Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Fluesternd ❯ Part 13 ( Chapter 13 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Crimson 
A little something for Omi.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.19.2002 | Updated On: 08.19.2002 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.7K | Visits: 288 | Status: Completed
A little something for Omi.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.19.2002 | Updated On: 08.19.2002 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.7K | Visits: 288 | Status: Completed
*****13*****
Are we defined by our pasts?
Who we are could be based on where we come from, but is that accurate? Are we doomed to walk whatever paths are laid before us from the moment we take our first step to the moment we take our last? I certainly hope not, because if I'm stuck in the rut I've dug for myself, there's no where to go but down.
That goes for everyone, by the way.
Let's say our pasts are inconsequential then, shall we? It's easier. Still, childhood and demons long forgotten are still crucial in defining what makes us who we are, even if we have surpassed them.
They say you can never outrun your past, but why would anyone want to? Isn't it also said that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger? If that's the case, we should all be of Herculean stature by now. Most of us aren't, though. Maybe the truth lies in how well we face and embrace what lies behind us.
Damn.
Owning up is hard, I know. But believe me, it is so worth it. Acceptance is even more straining, but all the more valuable once you've achieved it. The real obstacle is in beginning. Once the wheel starts spinning, everything can easily fall into place, but making the effort to set things in motion can wear you down to the core.
If only we could have futures without having pasts......
*****
Clink. Clink. Sigh.
A spoon hits the edges of a small coffee cup while stirring its muddy-brown contents. The swirl of liquid is intertwined with white melding into the rest - coffee, black, cream, no sugar. Sweetened or not, he knows it will still taste terrible.
Tsukiyono Omi has a reputation for being a morning person. Lucky him. The truth is, he's only able to appear bright-eyed and alert because he feels a need to. Most mornings in the Weiss household are after missions. No one wants to get up after a night of deadly justice wrought upon the guilty, but each one of them always does - eventually - and even if they never say so, they all appreciate seeing Omi's smiling face waiting for them at the breakfast table. Being the youngest, it makes them feel hope for the future knowing he is able to retain his innocence - though somewhat stained.
Therefore, withstanding his hatred for coffee, the young blonde forces the putrid gunk down his throat, soaking in the caffeine for the sake of his friends.
The night before had not been a mission, however, merely the end to a very difficult day, and even though it had been spent across the street from their true home, Omi was still first to arise, waiting patiently for his teammates, the intriguing women of Fluesternd, two former members of Schwartz, and......Toto.
(I thought for sure I'd wake up this morning...and realize I'd dreamed it all.) He ponders curiously, taking a sip of his morning wake-up call with a wrinkled nose. (But......we're really doing it. We're making a difference without shedding a drop of blood. I always knew it was possible......it had to be...)
He leans back in his chair at the kitchen table, fingering the handle of his cup. The sky is dark outside the window, not because the sun hasn't risen yet, but because of the overcast clouds blocking its rays. For some unexplainable reason, Omi finds odd comfort in the smell of coming rain.
(What's going to happen next...? I thought I'd be afraid, but I'm actually kind of excited. We're half done with the mission and we've barely fought at all.....) His eyes narrow at nothing suddenly, and he feels an unwanted dread creeping up his spine. (Farfarello......I still don't trust him. After what he did......Ouka......but I guess....all the people we've killed had families, too. I just don't think one night will be enough to change him........)
"Nice pajamas, bishounen."
Startled, Omi jerks up out of his reverie, spilling a few drops of hot liquid on his hand in the process. Youji is now standing in the doorway.
The younger blonde grimaces at his burned hand, but finds himself drawn to look down at his tattered, old T-shirt and worn-in boxers. "Baka. I'd say the same to you, Youji-kun, but I bet you're not even wearing anything under that."
Youji gives a sly smirk, tugging at the corners of his robe, while making his way to the fridge to scrounge for breakfast. "Be happy I decided to put this thing on at all." he chides. "If we weren't guests of such lovely ladies, I wouldn't have bothered."
"Believe me, I have enough horrifying memories to remind me of that." Omi pipes in, attempting to hide his humored expression. "What got you out of bed so early anyway, Youji-kun? Restless without a warm body to keep you company?"
Knocking the fridge closed with his hips, and balancing a jug of milk, a block of cheese, and a carton of eggs in his hands, Youji lifts an eyebrow indignantly. Before answering, nevertheless, he flips on the stove, looking as if he might actually be preparing to make something for the whole gang.
After finding the appropriate pans and utensils, he turns back to Omi. "Ken snores." he states simply, and promptly goes back to cooking.
"I do not!"
This boisterous declaration clearly signals Hidaka Ken's entrance into the kitchen as well, holding his hands on his hips, and wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants covered with holes and tears. Youji grins to himself, but doesn't reply, and Omi only chuckles.
One by one, everyone exhaustedly begins filtering into the room, and they realize, though the space is larger than "Kitty in the House's" kitchen, it is rather cramped for 11 people.
Ran, Aiko, and Nori appear already dressed upon their arrivals; Hiromi and Amaya enter with wild messes of hair, still in their bed-clothes; Nagi and Toto look like two crumpled dolls waiting to be tended to; and Farfarello - last to slip into the kitchen - is wearing his black pants, but with a button-down, white shirt instead of his long vest, and is without his usual accessories - save the eye-patch and earrings.
With Youji toiling over edibles for everyone, the majority dig in as soon as the food is dished out, only a few deciding to stick to their own forms of breakfast - nothing or coffee.
"How did everyone sleep? I know it can be awkward staying in a strange bed." Aiko greets warmly, since most of them are being overtly quiet. No one gives much of a reply, but the red-head surveys them with interest, sitting down at the crammed kitchen table. "Don't be so shy. We're all friends here."
