Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chains ❯ Change Me ( Chapter 84 )
[ 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: 05.21.2011 | Updated On: 05.21.2011 | Pages: 5 | Words: 5.1K | Visits: 289 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.21.2011 | Updated On: 05.21.2011 | Pages: 5 | Words: 5.1K | Visits: 289 | Status: Work In Progress
Author: *pokes chapter with a spork*
Subaru-san: That doesn’t count as revision.
Author: *pouts* Anyway, to the point! Longest chapter so far, and probably the most difficult to write, so I hope that I’ve tortured it into something passable. Thanks for reading! *goes back to poking fic*
Chapter Eight-Four: Change Me
“I thought you were sleeping,” Yohji said. It was after three in the morning, and he had put a lot of effort into keeping quiet as he slipped into the room, only to find Aya up and staring out the window. Wearing a pair of black cotton pajamas, the boy blended into the darkness, all but his pale hands and face that seemed to glow in the light of the nearly full moon.
“Hn,” the boy replied.
“That’s not an answer, you know,” the blonde replied, still a bit amused by this newest addition to Aya’s common vocabulary. Going over, he leaned one shoulder against the edge of the window and joined Aya in looking down at the streetlights. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Now there was no answer at all.
“Come to bed, Aya. There’s no point thinking about it.”
~*~
Stepping out of the shower, Yohji threw a towel over his head and quickly dried his hair. After a cursory pat down of his body he tossed the cloth aside and opened the door.
“Clothes are not optional!” Ken called in passing, not the least surprised to see the naked playboy step into the hallway.
“In a hurry,” Yohji called back, already on his way to his room, “and you know you want me.”
“Yeah, you and a hernia.”
Dropping the conversation, Yohji entered his room and quickly dug around for some clothes. As he pulled on a pair of tight corduroy pants and a maroon polo shirt, he wondered where Aya had gotten to. After their late night, the blonde had woken late to an empty bed, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t the best day to leave Aya to his own devices. Based on what he had seen last night, the boy might develop a penchant for brooding.
Now clothed, he crossed through the hall and down the steps, only to have Ken fall in behind him. The brunette was carrying a large bag of sports equipment and paused in the kitchen only to grab a bottle of blue stuff before wishing him goodbye.
“Hey,” Yohji called him momentarily back, “Where’s Aya?”
“I think he’s in the shop.”
Nodding in thanks for the information, Yohji grabbed a cereal bar from the cabinet and, after checking that it wasn’t the dreaded blueberry kind, shoved most of it in his mouth. With his free hand, he retrieved his coffee cup, filled it with the dregs from the coffeemaker, and popped it in the microwave. He ate the rest of the cereal bar as he waited, then took the coffee with him as he made his way to the shop.
“Afternoon, Yohji-kun,” Omi greeted. It finally dawned on the blonde that it was Saturday, meaning the chibi was home and he had he not been rolled out of bed.
“Aya here?”
Omi gestured towards the worktable. Leaving his cup on the counter, Yohji headed in that direction.
Aya was sitting at the table, carefully selecting lilies from a pile at his left elbow and placing them into a glass vase along with several dark leaves. Only half-finished, the arrangement promised to be successful.
Purple eyes looked up as Yohji took a seat on the edge of the table.
“You could have woke me up,” he said.
“It…it was early,” Aya replied. A hand came up to tug on the silver ring of the collar, but after a couple pulls, he put the appendage back to work on the flowers, his eyes following it to the vase.
“Been up a while then?” Yohji wondered how much sleep the boy had gotten. Once they had settled down, the blonde had been dead to the world.
Aya nodded.
About to say something about a nap, Yohji was cut off by a particularly loud grumble from Aya’s stomach. The boy actually blushed, hunching over a little in his seat and focusing resolutely on his arrangement.
“Eat any breakfast?” Yohji asked. He knew the answer. Aya had a bad habit of skipping meals, especially when Yohji wasn’t there to force them on him. They were still working on that fixing-his-own-breakfast thing. It seemed being in the kitchen alone made him nervous, and Yohji had twice caught him anxiously debating what to do. The blonde supposed he generally gave up on the idea of food altogether, too nervous to touch something wrong. “Aya, did you have breakfast?”
No, Aya shook his head.
Yohji sighed.
“What do you want for lunch? I’ll go get takeout.”
Aya’s brow creased over the question. Gods, it was almost painful to watch him internally debate the small, daily decisions.
“I…I’m not—”
“Don’t say you’re not hungry. You’re still too skinny, and it’s gonna be a long night. So pick something.”
“I…soba, maybe?” he asked quietly, checking Yohji’s face for a reaction.
“No problem. Think you and Omi can hold down the fort while I grab the food?”
~*~
“Where’s Aya?” Yohji asked.
He was getting really damn tired of asking that question. It felt like he had been chasing Aya all day, ever since he had woken up without the boy there. He had gone to get lunch, only to have to hunt Aya down in the greenhouse; when he had finished closing shop, the redhead had disappeared to their room; and when he went to pick up Aya’s gear, the boy was yet again not where Yohji had left him.
Only Omi was in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of their simple supper.
“Ken took him downstairs to warm up,” the younger blonde answered, never pausing in collecting dishes and piling them in the sink. Omi didn’t like to leave dirty dishes when they went out. He never said why, but, after some morbid consideration, Yohji thought that, should they fail to come back from slaying dark beasts, Omi didn’t want Kritiker to find evidence they had been sloppy housekeepers.
Laying the heavy box and garment bag on the table, Yohji lit a cigarette. Omi gave him a hard look, but didn’t say anything.
“Is that his stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Yohji-kun,” ; the other paused, looking away as he stood with his hands in the sink, “stay close to him, okay?”
