Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ A Star to Steer By ❯ Chapter 8
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: KD Sarge 
Ran and Yohji reach an understanding.
Yeah. We'll call it that.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.03.2006 | Updated On: 12.03.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 622 | Status: Work In Progress
Ran and Yohji reach an understanding.
Yeah. We'll call it that.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.03.2006 | Updated On: 12.03.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 622 | Status: Work In Progress
Here, at long last... I'm so sorry for the wait! There was this life thing, and then there was another one...
****
Ran shook the man again. Yohji moved before he thought, grabbed the redhead's wrist. “The dead can’t answer, Ran.”
The stubborn bastard knocked Yohji to the deck again, but he did let go of the prisoner in the process. The King's man staggered back, swiping at the line of another's blood on his throat. Ran snarled, looked for another victim.
“Leave them alone,” said a clear voice. “I can tell you more than any of them.” Yohji groaned as Ran's eyes locked on the boy, standing by the rail. Poor kid might be trying to be a hero, but he gulped as those violet, violent eyes caught his.
“Easy,” Yohji muttered, hoping he had any influence at all with the crazed redhead. He stayed down in case he didn't. “He's already volunteering.”
“He was Jamand de L'ouer,” the boy said with only a little quaver, “emissary from Louis XIV of France. I don't know whose eyes he meant, but I can tell you more than anyone else can.”
“You're sure,” Ran said, twirling his knife and looking remarkably like Farfarello with two eyes, “that is the extent of your usefulness?”
“Here now, Ran-lad! He's crew, you'll not be carving him up.” Stairs laid a hand on Ran's shoulder, Yohji saw the flash of rage before that icy mask descended again. “Come on, I've made my choices. Cookey, here's your new scullion. Barton, pick a crew to free the Farf and give him his toy. The rest of ye, let's get these fellows back on their pretty ship now, shall we?”
Ran wiped the knife on the cooling body of Jamand de L'ouer and spun away. Yohji bounded to his feet and went after him. Not that he wanted to be near Ran right then. Just that Farfarello was going to be free again, and seriously—Ran was the only one who even slowed the maniacal bastard's bloody urges.
Though the redhead seemed to be experiencing some damned scary urges of his own.
Ran went to the pile of booty stolen from the King's ship and started sorting. He ignored the transfer back to the King's ship, he didn't notice when Cookey hauled the boy past him, he ignored the terrified whimpers of the man chosen to 'entertain' the Farf. Yohji stood at Ran's back and tried to do the same, but he wasn't a fucking icicle. There but for the grace of God...
By the grace, or self-service, or whatever, of Ran. Whatever his reason, it was Ran who had saved Yohji from Farf. Yohji reminded himself of that when the screams started, and tried not to hate Ran for not even trying to stop it. What could the redhead do? Stairs was the bastard who should have stopped it. Ran couldn't go against the entire ship, and he'd said every man on the crew would die for Stairs...
Yohji jumped at every scream, though. After the fourth time Ran flowed to his feet, grabbed his arm and dragged.
In a tiny fortified cabin at the bow of the ship, near the waterline to judge by the creaks and groans and swishing, Yohji couldn't hear Farf's game. And in a small, dark place with Ran, it was easier than he would have dreamed to forget it was happening. The pale man glowed in the dim light, every move like a dancer, better than a dancer, a swordsman strong and lethal and that probably shouldn't excite Yohji as much as it did...
Too bad Ran wasn't thinking along the same lines. The cold bastard was completely focused on investigating the barrels and crates around him in the faint light from an open hatch out in the corridor. After the third time Ran glared at him for trying to make casual conversation, Yohji asked him why the hell he didn't light a lantern, if whatever he was doing was so important.
“Because powder goes boom when you light it, Kudou. Try not to be an idiot.”
Powder? They were standing in the powder room? Suddenly Yohji was quite glad to be in the dark. He edged away from the barrels, silly though it might be. It made him feel better.
“I never heard talking makes gunpowder explode,” he growled back. His savior or not, the redhead's silences were starting to get on his nerves. “What the hell was that about, up on deck?”
Another glare. Damn him.
“Who is she? Whose eyes are you so worried about?” His lover? His wife? No... “If she shares your eyes...your mother? Sister? Child?”