For some strange reason, everyone's eyes seem to avoid one another's.
Ran, Ken, Youji, and Nori remain standing while gathered in the tight space, not wanting to infringe upon the close quarters of all who are seated at the table.
Casting a serious glance at Farfarello, Nori remarks. "I think we'd rather get right down to business, instead of bothering with small talk." Her words come out forceful and direct, though somewhat kinder than they might have been not too long ago. "Tell us what you know of Schwartz' plans, Farfarello. *If* you're truly on our side."
"Jei." Aiko corrects, almost menacingly. "Call him Jei. It is his real name, after all."
Despite Aiko's interruption, everyone has already turned their eyes onto the silent, misplaced albino, who is sitting very still, not eating a thing. His own gaze is quite far away, distant and unnerving. One has to admit, it's much easier to change the clothes than the man.
Farfarello feels the many eyes on him, and darts his attention nervously about the room as he speaks to answer. "I....don't know anything." comes his soft, hesitating voice. "Crawford only thinks of me as a tool.....he doesn't say what we're leading to....except that it will be the end...."
"He's telling the truth." Nagi puts in supportively, seated on Farfarello's right at the table. "Crawford never tells us what's going on. Schuldrich would know much more than we do."
Some are satisfied with this response, while others cling to their suspicions. However, the heaviness in the air slowly begins to dissipate, and everyone gradually breaks into actual conversation, freeing themselves from thoughts of something they can easily deal with later.
Farfarello, on the other hand, reverts back to silent watchfulness, looking longingly at the food, but unsure how to take advantage of it. Vigilantly taking note of this, Aiko grabs a few pieces of bread us they pop up from the toaster, tossing them on a plate for him.
"Toast, Jei?" she asks with a smile. "I bet you're hungry."
Displaying blank features, he faces her, and nods while accepting the plate with a slightly shaky hand. Aiko seems content enough with this reaction, returning to her own breakfast eagerly.
Never one to favor bland things - food or otherwise - Farfie looks over the table for what he might put on his toast, instinctively reaching for the butter knife in front of him.
Abruptly, his eyes become transfixed on the curve of the blade, and his hand freezes with it just out of his reach. Farfarello's breath almost instantly quickens, his golden eye wide with fear and an impulsive, sickening desire.
(......I can feel it......the blood...running over my skin........taste it......imagine it spilling from the fools so close around me......) rambles his disturbed mind. (They're only pretending to trust me for *her* sake......they'd......never see it coming......I could slice through all of them so easily......)
And yet, his hand does not move forward, but remains about an inch away from satisfying his voracious cravings.
Farfarello's face twists in incomprehension. (Why......why can't I.....do it......they mean nothing to me.......I don't belong here......*You* are still my enemy......Father of lies..........Father......) A struggling tear streaks down his cheek, but no one else seems to notice. (......who forsake who..........could you still love......me.....? I.......no! I want to destroy everything you've created! I- !)
Just then, as Farfarello makes a desperate surge forward to take hold of the knife, a small, unbelievably strong hand grips his wrist before he can reach it.
Nagi has come to the rescue.
"Would you like......something on your toast......Jei?" the young boy asks carefully, with stressed words and firmly locked eyes.
Such a brave, unexpected act jolts Farfarello from his familiar lapse back into those dark times still close at hand, and the albino nods gratefully, sharply pulling back his hand as Nagi releases it.
Smiling gently, the short brunette does the bizarrely difficult job of adding flavor to his former teammate's toast, handing the plate back, while placing the knife on his other side - safely out of reach.
Everyone else was so caught up in their own discussions and eating frenzy, they didn't even notice something had been amiss. They didn't notice how close things had come to chaos simply because a butter knife triggered to life the sociopath within Farfarello.
Thank God for good friends.
*****
Thank God for good intentions.
Morning rapidly faded into afternoon - "Kitten's Cafe" enduring closed doors for a second day - while the members of such an oddly matched group worked out their future tactics. When they had microanalyzed every detail to death, hoping to find the best course of action, they still didn't have much of anything. So far, their "successes" have come out of coincidence and uncontrollable circumstances. How can they feasibly plan ahead?
Deciding to investigate and learn all they can, they chose to wait things out and take what comes as it comes. Of course, sometimes the hardest thing is to wait.
Evening is now fast approaching, and everyone is off in their own little groups with their own diverse tasks to complete. Omi, alone in the basement - which is eerily similar to how theirs......once was - has searched the Net from kilobyte to megabyte, and is technology-weary to the point of tears.
(This is driving me insane! How can we prepare ourselves when we have no idea what to do next?!) the young blonde thinks furiously, slamming a fist haphazardly down on the keyboard.
He pushes his chair back and stands, straining his throbbing joints, and stretches his arms high above his head while sighing in frustration. "Maybe I should just call it a night."
"Sounds like a good idea to me."
This intrusion whirls Omi around to discover a short, young woman with intense green eyes, gazing at him from only a few feet away. He becomes a child in staring back at her, full of youthful bewilderment. "Amaya.....I...errr...you scared me." mumbles the blue-eyed boy, caught off guard for the second time today.
Amaya tosses back her long raven locks, wearing an expression like someone burdened with the weight of an unfortunate secret, and plops herself down in a cushy, over-stuffed chair. Omi - calmed but curious - joins her, sitting on the small loveseat nearby, and is slightly disturbed by the strain in her smile. She is clutching something tightly to her chest, and for once, seems at a loss for what to say next.
"You didn't come down here just to brighten my boredom, did you?" Omi prompts softly, craning to see what she is holding so fiercely.
Another toss of dark strands. "Iie.......I.......have something for you." replies Amaya's feathery voice, more timid than Omi has ever heard it. "I would have given this to you before, but I thought it would be better if we knew each other a little more, so you'd know it wasn't a trick or anything."