~*~
“Take it easy,” Ken directed. “Don’t wear yourself out.”
Aya nodded. They had taken a few minutes to stretch and now faced off in the center of the floor.
“And try not to bang me up too much,” the brunette added, smiling good naturedly. He was mostly joking, but over the last week it had become increasingly obvious that Aya could definitely kick his ass if the redhead put his mind to it.
~*~
Yohji was zipping up his coat when Aya walked into the bedroom carrying his sword.
“Hey,” the blonde said, watching him through the mirror as he settled his shades on and adjusted his watch.
“Hn,” Aya answered, or rather, not-answered.
“Your stuff’s on the bed. Hope everything works.”
Aya nodded and set his sword beside the collection of things. Yohji walked over to the bed and took a seat on the other side to watch him open the box and pull out a pair of heavy, black boots. Aya looked up at him.
“I…you,” he paused, pulled on his hair, and tried again, “could you…”
Sparse as it was, Yohji got the just of what the boy wanted. He was getting very good at interpreting broken Aya-speak, and right now the boy wanted to be left alone to change.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he replied, standing up and grabbing his cigarettes from the nightstand before he headed to the door. “Don’t take too long, princess.”
~*~
They stood in the kitchen, dressed for the mission and ready to go. Omi was quietly adjusting a strap on his shorts, but Ken kept flexing and relaxing his hands, making his claws extend and retract, in short, engaging in a habit that severely annoyed the tall blonde next to him.
Yohji, of course, was smoking, so he didn’t have much room to complain since neither of the others had said a word.
A slight noise from the doorway instantly had all their attentions. Aya stared back, wide-eyed as they all looked at him.
He looked dangerous. That was Yohji’s first thought.
The second was that Aya looked damn good.
His hair seemed extra bright against the dark of his outfit, his eyes, too, oddly complimented by the shadow-colored coat that fit tightly around his waist and fell past his knees. Yohji noticed the buckles, at the waist, chest, on the boots and on the sleeves. And the collar. It took the blonde a second to figure out what Aya had done with that. Two thin leather straps circled his neck, buckled in front, pulling the shirt collar up around his neck and making it tight enough that Aya’s other collar (that he was still fucking wearing) could lay, just barely, on top of them, creating an oddly layered look. The silver ring blended in with the buckles, leaving one to think it was all on purpose, and Yohji wondered if it was.
At Aya’s side was his sword, held in his black-gloved hand.
Shifting his gaze upwards, Yohji realized he still had on the earring. It might catch light, but then again, so might the sword or the collar, and now was not the time to upset the boy with a fight.
Stubbing out his cigarette in the sink, Yohji went in for a closer inspection. Gently he reached up to tug just a bit on the collar, like he was adjusting it. Aya went to shy away under the touch, but then stood still, purple eyes meeting green with more question than fear.
“You look good,” Yohji said.
“Yeah,” Ken seconded, “Totally badass.”
Yohji watched Aya’s attention flick in the brunette’s direction, and though he wasn’t sure, he thought there might have been a spark of accomplishment in those eyes.
~*~
The noises of city nightlife buzzed around them, music and neon lights spilling onto the dark streets to taint the movements of clubgoers. They came and went in flashy clothes, chatting and fighting and touching after getting drunk, completely unaware.
Yohji was unabashedly envious. He saw a pretty girl walk by, pink dress too short and hair dyed unnaturally blonde, thought of having her on his arm, going about his business without a clue that some killer was lurking in the shadows.
Yohji decided his night job sucked.
He stood concealed in the dark alley with Aya, tucked safely into the shadows with their backs against the brick building. Yohji checked his watch. Two minutes to go. Ken and Omi should be inside the club, heading down through a stairwell. He and Aya were taking the other route, just in case, slipping into the back hall and down the service stairs there.
Tezushi’s presence had been all but guaranteed, and according to the unusually helpful intel, he preferred to keep his latest catch in the basement room of the club, Testament, where he had some unsavory connections. Wouldn’t want to take something like that home after all, might scare the wife and—
Fuck, no. He wasn’t going there.
Green eyes drifted back to the street where people came and went. It was only a quarter after midnight, and the party was still going hard inside the large club, a condition that boded well for them to slip in unnoticed.
“What’s your type?” he questioned, nudging Aya’s arm and gesturing to another girl passing the entrance of the alley. The boy only stared at him. “You know, what kind of girls do you like?”
Nothing, only that frigid stare.
“Boys?” he tried. Nothing, not that he expected it. It wasn’t Aya’s job to distract him.
Yohji checked his watch again. One minute.
He chanced a glance at Aya, only to find the boy still watching him with that eerily impassive face.
“Ready?” he asked.
Aya nodded.
Yohji flicked his cigarette to the ground, said a quick prayer to whatever demented gods were listening, and told Aya to stick close.
~*~
“Basement,” Omi spoke into the mike as he stowed the lock pick.
“Confirm,” Yohji’s voice came back in his ear. Seconds later, the blonde stepped noiselessly through the door to their right, Aya directly behind him, equally quiet and with no visible signs of apprehension. Omi had expected him to look nervous or scared or at least keyed up. Something. But the by met his stare with cold deliberation. Turning his eyes uncomfortably away, Omi silently gestured at the door in front of them; Yohji nodded. He took up position at the right, drawing out a length of wire. Aya was next to him, while Omi took the left with Ken at his side. Another nod, and Yohji made a quick turn and kicked the door. It flew open with a wooden thud as it banged loudly into the wall. Turning again just to his right, Yohji snared a muscular bodyguard guard in his ready wire, yanking him up close to his own body as the harigane pulled taut.
