Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chains ❯ Test Me ( Chapter 58 )
[ 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: 12.19.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 272 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.19.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 272 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter Fifty-Eight: Test Me
He flipped the cell phone closed, dissatisfied with the click it made. It would have been much more satisfying to slam something down. Instead, he put the phone back into his pocket and, affecting an ease he wasn’t feeling, leaned back against the large desk to look at his companion.
Staring intently at him, Farfarello smiled, an eerie, vengeful expression, “We can go?”
Schuldig shook his head, “Not until he gets back.”
“He’s angry. With you.”
It was nothing new, Schuldig thought, as he picked at his nails. Bradley was constantly angry with him. Still, this time he might have overstepped the limits of the man’s patience. It was a relief, in some ways, that Crawford needed him for his powers, otherwise he would probably already be dead.
“He’s angry for what you did.”
“He doesn’t know what I did.”
“He will.”
~*~
“I don’t feel good about this,” Ken complained. Standing in the middle of the downstairs gym, he flexed his hands experimentally, obviously not used to the practice weaponry. It was something Omi had had made before, but generally disappointed with it, Ken hadn’t bothered much with the wooden version of his bugnuck blades. They were permanently extended, and it felt strange. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t like what Yohji wanted him to do.
Not that the blonde looked excited over the situation. Leaning against the wall, he looked sullen, sunglasses drawn over his eyes. Beside him Omi fidgeted, having failed to convince everyone that this could wait.
“I don’t like it,” he said again, hoping for reprieve.
“Ken,” Yohji warned, voice colder than usual.
“Be careful,” Omi requested. He bit nervously at his lip as he looked from Ken to Aya and back again.
The redhead looked thin in his black track pants and white t-shirt, long arms unusually exposed as they lifted the bokken in front of him. His stance was firm and his expression blank. Ken wished Aya had worn some protective gear and hoped he could keep himself from hitting too hard.
“Ready?” he asked, nervously lifting his right hand and settling his balance.
Aya nodded, and his hold on the sword strengthened.
“Go!”
Ken leapt forward, hand raised with the intention of striking Aya’s shoulder, but the boy turned with surprising speed, and for half a second, Ken thought he was trying to protect himself by presenting his back, but then his hand met sudden resistance. It took him another second to realize Aya had shifted his stance to catch his blades on the edge of the wooden sword; the handle of the bokken was lifted, the blade down, and Aya shoved, intending to send him backwards. The force was stronger than he expected, though not enough to truly accomplish the task; Ken had enough weight on Aya to be difficult to move, but he relented and jumped back.
It took less than moment to regain his footing, then he went again. Aya was already facing him again, bokken leveled in a basic defensive stance, ready against anything. Ken went to the left this time, aiming low. Again, Aya deflected the blow, knocking Ken’s hand up and away. The blow stung, but it was nothing serious. Following through, Ken turned and went with his right hand, straight on, more a punch than a sweeping strike Aya ducked, and Ken realized he had left himself open; he expected the redhead to hit his legs, maybe his side, to take him down.
But nothing happened; he turned to find Aya at the ready again.
“Fight back!” Yohji called from the sidelines. “You can’t just defend.”
“You’re not going to hurt Ken-kun,” Omi added. Ken silently thanked him, rather sarcastically, for the vote of confidence. A few minutes before he would have thought it was true, but there was something in Aya’s movements, the speed, the grace, that suggested that he might be a formidable opponent. Ken shook off the feeling, brining to mind the image of the boy that had stood in their kitchen three weeks ago. Aya couldn’t hurt him; all Ken had to worry about was not doing the same.
Again they faced each other. Aya’s stance was the same, bokken raised along the middle line of his body, arms straight. Then, just as Ken moved, he shifted, not in response this time, but rather in action. Ken’s right hook passed over his head as he ducked and turned, coming up behind the brunette just before he got his balance back. Ken felt the blow against his back, obviously checked at the last second and barely hard enough to bruise. Surprised, he turned to look at Aya. The boy looked back, nothing on his face, but with something different in his eyes. It made Ken cold to look at it.
“Good job, Aya-kun!” Omi encouraged.
Deciding he had been too easy on the kid, Ken decided to even the score. Again he swept in with his right hand, and as expected, Aya caught the weapon with his sword the same as before. Now though, he brought up his free hand; Aya saw the move coming; he dodged, but it was awkward, his bokken still caught up with Ken’s blades. Ken tried the left again, but now Aya had gotten loose and met his hands, expertly contacting with his wrist before the hit could land.