"Wha.....what is it...?"
Cautiously, Amaya unclenches her hands and holds up the object in question. Omi looks it over carefully, and tilts his head - confused - once realizing what it is: a video tape. Awkwardly, the petite brunette thrusts her arm forward for him to take it. He accepts the offering warily, but peers with interest to read the label.
(Presidential Office......tape 347......5th of May......4am......)
"I don't understand." Omi begins, faltering with his words. "What does this have to do with me?"
Mournfully, Amaya casts him a weak smile, eyeing the tape in resolution. "That was taken from Takatori Reiji's personal office. You should recognize the date and time."
(Recognize...? Then this was...!) Such unforeseen grief, as Omi's heart leaps into his throat. (.....the night......ojisan......)
"It may be a little late." Amaya continues. "But you deserve to know the truth."
Omi's cheeks flush with heated emotion, his hand clenching the tape intensely. "What truth?!" barks back his suddenly angry voice, rising in volume and misunderstanding. "I know what happened that night. How can you think I'd want to see my...father...kill the only man who ever truly *was* like a father to me...? Why would you want to show me that!?!"
The tape is thrown harshly at Amaya's feet, and Omi turns away from her, burying himself in the cushions of the loveseat. There is a rippling wave of silence, clinging to the remaining echo of plastic hitting a wooden floor. How easily tension rises and falls, like some over-priced rollercoaster, or some poor actor's overly-abused inflection.
Amaya, refusing to be shaken from her steadfast determination, rises elegantly from her chair, though inside she is aching knowing her "gift" is causing someone she admires so much pain. But, she does not pick up the video tape. It is left right where it is for Omi to accept once he is ready. For now, what he needs is the comfort of solitude.
Before leaving, however, the pixie brunette implores gently. "Watch the tape, Bombay-kitten. I know it will be hard, but trust me, there's something on it you have to know. I'd tell you what it is, but it wouldn't mean squat if you didn't hear it for yourself."
These final words are all she leaves him with - other than the dreaded tape - and he soon finds himself alone. Omi almost immediately feels ashamed for snapping at her so foolishly and with such little thought, but there is a fearful abhorrence in the idea of watching that tape. In watching his family kill one another. Especially, after he had killed his own brothers...not long ago.
(What secrets could be left....?) he wonders, turning back to stare down at the tape on the floor. (Persia would have told me if it was something important......wouldn't he have? Maybe it was something he couldn't tell me. Something he thought I.....would be better off not knowing......)
Naturally, such a possibility is more than enough incentive to send Omi reaching for that frightful answer to his gnawing questions. Truth is one of the most desirable things in life, after all.
Meaning, it is also one of the most painful.
*****
What is most painful can sometimes hold the most meaning.
The walls shake slightly, sighing from the pressure thrown against them by the wailing wind. Inside, however, outer cold is shunned defiantly, and everyone is toasty warm, snuggling under the covers. They aren't quite ready to go to bed - the last room still awake - because they are waiting for their missing roommate to surface from wherever he's been hiding most of the evening.
Amaya and Toto are sitting up in their shared bed, conversing with Nagi from his sleeping bag. The person they're waiting for is Omi, to be exact, who will also be taking the floor - even if the girls would prefer slightly altered sleeping arrangements.
The youngest member of Weiss chose to close himself off in the basement since early evening, and the only person who seems to know what he's up to, isn't saying a word.
"Amaya-chan, I'm so sleepy. When is Omiitchi coming to bed?" Toto whines, falling back against her pillow.
Thoughtfully, the brunette smiles. "When he's ready."
The late hour combined with the finality of Amaya's tone, leaves the others in silence, watching the door expectantly. After a few lengthy minutes, it finally creaks open, and a short blonde with bright, blue eyes slips inside, holding a video tape in one hand, and displaying wet cheeks stained red from dried tears.
No one says a word as Omi enters, quickly hiding behind the closet door to change for the night, but their eyes follow his movements as soon as he's finished, making way to his spot on the floor next to Nagi. He doesn't climb inside his sleeping bag, however, nor does he even sit down, but stands there in front of the bed, slowing raising his eyes to look at Amaya, who is watching him more intently than either of the others.
The tape is still in his hand.
Gradually, Omi walks over to the bed-side table and sets the tape down, but now that he is closer to where Amaya is sitting up amidst the covers, he can no longer remain composed. Diving down like a child into a pile of toys, he suddenly wraps his arms around her neck, hugging her tightly.
While Toto and Nagi watch on curiously, Amaya merely laughs, embracing him in return. "I guess you had a change of heart, ne? I'm so glad, Bombay-kitten." she purrs beside his ear.
Laughing himself, Omi pulls away, blushing profusely. "I.....don't know how to repay you......" breathes out his drunkenly happy voice. "If you hadn't given me that tape, I never would have known."
"Known what?" Toto prompts, hating to be held in suspense.
Nagi perks up avidly as well. "Was something important on that tape?"
Regaining himself, Omi crosses back to sit down on top of his sleeping bag, beaming out at all of them. "It showed me how......I still can't believe it......" he begins, unable to hold the corners of his mouth at bay. "Nagi, you knew Takatori Reiji was my father, ne? You know I was really Takatori Mamoru once?"
Nagi nods. He hadn't really given it much thought before.
"Well......the tape....it......he......he wasn't my father." the blonde goes on, hardly believing it himself. "*Persia* was all along. Takatori Shuuichi. He was my real father. I was right there with him when he.....died.....but he couldn't bring himself to tell me. He had just found out himself, and.....I guess he felt guilty. In his mind, it was worse to raise a son to be a killer than a nephew to be one......"
