Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Always ❯ The Memory Remains ( Chapter 8 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Rating: R for violence and bad language
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ^^;
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations. This part is full of -spoilers- for ep. 8 of the show.
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally, Schuldig x Aya-chan, mentioning of Farfarello x Aya.
italics = hand signals; thoughts
// taking // = telepathy

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eight

Aya almost killed Yohji.

The built up frustration, coupled with Persia's growing demands for resolution and his own thoughts were grinding away at the ice of his control, letting his temper break free. The wrongness of Koua Academy needed to be set to rights, even if he had to work outside Persia's direct control in order to do it. If Persia had any of Omi left inside of him, he would understand and give them the time they needed.

That is, if Yohji would actually do more than make eyes at all the pretty teachers.

He had slammed the bleached blond harder against the wall than he intended when he did finally managed to get Yohji to meet with him. Yohji barely flinched, his green eyes speaking volumes before he closed them, dipping his head. Aya could feel his teeth grind together, frustration warring with his rusty concern. Something was wrong with Yohji, something more than the blond's recent 'illness'.

His fingers gripped Yohji's shoulder harder, his voice sounding sharp even to his own ears. "Why didn't you contact us yesterday?"

"Sorry." Yohji sounded tired.

His fingers loosen their grip, though his voice remained sharp. Instead of concern, he heard himself snap back, "And before that too!"

Yohji was at least responding to the anger, his spine straightening and color returning to his cheeks. It was no secret that Yohji disliked his uptightness while he disliked Yohji's easy-going manners. They had always snipped at each other about it, but for the most part, he and Yohji got along.

Not that they did any longer.

"If you got time to contact people, you can do it," Yohji replied, his voice once again smooth. He brushed Aya's hand off his shoulder, looking up at him. "I'll be waiting for you too. So hurry up and finish."

Aya turned to face the sunset, not wanting to read the message in those damnable green eyes. "Tell me about her."

"Tsujii Mayumi. She's been with the school since it's founding. Other than that her past is pretty clean."

"Second hand information cannot be trusted."

"You're harsh, you Kritiker people." Aya glanced back at Yohji, watching the blond smile faintly at his own words. "She's got a house outside the campus, it seems."

"That's . . ." Aya begun to say but Yohji guessed his question.

"Let's just say I know that first hand."

Aya stared at Yohji, feeling the sudden chill settling in his skin at those words. He was doing it to himself again. He was placing his heart on his sleeve for anyone to trample it, leaving him more shattered than before Asuka's death. He wanted to tell Yohji not to do this to himself but the words would not form. Business always came before the sanity of his team.

Even when he could feel the daggers of his regrets digging into his brain.

"I'll try to find out where the school is getting it's funding," he said, ground out between his teeth and around the concern he had. "Continue to stay in touch."

"You sound just like Persia," Yohji commented dryly, pushing himself off the wall.

"If you don't like it. . . "

"I'm working on the case," Yohji replied with a small grin, head down as he headed for the door.

Aya turned around fully to look at him, now that it was safe enough to do so. "Tell me what you find out."

Yohji waved a hand in his direction, back to his normal flippant self in actions if not in spirit. "See ya."

The words he was fighting against finally ground themselves out, sounding harsh even to his ears. "Yohji, what is wrong with you?"

It looked for a moment like Yohji would tell him, stopping with a hand on the door and shoulders slumping. Then the blond straightened, continuing on his way down the stairs. Aya watched him go, gritting his teeth against the frustration rising inside. He couldn't even scream out the emotions at the blond, not around here where he was just the history teacher Aya Fujimiya.

Turning on his heel, he went to the edge of the building to look down, trying to gain the tattered remains of his control. He was prevented from doing that when he heard someone call out to him in a breathless voice.

"Fujimiya-sensei. . . !"

He schooled his features into a pleasant smile and turned again. It was that hyper teacher Asami, the one that was becoming like his shadow any more. He briefly wondered why him, why did he attract such bubbling personalities before he raised a hand in greeting.

"Yes, Asami-sensei?"

She fidgeted for a moment then looked up at him, a light blush appearing on her cheeks. "I was wondering. . . if you would help me with the computer system?"

"Aa, it locked you out again?"

