Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Discord in the House of Assassins ❯ Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair ( Chapter 2 )

Discord in the House of Assassins

 

Silence reigned supreme as one Assassin sipped nonchalantly from a rather short and silvery cup with the word “Powerful” on one side of it before three other Assassins who were all trying to make it blow up by the sheer power of their stares. At least, Silence reigned supreme until a certain rebel figure opened his mouth.

 

“Nice cup you got there Aya~n. Where'd you get it?”

 

Aya, as he'd rather be called, is the Authority figure addressed and the one with the fate-ful cup. He'd rather not be talking, especially to Yohji the rebel figure, but it was a harmless enough question, or so he thought.

 

“It's part of that gift set no one knows about that was lying on top of the counter for a month now.”

 

“Oh, that gift set,” Yohji replied, quite maliciously raising his eyebrows and turning towards the other two Assassins present. “Fancy you that, Ken, he got it from the gift set addressed to all of us. Oh but he got the first pick, didn't he now? I wonder what gave him the idea… might it be because he's the leader or so he says?”

 

Ken, for his part, didn't really want to pick a fight on with Aya on Yohji's side. If he was going to pick a fight, he'll be fighting for himself on the defense. So he wisely kept his mouth shut and let Yohji do all the baiting, concentrating on his own smoldering glare. Omi, on the other hand, sniggered. Yes, Omi knows how to snigger. And not just any plain old snigger, but that really annoying and nasty kind of snigger. Aya, definitely not a daft kind of Assassin, quickly picked up what this all meant.

 

“Oh do shut up Kudou, it's just a cup.”

 

“Says you, you stuck up bastard.”

 

“Shut up before I cram this mug down your throat.”

 

“Wouldn't you now? You think just because you got that sword you can boss the rest of us around now? Look at me quaverin' down to my feet now, oooh, I'm so afraid of big bad Aya and his menacing sword. Just so you know, because you do tend to forget most times, we're all Assassins here, and we can whoop your blindingly white ass any time of the day. So don't you think you can act all high and mighty just because we let you run around with a sword.”

 

“Did you realize you just said `sword' for times in that litany of yours?”

 

“Really, so what?”

 

“Proves that all your shit is just really about penis envy. It's not my fault you've got a small dick Kudou.”

 

For a second everyone froze, waiting for Yohji to blow his top and manhandle Aya out of the room. Contrary to everyone's expectation, Yohji smiled that furiously cocky smile of his, and faced Aya full on.

 

“Great, professor Freud, though there is one flaw to your theory. You've never seen my dick. Now, since you seem to be obsessing so much about the size of my dick I do so think you're just very insecure with yours. What with all the graphic, detailed moans of pleasure you hear most nights coming from my room, it's no wonder at all.”

 

“Why you piece of…”

 

“Can't handle being beaten at your own game now can you?”

 

“Wait!”

 

All heads turned to Omi, who had his hands up and a severe look on his face.

 

“If you guys want to compare sizes, do it later, and not in front of me.”

 

There were significant embarrassed clearing of throats and some other audible sounds (of plates and spoons, maybe) before everyone settled down and picked up from where they left off, namely Aya drinking his tea and the three others staring at the mug he was using. A while later Ken spoke up.

 

“You know, that was a gift set. Which meant everyone has a mug. What I don't get, Fujimiya, is how come you get to pick what you want before anyone else did. That's unfair of you.”

 

“They look all the same to me.”

 

“Then why'd you get the one with the word `powerful' on it? If they're all the same to you, I mean?”

 

“Are you kidding me, Hidaka? `Course I'd get the `powerful' one, it suits me.”

 

“You contradict yourself then.”

 

A pause, as everyone other than Ken marveled a bit at the vocabulary prowess Ken possessed.

 

“Well, I took it, I'm drinking in it, and so that settles it.”

 

At which point Yohji seized yet another opportune moment to rebel.

 

“So you really think you can do just that? Act all high and mighty just because you feel you're the leader an' such?”

 

“Shut up Kudou.”

 

“Don't you shush me! We're a TEAM, there is no I in team.”

 

Aya and Omi both smacked their foreheads with a hand as they considered how cheesy Yohji can get, while Ken thought about the sentence, made up his mind, and nod his head in support of Yohji. Seeing at least one person backing him up, Yohji ignored his own cheesiness and soldiered on.

 

“I hope you know what you just did. You just dissed us by foregoing a group decision. The only reason we ever let you “have your way” is because…”

 

“I know, I know, it's because I have a “scary sword'.”

 

“Wrong, Aya.” Omi interjected. “It's because you won't let us help.”

 

“And,” Ken continued. “ It's `coz you deny us being a team.”

 

Yohji, whose face was grim which meant he would be meaning every single word he'd say, ended the tirade with, “It's because you're the only suicidal here, because the rest of us still believe in something, whatever it may be, while you… you've sold your soul and immersed yourself fully that you found there's no way out anymore. To hell with you, let's see you go into a mission without a back up and see where we'll be picking up your sorry ass in the morning.”

 

And with that, Yohji stood and went out in a huff to smoke something, anything, while the younger two shook their heads and cleaned up the table without waiting for Aya to finish, deposited the china in the sink, and went out into the world leaving Aya alone in the kitchen, just the way he says he likes it. When no one was around, Aya flipped the bird towards Yohji's general direction, glared at the mug in his hand, and stood up.

 

“Fine. See if I care.”

 

Unbeknownst to any of the four, atop the building right in front of theirs, stood a tall, gangly man in a green dinner jacket with his flourishing orange hair being blown by the wind. He was cackling, yes, cackling.

 

“Wot you laughing yer ass off at, you bloody mad German?”

 

The bloody mad German laughing his ass off turned to see his companion, an gangly, be-scarred albino man with a fetching eye patch and a dangerously sharp dagger in one hand.

 

“Ah Farf, that'd be the pot calling the cauldron black… or is it kettle?”

 

Farf, as he was called, spat, shook his head and muttered, `'es really gone in `es head now, bloody German…'

 

“You would be too, if you could read their minds.”

 

“Wot you do this time to them poor buggers?”

 

“Oh nothing. Just sent them a gift… a pack of mugs, as it is.”

 

“I've half the mind to believe that wot you sent them was just a gift.”

 

“Ah well, you know me, Mastermind an' such…”

 

Then the German cackled again, so caught up in his laughter that the other man left him alone on top of that building, muttering something about German beer and all those frankfurters not being good for anyone's mental state.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N: Wokey, turning out not to be just a one-shot thing… Argh, another long fic! Graaah…

 

I've nothing against German beer and frankfurters. I've yet to taste either.

 

Sorry if I let this marinate too long, KD Sarge, and sorry if there is still no mention of the other mugs.