>>*<<<---

The mission had been a complete success, almost. The four Weiss assassins had managed to eliminate all six of their targets without any witnesses. By morning all that would be left would be the corpses of the six evil men who had been drugging and selling teens in large, underground secret auctions to the highest bidder. Reports had come through of the leaders names, as well as detailed maps of their places of residence and work.

So Weiss were sent in. As Kritiker's only lethal unit they were in high demand, since it took a special sort of person to be able to kill repeatedly, day after day and night after night without becoming the same as those monsters that they were sent out to assassinate. Weiss were those people.

The longest-running member of Weiss was Tsukiyono Omi, a cute young blonde bishonen of only sixteen years old...barely. He had been involved since he before he was even ten. As a computer genius and amazingly brilliant strategist, Omi had first set up the missions, before finally becoming physically involved by the time he was thirteen. With his huge blue eyes and bubbly youthful exterior, no-one ever suspected him of being any more than the poor young orphan who worked in a flower shop to support himself.

The next to join was Hidaka Ken. As fiery and impulsive as Omi was friendly and warm, Ken had found himself involved with Kritiker, then assigned to Weiss when he was fifteen years old. Now nineteen, he had four years worth of missions under his belt and his impulsiveness, although now controlled, still tended to take over whenever Ken's ire was roused.

Ken was the typical boy-next-door. Shaggy brown hair, large warm brown eyes and with an ever-present smile for the kids, no-one ever suspected him of anything. He was the type of person mums wanted their daughters to date, and the dads wanted as best friends for their sons. Ken also spent most of his free time coaching the neighborhood kids playing soccer, something which grounded Ken as much as it helped him to relax.

Kudou Yohji was next. As different from Omi and Ken as lager was to champagne, Yohji was the typical ladies man. A playboy with an eye for seduction. Tall, just a shade below six foot, with a lanky, boneless grace, permanently half-lidded smoky green eyes and shoulder-length oak-brown hair, Yohji knew he had looks to kill. Never without a date, Yohji used his charm and good looks with as much ease during his missions, as he did outside of them.

The last person to join was Fujimiya Aya. Weiss had already been an established team working together for years before Aya came into the picture. The katana-wielding nineteen-year-old redhead was as cold as the arctic in mid-winter. Never smiling, unwilling to become anything other than another part of the team, Aya had only one goal in his life. Revenge. Nothing else mattered. He slept, ate and worked because that was what was expected, and because he needed his strength to fight. Everything else was superfluous.

With his slanted violet eyes, magnolia-pale skin and hair the colour of blood, Aya was not they kind of person you passed in the street and forgot easily. At 5ft 8 he was below the average height for his twenty years, and combined with his slim, toned body with it's sleek muscles, the dangers he faced were more than simply those he came across in their missions.

Somehow, despite the differences in their attitudes, skills and outlooks, the four of them became closer than acquaintances, deeper than friends. They were there when the truth about their pasts surfaced. From the betrayal Ken had to live through by his best friend Kase, to the moment Ken found out and had to kill him with his claws...his bugnuks. To the time when Yohji was faced with an almost exact replica of his greatest loss...the death of the woman he loved and the woman he rescued who seemed so similar.

They banded together when they found out that Omi's true name was not Tsukiyono Omi, but Takatori Mamoru, the son of the most evil man in Japan. Horrified, Omi's memories returned, memories of being kidnapped when only a small boy, before Kritiker was in his life. Remembering when his father, Takatori Reiji, told his kidnappers to keep him, which they did, until his uncle, the man behind Kritiker...and Weiss, rescued him in secret and re-named the lost little boy, training him to lead Weiss.

And they were there for each other when the truth of Aya's past came out. Takatori Reiji had framed and ordered his family's deaths. His father and mother being killed in the explosion which reduced their home to rubble and knocked his sister into a coma. Only surviving by pure chance, Fujimiya Ran took his sisters name and became an assassin to pay for her hospital bills and to find the man who destroyed his family and life.

Takatori Reiji was dead by Aya's hands eight months previously, and Weiss became legendary amongst the shadowy world of Kritiker. Which led to their current assignment.