Omi didn’t have time to watch. He ducked the swing of the second guard, crouching, ready to attack, but Ken beat him to it. Slamming his shoulder hard against the man, he ran him back into the wall; he took a half step away to swing at his head, knocking the man unconscious. A glance to the right proved Yohji’s prey to be slumped on the floor in a similar condition.
It wasn’t Weiss’s normal MO, but they had talked about it beforehand. Nobody wanted to freak Aya out with too much killing beforehand. It would come to that soon enough.
The boy was staring at the bodyguard Yohji had taken down, but before Omi could say anything, Yohji snagged a dark sleeve and gave a brief tug. Aya’s attention snapped to the older man’s face.
“Let’s go,” Omi said, hurrying to the next door, the one that should reveal their target. Four to one, it would be fine; the question was whether or not Aya could go through with it. “Abyssinian, get ready.”
~*~
“Abyssinian, get ready.”
Ready. He had to clear his mind. Just like in practice.
His emotions cried out that it wasn’t practice, that he ought to be scared, that he had just seen Yohji take down a grown man and that he could never do that.
But he put the feelings away, buried them under the facts. He had to do this. There wasn’t a choice; Yohji said so. And while Ran might not have been able to do it, Aya, Abyssinian could. It didn’t matter what he did.
Aya braced himself, sheathed sword lifted at his side and feet firmly planted. He called Tezushi’s face into his mind, then someone moved, there was a noise, and the door was gone.
Hunched over, Tezushi had one hand tangled in the matted hair of an unconscious girl, the other raised to strike her again as he drug her upwards. The girl was obviously battered, her face a swollen mass of bruises, and Tezushi’s jeans and white tank top were dirty and spotted with her blood, his grey eyes narrowed in rage that turned quickly to shaken guilt.
He straightened quickly, the body of the girl dropping to his feet with a sick thud of dead weight. She had dark hair, and for Aya there was a flash of something long forgotten, Aya-chan, shoved, falling on the playground. Anger surged at a thousand impossibly scenarios, all the dread he’d lived with so long, of his sister being hurt, of someone like Tezushi hurting her like…like…
Tezushi could only look at him, startled, afraid.
The sword felt light in his hands, and with one lunge, Aya pulled it from the sheath and struck, hard and sure, across Tezushi’s middle, slicing him open. Intestines spilled towards the floor and blood splashed back, warm on Aya’s hands and face, threatening to overwhelm with.
He pushed it aside, forcing his blade the rest of the way through, trying not to hear the tearing sound it made, the slick plop of Tezushi’s insides on the cement floor, the choked gasp of the man’s last breaths as he fell backwards to bleed out in a dark puddle. The sword came free in an upward arc, slinging blood outward before it fell to Aya’s side.
All Aya could do was watch, horrified, as blood poured out, more than he had expected, flowing slowly under Tezushi’s body, his own boots, under the girl’s thin arm, in her hair. And it was on him.
~*~
Aya was perfectly still, looking like a blood-splashed statue.
“Shit!” Yohji swore, desperately searching his pockets only to have Ken shove a wrinkled, white cloth at him. He grabbed it and went quickly to Aya’s side, swiping it roughly over the boy’s bloody face. Yohji felt Omi walk behind him, and saw the younger blonde gathering up the girl, motioning for Ken to help move her. Yohji concerned himself with Aya, who wasn’t moving.
With two unconscious witnesses, they didn’t have time to dick around.
“Come on,” he said. Aya looked up at him, expression blank, like he didn’t even recognize the blonde. Then the eyes went down, raking over the dead body and settling on his own bloody sword. “Shit, okay,” Yohji agreed to something unsaid. Grabbing Aya’s hand to hold it still, he ran the cloth over the sword’s blade before tossing it onto the body.
“Aya. Put it up, we have to go. Now,” Yohji said.
Aya took one, gasping kind of breath, seeming to come back a little. Yohji got no response, but he was glad to see the boy sheath the sword. Gripping the weapon tightly, he turned to look at Yohji, searching for something. The blonde had no fucking clue what it was, but he wanted Aya out of there, now.
~*~
They stood behind the club, waiting for Ken. He hand lingered to finish off the two bodyguards and appeared satisfied with the work as he slipped out the back door.
Once more in the shadows, they took a moment to regroup, getting ready to split off to their respective vehicles. Two and two, now, Omi remembered. He liked that better, not sending Yohji off on his own. Omi ran a quick glance over Aya only to find the boy staring at him, expression completely blank, like he couldn’t care less about what was going on.
How could he be so cold?
Blue eyes sought Yohji’s for information, but the older man had his dark glasses pressed all the way onto his face. Holding a lighter to the cigarette clenched between his teeth, he was staring at the trashcans across the alley. So Omi looked to Ken, who met his stare evenly if not with confidence; brown eyes flicked to Aya, then back. There was concern there as well as a question, and the brunette seemed unnerved by Aya’s reaction.
So it wasn’t just him.
It occurred to Omi that maybe Aya’s reaction was just delayed. Maybe that was better. Not that he wanted Aya to have another breakdown or anything, but some kind of acknowledgement would make Omi feel less…unsure about the boy. But, no matter what was going to happen, they should get him home and deal with it there.
~*~
They hadn’t spoken a word. It wasn’t an easy silence, and Yohji wanted to say something, anything, but disregarded one idea after another. They couldn’t exactly chat about the weather, or how nice the drive was. Aya wasn’t a great conversationalist on the best days, and now, the boy was sitting next to him in the Seven with a man’s blood splattered over his coat. Glancing over, he found Aya staring hard at his own hands.
No, not in the mood for chit chat.
Yohji thrived on that sort of thing, idle chatter to keep from thinking about shit. Aya, obviously, was a thinker.
