Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chains ❯ Track Me ( Chapter 54 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.25.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 263 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.25.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 263 | Status: Work In Progress
Notes: Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope you all are having a nice day and that your families are slightly less crazy than mine.
Chapter Fifty-Four: Track Me
Though he had dreaded it, fought it, and complained about it, Yohji had to admit that training might, just might, be good for Aya. Okay, so it was good. It tired him out, but in just over a week, his sessions with Sato, along with the continued care he received at home, had him looking noticeably better. He seemed more focused, he didn’t back into corners as often, and he was eating better. While naps were still fairly common, and recommended on Yohji’s part, they were becoming less necessary. There were still the set responses, the looking down, and a hundred other things to work on, but the first time the boy sat down and cleaned his plate, Yohji was ready to celebrate. The biggest drawback, as far as he could see, was the fact that Aya had started waking up early.
~*~
“Stay still.”
Aya tried. He tried hard, leveling his breathing and keeping himself as still as possible. Yohji sighed.
“Okay, fine, get up then.”
Grateful, Aya lifted himself from the blonde’s chest and scooched to his side of the bed, only to have the sleeve of his PJs caught. He looked back, feeling odd to be sitting while Yohji was still laying down. Maybe the other had changed his mind, maybe it would be better if Aya just laid down and waited quietly. But Yohji always slept so long, and he didn’t like Aya to just lay there. He didn’t know what to do.
“What’re you gonna do?” Yohji asked, opening only one eye to look up at him as he unconsciously echoed the redhead’s thoughts.
“What should I do, Yohji?”
“As long as it doesn’t wake me up, I don’t care. It’s,” he rolled over to look at the clock, “Christ, Aya, it’s six-thirty in the morning.”
“I’m s—”
“S’too early for sorry.”
“I—”
“Aya,” he interrupted. Aya waited with baited breath, fearing the impending punishment for his insolence. It hadn’t happened yet, and sometimes, more than he would like, he thought it might not, but for all his trust in his owner, he couldn’t shake the idea that he might have, this once, crossed the line. But Yohji wasn’t angry.
“What do you want to do?”
What did he want? It was one of those questions that his owner liked to ask, and one that Aya always had a hard time answering. More often, though, he was finding that there were things he would like to do, and, stranger, that
Yohji really wanted to know.
“Can I go train? Downstairs?”
“This early? Sure, knock yourself out.”
~*~
Yohji wanted sleep. It was Sunday, and Sunday meant a warm bed and nothing that even resembled morning. But at a little after eight, he found himself up, showered, and dressed. It was strange, he thought, that his mouth didn’t taste like stale booze and that he had nothing resembling a headache, just a mild feeling of injustice at being out of bed, and that was his own doing.
After a moment of contemplation at the top of the stairs, he started down to find out exactly where Aya was and what he was doing. The boy didn’t cause trouble, at least not intentionally, and very rarely by his own fault, but Yohji couldn’t shake a desire to know his whereabouts at all times. Ken had accused him of hovering; Yohji brushed it off, at least until the brunette caught him using his smoke break to check in on the greenhouse, again.
For his part, Aya didn’t seem to mind, at least not as far as Yohji could tell. He still wasn’t sure how honest or open the boy was being with his own feelings on the matter, or any matter, but he seemed content enough in Yohji’s presence and tagged along behind him unless the blonde told him specifically that he could, or should remain somewhere.
Walking through the living room, he turned a right and headed down the twisting metal stairs that led to the basement. There, past the mission room, was the large room they had converted to a gym of sorts. The original intentions had been some grand workout room where they would all train on a daily basis, but as soon as the most functioning matters were taken care of, they had largely lost interest in the project.
The long, rectangular room took up half of the basement. On one end there was a collection of workout equipment, front and center a weight bench that Ken and Yohji actually made use of, but behind that was a stationary bike that collected dust and held up a blue jacket that had been there forever. The rowing machine had found a similar fate, as had the half-inflated exercise ball. Against the wall leaned a target that Omi had once used for practice, soon realizing that he got quite enough at work, and beside it a collection of posts and other dummy targets
The other side of the room had been mostly empty, and Yohji had only had to move a few mats to free up a nice space for Aya to practice. The floor, he thought, could probably use waxing, but Aya didn’t seem deterred by the flat, wooden surface. That first day, Yohji had vowed to renew his project with Ken to put up mirrors down there, there already being two secured to the wall and a wrapped stack of others occupying the far corner. While he had promised to fix the shortcomings, Aya had been quietly impressed with the whole setup and more than eager to put it to use. So, along with the greenhouse, he had acquired another favorite spot.
Yohji didn’t stay to watch him practice. He didn’t like anyone watching him with the wire, whether practicing or killing, and assumed it was the same for Aya. Maybe it wasn’t, but Sato had called his presence a distraction, and as much as it offended him, with their time limit, they couldn’t afford any distractions.
