Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Fluesternd ❯ Part 6 ( Chapter 6 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

*****6*****


Is life merely an illusion?

After all, what in our lives has true form, true purpose? Some may look to creature comforts to prove their existence. If you have a place to sleep, food to eat, clothes on your back, and all the little nick-nacks we can't possibly live without these days, then you must be alive, right?

Wrong.

So, how do you know you're not just a figment of someone else's imagination? Is it because you breathe, because you think? I think therefore I am. Right. But what's that worth? Thinking is a beginning, but it is not an end. It most definitely isn't proof of anything. No, true worth is measured with the heart and soul, not the mind. What we feel, not what we imagine. What we believe, not what we long to be true.

A person could tread about the earth believing one incredulous lie to be their own personal truth, living in an utter fairy-tail forever. But, seeing the real truth, knowing what is false, what the reality of life actually is, can be shattering. Ignorance is not bliss, dears, and it never will be. However, it can hold a false sense of security we perceive as something near bliss, near enough for us to accept it.

We are the puppets and the puppeteers upon ourselves, pulling strings blindly, forcefully, and yearning for them to be taken away or cut completely.

Oh, the sweet sensuality of pain. Perhaps that is the only true form reality exists in anymore.......


*****


Drip. Drip. Drip.

A steady, pulsing rhythm of water hitting the cold, metal floor as it drip, drip, drips from a leaky pipe running across the high ceiling. The air is stale, unnaturally cold and rank for a room indoors, but left in such a state on purpose. Uncomfortable and uninhabitable is exactly how the unique inhabitant of this room likes it to be.

Pain, agony, the noticeable stench of masochism thick upon the walls, the floor, every inch of putrid space. Farfarello thrives off it. He adores his basement room with its padded walls and devices of torture. Well, he usually does, to say the least, but for once that drip, drip, drip reminds him far too much of the splatter of a victims blood, especially when that victim is himself. For you see, the poor darling is forbade from doing anything to fulfill his addiction to pain.

Brad Crawford, the ever-strict leader of Schwartz, will not allow Farfarello to injure himself when the time for action is so close, nor will he allow the noted psychopath to go out and hunt for prey in fear of repercussions that might endanger their objective.

What is it they say about idle hands......?

Drip. Drip. Drip.

(.......stop......no more sound........I just need to wait.......soon.......) Farfarello ponders vaguely, rocking steadily back and forth as he sits cross-legged on his bed. His arms folded in front of him to clutch at his sides, the Irishman appears like a child, dazed and waiting for the end of a sentenced time-out.

Children don't play with knives as often as he does, however.

Drip. Drip.

(......if I just picked one up........how would he know.......?) he continues in streamline thoughts, staring with sick hunger at the set of knives only inches in front of him. One is long and thin with a crescent moon handle in tarnished brass. A devoted friend. The other is broader, a dagger, with a silver handle intricately carved to fit Farfarello's grip flawlessly. It was a gift. A cruel gift from Schuldrich, capable only of taunting him until he has permission to use it again. (......a small cut only.......a gash at my wrist.......to feel the blood.......the blood running down my arm.......dripping to the floor.........)

Drip. Drip. Drip.

(......Crawford wouldn't have to know.......just a little.......I........I need it........)

Resolutely, Farfarello reaches a hand towards the prized new dagger, shaking uncontrollably.

Drip.

Almost there, he can almost feel the blade cutting into his skin already as he moves to close his pale fingers around the handle........

"Naughty, naughty. Better not do that."

Freezing his outstretched hand, Farfarello's breathing increases laboriously, as if he can't bear to wait a moment longer to feel the sweet kiss of metal again as this trespasser forces him to stop. How unfair. Brad might not have guessed Farfarello's intentions, he might not have ever had a vision predicting them, but the owner of *this* intruding voice could easily read the albino's starving mind.

"Awww, does the little lunatic want to play and Daddy won't let him?" the taunting, nasal voice continues.

There is a distinct pause while Farfarello holds his suspended arm hovering above the blades. Time appears suspended right along with it, waiting.......holding its stagnant breath........until it suddenly snaps back into reality. With a flurry of movement, Farfarello snatches up both treasured knives, leaping from the bed. He rushes at the filthy walls of fabric, slashing madly with howls that would turn the dead in their graves. His rush of aggression carries him around the room, tearing it apart on a whim of frenzy, until his rampage comes to a dangerous halt at the large, caging door where Schuldrich stands poised and unflinching.

"You wouldn't hurt the hand that feeds you, would you, Farfie?" the red-head grins, ignoring the knives pressed against each side of his neck. "Just having a bit of fun, you know? Better hand those over before Bradley decides to *punish* you."

The stressed word is enough to make Farfarello flinch, recoiling from the German as he lowers the blades to his sides. Punishment means a binding straight-jacket and suspension from an awkward hook hanging in the center of the room. On a normal day, he would have relished the discomfort, but with the gnawing restlessness of the moment, the idea of being bound is not a welcome one.

"That's a good boy." Schu sighs, showing no signs of apprehension towards his previous situation. "Give those to me willingly and I promise I'll ask Brad if you can have a bit of fun. Deal?"