She giggled and nodded. "I'm so helpless. . ."

Aya headed for the stairs down. Maybe he needed a distraction from his own worries right now. "Let's see if we can get it to cooperate and let you back in."

It took him a few minutes to finally get the computer to let her back in. Listening to her chatter on about the cultural festival she was planning, he reviewed the information they had gathered since the withdrawal order. It wasn't enough to prove who or what was behind the school, but Aya had a feeling he knew who was behind it. Instinct, something that he used to deny, was all but screaming the name in his mind.

Jumping up from her seat and running to the printer, Asami smiled widely at him, hugging the papers to her chest. Giving her a smile he didn't feel inside, he listened to her patiently. She was so happy and bubbling over with glee at the upcoming festival that he could think of her like she was his sister, smiling at him with all the hope and light of the world in her eyes. It was enough to make him want to scream from sheer loneliness.

She danced in place, chattering on about the festival, his simple replies not curbing her enthusiasm for her obsession. He vaguely wondered over how he was going to cut their talk short when she asked him about meeting tomorrow to shop. He blinked at her in surprise, trying to formulate which way to go on the subject as she stumbled over her words, flushing like a student with a crush.

Going shopping had some merits; he wouldn't be stuck watching Yohji destroy himself with drink, seeing Ken babble to himself, and trying to convince Sena to find a different line of work. He could also learn more about her and the school, and even learn more about the other teachers through patient questioning. It would help their investigations a lot more if he could cross her off the list of suspects, and find the hints that could narrow their search.

So he agreed to meet her tomorrow near the water fountain and watched her as she did a victory bounce before becoming flustered again. She glanced at her watch then, gave out a yell and started to gather everything together in a rush, stumbling over herself and her words, talking about the doors needing locking and a list of items needed for the festival. He told her not to worry, and watched as a blush turned her pink cheeks even pinker. Running into the door, she excused herself yet again for her clumsiness then left.

He kept his smile for a few moments more just in case she came rushing in to retrieve something forgotten. The smile faded as he easily slipped back into his Abyssinian mask.

"Come out," he said, the words cracking in still air.

Sliding into view was Hidaka Ken, his hair worn long in his face, the glint of something testing the line between sanity and insanity glinting in his eyes. He grinned at Aya, looking comfortable leaning against the pillar.

"I'm sorry to intrude," he replied, giving a shrug.

Aya gritted his teeth and stood up, sweeping his papers into his briefcase with his hand and snapping it shut. He saw the frown Ken gave him, but ignored it as he made sure everything as secured before heading for the door.

"We can't talk here," Aya said, flicking the lights out and securing the door, and heading down the long hallway. "Outside, the gazebo in the pond."

"I don't think. . ."

Aya quickened his stride not wanting to hear what Ken thought, and making sure to lock the other doors and giving Ken more then enough time to reach the gazebo. He secured the outside doors, even though he knew how easily to open them were even without the keys, then went to his car, tossing his briefcase into the back seat. If he was lucky, Ken would not be in the mood to fight, but he didn't think so. Ken was always in the mood to fight.

Yohji was lost in finding love. Ken was lost to the killing rage. Omi was lost to Takatori. What was he lost to?

The dream of Weiss had been shattered years ago. He was just too stubborn to end his slumber.

The air was getting chilly, the leaves turning colors and fading overhead. Aya stopped just inside the arched entrance, watching Ken as the brunet fidgeted. The silence spread around them, even the rustling of the leaves and the whisper of the wind stilling. At one time, Ken had tried to prove himself worthy of being more then just Aya's co-worker. He had never recovered completely from the rejection.

Even his words held the edge of past frustrations to Aya's throat. His bland reply to the threat of the Crashers made the brunet glare and his voice get louder. Aya glared back at Ken, not raising his voice, struggling again between concern and anger. He never asked Ken to intrude on this investigation; like Yohji, the brunet was given a totally different task and was only following Aya's orders out of some sort of misguided friendship.

Or was it his long harbored feelings, as misplaced as they were. Aya watched Ken, barely hearing his words and feeling his frustrations grow. Ken should not follow him out of a misguided love. Aya knew that he was no longer capable of feeling anything but anger and rage and an icy control.