Opening the gym door, he expected to see Aya at his katas, but the center of the room was empty. Once he stepped inside, though, he found his object. Dressed in simple t-shirt and sweatpants (these being his workout clothes since Yohji had figured out exactly how difficult it was to properly launder a pair of hakama), Aya was sitting against the white wall, his bokken lying close beside him and his arms wrapped around the knees he had drawn up. He didn’t look up as Yohji entered, and the blonde knew something was wrong.
He walked over and took a seat beside him; then he waited.
Finally, Aya lifted his head, looked at him, and returned to staring at his knees. He looked sad.
“What’s wrong?” It was simple, but Yohji had finally gotten it through his head that simple was often best with Aya.
“I can’t do it,” the boy said quietly, despondently.
“Can’t do what?”
“I used to practice for hours, almost every day. Now…I really was good, Yohji, I was.”
It was more words that he usually got on a subject, and, more rare, a little comment on the past.
“Give it time,” he replied, not quite sure what the problem was. Obviously Aya had run upon some kind of difficulty, but whether physical or mental Yohji couldn’t be sure. “You’ve only been at it for what, a little over a week? It takes time.”
“We don’t have time.” It was almost a whisper, and if Yohji had thought Aya wasn’t aware of the seriousness of their endeavor, his doubts were suddenly expelled.
“Don’t stress over it,” he dismissed, trying to shake off the leaden feeling the words had instilled in his own person. He sat still for a minute, then, levering himself up, he turned back to look down at the other. “You’re doing good, Aya. Hell, Sato says your doing great, and I get the feeling he doesn’t really do compliments, you know?”
No answer; Aya remained solemn. Nope, that wasn’t gonna cut it. It was Sunday, after all, and Sundays were good days.
“Come on, that’s enough. It’s our day off; what do you want to work for anyway?”
Not for the first time, he reached a hand out to help Aya up. Purple eyes came up, still so unsure, like he might get slapped at any moment. It took a lot of effort not to look away, but Yohji held the stare just like he held the cool hand that was put in his own as he helped Aya up. Unexpectedly, as soon as he gained his feet, the boy fell, forcing Yohji to turn and catch him quickly before he hit the ground. Well, that explained the sitting; the kid had worn himself out.
“Geez, Aya, come on. That’s definitely enough practice. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
~tbc~
Leave a review? I’d be thankful…and it might get the slug away from the pudding. I’m not sure what he’s doing with it, but it’s not good.
Converting /tmp/phpQP8LUe to /dev/stdout
Chapter Fifty-Four: Track Me
Though he had dreaded it, fought it, and complained about it, Yohji had to admit that training might, just might, be good for Aya. Okay, so it was good. It tired him out, but in just over a week, his sessions with Sato, along with the continued care he received at home, had him looking noticeably better. He seemed more focused, he didn’t back into corners as often, and he was eating better. While naps were still fairly common, and recommended on Yohji’s part, they were becoming less necessary. There were still the set responses, the looking down, and a hundred other things to work on, but the first time the boy sat down and cleaned his plate, Yohji was ready to celebrate. The biggest drawback, as far as he could see, was the fact that Aya had started waking up early.
~*~
“Stay still.”
Aya tried. He tried hard, leveling his breathing and keeping himself as still as possible. Yohji sighed.
“Okay, fine, get up then.”
Grateful, Aya lifted himself from the blonde’s chest and scooched to his side of the bed, only to have the sleeve of his PJs caught. He looked back, feeling odd to be sitting while Yohji was still laying down. Maybe the other had changed his mind, maybe it would be better if Aya just laid down and waited quietly. But Yohji always slept so long, and he didn’t like Aya to just lay there. He didn’t know what to do.
“What’re you gonna do?” Yohji asked, opening only one eye to look up at him as he unconsciously echoed the redhead’s thoughts.
“What should I do, Yohji?”
“As long as it doesn’t wake me up, I don’t care. It’s,” he rolled over to look at the clock, “Christ, Aya, it’s six-thirty in the morning.”
“I’m s—”
“S’too early for sorry.”
“I—”
“Aya,” he interrupted. Aya waited with baited breath, fearing the impending punishment for his insolence. It hadn’t happened yet, and sometimes, more than he would like, he thought it might not, but for all his trust in his owner, he couldn’t shake the idea that he might have, this once, crossed the line. But Yohji wasn’t angry.
“What do you want to do?”
What did he want? It was one of those questions that his owner liked to ask, and one that Aya always had a hard time answering. More often, though, he was finding that there were things he would like to do, and, stranger, that
Yohji really wanted to know.
“Can I go train? Downstairs?”
“This early? Sure, knock yourself out.”