Farfarello is skeptical, tracing the German's face with his golden eye. "You said that before. You said I'd get to play......those women....from the warehouse........but Crawford let them go. You lied......"

Completely at ease, Schuldrich sweeps past Farfarello into the room, leaning against the headboard of the bed casually.

"Now, now, don't be angry with *me*." he states with a dignified smirk. "It wasn't time then, but Crawford's had a little prediction again, and do you know what he saw this time?"

His mind voraciously intrigued, Farfarello tilts his head in a questioning manner, silently asking for the red-head to go on.

"He says you and I are gonna get a new playmate from Nagi's flower field. A real lively one." Schuldrich licks his lips on those words, his jade eyes twinkling greedily.

"That foolish girl?" Farfarello questions in disappointment.

Schu throws out a laugh, his one-in-a-million cackle, and shakes his head slowly. "Not the bumbling, blue-haired idiot. Someone much better. Someone who will writhe and scream for you, Farfie. I promise........"


*****


(I promise......Ran-niisan......there is hope for you......)

The day dwindles on, blue skies and marshmallow clouds floating lazily above and making one long for the fresh outdoors. Being surrounded by sweet-smelling flowers and plant-life, however, gives Aya the perfect atmosphere in which to contemplate her dreams of a happier life for her brother. Ever since Fluesternd whisked Weiss away to their home across the street, the girl with braided hair and a frozen, false smile, has been waiting anxiously, helping customers with half-hearted enthusiasm. At the moment, the shop is pleasantly empty, and her thoughts are allowed to wander even more with her attention fully distracted from work.

(I can't believe all the things they told me.) She recounts, dawning a genuine, though small smile. (How they want to help Ran and the others, and even those strange men Weiss has so many files on. Oh, if Ran knew what I did when they were away, he'd-)

Ding.

Aya's attention is brought back to the task of running the shop as the door signals a new customer. Looking up with excitement in hopes that her fellow florists are returning, Aya turns her attention to the door, spotting someone she is even more thrilled to see as she does. The one person who has come to know all of her darkest secrets.

"Sakura! Ohaiyo!! I forgot it was Saturday today." she rattles off happily, coming out from behind the counter to meet her friend by the entrance.

Sakura, as always, is a grin from ear to ear, her sandy, chin-length hair bouncing with her every movement. "Forgot?" she echoes in mock indignation. "How could you forget a shopping date, Aya-chan? It's the one time you can get away from all this and forget that you live with four *boys*." Sakura suddenly catches herself, contorting her face at how ridiculous her statement had just been. "As if you would ever want to forget that!"

Overjoyed at having something to lighten her heavy, though hopeful, heart, Aya laughs melodically and with ease. Then, as if struck by an unseen lightening bolt, she turns rigid with alert.

"Oh, no! The boys are off talking with that group of women I was telling you about," Aya realizes. "I have to look after the shop 'till they get back."

"That's all right, it's still early." Sakura smiles, dismissing Aya's distress with a wave of her hand. "You can fill me in on more of what's going on."

With a flourish, Sakura hops herself up on top of the counter while Aya slips back behind it in case any real customers should straggle in. Of course, it's usually quite empty until the ravenous fangirls show up later in the day.

"There's nothing new to tell you really, apart from how I just helped convince the guys to go over and have a nice long talk with Fluesternd." Aya explains, plopping down on the stool beside the cash register.

At this, Sakura furrows her eyebrows thoughtfully. "I wonder what Fluesternd means. Is it German like Weiss? I'm terrible with foreign languages."

"It is," Aya confirms. "It means 'whispering'. Kind of mysterious, isn't it?"

"How do you know that's what it means? It's not as if you were studying other countries for two years while you were off in dreamland."

Everyone - except Ran, of course - has made it a habit of discussing Aya's time in a coma with a comical undertone. Lightly, jokingly, not as if it was this unbelievable horror she will never recover from. And, frankly, Aya likes it that way. It was a shock, to say the least, when she found out she'd slept away years of her life, but considering she hadn't actually aged during that time, Aya doesn't see it as a loss. She chooses to see it as......time to think. Now, however, is time for action, and she's been following her ambitions since the moment she woke up.

"Omi had the translation on his computer." the blue-haired girl replies simply. "He's already made up a file on them in his database, too. I found it when I snuck downstairs again last night."

Loosing her easy-going smile, Sakura's face shifts with a wave of nervous concern. "You have to be careful, Aya. Ran would be furious if he found out you've been hacking into their files all this time. He's never looked as frightening as he did the night he warned me not to tell you about Weiss." Sakura shivers, her apprehension clear as glass.

Nevertheless, Aya is quick to comfort, not ruffled in the slightest. "I *am* careful, Sakura-chan," she assures her friend. "I've managed to read up on every mission they've ever had, details about their backgrounds, tons of stuff, and I haven't been caught yet. What makes you think Ran could catch me at all?"

"I can think of one way......"

The atmosphere shifts, going stiflingly limp with the sudden echo of a familiar and darkly resounding voice. Aya and Sakura freeze in place, their heartbeats stilled in their chests as Ran and the others drift in from behind them. The members of Weiss have entered from the back door and snuck up upon the girls completely by surprise.