Flown in secret to London, England, the Japanese team had been dispatched to eliminate the men who ran the ring while another group, who remained un-named, but whom Aya suspected to be his old team, Crashers, were sent to free the teens who had been kidnapped. The plan had been simple and effective. The six men and their aides always ate dinner at precisely eight pm every Saturday night before the games and Auction began. This week they were going to be meeting in a very upscale bar and restaurant, The Golden Dove. The type of place with private rooms where they could converse without nosy ears and eyes.

Omi took his position co-ordinating the other three members, Yohji going in as a customer and Aya and Ken both as waiters. Omi had given both Ken and Aya a half-dozen vials of his specially brewed poison. Only two drops would be needed in a dish to kill the person eating it. It was their primary plan, backup plan was for Ken to shred them, or Aya to slice their heads off, or their guts open. Yohji was in position to ensure none of the targets escaped.

Everything went according to plan, at first. Omi got the signal that the 'Harem' as it was called, where the kids were being kept had been cleared. He gave the signal to proceed, Aya knocking out the two waiters whose places they would take just as Yohji was shown to his table. The poison was delivered to the starter soups and the bowls placed in front of the targets.

That's when things went belly-up. Five of the six men ate theirs, apparently happy, but the sixth complained of a stomach ache and pushed his bowl to one side. Ken frowned, not quite able to keep his expression neutral, and flashed Aya a concerned glance, using his eyes to indicate the sixth target. Making an instant decision just as one of the aides realised something strange was going on, Aya leapt forward, wishing for a moment that he still had his katana, rather than the twin curved daggers, the only blades that would fit beneath the rather tight outfit.

One part of his brain registered Ken leaping after the targets on his side of the room, a feral grin twisting his lips as he ripped and tore, sliced and shredded his way through the half-drugged bodies of their targets. Aya drew the daggers, concentrating on the still fully aware sixth man and the three aides still standing. Moving in a graceful blur, Aya darted between the target and his aide, sweeping round in a standing to crouch maneuver which gutted the target and sliced the throat of his aide. It was as he was turning and leaping towards the other two aides that a flash of heated pain burnt it's way through his left side.

Aya grunted and landed awkwardly, panting from the line of fire burning his chest as he desperately drew in air. The aide who'd shot him stepped in closer, the gun she'd managed to pull aimed unerringly at Aya's head. A quick movement caught his eye as he knelt, Ken was moving in from the other side.

With a roar, Aya jumped up just as Ken slashed, dagger meeting claw in the center of her chest. Her eyes widened in shock, then blanked as death took over, her body hanging limply between them.

"Shit. C'mon Aya. We've gotta move."

Aya nodded, in too much pain to speak. Ken obviously hadn't realised how badly he was hurt, because he pulled Aya to his feet as Yohji opened the door, his razor wire ready to be used. "Ken...Aya...move out."

Ken nodded, disappearing out the back entrance of the kitchens.

"Aya?"

Aya shook his head, forcing the dizziness back. He felt a wave of relief rush through him as he realised the blood didn't show up on his black waiters uniform. "Out back." Aya rasped. "Get me my things."

Yohji narrowed his eyes, his stare indicating he'd picked up something in Aya's voice. Aya raised his eyes, cold indigo daring the blonde to disagree. Yohji moved his head a fraction in assent before he ghosted out, leaving Aya in the room with the bodies.

Aya sagged as soon as he was alone, leaning against the table as he gasped for breath. He waited until his head cleared, counting the overly loud beats of his heart until he found he could walk as close to normal as was possible.

Avoiding the other waiters, and leaving by the deliveries/services exit, Aya leant against the wall, bathed by the shadows until Yohji appeared from the other side of the alley. He handed Aya his katana and ankle-long thick black coat, waiting until Aya glared and cleared his throat before finally leaving the younger assassin alone.

They had already agreed to split up and make their own way to the safe house, since the four of them together would be too conspicuous together. He had three hours to reach the rendevous before the other three members of Weiss were re-located and a team sent out to collect ether him, or information pertaining to his whereabouts. If he didn't make the twenty-minute trip with the next three hours, chances were he'd be dead.