~*~
Yohji wanted sleep. It was Sunday, and Sunday meant a warm bed and nothing that even resembled morning. But at a little after eight, he found himself up, showered, and dressed. It was strange, he thought, that his mouth didn’t taste like stale booze and that he had nothing resembling a headache, just a mild feeling of injustice at being out of bed, and that was his own doing.
After a moment of contemplation at the top of the stairs, he started down to find out exactly where Aya was and what he was doing. The boy didn’t cause trouble, at least not intentionally, and very rarely by his own fault, but Yohji couldn’t shake a desire to know his whereabouts at all times. Ken had accused him of hovering; Yohji brushed it off, at least until the brunette caught him using his smoke break to check in on the greenhouse, again.
For his part, Aya didn’t seem to mind, at least not as far as Yohji could tell. He still wasn’t sure how honest or open the boy was being with his own feelings on the matter, or any matter, but he seemed content enough in Yohji’s presence and tagged along behind him unless the blonde told him specifically that he could, or should remain somewhere.
Walking through the living room, he turned a right and headed down the twisting metal stairs that led to the basement. There, past the mission room, was the large room they had converted to a gym of sorts. The original intentions had been some grand workout room where they would all train on a daily basis, but as soon as the most functioning matters were taken care of, they had largely lost interest in the project.
The long, rectangular room took up half of the basement. On one end there was a collection of workout equipment, front and center a weight bench that Ken and Yohji actually made use of, but behind that was a stationary bike that collected dust and held up a blue jacket that had been there forever. The rowing machine had found a similar fate, as had the half-inflated exercise ball. Against the wall leaned a target that Omi had once used for practice, soon realizing that he got quite enough at work, and beside it a collection of posts and other dummy targets
The other side of the room had been mostly empty, and Yohji had only had to move a few mats to free up a nice space for Aya to practice. The floor, he thought, could probably use waxing, but Aya didn’t seem deterred by the flat, wooden surface. That first day, Yohji had vowed to renew his project with Ken to put up mirrors down there, there already being two secured to the wall and a wrapped stack of others occupying the far corner. While he had promised to fix the shortcomings, Aya had been quietly impressed with the whole setup and more than eager to put it to use. So, along with the greenhouse, he had acquired another favorite spot.
Yohji didn’t stay to watch him practice. He didn’t like anyone watching him with the wire, whether practicing or killing, and assumed it was the same for Aya. Maybe it wasn’t, but Sato had called his presence a distraction, and as much as it offended him, with their time limit, they couldn’t afford any distractions.
Opening the gym door, he expected to see Aya at his katas, but the center of the room was empty. Once he stepped inside, though, he found his object. Dressed in simple t-shirt and sweatpants (these being his workout clothes since Yohji had figured out exactly how difficult it was to properly launder a pair of hakama), Aya was sitting against the white wall, his bokken lying close beside him and his arms wrapped around the knees he had drawn up. He didn’t look up as Yohji entered, and the blonde knew something was wrong.
He walked over and took a seat beside him; then he waited.
Finally, Aya lifted his head, looked at him, and returned to staring at his knees. He looked sad.
“What’s wrong?” It was simple, but Yohji had finally gotten it through his head that simple was often best with Aya.
“I can’t do it,” the boy said quietly, despondently.
“Can’t do what?”
“I used to practice for hours, almost every day. Now…I really was good, Yohji, I was.”
It was more words that he usually got on a subject, and, more rare, a little comment on the past.
“Give it time,” he replied, not quite sure what the problem was. Obviously Aya had run upon some kind of difficulty, but whether physical or mental Yohji couldn’t be sure. “You’ve only been at it for what, a little over a week? It takes time.”
“We don’t have time.” It was almost a whisper, and if Yohji had thought Aya wasn’t aware of the seriousness of their endeavor, his doubts were suddenly expelled.
“Don’t stress over it,” he dismissed, trying to shake off the leaden feeling the words had instilled in his own person. He sat still for a minute, then, levering himself up, he turned back to look down at the other. “You’re doing good, Aya. Hell, Sato says your doing great, and I get the feeling he doesn’t really do compliments, you know?”
No answer; Aya remained solemn. Nope, that wasn’t gonna cut it. It was Sunday, after all, and Sundays were good days.
“Come on, that’s enough. It’s our day off; what do you want to work for anyway?”
Not for the first time, he reached a hand out to help Aya up. Purple eyes came up, still so unsure, like he might get slapped at any moment. It took a lot of effort not to look away, but Yohji held the stare just like he held the cool hand that was put in his own as he helped Aya up. Unexpectedly, as soon as he gained his feet, the boy fell, forcing Yohji to turn and catch him quickly before he hit the ground. Well, that explained the sitting; the kid had worn himself out.
“Geez, Aya, come on. That’s definitely enough practice. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
~tbc~
Leave a review? I’d be thankful…and it might get the slug away from the pudding. I’m not sure what he’s doing with it, but it’s not good.
Converting /tmp/phpQP8LUe to /dev/stdout