As saddening as these many revelations have been, Omi can't help grinning from ear to ear, overwhelmed by a feeling of peace, a sense of belonging he has always been deprived of. Now, he knows the truth; he didn't end up like his brothers, and never would have, because he was raised by a different father. His real father.
"It's the least I could do for you." Amaya states gently, smiling even more brilliantly than Omi. "I know how hard it can be, feeling like you don't know who you are, even amongst your own family."
All three of her companions turn to the dark-haired, young woman inquiringly at this. Truthfully, can't every single one of them say the same? And yet......
"I would never have imagined *you* could understand something like that." Nagi comments honestly. "You always seem so......light-hearted."
Though so far she's been listening while laying comfortably upon her pillow, Toto suddenly springs up into a sitting position. "So do I!" she reprimands her counterpart indignantly. "And.....you know what Papa did to me......but......I still smile and try to be happy."
No one could ever dispute that.
"Amaya....." Omi presses on, his smile fading as he looks up at her imploringly from his place on the floor. "All of us know on some level what each other has been through, except.....for you. Maybe it's not my place to ask, but all Aiko ever told us was that you were somehow connected to Kritiker. So, what........what's *your* story?"
Absolute quiet. The lovely brunette's smile falters, and her eyes seem to unfocus, as if contemplating how to explain what her companions so eagerly wish to know. Nevertheless, with subtle difficulty she forces her smile to return, though it isn't quite the same expression. "I am Yawarakai Amaya, remember? If you think about it, that name should sound familiar."
Almost instantly, Omi's face lights up in comprehension. "Yawarakai! Of course, the Yawarakai Institute that came up with all those technological advances, even the computer I us!" he exclaims. "You're their heir? I should have figured it out right away, especially with your birth mark."
"Birth mark?" Toto repeats.
"This." explains Amaya, coiling her silver lock of hair around a delicate finger. "My father had the same thing."
"I remember the Yawarakai family." Nagi puts in, trying to recall. "They were murdered during a random robbery at their estate. I didn't think anyone survived."
Once again, Amaya's features flicker out of their usual light and go blank, agonizing over the memories she's allowing to resurface. "I wasn't home. One in a million chance, and I wasn't even there." she whispers, bravely putting on a strong resolve. "The reason no one knows I'm still alive is because of Kritiker. Daddy was really involved with them - money backing, new devices - and after him and Mom were.....killed.....they took care of me. I've been raking in all the dough from the factories to keep helping Kritiker out, and in return they make sure I'm safe. Or did, at least, before the organization collapsed. I think it's what my parents would have wanted, and it did lead me to Fluesternd - one of the best thing that ever happened to me. Guess I'm pretty lucky......"
Fade out. Silence again. How much these diverse young men and women have in common - pain, suffering, loss, and the sting of not belonging anywhere. Truly, they are kindred spirits.
"I'm so sleepy....." Toto mumbles, giving a great, exhausted yawn, and interrupting the quiet like the unconquerable child she is.
The others chuckle lightly, giving in to their own weariness by offering a few muffled goodnights and reluctantly laying down inside their beds. As is to be expected, much is on their minds, with fresh alliances forming in their hearts, but they can't imagine finding anymore words to speak. Silence is enough, as if their souls are capable of communing with one another even from inside their dreams
And......this is only the beginning.
*****
......only the unbearable, excruciating beginning.
Pain, suffering, deterioration of the human spirit - these are the things he lives for. These things he thrives off of like a drug addict in desperate need for another fix. His weapon is not something to be touched or seen, however, but something that reaches inside of you, tears apart your very soul - like some rabid dog - and throws you back to pick up the pieces. That is, if you're still alive.
Schuldrich. The guilty one. That is the essence of who he is. (Here kitty kitties....and the little brat and psycho, too.....heh....I'm coming for you.....)
How quickly darkness falls, even in Spring when the days begin to get longer and the nights grow shorter and shorter. No stars tonight, though, no moon. Only overcast clouds and cold.
Perched by the back door to "Kitten's Cafe" - the door leading up directly to the apartment - Schuldrich leans casually, completely at ease. He is waiting - watching and waiting - for the last few lights inside to turn off, signaling the descent of sleep.
(I got off pretty easy......) he considers lazily, pulling out a cigarette to keep him company and to warm his numbed skin. (.....easier than they'll got off, anyway. Funny, I thought Brad was about to pop a vein back there......)
"He......escaped....?" the American had choked out, practically shaking from the rage built up inside his sturdy frame. "You let Farfarello escape!?!"
Clearly, Brad hadn't taken Schu's incident very well.
"Hey, he caught me by surprise with that damn straitjacket around the throat. What was I supposed to do? Play dead? He's not that stupid."
Needless to say, the argument continued a little longer than Schu would have preferred, but in the end, Brad calmed down, steadied his shaken nerves, and......screamed out orders the German wouldn't dare turn down.
"I won't wait around for what they're planning next. I want her back now!" he'd shouted, and then stalked up very close to Schuldrich, looking right through him as his glasses glinted in the light. "Go back to their headquarters. If both of those traitors are there, leave them there, but I want you to make a more lasting impact on the others. I don't care what you do to them, but I want them all to pay! Just be sure you bring the girl back - unharmed. If you don't, you better be half-dead when you drag yourself through that door....."
Now, it's nightfall, it's cold, and Schuldrich is waiting outside the shop with the perfect plan of revenge forming in his lovely head. If he was outside the flowershop - with it still intact - every blooming plant within would have wilted catching wind of his evil thoughts.
Taking a characteristically sensual drag on his slim cigarette, Schuldrich tilts his head up at the windows above, sneering cruelly at the lights going out one by one. (Sleep tight......little kitties......I'll be paying you a visit very soon....)
All around him, the wind howled.
