Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chains ❯ Comfort Me ( Chapter 77 )

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

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Comfort Me


“What happened?” Omi asked, standing in the doorway and preventing Yohji from coming all the way up the stairs. He had watched Manx leave and waited patiently for nearly twenty minutes; now he deserved to know what was going on. He would have already figured it out if the basement door wasn’t so damnably soundproof.

Yohji just shook his head and elbowed Omi gently out of the doorway. Frustrated, the younger boy let Yohji and Aya pass, turning to follow them into the kitchen.

He stood impatiently by and watched as Yohji took out two cans and set them on the table. Going to the cabinet, the blonde rummaged around for a second before coming out with a strawberry Kit-Kat. (He must have bought it since Omi didn’t like the strawberry ones.) Taking his find back to the table, Yohji took a seat and motioned Aya to the one to his right. He tore open the candy bar, broke it in half, and handed one portion to the redhead. Then he opened both cans, one soda and one beer, keeping the latter for himself and pushing the other in Aya’s direction.

“Thank you,” the boy said quietly.

On the verge of yelling at Yohji to just tell him, Omi was relieved when the slender man began to explain.

“Nothing happened. Manx scheduled a bunch of appointments to get Aya looked at.”

“No sign on the dotted line?” Ken asked from the far side of the room. He leaned on the counter, grinning.

Yohji smiled a little, “Not yet.”

It was a dark kind of joke, and Omi didn’t really appreciate it. There was nothing funny about the contract, a verbal agreement, or threat, that bound each of them to Weiss. There was no paper involved, but it was made perfectly clear that once you were in, you belonged to Kritiker until…well, until you were no longer useful.

Omi suppressed a shudder and forcibly turned his attention to Aya. Looking intently at the table, the boy silently worked his way through the candy Yohji had given him. When it was gone, he wiped his hand over his mouth.

Yohji handed over the other half of the candy bar.

“Weapons, medical, psych,” the blonde elaborated. “Gives us a couple more days.”

~*~

“You may call me Bengal,” he said.

Aya nodded, well instructed beforehand. Yohji had said it was probably a coincidence, since Sato was both a local agent and valued for his sword skills, but they couldn’t take any chances. For all appearances, this needed to be like their first meeting.

Aya understood that, and Yohji hadn’t needed to repeat it so many times. It made him feel slow and stupid when the blonde did that, and it was hard not to tell him to stop. Now, though Aya was glad the words were lodged in his head, keeping in grounded as his nervousness grew.

Manx was there, and it made Aya nervous. A chair had been brought in close to the practice floor, and she sat there primly in one of the shortest skirts Aya had ever seen, a small video camera in her hand.

“You use the katana?” Sato asked.

“Yes,” Aya answered, careful not to refer to him as sensei. It was odd, standing before the man dressed in track pants and a t-shirt; he felt uncomfortable, like he had forgotten to dress, especially when Sato looked so proper in his gi.

He had to focus. Letting his surroundings slip away, he thought only of his task.

Sato bowed, and Aya did the same.

“Please draw your weapon.”

~*~

Aya was out of it. Yohji glanced over to the passenger seat where the boy slept. Hands wrapped around his kendo bag, Aya’s head rested against the door, his sweat-damp hair blown around his face by the wind that whipped over the open top of the Seven.

Yohji had been blown away by what he had done. There had been no play between the two swordsmen, and after a few opening moves, steel had met steel in quick repetition. It had set his teeth on edge to watch Aya fight like that, sure that the boy was going to get hurt. Sato wasn’t holding back, but each time Yohji thought Aya might be in trouble, the boy had come back, face set in cold determination.

Even Manx was surprised. With a sidelong glance, Yohji had caught an oddly open expression of shock on her face, but, more disturbing, was the look of smug satisfaction it morphed into by the end of the exhibition.

Yohji hoped it was just because Aya would be a hell of a fighter. With what he had accomplished in such a short time, it was difficult to fathom what he might achieve given six months and a firmer constitution. Aya had tried his best, and anyone looking on wouldn’t have known what he had gone through. He was too thin, true, but he looked ready and strong, meeting Manx’s eyes with that cold, fighting stare.

She left satisfied. Two steps out the door, Aya fell into Yohji’s waiting arms.

~*~

They made it all the way to the door before Aya balked.

Yohji had known it was coming. From the moment the word ‘hospital’ had slipped from his mouth that morning, Aya had been tense and quiet, pulling at his hair and the collar and twisting his fingers around his wrist when he thought Yohji wasn’t looking. The kid did not want to go.

But he never said a word, and, since there wasn’t anything he could really do about it, neither did Yohji.

It wasn’t until they came within three feet of the automatic doors that Aya stopped. His eyes were wide, staring inside, and his right hand reached up, twisting hard in his hair. Yohji gave him a second to see if he would get it together and come on, but it wasn’t meant to be. The boy just stood there, seemingly oblivious to the people passing them, trying not to stare. Yohji couldn’t blame them; pale and breathing hard, Aya looked like someone about to have a psychotic episode.

It was not a good day for that.

“Aya,” he tried, softly, and placed a hand on Aya’s arm. The boy didn’t react, but when Yohji tried to pull him forward, he jerked away, taking two steps backwards. Yohji took a deep breath, then, “What’s the matter?”

Aya didn’t respond for a long time, and then, slowly, he let go of his hair and stood up straight. His eyes never came to Yohji as he said, “I have to.”

And suddenly his face was blank, emotionless and cold. Lowering his stare to the ground in front of him, he stepped back to Yohji’s side and silently waited to the blonde to continue in the building. Yohji went, crossing the threshold with trepidation; the rush of cool, antiseptic air hit them but Aya continued to follow without incident. Bypassing the desk, Yohji led them to the elevator; they stepped into the car alone, Aya standing close to his side against the back wall.