"Ran-niisan......I was just telling Sakura how-"

"I heard what you said." the eerily calm red-head cuts in, stalking towards her. "All this time you've been trying to tell me how you knew about everything, but I just didn't listen to you. I should've known you'd resort to anything to find out the truth. Even digging through Omi's computer files."

Aya had immediately been filled with fear at her brother's sudden appearance, but that fear is quickly fading, just as it is fading from the friend at her side. What should have caused Ran to scream in rage, seems instead to be rolling off his back. Both girls breathe in his unbelievably peaceful tone, sensing an understanding presense from him that he has never before possessed.

"I did what I had to for your protection, or so I believed." Ran continues gently. "Please, I don't want you to have to go sneaking behind my back anymore. Would you accept an overdue offer for......for a long conversation?"

This unbelievable change in Ran lifts Aya's spirits as she never imagined they could be. Was the light of hope actually shining in those usually cold, violet eyes of his?

"Of course, Ran-niisan." she replies, almost in disbelief, as they both head for the door that leads up to the apartment above, leaving the others behind.

With bemused expressions, the remaining members of Weiss, and a very cheerful Tomoe Sakura, turn their attention to the flock of chattering, young school girls now making their way into the shop.

How does the day change so completely, so fast?


*****


How can a person change so completely, so fast?

Remember, the truth is but a whisper, echoing on forever and without purpose unless there is someone to hear it.

With shades drawn and all sound shuttered away, the kitchen in the apartment above "Kitty" is even more like a prison than the one within "Kitten" had been less than an hour before. The room itself is vibrating with a silence so tangible, it could only be broken by a shuddering crash.

"I'm a murderer."

Crash.

"Ran-niisan......"

"No. Let me say this." a deep, melancholy voice speaks again, soft and trembling.

Both Fujimiyas are seated at the kitchen table across from one another. For some time they have sat without a word spoken between them, but no longer. Many words - oh, so many - long to be revealed in the unforgivable light of day.

"I'm a murderer." Ran repeats with finality. "Whatever you found in our files, you must at least realize that. I've killed countless people, Aya. Brutally, for money, and without remorse, I have stained my hands......your name......everything I ever stood for......."

"But.....you were doing it for me." Aya squeaks out, tears easily forming in her pale, anguished eyes. "You live with all this guilt and pain you won't allow yourself to face, and it's only because of me. How could I see you as a murderer? I don't. You've been protecting me from this truth for the wrong reasons, Ran. You're my oniisan......always......I......I love you......"

Aya hoped these heartfelt words would lift her brother's spirit, but they only prove to deepen his remorse. "You shouldn't. I don't won't you caught up in......in everything I've done......in how it will haunt me forever, and-"

"Not anymore." she cuts him off firmly, regaining her determination as she reaches across the small bit of space between them over the table to grasp his hands in her own. "You've agreed to follow Fluesternd, haven't you? Things can be different now. You can have your life back and turn it into whatever you want it to be. The future isn't set in stone."

"But the past is." he answers her solemnly. "You can't erase what I've done any more than.....any more than Korat can. You can't bring back the people I've killed for the moral justice I robbed them of. I-"

"You...." Aya's gentle yet commanding voice breaks through, holding Ran's hands all the more tightly. "...are a good and wonderful man. Maybe you can't forgive yourself in a day. Fine. I understand that. But know that *I* forgive and love you, even if you believe I should not. Fluesternd wants to bring true justice wherever they can, using weapons and powers only if they have to. You can be apart of that. We both can. We already are. This mission of theirs to save Weiss and Schwartz is only a beginning, but it *is* a beginning. A new beginning. I just want to be apart of your life again. Please......please, Ran-niichan......"

Hope - the immortal light of life - rests suspended in the air, floating above and around the pair as Ran looks deep into his sister's eyes, truly allowing her to see him again, for the first time in far too long. How endless his wisteria pools appear.

(....Ran-niichan....?) the confounded red-head repeats in his mind, breathing in the very presence of his beloved imoto, and taking in all the welcoming scents of a new horizon on the edge of bringing sunlight back into his shaded life. (......she loves me still.....after all I've done.......and Fluesternd.......they could change everything......Dear, God, is there really hope.....even for a sinner like me....?)

A heavy heart and screeching conscience are difficult burdens to bear, but Fujimiya Ran's seems lifted, light and manageable, as he leaves his chair in a grand gesture of release. In a second he is on his knees beside his sister, accepting her into his arms just as he had briefly those few days ago. This time, however, he can't even imagine letting go.


*****A/N*****


Short one this round, but I hope it's still to your liking. To address my most recent review, I call the 'screaming' girls by their Japanese names - Toto, Chen, Pel, and Noi - because that's how it's said in the anime. I know technically they have German variations, but I wanted to stay true to how the characters would say things. As for Manx and Birman's names, I've seen sites with their names one way, and also the other, so I just picked which way I thought was right. If I got them switched, gomen, but I won't worry about changing it. Thanks for the comments people, but keep 'em coming and I'll keep posting.