Ran tilted a barrel, rolling its edge back and forth, moving it towards the door. Yohji tried not to notice how his muscles stood out, how he caught the light and transformed it, how the perfect form shone with an eldritch light...cold and distant and beautiful, it would be so easy to believe Ran one of the Sidhe, the fairy folk the Irish—
Perhaps he did have too much imagination. Yohji somehow pulled his mind back to the puzzle. Why would Ran get so excited about someone seeing his family? Unless...the woman/girl was in danger. Or if he didn't know where she was. Then he'd care if someone had seen her!
“That's why you're here!” Yohji guessed, and a flicker of rage, quickly buried, told him he was right. Never one to shut his mouth when he should, Yohji pushed on. “Who is she? What happened to her?”
Fast, damn, Ran was fast. In one stride he grabbed the edges of Yohji's shirt and yanked him close to those glaring, glowing eyes.
“What do you care?” he demanded, low and intense. “What does the pretty son of a petty lord, with all the privileges and none of the duties of an aristocrat, care for the life of one girl from a murdered House?”
Pretty? Ran did think he was pretty!
Murdered? And the way he said 'House,' Yohji heard the capital letter, Ran was—
“You bastard!” Yohji shoved Ran away, growled as his abused shirt gave up its collar when the swordsman held on. “Do you think you're the only one? What do I care? At least I asked! What do you care? Have you even asked if my father was murdered, my mother forced into marriage, my brother shipped off to a monastery, myself disinherited? My poor mother poisons herself with every rumored remedy to keep from bearing his child, knowing if she gives him a son her firstborn are dead. My brother fears to even visit, lest the Viscount be tempted to act when we are both in one place. What child goes to a monastery when he is ten years old? Did you even think about the stupid stories you've heard?”
“I have not asked, Kudou,” the damned redhead said, “because I do not care.”
“Well, maybe that's your problem,” Yohji answered, turning for the door. With Farfarello occupied, he could probably get to Ran's cabin safely, and he certainly didn't want to look at the unfeeling bastard any more. “Maybe you'd get somewhere other than fucked by that bastard Stairs if you gave a damn about anyone but yourself, so someone could give a damn about you.”
Ran caught his arm, slammed Yohji's back to the open door. “I saved your life,” he hissed. “I protected you from Farf. Twice. You'll give a damn about me, you selfish bastard.”
“Selfish? Did you just call me selfish?” He'd been wrong, thinking Ran wasn't like the rest. He was as crazy as any, maybe crazier. Farfarello probably thought everyone else was wrong too. “Well, you fucked up, saving me. The one you should care about, if it's power you're after—if you want to make Viscount Dering happy, stick that damned knife in me, and write him a condolence letter with my blood.”
“Gratitude,” that deep voice explained, “grows cold as quickly as the remains.” He chuckled, a cold, hard sound. “I will wait to see what other use you may have.”
Kill him. Either kill him or—Yohji went with or, grabbed that beautiful face so close to his and kissed. If he was going to die—
He wasn't dead yet, though he might be nearing heaven. After an instant's shock, the redhead kissed back. Again Yohji's back thumped the door, but he didn't care because Ran's chest had done it, colliding with his as the swordsman kissed back. Yohji grabbed handfuls of silky hair and devoured soft warm lips that couldn't possibly belong to—
Ow! Those teeth could belong to the bastard! Yohji considered not obeying the wordless demand, but it was something he wanted to do. Besides, he'd have to break the kiss to avoid getting bitten again if he didn't. So he opened his mouth, let that sharp but oh-so-delightful tongue into his mouth. Molded his body to the hard sexy form pressed against him, wondered how such a cold bastard could be so damned hot—
“Lookie here, boys, we got us a show!”
Ran jerked away. Yohji held onto the door and cursed silently. One sailor in the corridor jumped and backed away at Ran's glare, but the two sticking their heads through the hatch just grinned.
“Don't stop, lads!” one called. “We'll wait on you.”
“You'll get those damned barrels down here,” Ran snarled, “or do I have to come up there?”
“Better move, lads,” the other said with a chuckle. “When the iceberg's hot and bothered, best to clear the decks for him!”
Yohji noticed the one in easy reach didn't join in the taunting. Smart man.
Under Ran's direction, the barrels were quickly stored. The three hung back when dismissed, Ran snarled and they changed their minds.
Yohji was almost cheerful as he followed Ran to their cabin. Now—
But that fucking Morton met Ran in the corridor, leered at the two of them despite two black eyes. “Captain wants you, Mr. Fujimiya.” He grinned, showing Yohji had indeed knocked out a tooth. “Both of ye.”