Had the sword been real, he would have lost a hand.
Pushing off the wall, Yohji shoved his sunglasses up to watch.
Ken got out of range before Aya could hit him again, and took a second to think. Aya was set up again, watching him with that chilling look, his eyes narrowed with something more than concentration.
Ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine, Ken went for it, straight down the middle, intending a blow to the gut. Aya lifted the sword, and it was hard to say who was quicker. Just as his fist contacted with Aya’s middle, the hard edge of the wooden sword landed on his shoulder.
“That’s enough!” Yohji called, rushing over to Aya.
Backing off, Ken prayed he hadn’t hurt the boy. He had been caught up in it. About to apologize, he caught Aya’s eyes again; this time there was definite satisfaction in that cold fire. Dropping his gaze, Ken stripped off his gloves. His shoulder stung, and he found he liked Aya better for it.
“Let’s do it again sometime,” he smiled. The boy, currently under Yohji’s prodding investigation, nodded solemnly.
~*~
Aya watched Ken leave the gym, Omi following close behind him. He hadn’t hit hard, and there was no way he had hurt the other. It was disappointing to see Ken pull his punches, and it served to reinforce the handicap of his situation. He had to get better.
“Okay?” Yohji questioned. The blonde was standing close, tugging up Aya’s t-shirt to run a warm hand over the other’s belly. He prodded it gently, and Aya wished he would stop. The hit had made him feel a bit sick, and Yohji’s poking wasn’t helping. “Aya, okay?”
“Yes,” he answered, trying to shake off the fight. It was always like that when he fought a match, his concentration masking the rest of the world, letting him focus on his opponent. It had been a relief when it returned the week before in practice, helping him summon his energy and face Sato with all he had, as meager as that currently was.
“Are you sure?” Yohji was looking at his eyes now.
“I’m fine.”
There must have been something different in his voice, and Aya only belatedly realized it had shed its subdued quality. Quickly putting himself in check, he tried again, “Yes, Yohji.”
~tbc~
The slug has left you a present. It’s a Schuldig…and he seems to be rather naked, except for that one, big bow there…you might want to untie that carefully. Review?
Converting /tmp/phpq68VBv to /dev/stdout
He flipped the cell phone closed, dissatisfied with the click it made. It would have been much more satisfying to slam something down. Instead, he put the phone back into his pocket and, affecting an ease he wasn’t feeling, leaned back against the large desk to look at his companion.
Staring intently at him, Farfarello smiled, an eerie, vengeful expression, “We can go?”
Schuldig shook his head, “Not until he gets back.”
“He’s angry. With you.”
It was nothing new, Schuldig thought, as he picked at his nails. Bradley was constantly angry with him. Still, this time he might have overstepped the limits of the man’s patience. It was a relief, in some ways, that Crawford needed him for his powers, otherwise he would probably already be dead.
“He’s angry for what you did.”
“He doesn’t know what I did.”
“He will.”
~*~
“I don’t feel good about this,” Ken complained. Standing in the middle of the downstairs gym, he flexed his hands experimentally, obviously not used to the practice weaponry. It was something Omi had had made before, but generally disappointed with it, Ken hadn’t bothered much with the wooden version of his bugnuck blades. They were permanently extended, and it felt strange. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t like what Yohji wanted him to do.
Not that the blonde looked excited over the situation. Leaning against the wall, he looked sullen, sunglasses drawn over his eyes. Beside him Omi fidgeted, having failed to convince everyone that this could wait.
“I don’t like it,” he said again, hoping for reprieve.
“Ken,” Yohji warned, voice colder than usual.
“Be careful,” Omi requested. He bit nervously at his lip as he looked from Ken to Aya and back again.
The redhead looked thin in his black track pants and white t-shirt, long arms unusually exposed as they lifted the bokken in front of him. His stance was firm and his expression blank. Ken wished Aya had worn some protective gear and hoped he could keep himself from hitting too hard.
“Ready?” he asked, nervously lifting his right hand and settling his balance.
Aya nodded, and his hold on the sword strengthened.
“Go!”