A few long, silent minutes later, they pulled into the garage. Yohji felt something inside him slowly begin to uncoil, a hard, metal thing that had been tightening for weeks. It had gotten worse and worse with every bit of preparation. It was like a sick game, but now they were back at home base. Aya had done it, and he was safe.
Aya got out of the car silently and waited for Yohji to walk around and go into the house first before following him. It was just like what they always did, coming home late after the kid’s kendo practice. Feeling better, Yohji was cautious of being too optimistic, even after the fact. As with so many things involving Aya, he was waiting for the fallout.
They met Ken and Omi in the kitchen. For a second, no one said anything, and Yohji wondered if it was just going to be one of those nights. If so, he needed a beer, right now. Thankfully, Ken stepped in to prevent a headfirst dive into alcoholism.
“No problems, huh?”
They were all looking at Aya, like he was gonna do a trick or something. Hell, hadn’t he done enough, managing to get through that without screwing over the mission? Yohji wondered if Omi was worried over the boy’s hesitation, but it had only been a second, and Aya had gotten moving pretty quick. At least the first time.
“Successful mission, right?” he questioned, looking hard at Omi, half threatening without really meaning to. It took a second for blue eyes to come off of Aya and to him.
“Yes,” Omi confirmed. His word meant more, meant that the report would say so. “No problems.”
“Good,” Yohji returned, a little surprised by the coldness of his own voice. Damn but the stress was getting him. He wasn’t used to standing around after a mission; he wanted, almost needed, to go out. He wanted to shower and change, grab a beer and a girl and pretend he’d never heard of Weiss.
But he couldn’t. He had Aya.
He wasn’t going to leave him, but Yohji hated it, standing there, waiting for Aya to freak out and watching the others watch him. Enough.
“Well ladies, we’re gonna get to bed. Come on, Aya.”
~*~
The boy pulled back suddenly, out of Yohji’s reach.
“I can do it,” he said.
Yohji was momentarily stunned. He always helped Aya with his coat.
Standing in the middle of the bathroom, he almost reached again before getting ahold of himself. Aya had just killed a man; he could get his own damn coat off if he wanted.
“Okay,” Yohji conceded, determined not to snap at him. “Look here.”
Bending down, he pulled a large, opaque garage bag from underneath the sink. It was green and had ‘biodegradable’ written on it, something used for yard waste or floral clippings. Yohji laid it on the sink.
“Put your clothes in here. Everything but socks and underwear. They’ll pick it up, and,” he shrugged. Aya nodded, staring down at the dried blood spattered over his coat. He looked a bit ill, so Yohji skipped the details.
“Need anything else?”
No, Aya shook his head. Feeling useless, Yohji left the room.
~*~
After a beer (he thought himself entitled to that much) and quick glance at the news, Yohji returned to his bedroom. Aya wasn’t there yet.
Letting his coat drop from his shoulders, Yohji shifted it to his right hand then draped it over the chair. He’d put it away later. Peeling off his top, he tossed it towards the hamper, missed, and realized he didn’t really give a damn.
Yes, it was one of those kinds of nights.
Come home he had wavered between relief and unease, insisting to himself that he was happy, that Aya was safe, and that things had gone according to plan.
But something kept prickling at the back of his mind, insisting that things had not gone so smoothly, at least, not according to his plan.
With a sigh Yohji sat down on the edge of the bed. He grabbed a new pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, tore off the plastic, and lit one.
He had developed a pretty good idea of how things were gonna go down. They would go, Aya would make the kill, and then Yohji would take care of him. But Aya had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to be taken care of. It wasn’t so much a blatant denial, but all the little things that finally registered in Yohji’s mind: the cold stare of purple eyes, the tense way Aya had held himself, the slight edging away in the alley, the silence on the way home, and the way he had pulled back from Yohji’s hand thirty minutes before.
That hurt. Yohji wondered if he had created that rift between them, encouraging Aya to be colder by forcing him into the mission.
The ash from his cigarette landed in his pants, and Yohji brushed it away irritably. Searching for the ashtray, he unearthed it from the array of junk on his nightstand and stubbed out his half-finished smoke. About to get up and find something to sleep in, he stood only to see Aya walk into the room in a towel and collar.
The boy barely looked at him. Skin red from the shower and hair still wet, he held a few pieces of clothes in one hand while the other held the towel tightly around his waist. He barely looked at Yohji, keeping his eyes down as he deposited his socks and underwear into the hamper and opened the dresser drawer to get out a pair of pajamas.
“Okay?” Yohji asked, standing in the middle of the room watching Aya lay his nightclothes on the bed. All he got in reply was a terse nod, Aya not even looking up. Hands on his hips, Yohji stared at him for a few minutes. Aya seemed oblivious to the look, getting his black, cotton pants up over his hips before setting aside the towel and pulling on the button up sleep shirt.
“Here,” Yohji offered, coming over to do up the buttons. It was getting to be second nature, those little adjustments of the boy’s clothes or hair or whatever. Now, though, Aya stepped back, away from his and.
“Aya,” he complained, reaching again. Again Aya stepped back, shoulder bumping into the wall and seeming to startle him. “What’s the matter?”
No, Aya shook his head, looking at the carpet as one hand came up to pull hard on a wet eartail. Interpreting that as a ‘nothing,’ Yohji stepped closer, unnerved as Aya tried to back away again, flattening his back against the wall and cringing when the blonde stepped close.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Forgetting about the shirt, Yohji reached for Aya’s chin, hoping to get the boy to look at him. He never expected Aya to knock his hand aside.
“Don’t!”
“Aya, what the hell is—” In the process of reaching again, Yohji found himself shoved backwards. Half expecting Aya to come after him, he was shocked to watched the boy sink to the floor and try to curl up.