DAMN Stairs to the seven hells! ALL seven hells!
****
Forgive me for taking so long? I know, I shouldn't have ended there if I wanted forgiveness, but...well, the story made me do it. * ducks *
****
Ran shook the man again. Yohji moved before he thought, grabbed the redhead's wrist. “The dead can’t answer, Ran.”
The stubborn bastard knocked Yohji to the deck again, but he did let go of the prisoner in the process. The King's man staggered back, swiping at the line of another's blood on his throat. Ran snarled, looked for another victim.
“Leave them alone,” said a clear voice. “I can tell you more than any of them.” Yohji groaned as Ran's eyes locked on the boy, standing by the rail. Poor kid might be trying to be a hero, but he gulped as those violet, violent eyes caught his.
“Easy,” Yohji muttered, hoping he had any influence at all with the crazed redhead. He stayed down in case he didn't. “He's already volunteering.”
“He was Jamand de L'ouer,” the boy said with only a little quaver, “emissary from Louis XIV of France. I don't know whose eyes he meant, but I can tell you more than anyone else can.”
“You're sure,” Ran said, twirling his knife and looking remarkably like Farfarello with two eyes, “that is the extent of your usefulness?”
“Here now, Ran-lad! He's crew, you'll not be carving him up.” Stairs laid a hand on Ran's shoulder, Yohji saw the flash of rage before that icy mask descended again. “Come on, I've made my choices. Cookey, here's your new scullion. Barton, pick a crew to free the Farf and give him his toy. The rest of ye, let's get these fellows back on their pretty ship now, shall we?”
Ran wiped the knife on the cooling body of Jamand de L'ouer and spun away. Yohji bounded to his feet and went after him. Not that he wanted to be near Ran right then. Just that Farfarello was going to be free again, and seriously—Ran was the only one who even slowed the maniacal bastard's bloody urges.
Though the redhead seemed to be experiencing some damned scary urges of his own.
Ran went to the pile of booty stolen from the King's ship and started sorting. He ignored the transfer back to the King's ship, he didn't notice when Cookey hauled the boy past him, he ignored the terrified whimpers of the man chosen to 'entertain' the Farf. Yohji stood at Ran's back and tried to do the same, but he wasn't a fucking icicle. There but for the grace of God...
By the grace, or self-service, or whatever, of Ran. Whatever his reason, it was Ran who had saved Yohji from Farf. Yohji reminded himself of that when the screams started, and tried not to hate Ran for not even trying to stop it. What could the redhead do? Stairs was the bastard who should have stopped it. Ran couldn't go against the entire ship, and he'd said every man on the crew would die for Stairs...
Yohji jumped at every scream, though. After the fourth time Ran flowed to his feet, grabbed his arm and dragged.
In a tiny fortified cabin at the bow of the ship, near the waterline to judge by the creaks and groans and swishing, Yohji couldn't hear Farf's game. And in a small, dark place with Ran, it was easier than he would have dreamed to forget it was happening. The pale man glowed in the dim light, every move like a dancer, better than a dancer, a swordsman strong and lethal and that probably shouldn't excite Yohji as much as it did...
Too bad Ran wasn't thinking along the same lines. The cold bastard was completely focused on investigating the barrels and crates around him in the faint light from an open hatch out in the corridor. After the third time Ran glared at him for trying to make casual conversation, Yohji asked him why the hell he didn't light a lantern, if whatever he was doing was so important.
“Because powder goes boom when you light it, Kudou. Try not to be an idiot.”
Powder? They were standing in the powder room? Suddenly Yohji was quite glad to be in the dark. He edged away from the barrels, silly though it might be. It made him feel better.
“I never heard talking makes gunpowder explode,” he growled back. His savior or not, the redhead's silences were starting to get on his nerves. “What the hell was that about, up on deck?”
Another glare. Damn him.
“Who is she? Whose eyes are you so worried about?” His lover? His wife? No... “If she shares your eyes...your mother? Sister? Child?”
Ran tilted a barrel, rolling its edge back and forth, moving it towards the door. Yohji tried not to notice how his muscles stood out, how he caught the light and transformed it, how the perfect form shone with an eldritch light...cold and distant and beautiful, it would be so easy to believe Ran one of the Sidhe, the fairy folk the Irish—
Perhaps he did have too much imagination. Yohji somehow pulled his mind back to the puzzle. Why would Ran get so excited about someone seeing his family? Unless...the woman/girl was in danger. Or if he didn't know where she was. Then he'd care if someone had seen her!