Ripping a long makeshift bandage out of the white shirt, Aya staunched and bound the bleeding bullet wound in his side, partially glad that there was a corresponding hole on the other side where the bullet had exited. Tying the ends together as tight as he could, Aya then looped the katana belt over his shoulder, since he couldn't even bear the thought of trying to attach it in it's usual place around his waist. His right arm went in the coat first, and Aya had to bite back a scream as he pulled the heavy fabric far enough up to get it over his left arm, making the heavy fabric tug against the now-bound wound.

Staggering slightly, Aya pushed himself away from the wall of the alley, knowing that he had to lose himself in a crowded area, and soon. There was enough blood to leave a trail, and since he didn't have a spare change of clothes the blood would be extremely easy to track as it dripped from the fabric.

Buttoning up his coat, Aya stepped out into the streets, making his way into the masses of people starting to flood the streets. It was nearing nine pm, so it was prime time in the evening for those out on dates, or who wanted to get an early start on the night. Grunting when someone brushed past him a bit too hard, Aya paused to take a breather, stepping down a small alleyway and looking down the street where he had come from.

To his horror, although not completely unexpected, Aya spotted at least eight people tracking him. Four were the mandatory men in black suits, favoured as intimidator bodyguards, then another two trackers, probably low-key assassins and two thugs. With no time to waste, Aya joined the crowded streets again, quickening his pace to leave his pursuers behind.

The hard walk and fast pace started to take it's toll. Dizzy from blood loss and finding it almost impossibly hard to breathe through lungs which felt like they were constricted in iron, Aya had only one goal. He knew he had to lose his pursuers, and fast. Ducking into the closest train station, Aya held one hand to his wound and sat down, hanging his head between his knees to stave off the blackness starting to encroach on his vision. Everything seemed muted, distant. Sounds just droned on in the background. Aya shook his head and wiped his eyes, trying to stave off the constantly growing ball of fire in his side, starting violently when a concerned worker tried to ask him if he needed help. Barely managing to control the defensive impulse to draw his sword, Aya shook his head again in the negative, not trusting himself to speak around the thick dryness in his mouth.

Finally the man left, much to Aya's relief. Stumbling unsteadily, and hiding it badly, Aya found himself holding onto the large arched pillars between the train tracks, darting to stand flush against the bricks whenever someone wandered too close. He was almost to the other side of the station, only a few more platforms to weave through and he could lose himself down the small back streets. Pressing his back against the wall, hoping to hide in the shadow of the arch, Aya suddenly found himself falling backwards through the brick wall. A sharp gasp of pain was torn from his lips as his hands scrabbled for anything to stop himself from falling and came up empty, his body landing with a dull thud on the cement floor.

Stars blocked out his vision in a spiraling of black and white flashes as the agony from the bullet wound lit every vein in his body. The blackness won and Aya fell unconscious.

It was probably less than ten minutes later when Aya came to, the gradual awareness dampened by the feeling of numbness across his legs and side. He pushed himself up into a half-sitting position, slipping a few inches on the puddle of blood growing beneath him.

A strange sense of calm fell over him then, as if he'd accepted the fact that he was near death. The pain in his side started to mute, either that or he just didn't care. Looking around, Aya found himself on a deserted platform, only the few lights from the lampposts giving any sort of illumination. The booths to either side were dark and obviously closed and there was no sign of the station he'd been on previously.

Getting slowly to his knees, Aya pulled out the katana and sheath out from his coat, unclipping it one-handed from the sling around his chest. He used it as a crutch to lift himself up, a small sob escaping without his notice as he forced his legs to hold him. He fell down twice as he made his way to the door of the booth, leaving huge streaks of blood on the platform, finally crawling/dragging his body to lean against the cool metal.

The coat came off as soon as Aya could sit himself up without losing his vision, the black jacket and waistcoat following, then the remains of the white shirt. The makeshift bandages around his side were soaked crimson in the center, and black around the top edges where the blood had seeped through the material and dried into a hard flaking crust, making them stick uncomfortably to his flesh.

