Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ It's too late to confess now... ❯ Youji ( Chapter 2 )

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

*****Part 2*****


A solitary light looms above his expressionless figure as Hidaka Ken stands stiffly before the sink in the kitchen. To anyone looking in on him he would appear to be simply doing the dishes - nothing out of the ordinary. But, to someone who had witnessed his recent actions, the truth would be all too plain.

No plates or silverware lay beneath the water and suds of soap. Only a worn pair of gloves with razor sharp talons sits at the bottom, soaking peacefully to rid themselves of the blood staining their blades.

Ken's thoughts are nearly as vacant as his face, for he cannot focus on anything, too afraid that whimsical ideas in his head will remind of how sick he feels in the pit of his stomach. He cannot afford to remember that. Not when he has to commit the same act that is causing those feelings all over again.

"Yo, where is everybody?!" bellows a voice from the entryway, sounding much more distant than fate has allowed it to be. "Ken?! Omi?! You guys here?!

Shaking out his damp, ashen-blonde hair, Kudo Youji appears in the door frame of the kitchen, and yawns with exhaustion. He has had a surprisingly long day. A long night. And not because of his usual tendencies, either.

Last night Weiss had a mission, and this particular mission, like far too many others preceding it, took a turn for the worst. The unspeakable worst.

"Hey there, Ken." the suddenly somber playboy addresses his younger friend, staring hard at the back of Ken's head. "I saw Omi's bag. He in his room?"

"Hn." replies the placid brunette, offering a barely perceptible nod to accompany his half-hearted answer.

"Figures." Youji smiles, obviously forced, though Ken doesn't see it. Still facing away from him, the commonly laid-back, young man is oddly absorbed in his chore. "So...how ya doing, KenKen? Anything I can do?"

From this vantage point, all Youji can see is the mess of his teammate's tousled hair. He can't even make out what rests inside the sink Ken's hands are submerged in, though he doesn't really give it much thought. Ken has every right to be acting strange today. Every right to be immersing himself in pointless errands.

After all, how often does one of them kill a little kid?

No reply, not even the comfort of an annoyed grunt returns Youji's thoughtful inquiry, and at that very moment, he suddenly realizes just how dark the trailer is. Only a lamp in the living room had greeted his entrance, and the sole light above the kitchen sink isn't much to see by, either.

Outside, the sun has long set, even if it never really shone through during the day's storm. Nevertheless, clouds in the night somehow make the sky even darker than clear ebony. Perhaps it is their gloomy presence, or that they block out the feeble glow of stars and our heavenly moon. Whatever the reason, the darkness is complete and utterly despairing. Not a very welcome development with so much tension already clinging at the walls.

"Look, don't be mad at Aya for locking you up today." Youji begins, taking the smallest step further inside the kitchen, though keeping his distance from the stone-still brunette. "He's just worried about you. We all are. If you need to let out your aggressions, or just run around screaming your head off, I'll understand. Do whatever you have to. I know this isn't easy. Hell, it isn't easy for any of us. But we're all in this together."

At long last, Ken gives a reaction, albeit a small one, as his head tilts to the side, and his shoulders hunch ever so slightly. "You are right about that, Kudo. We are in this together." comes his small yet chilling voice. "Together...til it's over. And even then..." he trails off, straightening his posture again, and diving back in to whatever it is he is washing so methodically in that filmy water.

Youji tenses despite himself, uneased by the hallow tone Ken had used. Somehow, the room, the entire world, seems just a bit darker than it was a moment ago, and for once in the life of this noted ladies' man, he doesn't take comfort in the night.

More importantly, he wishes he wasn't facing the night alone.

"Errr...kinda dark in here, ne? Omi getting on your case about conserving electricity again, or what?" the blonde kids, taking a small step back without even realizing he is doing it. "Did you say he was in his room? What's he doing in there? Studying?"

"Something like that..."

"Well...maybe I'll go check and see if he needs any help."