“That's why you're here!” Yohji guessed, and a flicker of rage, quickly buried, told him he was right. Never one to shut his mouth when he should, Yohji pushed on. “Who is she? What happened to her?”
Fast, damn, Ran was fast. In one stride he grabbed the edges of Yohji's shirt and yanked him close to those glaring, glowing eyes.
“What do you care?” he demanded, low and intense. “What does the pretty son of a petty lord, with all the privileges and none of the duties of an aristocrat, care for the life of one girl from a murdered House?”
Pretty? Ran did think he was pretty!
Murdered? And the way he said 'House,' Yohji heard the capital letter, Ran was—
“You bastard!” Yohji shoved Ran away, growled as his abused shirt gave up its collar when the swordsman held on. “Do you think you're the only one? What do I care? At least I asked! What do you care? Have you even asked if my father was murdered, my mother forced into marriage, my brother shipped off to a monastery, myself disinherited? My poor mother poisons herself with every rumored remedy to keep from bearing his child, knowing if she gives him a son her firstborn are dead. My brother fears to even visit, lest the Viscount be tempted to act when we are both in one place. What child goes to a monastery when he is ten years old? Did you even think about the stupid stories you've heard?”
“I have not asked, Kudou,” the damned redhead said, “because I do not care.”
“Well, maybe that's your problem,” Yohji answered, turning for the door. With Farfarello occupied, he could probably get to Ran's cabin safely, and he certainly didn't want to look at the unfeeling bastard any more. “Maybe you'd get somewhere other than fucked by that bastard Stairs if you gave a damn about anyone but yourself, so someone could give a damn about you.”
Ran caught his arm, slammed Yohji's back to the open door. “I saved your life,” he hissed. “I protected you from Farf. Twice. You'll give a damn about me, you selfish bastard.”
“Selfish? Did you just call me selfish?” He'd been wrong, thinking Ran wasn't like the rest. He was as crazy as any, maybe crazier. Farfarello probably thought everyone else was wrong too. “Well, you fucked up, saving me. The one you should care about, if it's power you're after—if you want to make Viscount Dering happy, stick that damned knife in me, and write him a condolence letter with my blood.”
“Gratitude,” that deep voice explained, “grows cold as quickly as the remains.” He chuckled, a cold, hard sound. “I will wait to see what other use you may have.”
Kill him. Either kill him or—Yohji went with or, grabbed that beautiful face so close to his and kissed. If he was going to die—
He wasn't dead yet, though he might be nearing heaven. After an instant's shock, the redhead kissed back. Again Yohji's back thumped the door, but he didn't care because Ran's chest had done it, colliding with his as the swordsman kissed back. Yohji grabbed handfuls of silky hair and devoured soft warm lips that couldn't possibly belong to—
Ow! Those teeth could belong to the bastard! Yohji considered not obeying the wordless demand, but it was something he wanted to do. Besides, he'd have to break the kiss to avoid getting bitten again if he didn't. So he opened his mouth, let that sharp but oh-so-delightful tongue into his mouth. Molded his body to the hard sexy form pressed against him, wondered how such a cold bastard could be so damned hot—
“Lookie here, boys, we got us a show!”
Ran jerked away. Yohji held onto the door and cursed silently. One sailor in the corridor jumped and backed away at Ran's glare, but the two sticking their heads through the hatch just grinned.
“Don't stop, lads!” one called. “We'll wait on you.”
“You'll get those damned barrels down here,” Ran snarled, “or do I have to come up there?”
“Better move, lads,” the other said with a chuckle. “When the iceberg's hot and bothered, best to clear the decks for him!”
Yohji noticed the one in easy reach didn't join in the taunting. Smart man.
Under Ran's direction, the barrels were quickly stored. The three hung back when dismissed, Ran snarled and they changed their minds.
Yohji was almost cheerful as he followed Ran to their cabin. Now—
But that fucking Morton met Ran in the corridor, leered at the two of them despite two black eyes. “Captain wants you, Mr. Fujimiya.” He grinned, showing Yohji had indeed knocked out a tooth. “Both of ye.”
DAMN Stairs to the seven hells! ALL seven hells!
****
Forgive me for taking so long? I know, I shouldn't have ended there if I wanted forgiveness, but...well, the story made me do it. * ducks *