*****A/N*****
Truthfully, one of my least fave chapters, but a very important one. I had to give Omi and Amaya their moments to shine, I did really like Farf's moment of relapse, and the setup for Schu better have you aching for more, cause the next chapter is oodles of fun. Keep those REVIEWS coming!
Are we defined by our pasts?
Who we are could be based on where we come from, but is that accurate? Are we doomed to walk whatever paths are laid before us from the moment we take our first step to the moment we take our last? I certainly hope not, because if I'm stuck in the rut I've dug for myself, there's no where to go but down.
That goes for everyone, by the way.
Let's say our pasts are inconsequential then, shall we? It's easier. Still, childhood and demons long forgotten are still crucial in defining what makes us who we are, even if we have surpassed them.
They say you can never outrun your past, but why would anyone want to? Isn't it also said that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger? If that's the case, we should all be of Herculean stature by now. Most of us aren't, though. Maybe the truth lies in how well we face and embrace what lies behind us.
Damn.
Owning up is hard, I know. But believe me, it is so worth it. Acceptance is even more straining, but all the more valuable once you've achieved it. The real obstacle is in beginning. Once the wheel starts spinning, everything can easily fall into place, but making the effort to set things in motion can wear you down to the core.
If only we could have futures without having pasts......
*****
Clink. Clink. Sigh.
A spoon hits the edges of a small coffee cup while stirring its muddy-brown contents. The swirl of liquid is intertwined with white melding into the rest - coffee, black, cream, no sugar. Sweetened or not, he knows it will still taste terrible.
Tsukiyono Omi has a reputation for being a morning person. Lucky him. The truth is, he's only able to appear bright-eyed and alert because he feels a need to. Most mornings in the Weiss household are after missions. No one wants to get up after a night of deadly justice wrought upon the guilty, but each one of them always does - eventually - and even if they never say so, they all appreciate seeing Omi's smiling face waiting for them at the breakfast table. Being the youngest, it makes them feel hope for the future knowing he is able to retain his innocence - though somewhat stained.
Therefore, withstanding his hatred for coffee, the young blonde forces the putrid gunk down his throat, soaking in the caffeine for the sake of his friends.
The night before had not been a mission, however, merely the end to a very difficult day, and even though it had been spent across the street from their true home, Omi was still first to arise, waiting patiently for his teammates, the intriguing women of Fluesternd, two former members of Schwartz, and......Toto.
(I thought for sure I'd wake up this morning...and realize I'd dreamed it all.) He ponders curiously, taking a sip of his morning wake-up call with a wrinkled nose. (But......we're really doing it. We're making a difference without shedding a drop of blood. I always knew it was possible......it had to be...)
He leans back in his chair at the kitchen table, fingering the handle of his cup. The sky is dark outside the window, not because the sun hasn't risen yet, but because of the overcast clouds blocking its rays. For some unexplainable reason, Omi finds odd comfort in the smell of coming rain.
(What's going to happen next...? I thought I'd be afraid, but I'm actually kind of excited. We're half done with the mission and we've barely fought at all.....) His eyes narrow at nothing suddenly, and he feels an unwanted dread creeping up his spine. (Farfarello......I still don't trust him. After what he did......Ouka......but I guess....all the people we've killed had families, too. I just don't think one night will be enough to change him........)
"Nice pajamas, bishounen."
Startled, Omi jerks up out of his reverie, spilling a few drops of hot liquid on his hand in the process. Youji is now standing in the doorway.
The younger blonde grimaces at his burned hand, but finds himself drawn to look down at his tattered, old T-shirt and worn-in boxers. "Baka. I'd say the same to you, Youji-kun, but I bet you're not even wearing anything under that."
Youji gives a sly smirk, tugging at the corners of his robe, while making his way to the fridge to scrounge for breakfast. "Be happy I decided to put this thing on at all." he chides. "If we weren't guests of such lovely ladies, I wouldn't have bothered."
"Believe me, I have enough horrifying memories to remind me of that." Omi pipes in, attempting to hide his humored expression. "What got you out of bed so early anyway, Youji-kun? Restless without a warm body to keep you company?"
Knocking the fridge closed with his hips, and balancing a jug of milk, a block of cheese, and a carton of eggs in his hands, Youji lifts an eyebrow indignantly. Before answering, nevertheless, he flips on the stove, looking as if he might actually be preparing to make something for the whole gang.
After finding the appropriate pans and utensils, he turns back to Omi. "Ken snores." he states simply, and promptly goes back to cooking.
"I do not!"
This boisterous declaration clearly signals Hidaka Ken's entrance into the kitchen as well, holding his hands on his hips, and wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants covered with holes and tears. Youji grins to himself, but doesn't reply, and Omi only chuckles.
One by one, everyone exhaustedly begins filtering into the room, and they realize, though the space is larger than "Kitty in the House's" kitchen, it is rather cramped for 11 people.
Ran, Aiko, and Nori appear already dressed upon their arrivals; Hiromi and Amaya enter with wild messes of hair, still in their bed-clothes; Nagi and Toto look like two crumpled dolls waiting to be tended to; and Farfarello - last to slip into the kitchen - is wearing his black pants, but with a button-down, white shirt instead of his long vest, and is without his usual accessories - save the eye-patch and earrings.
With Youji toiling over edibles for everyone, the majority dig in as soon as the food is dished out, only a few deciding to stick to their own forms of breakfast - nothing or coffee.
"How did everyone sleep? I know it can be awkward staying in a strange bed." Aiko greets warmly, since most of them are being overtly quiet. No one gives much of a reply, but the red-head surveys them with interest, sitting down at the crammed kitchen table. "Don't be so shy. We're all friends here."
For some strange reason, everyone's eyes seem to avoid one another's.
Ran, Ken, Youji, and Nori remain standing while gathered in the tight space, not wanting to infringe upon the close quarters of all who are seated at the table.