Aya leant his head back against the door, shutting his eyes, forcing himself to breathe through the iron constriction which seemed to bind his lungs. He dug a hand into his coat pockets, seeking and finding one of the daggers he'd used earlier, oh-so-long ago, that night. His hand shook, making him drop the blade, and Aya had to clench his fist to force down the waves of nausea he felt at his own helplessness. Picking up the blade again, Aya held it curve outwards and carefully sliced away the soaked bandages, folding and placing the tatters of his white shirt in it's place. The sling from the katana was then wound haphazardly over the white cloth and pulled tight. The waistcoat and jacket discarded, since Aya knew he didn't have the strength to dress himself in them again. The black, thick coat however, Aya forced himself to put back on, grateful for the warmth it offered.

Fastening his coat as best as he could with only one hand, Aya folded the jacket and waistcoat into a pillow, sliding to the floor in a half-faint before the black comfort of catatonic sleep pulled him under.

--->>>*<<<---

The safe house was a one bedroom bedsit in a part of London frequented by night-time traffic of the more personal kind. The type of area where no-one would comment on the coming and goings of the four Weiss bishonen. Currently only three of the four were present.

Tap, tap, taptaptap...tap, tap, taptap...

"Do you have to do that?" Omi asked, a rarely seen frown on his face.

Ken blinked. "Ne, Omittchi, I was only..."

"You were only tapping that damn table constantly for the past forty minutes, Ken-kun." Omi groused, shifting uncomfortably on the bed he was sitting on, for lack of anywhere else. The chair having been taken by Ken and with the tall playboy having draped himself along the only sofa.

"Ah...sorry Omi." Ken offered sheepishly, crossing his arms to keep them still. Out of the three of them, he found it the hardest to keep still.

The anger seemed to deflate out of the youngest Weiss. He shook his head. "I should be the one apologising. I shouldn't have snapped at you Kenken."

The brunette shrugged. "Hey, don't worry. You're worried about Aya, that's all." Ken said with a comforting smile. "Aya's tough. He'll show up soon." I hope.

Omi nodded, resting his head against the wall a moment later. "I hope so Ken. I hope so."

Across the room the eldest of Weiss lay with his eyes shut, hidden beneath his ever-present shades. Yohji ground his teeth together as he tried to release the tension held in every pore of his body. His mind replaying the moment when he chose to ignore the thinly masked agony in Aya's normally cool violet eyes. Omi or Ken would probably not have caught the expression, but for Yohji it had been plain to see.

He'd reasoned that if Aya had truly needed help he would have asked. Possibly... Maybe... Yohji pushed the thoughts down. Images of Aya, bloody, his beautiful eyes completely empty of expression, his body broken...all because Yohji had refused to show that he cared.

No...he would never let that happen. You'd better be safe Ayan, because I'll find you. I'll find you Aya.

--->>>*<<<---

The early pre-dawn rays pulled Aya from his restless and fitful slumber. He blinked his eyes groggily, disoriented from the fatigue which had seeped into his bones. Somehow...luckily...no-one had stumbled across his defenseless unconscious body as he slept, which was both odd and comforting.

Stretching out one trembling hand, Aya grabbed upwards, holding onto the metal doorhandle above him, using it and his sword to lever himself up. A pained yelp was quickly bit back as the young assassin forced himself to kneel, then push himself to his feet.

He didn't do it a moment too soon. The faint echo of voices could be heard, coming closer. Aya didn't believe for a moment that he could possibly be in the center of the same subway station he'd been on the night before, but where was he? It was possible that he had managed to find a false wall leading to a private section, but then wouldn't the platform have been guarded?

Discarding that train of thought, Aya used the wall to walk slowly around the back of the building, hiding himself in the large green foliage in front of the brick wall. The plants were actually in long, deep troughs, which was perfect for hiding behind. Sliding down the wall, Aya suddenly jerked up his head as someone shouted. Kuso! They must have found the blood. Footsteps pounded down the platform and a bevy of voices called and yelled urgently. Too tired to make sense of the unfamiliar English language being spoken, Aya focused instead on controlling his breathing. Passing out now would be dangerous, too dangerous considering he had no way of contacting anyone yet.

There seemed to be some sort of search being coordinated just as an old fashioned steam locomotive, the type seen in old films, pulled noisily up, and Aya could faintly see through the leaves as the platform started to fill up with people. Not unlike the morning rush hour before work. What was even odder was how the majority of people seemed to be dressed. If Aya didn't know better he would have said that at least half, if not more of the women and men wore...dresses....sort of. On the plus side, Aya's own long black coat would blend in easily enough.