Running away. Youji turns on his heels and heads for freedom, so obviously running away from his fears. But what is it he fears? That's the real mystery here, the one he can't for the life of him figure out: why is he so afraid of Ken?

Taking note of his teammate's hasty departure, the frightening figure in question turns, facing the doorway full on, and watches Youji's retreating form with insatiable hunger. Leaving his claws where they are, he follows stealthily, grabbing hold of a rather large kitchen knife on the way.

Dragging it along the countertop, he lets it scrape the edge without really comprehending why. Something about the sound of metal making contact with a solid surface sends shivers of pleasure down his spine. They make him forget for the moment the nauseating affect of what that pleasure causes inside of him.

"I'll come with you..."

Down the small hallway to the bedrooms, the lavishly simple trailer seems endless during the trek to Omi's room. Endless for Youji, aware of the unwanted companion at his back. Endless for Ken, aware of what his newest mark is going to discover once they reach their destination.

The hall is even deeper in shadow, dreary and threatening, like a castle corridor in some haunted relic of a home. Life is like a horror movie sometimes, but what happens when the horror, the monster hunting you down, is someone you love?

Reaching Omi's door, Youji knocks gently, eyeing Ken's nearing figure with uncertain apprehension. He is granted no reply, but takes the silence as admittance enough, at least in the urgency of acquiring a bit of normal company.

"Gomen nasai, bishounen...." he starts in, apologizing for his intrusion even as he opens the door. "...but I just wanted to see if -" the words never finish. They can't. Every breath in him is caught in his throat as he takes in what he never could have imagined he was going to find.

Laid neatly on his bed, with small hands resting gently at his sides, is what one could almost believe is a peacefully sleeping Tsukiyono Omi. That is, if one did not have eyes to see what even the small light from outside is making so gruesomely apparent.

Dried and caking blood covers the boy's clothes and bedding. A gapping, mangled wound is all that remains of his tiny torso, and the unmistakable marks of claws through his neck are like oversized bullet holes, too horrifying to be real. It can't be real. None of it. For Christ's sake, his cheerful, blue eyes and perpetually child-like features are still stiff in the embrace of what must have been an excruciatingly sudden and painful death...

...by the hand of a friend.

"...oh...oh God...Omi..." Youji chokes out, clamping a hand to his mouth to keep from throwing up, though the flips his stomach are turning can't possibly keep the urge away for very long.

He doesn't know what to do. What can he do? Omi is...dead. Omi. Sweet, loving Omi, forever holding on to what precious innocence he has left. *Had* left...

Dear Lord, to use past tense makes it all so final.

Youji's remorse only lasts him so long before all his chances to take notice of what is happening behind him pass him by. Ken is no longer shadowing him from a safe distance, but has come up from behind, and at this very moment is slipping an arm around him, holding a knife to his throat.

"I promised Omi he wouldn't have to be alone for very long." Ken whispers, pressing in close to his teammate's body. "You don't want me to break that promise, do you...Youji?"

"Ken...?" the horrified blonde breathes in reply, stiffening over every inch of him, but still in utter shock that what is going on is truly real. "Iie...you didn't...you...*you* tore him apart like this...? God, Ken, look at him! Look what you did to him! That's Omi! Omi...lying there, dead! How could you -"

"I did what I had to do." Ken snaps, stinging the blade into Youji's skin just enough to draw blood. "You don't understand...but you will. Our destinies are all the same. Kill or be killed. I'm just speeding up the process."

Wincing at the pressure on his neck, Youji holds as still as his wavering nerves will allow. "You're wrong, Ken." he answers with renewing conviction, tearing his gaze from the mutilated mess of Omi's body. "My destiny is no one's but mine!"

WHAM. A sharp blow to Ken's stomach sends the boy reeling, and Youji wastes no time in pushing him away, though the cut in ridding himself of that knife is a price he may later regret.

No time to think. Youji dashes into the hallway, sprinting for the living room. Damnit, why had he taken his watch off?! Easy. Because he always yearns to be rid of it the day after a mission, feeling an impulsive need to cast it aside, even if only for a short time. Now, however, that small comfort may cost him dearly.