Casting a serious glance at Farfarello, Nori remarks. "I think we'd rather get right down to business, instead of bothering with small talk." Her words come out forceful and direct, though somewhat kinder than they might have been not too long ago. "Tell us what you know of Schwartz' plans, Farfarello. *If* you're truly on our side."
"Jei." Aiko corrects, almost menacingly. "Call him Jei. It is his real name, after all."
Despite Aiko's interruption, everyone has already turned their eyes onto the silent, misplaced albino, who is sitting very still, not eating a thing. His own gaze is quite far away, distant and unnerving. One has to admit, it's much easier to change the clothes than the man.
Farfarello feels the many eyes on him, and darts his attention nervously about the room as he speaks to answer. "I....don't know anything." comes his soft, hesitating voice. "Crawford only thinks of me as a tool.....he doesn't say what we're leading to....except that it will be the end...."
"He's telling the truth." Nagi puts in supportively, seated on Farfarello's right at the table. "Crawford never tells us what's going on. Schuldrich would know much more than we do."
Some are satisfied with this response, while others cling to their suspicions. However, the heaviness in the air slowly begins to dissipate, and everyone gradually breaks into actual conversation, freeing themselves from thoughts of something they can easily deal with later.
Farfarello, on the other hand, reverts back to silent watchfulness, looking longingly at the food, but unsure how to take advantage of it. Vigilantly taking note of this, Aiko grabs a few pieces of bread us they pop up from the toaster, tossing them on a plate for him.
"Toast, Jei?" she asks with a smile. "I bet you're hungry."
Displaying blank features, he faces her, and nods while accepting the plate with a slightly shaky hand. Aiko seems content enough with this reaction, returning to her own breakfast eagerly.
Never one to favor bland things - food or otherwise - Farfie looks over the table for what he might put on his toast, instinctively reaching for the butter knife in front of him.
Abruptly, his eyes become transfixed on the curve of the blade, and his hand freezes with it just out of his reach. Farfarello's breath almost instantly quickens, his golden eye wide with fear and an impulsive, sickening desire.
(......I can feel it......the blood...running over my skin........taste it......imagine it spilling from the fools so close around me......) rambles his disturbed mind. (They're only pretending to trust me for *her* sake......they'd......never see it coming......I could slice through all of them so easily......)
And yet, his hand does not move forward, but remains about an inch away from satisfying his voracious cravings.
Farfarello's face twists in incomprehension. (Why......why can't I.....do it......they mean nothing to me.......I don't belong here......*You* are still my enemy......Father of lies..........Father......) A struggling tear streaks down his cheek, but no one else seems to notice. (......who forsake who..........could you still love......me.....? I.......no! I want to destroy everything you've created! I- !)
Just then, as Farfarello makes a desperate surge forward to take hold of the knife, a small, unbelievably strong hand grips his wrist before he can reach it.
Nagi has come to the rescue.
"Would you like......something on your toast......Jei?" the young boy asks carefully, with stressed words and firmly locked eyes.
Such a brave, unexpected act jolts Farfarello from his familiar lapse back into those dark times still close at hand, and the albino nods gratefully, sharply pulling back his hand as Nagi releases it.
Smiling gently, the short brunette does the bizarrely difficult job of adding flavor to his former teammate's toast, handing the plate back, while placing the knife on his other side - safely out of reach.
Everyone else was so caught up in their own discussions and eating frenzy, they didn't even notice something had been amiss. They didn't notice how close things had come to chaos simply because a butter knife triggered to life the sociopath within Farfarello.
Thank God for good friends.
*****
Thank God for good intentions.
Morning rapidly faded into afternoon - "Kitten's Cafe" enduring closed doors for a second day - while the members of such an oddly matched group worked out their future tactics. When they had microanalyzed every detail to death, hoping to find the best course of action, they still didn't have much of anything. So far, their "successes" have come out of coincidence and uncontrollable circumstances. How can they feasibly plan ahead?
Deciding to investigate and learn all they can, they chose to wait things out and take what comes as it comes. Of course, sometimes the hardest thing is to wait.
Evening is now fast approaching, and everyone is off in their own little groups with their own diverse tasks to complete. Omi, alone in the basement - which is eerily similar to how theirs......once was - has searched the Net from kilobyte to megabyte, and is technology-weary to the point of tears.
(This is driving me insane! How can we prepare ourselves when we have no idea what to do next?!) the young blonde thinks furiously, slamming a fist haphazardly down on the keyboard.
He pushes his chair back and stands, straining his throbbing joints, and stretches his arms high above his head while sighing in frustration. "Maybe I should just call it a night."
"Sounds like a good idea to me."
This intrusion whirls Omi around to discover a short, young woman with intense green eyes, gazing at him from only a few feet away. He becomes a child in staring back at her, full of youthful bewilderment. "Amaya.....I...errr...you scared me." mumbles the blue-eyed boy, caught off guard for the second time today.
Amaya tosses back her long raven locks, wearing an expression like someone burdened with the weight of an unfortunate secret, and plops herself down in a cushy, over-stuffed chair. Omi - calmed but curious - joins her, sitting on the small loveseat nearby, and is slightly disturbed by the strain in her smile. She is clutching something tightly to her chest, and for once, seems at a loss for what to say next.
"You didn't come down here just to brighten my boredom, did you?" Omi prompts softly, craning to see what she is holding so fiercely.
Another toss of dark strands. "Iie.......I.......have something for you." replies Amaya's feathery voice, more timid than Omi has ever heard it. "I would have given this to you before, but I thought it would be better if we knew each other a little more, so you'd know it wasn't a trick or anything."
"Wha.....what is it...?"