Aya didn’t look fierce now, sitting on the floor yanking hard on his hair, but his voice was strong and demanding, “Don’t touch me!”
~tbc~
Notes: Review, please? Yohji needs you to give him some…advice.
Converting /tmp/phpVW3oBC to /dev/stdout
Subaru-san: That doesn’t count as revision.
Author: *pouts* Anyway, to the point! Longest chapter so far, and probably the most difficult to write, so I hope that I’ve tortured it into something passable. Thanks for reading! *goes back to poking fic*
Chapter Eight-Four: Change Me
“I thought you were sleeping,” Yohji said. It was after three in the morning, and he had put a lot of effort into keeping quiet as he slipped into the room, only to find Aya up and staring out the window. Wearing a pair of black cotton pajamas, the boy blended into the darkness, all but his pale hands and face that seemed to glow in the light of the nearly full moon.
“Hn,” the boy replied.
“That’s not an answer, you know,” the blonde replied, still a bit amused by this newest addition to Aya’s common vocabulary. Going over, he leaned one shoulder against the edge of the window and joined Aya in looking down at the streetlights. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Now there was no answer at all.
“Come to bed, Aya. There’s no point thinking about it.”
~*~
Stepping out of the shower, Yohji threw a towel over his head and quickly dried his hair. After a cursory pat down of his body he tossed the cloth aside and opened the door.
“Clothes are not optional!” Ken called in passing, not the least surprised to see the naked playboy step into the hallway.
“In a hurry,” Yohji called back, already on his way to his room, “and you know you want me.”
“Yeah, you and a hernia.”
Dropping the conversation, Yohji entered his room and quickly dug around for some clothes. As he pulled on a pair of tight corduroy pants and a maroon polo shirt, he wondered where Aya had gotten to. After their late night, the blonde had woken late to an empty bed, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t the best day to leave Aya to his own devices. Based on what he had seen last night, the boy might develop a penchant for brooding.
Now clothed, he crossed through the hall and down the steps, only to have Ken fall in behind him. The brunette was carrying a large bag of sports equipment and paused in the kitchen only to grab a bottle of blue stuff before wishing him goodbye.
“Hey,” Yohji called him momentarily back, “Where’s Aya?”
“I think he’s in the shop.”
Nodding in thanks for the information, Yohji grabbed a cereal bar from the cabinet and, after checking that it wasn’t the dreaded blueberry kind, shoved most of it in his mouth. With his free hand, he retrieved his coffee cup, filled it with the dregs from the coffeemaker, and popped it in the microwave. He ate the rest of the cereal bar as he waited, then took the coffee with him as he made his way to the shop.
“Afternoon, Yohji-kun,” Omi greeted. It finally dawned on the blonde that it was Saturday, meaning the chibi was home and he had he not been rolled out of bed.
“Aya here?”
Omi gestured towards the worktable. Leaving his cup on the counter, Yohji headed in that direction.
Aya was sitting at the table, carefully selecting lilies from a pile at his left elbow and placing them into a glass vase along with several dark leaves. Only half-finished, the arrangement promised to be successful.
Purple eyes looked up as Yohji took a seat on the edge of the table.
“You could have woke me up,” he said.
“It…it was early,” Aya replied. A hand came up to tug on the silver ring of the collar, but after a couple pulls, he put the appendage back to work on the flowers, his eyes following it to the vase.
“Been up a while then?” Yohji wondered how much sleep the boy had gotten. Once they had settled down, the blonde had been dead to the world.
Aya nodded.
About to say something about a nap, Yohji was cut off by a particularly loud grumble from Aya’s stomach. The boy actually blushed, hunching over a little in his seat and focusing resolutely on his arrangement.
“Eat any breakfast?” Yohji asked. He knew the answer. Aya had a bad habit of skipping meals, especially when Yohji wasn’t there to force them on him. They were still working on that fixing-his-own-breakfast thing. It seemed being in the kitchen alone made him nervous, and Yohji had twice caught him anxiously debating what to do. The blonde supposed he generally gave up on the idea of food altogether, too nervous to touch something wrong. “Aya, did you have breakfast?”
No, Aya shook his head.
Yohji sighed.
“What do you want for lunch? I’ll go get takeout.”
Aya’s brow creased over the question. Gods, it was almost painful to watch him internally debate the small, daily decisions.
“I…I’m not—”
“Don’t say you’re not hungry. You’re still too skinny, and it’s gonna be a long night. So pick something.”
“I…soba, maybe?” he asked quietly, checking Yohji’s face for a reaction.
“No problem. Think you and Omi can hold down the fort while I grab the food?”
~*~
“Where’s Aya?” Yohji asked.
He was getting really damn tired of asking that question. It felt like he had been chasing Aya all day, ever since he had woken up without the boy there. He had gone to get lunch, only to have to hunt Aya down in the greenhouse; when he had finished closing shop, the redhead had disappeared to their room; and when he went to pick up Aya’s gear, the boy was yet again not where Yohji had left him.
Only Omi was in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of their simple supper.
“Ken took him downstairs to warm up,” the younger blonde answered, never pausing in collecting dishes and piling them in the sink. Omi didn’t like to leave dirty dishes when they went out. He never said why, but, after some morbid consideration, Yohji thought that, should they fail to come back from slaying dark beasts, Omi didn’t want Kritiker to find evidence they had been sloppy housekeepers.
Laying the heavy box and garment bag on the table, Yohji lit a cigarette. Omi gave him a hard look, but didn’t say anything.
“Is that his stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Yohji-kun,” ; the other paused, looking away as he stood with his hands in the sink, “stay close to him, okay?”
~*~
“Take it easy,” Ken directed. “Don’t wear yourself out.”
Aya nodded. They had taken a few minutes to stretch and now faced off in the center of the floor.
