Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 89 ( Chapter 89 )

89

 

Lost unto a forlorn hope
And made up in mystery

 

Yohji frowned at me, then quickly concluded his call.

 

My eyes burned with anger, frustration, and fear. If contacting Kritiker hadn't been Crawford's intention, then what the hell was I doing in Japan? “You didn't tell him.”

 

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Yohji asked, rubbing at his temple. “I am not Kritiker. I don't plan on ever going back. I sent the warning for Ken's sake, as a friend. I thought the last thing you wanted was for them to know.”

 

I sighed, trying to fathom the unfathomable. Brad Crawford, Oracle, man of vision and of Visions - what the fuck were you trying to tell me? No matter how hard I tried to put it all together, it refused to make sense. If Brad didn't want me to go over to Kritiker, with or without Farfarello, what did he want? Surely it wasn't his way of giving me a safe hideout while he and Nagi scurried about like rats.

 

Wait a second - not rats: mice. This was still all about the mice.

 

“Yohji,” I began, amazed at how calm my voice now sounded, “I need you to know something. I don't know if this affects Kritiker, but if it does, the world could be in for a great deal of hurt.”

 

Yohji scowled. “Kritiker has never been in the hero business.”

 

I shook my head, unwilling to accept defeat now. The stakes were too high, and I felt that I finally understood Brad's mission. Something in his manner after that ambush, some subtle change, had touched me on a level I never anticipated. If I were in a poetic mood, I might compare it to a knight receiving his orders for a holy quest, but at the moment I could only accept it and act on it. “Schwarz must not fall with no one knowing what we were up against. It doesn't matter if we live or die, all men die -” my throat closed up on that statement as though sensing the truth in it “- but a few have the chance to make a difference first. Esset did not die at the tower. The new masters are just as lethal as the last, perhaps more so, and they are building a new generation of supermen to take our place. Rumor had Kritiker as the acting watchdog for such things. I implore you, Yohji: tell them everything.” I took a deep breath, steeling myself for my next statement. “I'll turn myself in, if that's what it takes. I will not see Esset win at the cost of humanity.”

 

Instead of speaking, Yohji just stared at me. He had that same disconnected look Nagi sometimes got, when his ears and his logic disagreed over something he'd just heard. He swallowed, his expression a mix of pain and admiration. Then he shook his head. “No. I won't allow you to surrender. Your team needs you. Even I can see that.” He set his finger across my lips before I could argue. “You look exhausted. Let me think on this, figure out what to do next. Get some rest. You're safe here. You have my word on it.” He hugged me, and I leaned into the embrace, allowing his warmth to flow into me like sunshine.

 

Yohji took the phone with him into the kitchen. I could hear him setting out pots and pans and running water, neatly covering his voice as he made another call.

 

Unable to maintain my false energy, I slumped down on the sofa and dozed. It surprised me how weary I felt. It almost seemed as though Brad had become my reserve of strength, and being separated from him not only left my shields unstable but also left me feeling utterly drained.

 

“Hey,” Yohji murmured, brushing his fingers across my forehead. “Food's ready. Extra octopus, just for you.”

 

I smiled sleepily at him. “Consider it my gift to you, dear host. The octopus is all yours. How long was I out?”

 

“About half an hour.”

 

Damn. Usually a nap left me feeling better, not worse. I yawned and poured myself off the sofa, then followed him to the kitchen.

 

The phone lay on the counter beside the microwave.

 

I debated asking him about it, demanding details or begging for confirmation, but I kept silent. He'd tell me what he needed me to know, and that was the way it should be.

 

Instead, I picked my way through the bowl of noodles, scowling at bits of unidentified meat.

 

Yohji grinned. “It's pork.”

 

I smiled back at him. “Ah. Good. You know how I get about those weird things.”

 

“Octopus isn't weird. It's food.”

 

“Yeah, if you're a dolphin.”

 

Yohji chuckled, and for one moment I allowed myself to forget about the warnings and the phone calls and everything.

 

Then I bowed my head and accepted reality again. I glanced quizzically at Yohji and asked, “So what happens next?”

 

“What do you mean?” He scowled slightly, then said, “No one's coming to pick you up, if that's what you're asking. I told you, I'm not turning you over to them.”

 

I reached across the table and caught hold of his hand. “Thanks.”

 

“I passed along your warning. It's enough.” Yohji squeezed my hand, then rose and cleared the table. “How long are you in town for?”