If memory serves him right, he had left the watch - his camouflaged garrote - on an end table beside the couch. As long as he reaches it in time, he will be able to defend himself. That is, if he has it in him to fight back against one of his closest friends.

The lamp is still glowing brightly from the table, casting just enough light to surround the image of Youji's watch in ethereal wonder, as if a miracle has given him the very chance he needs. The frantic blonde, breathing haggardly from adrenaline and fear, snatches it up in one fluid motion, forcing it on, and releasing a handful of wire as he turns back to the entrance in wait for his pursuer.

Ken is already there, right in front of him, and with tears of anger and desperation, Youji flings the garrote clumsily, praying for success.

Dawning a smile, so cruelly twisted into a sneer, the steady brunette catches the wire with his knife, wrapping it around the blade. He tugs brutally, and Youji flies forward, already off balance from fatigue, hitting the floor hard on his knees. Another tug removes the watch completely, leaving the defeated assassin defenseless, and at the mercy of what awaits him.

Sprawled on the floor, Youji holds his breath in reflex to the stains covering the carpet. Right in front of him is a pool of scarlet, drying and yet still damp, that had remained unseen in the darkness. There is no mistaking it now. It's blood. Omi's blood. Youji is on his knees at the very spot Omi died.

"Why are you fighting this?" Ken hisses, tossing the wire back to have it wrap tightly around his teammate's neck, in an awkward but effective manner. Youji gasps, instinctively clawing at his throat to fight his way free. "I'm surprised at you, Youji." the brunette continues, advancing closer. "Weren't you the one who told me I didn't have the right to love or be loved? Remember? Yuriko. Heh, of course you remember. The great Kudo never forgets a pretty face. Don't think I'm bitter about losing her, or anything. I'm not. You see, you were absolutely right. I'm not worthy of love. None of us are. That's why I have to do this. That's why I have to make it stop."

Tears of agony and lingering disbelief are flooding Youji's emerald eyes. His own wire is cutting into his skin, blocking his airway, and choking him to death in the same way he had used it to kill countless times before. Even, so long ago now, to take the life of the woman he loved. It almost comforts him, the idea of such poetic justice.

Almost.

Brought to his knees, with a dear friend hovering above, tightening that deadly weapon, there is nothing Youji can do, no voice he can use to talk his way out of this. The world is becoming a distant haze.

"I had second thoughts with Omi, you know? Nerves, I guess. Guilt." Ken speaks thoughtfully, his features so serene, while his hands are white from pulling the garrote so viscously taut. "That's how it is when you're a real killer - there are two sides to killing. The good part, if you do it long enough, is it gets easier. Of course, the bad part is...hehehe...heh...it gets easier."

Cold, ocean eyes glare down into the deep green depths of his victim, and the wire is stretched beyond the limit. Youji grimaces, producing a few struggled noises of anguished protest, and pleading silently for reprieve, for mercy.

Ha! What the hell is mercy?

Time is on Ken's side. He has the resolve to wait out his friend's tear-streaked face now, so beseeching, even as the color slowly leaves it. All too swiftly, however, Youji's eyes become glazed and vacant, his body held up by the force of Ken pulling at the strings, and nothing else.

So close now. The end is in sight, and soon all the suffering, all the heartache of what he has had to do, will be over, and Ken, along with every member of Weiss, will be free.


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


*sheepish smile* Looks like the bitch did it again, ne? Please understand, I merely write where Ken takes me. As for the final member - Aya-kun, my dear Ran - his fate is not yet sealed. Believe what you may, but in the end, you might be surprised.

Thanks again for all the great reviews, so honest and thought-provoking. Also, keep 'em coming, and keep me motivated! My goal is to have this finished before Tuesday, because that's when school starts for me. *boo, hiss* Anyway, no matter what, this will be finished soon, and I hope you're still liking it.

REVIEW minna! Love ya. :-)