Cautiously, Amaya unclenches her hands and holds up the object in question. Omi looks it over carefully, and tilts his head - confused - once realizing what it is: a video tape. Awkwardly, the petite brunette thrusts her arm forward for him to take it. He accepts the offering warily, but peers with interest to read the label.
(Presidential Office......tape 347......5th of May......4am......)
"I don't understand." Omi begins, faltering with his words. "What does this have to do with me?"
Mournfully, Amaya casts him a weak smile, eyeing the tape in resolution. "That was taken from Takatori Reiji's personal office. You should recognize the date and time."
(Recognize...? Then this was...!) Such unforeseen grief, as Omi's heart leaps into his throat. (.....the night......ojisan......)
"It may be a little late." Amaya continues. "But you deserve to know the truth."
Omi's cheeks flush with heated emotion, his hand clenching the tape intensely. "What truth?!" barks back his suddenly angry voice, rising in volume and misunderstanding. "I know what happened that night. How can you think I'd want to see my...father...kill the only man who ever truly *was* like a father to me...? Why would you want to show me that!?!"
The tape is thrown harshly at Amaya's feet, and Omi turns away from her, burying himself in the cushions of the loveseat. There is a rippling wave of silence, clinging to the remaining echo of plastic hitting a wooden floor. How easily tension rises and falls, like some over-priced rollercoaster, or some poor actor's overly-abused inflection.
Amaya, refusing to be shaken from her steadfast determination, rises elegantly from her chair, though inside she is aching knowing her "gift" is causing someone she admires so much pain. But, she does not pick up the video tape. It is left right where it is for Omi to accept once he is ready. For now, what he needs is the comfort of solitude.
Before leaving, however, the pixie brunette implores gently. "Watch the tape, Bombay-kitten. I know it will be hard, but trust me, there's something on it you have to know. I'd tell you what it is, but it wouldn't mean squat if you didn't hear it for yourself."
These final words are all she leaves him with - other than the dreaded tape - and he soon finds himself alone. Omi almost immediately feels ashamed for snapping at her so foolishly and with such little thought, but there is a fearful abhorrence in the idea of watching that tape. In watching his family kill one another. Especially, after he had killed his own brothers...not long ago.
(What secrets could be left....?) he wonders, turning back to stare down at the tape on the floor. (Persia would have told me if it was something important......wouldn't he have? Maybe it was something he couldn't tell me. Something he thought I.....would be better off not knowing......)
Naturally, such a possibility is more than enough incentive to send Omi reaching for that frightful answer to his gnawing questions. Truth is one of the most desirable things in life, after all.
Meaning, it is also one of the most painful.
*****
What is most painful can sometimes hold the most meaning.
The walls shake slightly, sighing from the pressure thrown against them by the wailing wind. Inside, however, outer cold is shunned defiantly, and everyone is toasty warm, snuggling under the covers. They aren't quite ready to go to bed - the last room still awake - because they are waiting for their missing roommate to surface from wherever he's been hiding most of the evening.
Amaya and Toto are sitting up in their shared bed, conversing with Nagi from his sleeping bag. The person they're waiting for is Omi, to be exact, who will also be taking the floor - even if the girls would prefer slightly altered sleeping arrangements.
The youngest member of Weiss chose to close himself off in the basement since early evening, and the only person who seems to know what he's up to, isn't saying a word.
"Amaya-chan, I'm so sleepy. When is Omiitchi coming to bed?" Toto whines, falling back against her pillow.
Thoughtfully, the brunette smiles. "When he's ready."
The late hour combined with the finality of Amaya's tone, leaves the others in silence, watching the door expectantly. After a few lengthy minutes, it finally creaks open, and a short blonde with bright, blue eyes slips inside, holding a video tape in one hand, and displaying wet cheeks stained red from dried tears.
No one says a word as Omi enters, quickly hiding behind the closet door to change for the night, but their eyes follow his movements as soon as he's finished, making way to his spot on the floor next to Nagi. He doesn't climb inside his sleeping bag, however, nor does he even sit down, but stands there in front of the bed, slowing raising his eyes to look at Amaya, who is watching him more intently than either of the others.
The tape is still in his hand.
Gradually, Omi walks over to the bed-side table and sets the tape down, but now that he is closer to where Amaya is sitting up amidst the covers, he can no longer remain composed. Diving down like a child into a pile of toys, he suddenly wraps his arms around her neck, hugging her tightly.
While Toto and Nagi watch on curiously, Amaya merely laughs, embracing him in return. "I guess you had a change of heart, ne? I'm so glad, Bombay-kitten." she purrs beside his ear.
Laughing himself, Omi pulls away, blushing profusely. "I.....don't know how to repay you......" breathes out his drunkenly happy voice. "If you hadn't given me that tape, I never would have known."
"Known what?" Toto prompts, hating to be held in suspense.
Nagi perks up avidly as well. "Was something important on that tape?"
Regaining himself, Omi crosses back to sit down on top of his sleeping bag, beaming out at all of them. "It showed me how......I still can't believe it......" he begins, unable to hold the corners of his mouth at bay. "Nagi, you knew Takatori Reiji was my father, ne? You know I was really Takatori Mamoru once?"
Nagi nods. He hadn't really given it much thought before.
"Well......the tape....it......he......he wasn't my father." the blonde goes on, hardly believing it himself. "*Persia* was all along. Takatori Shuuichi. He was my real father. I was right there with him when he.....died.....but he couldn't bring himself to tell me. He had just found out himself, and.....I guess he felt guilty. In his mind, it was worse to raise a son to be a killer than a nephew to be one......"
As saddening as these many revelations have been, Omi can't help grinning from ear to ear, overwhelmed by a feeling of peace, a sense of belonging he has always been deprived of. Now, he knows the truth; he didn't end up like his brothers, and never would have, because he was raised by a different father. His real father.