 

I almost blurted out “three weeks”, but caught myself before any sound came out. “Until I find Farfarello, most likely. Unless something else happens.”

 

This time Yohji frowned, his expression grim. “If you can find him, can they find him too?”

 

“I hope to hell not,” I replied, my heart clenching at the thought. I'd managed to avoid considering that possibility: the idea of my dear mad friend being captured ripped my sense of safety apart. “If that's the case, I hope he stays hidden from all of us.” There, I'd said it, and that made it real: I had to acknowledge the chance that Far had said his goodbyes forever, for whatever crazed destiny he thought he was serving. I swallowed down the sorrow and murmured, “I don't know which is worse, the thought of him being out there alone somewhere, hunting in the name of Armageddon, or Esset getting hold of him again.”

 

“From what you said earlier, it would be more a matter of him getting hold of Esset,” Yohji reminded me, a dark smirk lingering upon his lips. “He'll be all right. It's the rest of us who should be worried.”

 

We returned to the living room, where Yohji lit his water pipe and I smoked half a cigarette before discarding it with a sullen cough. Music and hashish wove a protective blur around my mind, allowing me to relax behind my shields for a few precious minutes. How long did I intend to stay here, in Japan or in this apartment? Again I had that feeling that somehow this was what Brad had planned, that I should simply wait here for Kritiker to approach me.

 

When had I ever really understood Brad's plans?

 

“You all right? You look a little pale,” Yohji murmured, sitting down beside me.

 

“Just worried,” I told him, resting my head against his shoulder. I closed my eyes, recalling the brief, powerful intimacy we'd once shared, and wondering what, exactly, it had meant for either of us. That I trusted Yohji was without question, and I knew that trust was returned. Truth be told, I hadn't expected to feel quite so content like this. I had missed him, or rather, I'd missed the easy sensuality of the man. I hadn't really paused to think about why. But now, I leaned against Yohji and reveled in the warmth of him. He was all the things that Brad was not, and that was both right and so very wrong. I craved the normalcy of Yohji even as I found myself growing profoundly homesick for my team.

 

What did I want from this man?

 

Yohji tilted my chin up and kissed me softly on the lips. “I know you've got it rough, but you really need to take better care of yourself,” he chided gently.

 

“Why won't you give me to Kritiker?” I asked, suddenly wondering at his reluctance. If he was so concerned, why wouldn't he set me up in a safe place, such as in their care?

 

Yohji looked away and sighed. “Because…I just can't, that's why. Don't ask. You can stay here as long as you have to. I'll make sure you have good food and a decent night's sleep, and if your friend turns up I'll tell you where to find him.” With that, Yohji got up and headed for his bedroom.

 

Puzzled, I started to follow him. I couldn't understand why he'd be acting so odd, unless… I stopped in my tracks. No wonder he wanted to send me back to my team rather than send me to Kritiker. I would only be in the way here.

 

“Is it anyone I know?” I heard myself asking, and immediately wished I could take the words back. They sounded hollow and bitchy and not at all the way I felt, which was oddly and deeply hurt.

 

“What?” Yohji turned to look at me, his expression baffled.

 

“I was wondering why you're acting distant,” I went on, unable to stop. “I won't intrude, Yohji. And I thank you for letting me stay here. I'll be out of your way soon, I promise.”

 

Yohji closed the gap between us in two strides. “Baka,” he whispered, pulling me to him and pressing his lips to mine.

 

It took me a few seconds to register what had just happened, and in that time he'd gently released me and stepped back to look into my eyes.

 

“Baka gaijin,” he murmured through a crooked smile. “That's not why. There isn't anyone else, hasn't been for a long time.” His eyes turned serious as he said, “I just can't give you over to them. There is no safe haven for you in Kritiker. You warned me before, that Esset would go after them? It's happened. I don't know how deep they've gotten, or what they've found out, but I do know that the moment your identity is known, you are compromised. And I'd rather die than allow that to happen.”

 

 

 

A/N:

Lost unto a forlorn hope
And made up in mystery

 

“We Could Have Flown Like Pollen” - ThouShaltNot The White Beyond

 

Again Schuldig faces the difficult challenge of trying to second-guess Brad Crawford. Not an easy pastime, full of paradox and hidden meanings. And you just know that, for every wrong answer Schuldig gets, Brad gloats, just a little.

 

Almost makes you feel sorry for Konnor, doesn't it?

 

As for Yohji's behavior…yes, I noticed it too.