“And try not to bang me up too much,” the brunette added, smiling good naturedly. He was mostly joking, but over the last week it had become increasingly obvious that Aya could definitely kick his ass if the redhead put his mind to it.
~*~
Yohji was zipping up his coat when Aya walked into the bedroom carrying his sword.
“Hey,” the blonde said, watching him through the mirror as he settled his shades on and adjusted his watch.
“Hn,” Aya answered, or rather, not-answered.
“Your stuff’s on the bed. Hope everything works.”
Aya nodded and set his sword beside the collection of things. Yohji walked over to the bed and took a seat on the other side to watch him open the box and pull out a pair of heavy, black boots. Aya looked up at him.
“I…you,” he paused, pulled on his hair, and tried again, “could you…”
Sparse as it was, Yohji got the just of what the boy wanted. He was getting very good at interpreting broken Aya-speak, and right now the boy wanted to be left alone to change.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he replied, standing up and grabbing his cigarettes from the nightstand before he headed to the door. “Don’t take too long, princess.”
~*~
They stood in the kitchen, dressed for the mission and ready to go. Omi was quietly adjusting a strap on his shorts, but Ken kept flexing and relaxing his hands, making his claws extend and retract, in short, engaging in a habit that severely annoyed the tall blonde next to him.
Yohji, of course, was smoking, so he didn’t have much room to complain since neither of the others had said a word.
A slight noise from the doorway instantly had all their attentions. Aya stared back, wide-eyed as they all looked at him.
He looked dangerous. That was Yohji’s first thought.
The second was that Aya looked damn good.
His hair seemed extra bright against the dark of his outfit, his eyes, too, oddly complimented by the shadow-colored coat that fit tightly around his waist and fell past his knees. Yohji noticed the buckles, at the waist, chest, on the boots and on the sleeves. And the collar. It took the blonde a second to figure out what Aya had done with that. Two thin leather straps circled his neck, buckled in front, pulling the shirt collar up around his neck and making it tight enough that Aya’s other collar (that he was still fucking wearing) could lay, just barely, on top of them, creating an oddly layered look. The silver ring blended in with the buckles, leaving one to think it was all on purpose, and Yohji wondered if it was.
At Aya’s side was his sword, held in his black-gloved hand.
Shifting his gaze upwards, Yohji realized he still had on the earring. It might catch light, but then again, so might the sword or the collar, and now was not the time to upset the boy with a fight.
Stubbing out his cigarette in the sink, Yohji went in for a closer inspection. Gently he reached up to tug just a bit on the collar, like he was adjusting it. Aya went to shy away under the touch, but then stood still, purple eyes meeting green with more question than fear.
“You look good,” Yohji said.
“Yeah,” Ken seconded, “Totally badass.”
Yohji watched Aya’s attention flick in the brunette’s direction, and though he wasn’t sure, he thought there might have been a spark of accomplishment in those eyes.
~*~
The noises of city nightlife buzzed around them, music and neon lights spilling onto the dark streets to taint the movements of clubgoers. They came and went in flashy clothes, chatting and fighting and touching after getting drunk, completely unaware.
Yohji was unabashedly envious. He saw a pretty girl walk by, pink dress too short and hair dyed unnaturally blonde, thought of having her on his arm, going about his business without a clue that some killer was lurking in the shadows.
Yohji decided his night job sucked.
He stood concealed in the dark alley with Aya, tucked safely into the shadows with their backs against the brick building. Yohji checked his watch. Two minutes to go. Ken and Omi should be inside the club, heading down through a stairwell. He and Aya were taking the other route, just in case, slipping into the back hall and down the service stairs there.
Tezushi’s presence had been all but guaranteed, and according to the unusually helpful intel, he preferred to keep his latest catch in the basement room of the club, Testament, where he had some unsavory connections. Wouldn’t want to take something like that home after all, might scare the wife and—
Fuck, no. He wasn’t going there.
Green eyes drifted back to the street where people came and went. It was only a quarter after midnight, and the party was still going hard inside the large club, a condition that boded well for them to slip in unnoticed.
“What’s your type?” he questioned, nudging Aya’s arm and gesturing to another girl passing the entrance of the alley. The boy only stared at him. “You know, what kind of girls do you like?”
Nothing, only that frigid stare.
“Boys?” he tried. Nothing, not that he expected it. It wasn’t Aya’s job to distract him.
Yohji checked his watch again. One minute.
He chanced a glance at Aya, only to find the boy still watching him with that eerily impassive face.
“Ready?” he asked.
Aya nodded.
Yohji flicked his cigarette to the ground, said a quick prayer to whatever demented gods were listening, and told Aya to stick close.
~*~
“Basement,” Omi spoke into the mike as he stowed the lock pick.
“Confirm,” Yohji’s voice came back in his ear. Seconds later, the blonde stepped noiselessly through the door to their right, Aya directly behind him, equally quiet and with no visible signs of apprehension. Omi had expected him to look nervous or scared or at least keyed up. Something. But the by met his stare with cold deliberation. Turning his eyes uncomfortably away, Omi silently gestured at the door in front of them; Yohji nodded. He took up position at the right, drawing out a length of wire. Aya was next to him, while Omi took the left with Ken at his side. Another nod, and Yohji made a quick turn and kicked the door. It flew open with a wooden thud as it banged loudly into the wall. Turning again just to his right, Yohji snared a muscular bodyguard guard in his ready wire, yanking him up close to his own body as the harigane pulled taut.
Omi didn’t have time to watch. He ducked the swing of the second guard, crouching, ready to attack, but Ken beat him to it. Slamming his shoulder hard against the man, he ran him back into the wall; he took a half step away to swing at his head, knocking the man unconscious. A glance to the right proved Yohji’s prey to be slumped on the floor in a similar condition.