“Okay?” Yohji asked.

“Yes, Yohji.”

That was a no, that flat voice and rote response. Yohji had started to recognize it as Aya’s response to stressful or frightening situations, and it was a major tip off (if, by chance, one had missed his being on the verge of freaking out) that he was not feeling comfortable. Unsure what to do, Yohji stood silently, hoping for the best.

~*~

He had spent all afternoon loitering awkwardly outside of doors. They wouldn’t let him in, fine, but he sure as hell wasn’t going all the way back to the waiting room. So, when Aya was taken down the hall, Yohji followed, and, much to the nurse’s aggravation, insisted on waiting, yes, right there.

Said nurse was not his friend. In fact, she was a real bitch, Yohji decided.

Each time Aya came out, he looked worse. After an hour’s worth of family history questions, he was silent, staring as he came into the white hallway. Yohji had tried to be encouraging, falling into step beside him as they went to the scale. He noted, in a peripheral sort of way, that Aya was still much too light for his height, but he was more concerned with the way the boy tried to edge away from the stern-looking nurse. The blonde tried to offer reassurances, but then he had to send Aya into another room by himself.

The bitch-nurse came and went, giving him a glare as he took up part of what one might think was her own personal hallway, reminding him twice that there was a waiting room just down the hall. He just smiled.

The doctor came, and Yohji felt his stomach drop. He was a tall man, still an inch short of Yohji, but definitely taller than Aya, well built and, worst of all, with dark hair and light eyes. Over the past two months, Yohji had not failed to notice that this combination did not bode well for Aya. It could only have been worse if the guy had been wearing glasses.

Yohji had seen him before. Hamane. Yamane, maybe.

He smiled casually as he approached, tucking a pen into the pocket of his white coat. Yohji checked his nametag: Yumane.

“Friend or family?” he questioned, as if he came upon waiting assassins on a general basis.

“Friend,” Yohji returned.

“We’ll be careful with him,” the doctor assured as he walked in the door, closing it quietly behind him as he repeated Aya’s name. It struck Yohji as odd that the man already knew about Aya; maybe he had been warned beforehand.

~*~

Aya was shaking. His hand trembled with such force when Yohji took it that the blonde stopped in the middle of the hall and stared at him.

The boy was sickly pale, and for a second, Yohji thought he might throw up. Though the older man stared at him, Aya looked insistently at the rug in front of him.

“Okay?”

A nod, but nothing else.

“Aya?” Yohji ducked a little, trying to see Aya’s eyes.

Unfortunately, Yumane had stopped in front of them and had turned around to evaluate the pair with a curious look. As he had explained to Aya earlier, Yohji knew it was imperative that the tests went well as each and every stupid detail was going to be reported, from how Aya reacted to the doctors to what color socks he was wearing; Kritiker were nosy bastards.

So Yohji couldn’t afford to linger too long over the boy’s discomfort. Though it rubbed him the wrong way, he released Aya’s hand and patted him gently on the back.

“Alright, let’s get out of here. I’ll buy you some lunch.”

~*~

Yohji opened the passenger side door, and helped Aya inside. Once he got into the car, Aya instantly doubled over, the trembling growing worse.

Disturbed and desperate to help, Yohji knelt by the car, ignoring the gravel that bit into his knees as he reached out to touch Aya’s shoulder. The boy jerked away. Damn it. He shouldn’t have waited so long to help; he should have demanded to go with Aya, to hell with what Kritiker thought about it.

“Aya,” he tried to touch again only to have the redhead flinch away.

“I’m sorry,” Aya gasped, and Yohji suddenly realized how labored his breathing had become.

“It’s okay. Calm down, okay? Here,” he reached, trying to get Aya to sit up so he could get more air, but the boy resisted, tucking even tighter in against himself.

“I’m sorry, Yohji.”

“Don’t be sorry. Come on.” Yohji kept his voice calm, careful not to sound worried and especially not angry. Honestly, he was grateful Aya had waited for them to get to the car before having a breakdown. “Sit up, please. Aya, sit up.”

It took a second, but Aya did. Though he righted himself in the seat, he kept his head lowered, his long bangs over his face. His hands clenched each other in his lap. He was a mess, and Yohji didn’t know how to fix it.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned, hoping to get a better read on what was bothering Aya.

“Nothing, Yohji.”

“Bullshit.”

Aya started, and Yohji regretted the harsh tone that had slipped out even after he had warned himself not to let it.

“Did something happen?” he tried.

“I…” The pause was long, even for Aya, and Yohji almost gave up hope before he continued. “I did what you said.”

“What I said?”

Aya nodded, head still down.

“What did I say?”

Another lengthy pause. Yohji itched to touch Aya, to hug him, to try to comfort him when he looked so shaken. But what could he do when even innocuous attempts made it worse?

“I…I let them…what…,” he swallowed hard, “I didn’t mess up. They…he…nothing’s wrong. I did what…what you said. I did.”

“Okay,” Yohji answered as he sorted the words. “You let them do the tests? That’s what bothered you?”

“Nothing bothered me!” Aya suddenly yelled. Trying to curl up again, he was stopped by Yohji arms. Carefully, slowly, Yohji drew him into a hug. It was awkward, with Yohji kneeling and Aya in the car, but Aya didn’t resist. He was tense for a moment, then nearly fell against the blonde.

“It’s okay, Aya. It’s okay if you were scared.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Aya shook his head against Yohji’s shoulder. Yeah, right. But Yohji didn’t say that. Instead he held him for a few minutes, lightly rubbing his back, wondering at the hands that clutched at his shirt. Aya was still so small, hard but small and warm against him. It seemed like he should have been crying, but he wasn’t.

~tbc~

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