Waiting until the crowd began to board the train, Aya climbed laboriously to his feet, the pain draining the blood from his face, leaving him deathly pale. He wove in and out of the foliage until he found the perfect opportunity to slip behind a group of redheads, a family by the looks of things. A man, what he assumed to be his wife and three sons. One which seemed to be just slightly older than him and a pair of twins just slightly younger. Their hair was a bright flame-red, bringing to mind Schuldich, of Schwarz, the colour more orange than Aya's own blood-dark hair.

But there was no time to be picky. Out of the corner of his eye, Aya could see that the blood on the floor to his right had been cordoned off, and a group of the same dress-wearing people were standing about it, chattering and conversing in low tones.

Aya climbed on the train just after the five red-heads, following them down as they found themselves a compartment, then continuing down th the end of the train until he got to the last compartment in the train. If he needed to make a quick getaway, he would need to be near a convenient exit.

Using a dagger to jam the lock of the door, Aya literally fell down on a leather seat, holding his arms protectively against his chest and side as he rode the waves of pain resulting from his demands to move swiftly. He bit his lip until it bled, trying to keep silent. Grey was eating at his vision until he could see nothing but white, his ears ringing with a deafening hum. The train started up then and the steady thu-thum rumble shook his entire frame.

The greyness won. The pain, lack of fluids or food had sapped his energy and strength. Aya passed out.

--->>>*<<<---

"No! Dammit I said no!" Yohji all but roared. "I am not leaving without Aya. Get it?"

The man facing him quailed. Twice Yohji's size, with a short buzz cut and sharp blue eyes, he didn't appear to be a man easily cowed, but in the face of the blonde assassin's unrelenting anger there didn't seem to be much of an option to do anything other than flinch. It was sometimes easy to forget Weiss's reputation as a cold and clinical assassin unit. Half the team looked like cute school kids, one looked like a slim, if not beautiful waif and the last seemed more like a model or playboy than a killer.

Sometime the person assigned to be Weiss's overseas contact could catch a glimpse of the killers beneath the masks, but that was not only rare, but the glimpses were so fleeting that it was hard to see them as anything other than a quad of highly trained and visually stunning agents.

Usually.

Mark Danning was regretting his assignment. Not only were the three remaining members of Weiss refusing to leave, they were also geared up for a mission, and there were none on the books.

"Please reconsider Mr Kudou. We are doing everything we can to discern the whereabouts of Mr Fujimiya. Our agents are good, as you well know. We will find him."

"But will he still be alive?" Yohji hissed darkly.

"Yohji-kun?" Omi interjected quietly.

Mark breathed a sigh of relief as that intent gaze shifted to the petite blond sitting on the bed, his computer in his lap.

"What Omi?" The elder assassin asked.

"I think I have something." He turned the monitor around and pressed a key. Suddenly a grainy image opened up. "Watch." Omi instructed.

Hitting the fast-forward key, Omi brought the video forward a few minutes then hit play again. There on the far edges of the screen was their missing team-mate, making his way unsteadily across the platform of a train station."

"Got it." Yohji hissed in triumph as Omi printed out the location and map.

By the table Ken was putting together a field medkit, bandaging his hands and securing his bugnuk gloves under his jacket, ready for him to slip his hands into if he needed them. "Lets go." He uttered lowly, game face fully in play.

Mark wasn't about to let this go. He stepped in front of the doorway, blocking them. "You are a lethal unit. I cannot authorise your leave."

Yohji stepped forward, Omi and Ken coming up on either side.

"Authorise this." Ken said with a feral grin, stepping forward and hitting the two pulse-points on the side of the man's neck. He jumped back as the agent collapsed, unconscious.

Yohji raised a brow.

"Um...old trick I learnt back in the J-League." Ken offered sheepishly, his puppy-brown eyes merry.

Omi nodded, bestowing a warm smile on the older teen. "Nice."

Yohji clapped Ken on the back. "C'mon, folks...time to catch the kitty." he said, the light of the hunt glinting in his forest-green eyes.

--->>>*<<<---

Tbc...

--->>>*<<<---