It wasn’t Weiss’s normal MO, but they had talked about it beforehand. Nobody wanted to freak Aya out with too much killing beforehand. It would come to that soon enough.
The boy was staring at the bodyguard Yohji had taken down, but before Omi could say anything, Yohji snagged a dark sleeve and gave a brief tug. Aya’s attention snapped to the older man’s face.
“Let’s go,” Omi said, hurrying to the next door, the one that should reveal their target. Four to one, it would be fine; the question was whether or not Aya could go through with it. “Abyssinian, get ready.”
~*~
“Abyssinian, get ready.”
Ready. He had to clear his mind. Just like in practice.
His emotions cried out that it wasn’t practice, that he ought to be scared, that he had just seen Yohji take down a grown man and that he could never do that.
But he put the feelings away, buried them under the facts. He had to do this. There wasn’t a choice; Yohji said so. And while Ran might not have been able to do it, Aya, Abyssinian could. It didn’t matter what he did.
Aya braced himself, sheathed sword lifted at his side and feet firmly planted. He called Tezushi’s face into his mind, then someone moved, there was a noise, and the door was gone.
Hunched over, Tezushi had one hand tangled in the matted hair of an unconscious girl, the other raised to strike her again as he drug her upwards. The girl was obviously battered, her face a swollen mass of bruises, and Tezushi’s jeans and white tank top were dirty and spotted with her blood, his grey eyes narrowed in rage that turned quickly to shaken guilt.
He straightened quickly, the body of the girl dropping to his feet with a sick thud of dead weight. She had dark hair, and for Aya there was a flash of something long forgotten, Aya-chan, shoved, falling on the playground. Anger surged at a thousand impossibly scenarios, all the dread he’d lived with so long, of his sister being hurt, of someone like Tezushi hurting her like…like…
Tezushi could only look at him, startled, afraid.
The sword felt light in his hands, and with one lunge, Aya pulled it from the sheath and struck, hard and sure, across Tezushi’s middle, slicing him open. Intestines spilled towards the floor and blood splashed back, warm on Aya’s hands and face, threatening to overwhelm with.
He pushed it aside, forcing his blade the rest of the way through, trying not to hear the tearing sound it made, the slick plop of Tezushi’s insides on the cement floor, the choked gasp of the man’s last breaths as he fell backwards to bleed out in a dark puddle. The sword came free in an upward arc, slinging blood outward before it fell to Aya’s side.
All Aya could do was watch, horrified, as blood poured out, more than he had expected, flowing slowly under Tezushi’s body, his own boots, under the girl’s thin arm, in her hair. And it was on him.
~*~
Aya was perfectly still, looking like a blood-splashed statue.
“Shit!” Yohji swore, desperately searching his pockets only to have Ken shove a wrinkled, white cloth at him. He grabbed it and went quickly to Aya’s side, swiping it roughly over the boy’s bloody face. Yohji felt Omi walk behind him, and saw the younger blonde gathering up the girl, motioning for Ken to help move her. Yohji concerned himself with Aya, who wasn’t moving.
With two unconscious witnesses, they didn’t have time to dick around.
“Come on,” he said. Aya looked up at him, expression blank, like he didn’t even recognize the blonde. Then the eyes went down, raking over the dead body and settling on his own bloody sword. “Shit, okay,” Yohji agreed to something unsaid. Grabbing Aya’s hand to hold it still, he ran the cloth over the sword’s blade before tossing it onto the body.
“Aya. Put it up, we have to go. Now,” Yohji said.
Aya took one, gasping kind of breath, seeming to come back a little. Yohji got no response, but he was glad to see the boy sheath the sword. Gripping the weapon tightly, he turned to look at Yohji, searching for something. The blonde had no fucking clue what it was, but he wanted Aya out of there, now.
~*~
They stood behind the club, waiting for Ken. He hand lingered to finish off the two bodyguards and appeared satisfied with the work as he slipped out the back door.
Once more in the shadows, they took a moment to regroup, getting ready to split off to their respective vehicles. Two and two, now, Omi remembered. He liked that better, not sending Yohji off on his own. Omi ran a quick glance over Aya only to find the boy staring at him, expression completely blank, like he couldn’t care less about what was going on.
How could he be so cold?
Blue eyes sought Yohji’s for information, but the older man had his dark glasses pressed all the way onto his face. Holding a lighter to the cigarette clenched between his teeth, he was staring at the trashcans across the alley. So Omi looked to Ken, who met his stare evenly if not with confidence; brown eyes flicked to Aya, then back. There was concern there as well as a question, and the brunette seemed unnerved by Aya’s reaction.
So it wasn’t just him.
It occurred to Omi that maybe Aya’s reaction was just delayed. Maybe that was better. Not that he wanted Aya to have another breakdown or anything, but some kind of acknowledgement would make Omi feel less…unsure about the boy. But, no matter what was going to happen, they should get him home and deal with it there.
~*~
They hadn’t spoken a word. It wasn’t an easy silence, and Yohji wanted to say something, anything, but disregarded one idea after another. They couldn’t exactly chat about the weather, or how nice the drive was. Aya wasn’t a great conversationalist on the best days, and now, the boy was sitting next to him in the Seven with a man’s blood splattered over his coat. Glancing over, he found Aya staring hard at his own hands.
No, not in the mood for chit chat.
Yohji thrived on that sort of thing, idle chatter to keep from thinking about shit. Aya, obviously, was a thinker.
A few long, silent minutes later, they pulled into the garage. Yohji felt something inside him slowly begin to uncoil, a hard, metal thing that had been tightening for weeks. It had gotten worse and worse with every bit of preparation. It was like a sick game, but now they were back at home base. Aya had done it, and he was safe.