He was lost to the weight of his sins. And under that, Ken could never survive.

This conversation was wasting their time and placing Ken in danger since their enemy already knew who Aya was. It would be easily enough for their enemies to figure out that Ken was Weiss too if they kept standing outside talking about Kritiker business. He tried to say that to Ken, but the brunet kept on blathering about Aya's real reasons for not leaving the Academy. Hands curled into fists, he tried to punch Ken but the brunet caught his fist, staring at Aya grimly.

"Do you. . ." Ken panted, his hand closing tightly around Aya's fist. "Intend to leave Weiss?"

Aya stared back, not giving any of his thoughts away. To leave Weiss would mean to give up on his ideals about the team. He would not give up on those ideals, of what being Weiss meant to him. Even if he gave up on Weiss, he was still burdened with sins and he could never return to the world. This was all he had left.

"I don't know," he replied, quietly. He buried his free hand in Ken's gut, stepping back as the brunet collapsed trying to get his breath back. Turning his back, he added, "The night air is bad for your health."

He heard the hissed in swear from Ken's lips and could feel the glare boring into his back, but he continued walking. He let Ken yell at him and kept walking, not replying to the words that were too close to his own thoughts. Weiss was no longer what they were supposed to be. Weiss were nothing more than tools to be used and tossed away by Takatori's greed. Weiss no longer fought for justice. To be Weiss, they had to leave their orders and show what it meant to wear the cross of sins.

A cross that Aya could feel even now, digging into his shoulders as he walked through the quiet night. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he looked up at the sky tracing the consolations among the stars. It was then he saw the stadium lights turn on. He quirked an eyebrow and looking in that direction, spotting a familiar bike not quite hidden by bushes near by.

Frowning, he hurried to his car, breaking out his assassin gear from his hidden cache. Sena was not supposed to be here. The youngest Weiss was supposed to be at the shop, doing his homework and listening to phone taps. Aya gave him no other orders.

As if that would stop the angry young man from trying to find out where his mother was.

Aya stripped his ordinary clothing off impatiently and pulled on his gear, each piece of cloth feeling more right on him than what he had on before. He tugged on his gloves then picked up his katana, feeling the weight of it in his hands and knowing that yet again it will taste blood before the night was through. Closing his car up, he turned on his heel and stalked into the shadows, the white of his costume dull in the gloom.

He found a way into the stadium and stood in the shadows, watching the two strangely pathetic freaks for a few moments. They were not in the same league as any member of Schwarz, even though Weiss information had found that they - like other members of Class Z - were genetically enhanced. Watching a moment longer, nodding in silent approval that Sena was still not giving up despite his beating, Aya decided it was their lack of focus that made them pathetic.

He stepped out into the stadium, drawing his blade and moving in a silent rush towards the girl and Sena, his katana cutting the air as he brought it low and hard. She went down, screaming at the bite of his blade, Sena falling in the other direction. He spared the youth a glance, noting that he was still breathing and coherent despite the pain. Turning, Aya faced the male, holding his blade at the ready and feeling the rush of the fight filling him. His opponent was little more then a boy, so smug in his special skills and the victory against Aya a few weeks back. Aya did not have the heart to tell him that he fought better and stronger people then a genetic copy.

They exchanged words, Aya dodging the first attack easily, jumping the second attack. After fighting against the Berserker, the child's moves were just that - childish, crude and lacking rhythm. Aya easily moved from blows that would have crushed him, waiting for the opening to finish this travesty of a dance. There, with a yell of 'Shi-ne' the boy came all out, not caring about protection in his attempt to get Aya. Aya's eyes narrowed as he turned his blade, the shock of steele slicing through muscles and organs traveling up his arms. Only his ribs prevented the katana from cutting his body in two, even though the wound was enough to fell the boy.

Wiping his blade, Aya slid it back into its sheath then moved to look down at Sena. He bent to check his pulse and felt a whisper of wind against the back of his neck. Aya yanked out a knife, turning and bringing it up for defense, cursing under his breath at his lack of attention. A hand encased in black leather caught his wrist, twisting it back and a heavily built body pressed closer to him, wolf yellow eyes glittering in amusement.

"Jumpy, are you?"