Ken leapt forward, hand raised with the intention of striking Aya’s shoulder, but the boy turned with surprising speed, and for half a second, Ken thought he was trying to protect himself by presenting his back, but then his hand met sudden resistance. It took him another second to realize Aya had shifted his stance to catch his blades on the edge of the wooden sword; the handle of the bokken was lifted, the blade down, and Aya shoved, intending to send him backwards. The force was stronger than he expected, though not enough to truly accomplish the task; Ken had enough weight on Aya to be difficult to move, but he relented and jumped back.
It took less than moment to regain his footing, then he went again. Aya was already facing him again, bokken leveled in a basic defensive stance, ready against anything. Ken went to the left this time, aiming low. Again, Aya deflected the blow, knocking Ken’s hand up and away. The blow stung, but it was nothing serious. Following through, Ken turned and went with his right hand, straight on, more a punch than a sweeping strike Aya ducked, and Ken realized he had left himself open; he expected the redhead to hit his legs, maybe his side, to take him down.
But nothing happened; he turned to find Aya at the ready again.
“Fight back!” Yohji called from the sidelines. “You can’t just defend.”
“You’re not going to hurt Ken-kun,” Omi added. Ken silently thanked him, rather sarcastically, for the vote of confidence. A few minutes before he would have thought it was true, but there was something in Aya’s movements, the speed, the grace, that suggested that he might be a formidable opponent. Ken shook off the feeling, brining to mind the image of the boy that had stood in their kitchen three weeks ago. Aya couldn’t hurt him; all Ken had to worry about was not doing the same.
Again they faced each other. Aya’s stance was the same, bokken raised along the middle line of his body, arms straight. Then, just as Ken moved, he shifted, not in response this time, but rather in action. Ken’s right hook passed over his head as he ducked and turned, coming up behind the brunette just before he got his balance back. Ken felt the blow against his back, obviously checked at the last second and barely hard enough to bruise. Surprised, he turned to look at Aya. The boy looked back, nothing on his face, but with something different in his eyes. It made Ken cold to look at it.
“Good job, Aya-kun!” Omi encouraged.
Deciding he had been too easy on the kid, Ken decided to even the score. Again he swept in with his right hand, and as expected, Aya caught the weapon with his sword the same as before. Now though, he brought up his free hand; Aya saw the move coming; he dodged, but it was awkward, his bokken still caught up with Ken’s blades. Ken tried the left again, but now Aya had gotten loose and met his hands, expertly contacting with his wrist before the hit could land.
Had the sword been real, he would have lost a hand.
Pushing off the wall, Yohji shoved his sunglasses up to watch.
Ken got out of range before Aya could hit him again, and took a second to think. Aya was set up again, watching him with that chilling look, his eyes narrowed with something more than concentration.
Ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine, Ken went for it, straight down the middle, intending a blow to the gut. Aya lifted the sword, and it was hard to say who was quicker. Just as his fist contacted with Aya’s middle, the hard edge of the wooden sword landed on his shoulder.
“That’s enough!” Yohji called, rushing over to Aya.
Backing off, Ken prayed he hadn’t hurt the boy. He had been caught up in it. About to apologize, he caught Aya’s eyes again; this time there was definite satisfaction in that cold fire. Dropping his gaze, Ken stripped off his gloves. His shoulder stung, and he found he liked Aya better for it.
“Let’s do it again sometime,” he smiled. The boy, currently under Yohji’s prodding investigation, nodded solemnly.
~*~
Aya watched Ken leave the gym, Omi following close behind him. He hadn’t hit hard, and there was no way he had hurt the other. It was disappointing to see Ken pull his punches, and it served to reinforce the handicap of his situation. He had to get better.
“Okay?” Yohji questioned. The blonde was standing close, tugging up Aya’s t-shirt to run a warm hand over the other’s belly. He prodded it gently, and Aya wished he would stop. The hit had made him feel a bit sick, and Yohji’s poking wasn’t helping. “Aya, okay?”
“Yes,” he answered, trying to shake off the fight. It was always like that when he fought a match, his concentration masking the rest of the world, letting him focus on his opponent. It had been a relief when it returned the week before in practice, helping him summon his energy and face Sato with all he had, as meager as that currently was.
“Are you sure?” Yohji was looking at his eyes now.
“I’m fine.”
There must have been something different in his voice, and Aya only belatedly realized it had shed its subdued quality. Quickly putting himself in check, he tried again, “Yes, Yohji.”
~tbc~
The slug has left you a present. It’s a Schuldig…and he seems to be rather naked, except for that one, big bow there…you might want to untie that carefully. Review?
Converting /tmp/phpq68VBv to /dev/stdout