Aya got out of the car silently and waited for Yohji to walk around and go into the house first before following him. It was just like what they always did, coming home late after the kid’s kendo practice. Feeling better, Yohji was cautious of being too optimistic, even after the fact. As with so many things involving Aya, he was waiting for the fallout.
They met Ken and Omi in the kitchen. For a second, no one said anything, and Yohji wondered if it was just going to be one of those nights. If so, he needed a beer, right now. Thankfully, Ken stepped in to prevent a headfirst dive into alcoholism.
“No problems, huh?”
They were all looking at Aya, like he was gonna do a trick or something. Hell, hadn’t he done enough, managing to get through that without screwing over the mission? Yohji wondered if Omi was worried over the boy’s hesitation, but it had only been a second, and Aya had gotten moving pretty quick. At least the first time.
“Successful mission, right?” he questioned, looking hard at Omi, half threatening without really meaning to. It took a second for blue eyes to come off of Aya and to him.
“Yes,” Omi confirmed. His word meant more, meant that the report would say so. “No problems.”
“Good,” Yohji returned, a little surprised by the coldness of his own voice. Damn but the stress was getting him. He wasn’t used to standing around after a mission; he wanted, almost needed, to go out. He wanted to shower and change, grab a beer and a girl and pretend he’d never heard of Weiss.
But he couldn’t. He had Aya.
He wasn’t going to leave him, but Yohji hated it, standing there, waiting for Aya to freak out and watching the others watch him. Enough.
“Well ladies, we’re gonna get to bed. Come on, Aya.”
~*~
The boy pulled back suddenly, out of Yohji’s reach.
“I can do it,” he said.
Yohji was momentarily stunned. He always helped Aya with his coat.
Standing in the middle of the bathroom, he almost reached again before getting ahold of himself. Aya had just killed a man; he could get his own damn coat off if he wanted.
“Okay,” Yohji conceded, determined not to snap at him. “Look here.”
Bending down, he pulled a large, opaque garage bag from underneath the sink. It was green and had ‘biodegradable’ written on it, something used for yard waste or floral clippings. Yohji laid it on the sink.
“Put your clothes in here. Everything but socks and underwear. They’ll pick it up, and,” he shrugged. Aya nodded, staring down at the dried blood spattered over his coat. He looked a bit ill, so Yohji skipped the details.
“Need anything else?”
No, Aya shook his head. Feeling useless, Yohji left the room.
~*~
After a beer (he thought himself entitled to that much) and quick glance at the news, Yohji returned to his bedroom. Aya wasn’t there yet.
Letting his coat drop from his shoulders, Yohji shifted it to his right hand then draped it over the chair. He’d put it away later. Peeling off his top, he tossed it towards the hamper, missed, and realized he didn’t really give a damn.
Yes, it was one of those kinds of nights.
Come home he had wavered between relief and unease, insisting to himself that he was happy, that Aya was safe, and that things had gone according to plan.
But something kept prickling at the back of his mind, insisting that things had not gone so smoothly, at least, not according to his plan.
With a sigh Yohji sat down on the edge of the bed. He grabbed a new pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, tore off the plastic, and lit one.
He had developed a pretty good idea of how things were gonna go down. They would go, Aya would make the kill, and then Yohji would take care of him. But Aya had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to be taken care of. It wasn’t so much a blatant denial, but all the little things that finally registered in Yohji’s mind: the cold stare of purple eyes, the tense way Aya had held himself, the slight edging away in the alley, the silence on the way home, and the way he had pulled back from Yohji’s hand thirty minutes before.
That hurt. Yohji wondered if he had created that rift between them, encouraging Aya to be colder by forcing him into the mission.
The ash from his cigarette landed in his pants, and Yohji brushed it away irritably. Searching for the ashtray, he unearthed it from the array of junk on his nightstand and stubbed out his half-finished smoke. About to get up and find something to sleep in, he stood only to see Aya walk into the room in a towel and collar.
The boy barely looked at him. Skin red from the shower and hair still wet, he held a few pieces of clothes in one hand while the other held the towel tightly around his waist. He barely looked at Yohji, keeping his eyes down as he deposited his socks and underwear into the hamper and opened the dresser drawer to get out a pair of pajamas.
“Okay?” Yohji asked, standing in the middle of the room watching Aya lay his nightclothes on the bed. All he got in reply was a terse nod, Aya not even looking up. Hands on his hips, Yohji stared at him for a few minutes. Aya seemed oblivious to the look, getting his black, cotton pants up over his hips before setting aside the towel and pulling on the button up sleep shirt.
“Here,” Yohji offered, coming over to do up the buttons. It was getting to be second nature, those little adjustments of the boy’s clothes or hair or whatever. Now, though, Aya stepped back, away from his and.
“Aya,” he complained, reaching again. Again Aya stepped back, shoulder bumping into the wall and seeming to startle him. “What’s the matter?”
No, Aya shook his head, looking at the carpet as one hand came up to pull hard on a wet eartail. Interpreting that as a ‘nothing,’ Yohji stepped closer, unnerved as Aya tried to back away again, flattening his back against the wall and cringing when the blonde stepped close.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Forgetting about the shirt, Yohji reached for Aya’s chin, hoping to get the boy to look at him. He never expected Aya to knock his hand aside.
“Don’t!”
“Aya, what the hell is—” In the process of reaching again, Yohji found himself shoved backwards. Half expecting Aya to come after him, he was shocked to watched the boy sink to the floor and try to curl up.
Aya didn’t look fierce now, sitting on the floor yanking hard on his hair, but his voice was strong and demanding, “Don’t touch me!”
~tbc~
Notes: Review, please? Yohji needs you to give him some…advice.
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