"It's the least I could do for you." Amaya states gently, smiling even more brilliantly than Omi. "I know how hard it can be, feeling like you don't know who you are, even amongst your own family."
All three of her companions turn to the dark-haired, young woman inquiringly at this. Truthfully, can't every single one of them say the same? And yet......
"I would never have imagined *you* could understand something like that." Nagi comments honestly. "You always seem so......light-hearted."
Though so far she's been listening while laying comfortably upon her pillow, Toto suddenly springs up into a sitting position. "So do I!" she reprimands her counterpart indignantly. "And.....you know what Papa did to me......but......I still smile and try to be happy."
No one could ever dispute that.
"Amaya....." Omi presses on, his smile fading as he looks up at her imploringly from his place on the floor. "All of us know on some level what each other has been through, except.....for you. Maybe it's not my place to ask, but all Aiko ever told us was that you were somehow connected to Kritiker. So, what........what's *your* story?"
Absolute quiet. The lovely brunette's smile falters, and her eyes seem to unfocus, as if contemplating how to explain what her companions so eagerly wish to know. Nevertheless, with subtle difficulty she forces her smile to return, though it isn't quite the same expression. "I am Yawarakai Amaya, remember? If you think about it, that name should sound familiar."
Almost instantly, Omi's face lights up in comprehension. "Yawarakai! Of course, the Yawarakai Institute that came up with all those technological advances, even the computer I us!" he exclaims. "You're their heir? I should have figured it out right away, especially with your birth mark."
"Birth mark?" Toto repeats.
"This." explains Amaya, coiling her silver lock of hair around a delicate finger. "My father had the same thing."
"I remember the Yawarakai family." Nagi puts in, trying to recall. "They were murdered during a random robbery at their estate. I didn't think anyone survived."
Once again, Amaya's features flicker out of their usual light and go blank, agonizing over the memories she's allowing to resurface. "I wasn't home. One in a million chance, and I wasn't even there." she whispers, bravely putting on a strong resolve. "The reason no one knows I'm still alive is because of Kritiker. Daddy was really involved with them - money backing, new devices - and after him and Mom were.....killed.....they took care of me. I've been raking in all the dough from the factories to keep helping Kritiker out, and in return they make sure I'm safe. Or did, at least, before the organization collapsed. I think it's what my parents would have wanted, and it did lead me to Fluesternd - one of the best thing that ever happened to me. Guess I'm pretty lucky......"
Fade out. Silence again. How much these diverse young men and women have in common - pain, suffering, loss, and the sting of not belonging anywhere. Truly, they are kindred spirits.
"I'm so sleepy....." Toto mumbles, giving a great, exhausted yawn, and interrupting the quiet like the unconquerable child she is.
The others chuckle lightly, giving in to their own weariness by offering a few muffled goodnights and reluctantly laying down inside their beds. As is to be expected, much is on their minds, with fresh alliances forming in their hearts, but they can't imagine finding anymore words to speak. Silence is enough, as if their souls are capable of communing with one another even from inside their dreams
And......this is only the beginning.
*****
......only the unbearable, excruciating beginning.
Pain, suffering, deterioration of the human spirit - these are the things he lives for. These things he thrives off of like a drug addict in desperate need for another fix. His weapon is not something to be touched or seen, however, but something that reaches inside of you, tears apart your very soul - like some rabid dog - and throws you back to pick up the pieces. That is, if you're still alive.
Schuldrich. The guilty one. That is the essence of who he is. (Here kitty kitties....and the little brat and psycho, too.....heh....I'm coming for you.....)
How quickly darkness falls, even in Spring when the days begin to get longer and the nights grow shorter and shorter. No stars tonight, though, no moon. Only overcast clouds and cold.
Perched by the back door to "Kitten's Cafe" - the door leading up directly to the apartment - Schuldrich leans casually, completely at ease. He is waiting - watching and waiting - for the last few lights inside to turn off, signaling the descent of sleep.
(I got off pretty easy......) he considers lazily, pulling out a cigarette to keep him company and to warm his numbed skin. (.....easier than they'll got off, anyway. Funny, I thought Brad was about to pop a vein back there......)
"He......escaped....?" the American had choked out, practically shaking from the rage built up inside his sturdy frame. "You let Farfarello escape!?!"
Clearly, Brad hadn't taken Schu's incident very well.
"Hey, he caught me by surprise with that damn straitjacket around the throat. What was I supposed to do? Play dead? He's not that stupid."
Needless to say, the argument continued a little longer than Schu would have preferred, but in the end, Brad calmed down, steadied his shaken nerves, and......screamed out orders the German wouldn't dare turn down.
"I won't wait around for what they're planning next. I want her back now!" he'd shouted, and then stalked up very close to Schuldrich, looking right through him as his glasses glinted in the light. "Go back to their headquarters. If both of those traitors are there, leave them there, but I want you to make a more lasting impact on the others. I don't care what you do to them, but I want them all to pay! Just be sure you bring the girl back - unharmed. If you don't, you better be half-dead when you drag yourself through that door....."
Now, it's nightfall, it's cold, and Schuldrich is waiting outside the shop with the perfect plan of revenge forming in his lovely head. If he was outside the flowershop - with it still intact - every blooming plant within would have wilted catching wind of his evil thoughts.
Taking a characteristically sensual drag on his slim cigarette, Schuldrich tilts his head up at the windows above, sneering cruelly at the lights going out one by one. (Sleep tight......little kitties......I'll be paying you a visit very soon....)
All around him, the wind howled.
*****A/N*****
Truthfully, one of my least fave chapters, but a very important one. I had to give Omi and Amaya their moments to shine, I did really like Farf's moment of relapse, and the setup for Schu better have you aching for more, cause the next chapter is oodles of fun. Keep those REVIEWS coming!