Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Portrait of an Assassin as a Young Man ❯ Getting to Know the Angel. ( Chapter 1 )

Title: "Portrait of an Assassin as a Young man"

Author: Lilla.

Category: Omake/Hentai

Warnings: R

Pairings: OxK, OxAnyone, OxWhatever… YxA

For Sardius!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Weiss characters! Can I borrow them? Please?!!!! Sobs…I am just playing with them, OK? I won't ruin them… much. Come on it's just for a `good' laugh…

Also I do not own any other anime characters mentioned in this `thing' proper disclaimers in the AN at the end of each part.

Author's Note: OK, time for some additional warnings.

Beware there be yaoi lime. Yaoi as in guys getting it on with guys, lime as in lots of hints of smut. So if you are too young or don't like same sex relationships, don't read!

OK this a little bit of sheer idiocy inspired by some late night mails to/from Sardius-chan. OOC galore, craziness and idiocy are a given. Cameo appearances of characters from other animes. One long Ken PoV!

This is a gift fic for Sardius have a nice very belated 2003 Easter gal… or a very early 2004 one…

Many thanks to Nekojita and Sardius for the beta reading!

These are thoughts.

>These are flashbacks<

Portrait of an Assassin as a Young Man.

PART 1: Getting to know the Angel.

The first time I met Omi he was a cute little blond button of a 15 year old going on 10 and I had just been kicked out of J-League.

It was love at first sight between Omi and I. I smacked his bottom soccer style and he retaliated with one of his darts.

He later confessed that he had made a genuine mistake and had used an unpoisoned one.

Anyway I spent the next two days sleeping off the after-effects of that tranquilliser concoction of his and woke up refreshed and starry-eyed. When I opened my eyes I was all fired up and ready to go after the one I was sure was going to be my beloved.

I dare say that I made him very happy. He never again had to move anything heavy in the shop as I took care of everything.

> "No, Ken-kun, no need for you to take these pots, I have them…" claims a bit out of breath and fairly charged Omi while Ken tries to get the stack of pots he is carrying away from him.

"No Omi we can't let your cute little self bust a disk trying to lift those heavy pots…" retaliates an almost drooling (at the sight of Omi's slender torso exposed by the climbing T-shirt) Ken.

With a sudden movement the soccer fanatic takes the stack of pots in his capable hands and…

"Watch out they're going to…" starts a fearful looking Omi before being interrupted by the pots meeting their end with a resounding crash, "… fall and break…" <

We had the ideal life Omi and I, sharing the same interests…

> "Omi let's go watch this soccer match" enthuses a chirpy, in spite of the minus twenty degree Celsius weather outside, Ken.

"Ano Ken-kun," replies a pocket calculator weaponed Omi, "I have to finish these equations and then tackle my English homework to prepare for tomorrow's test…"

Before the teen even finishes explaining his evening's study program, , a callused hand grabs him by the lapel of his jacket while another hand gets positioned on his backside steering the reluctant boy towards the big, cold outside.

"Nonsense," asserts Ken as the boy tries to explain the necessity of his staying in and studying, "you're too smart already, you don't need to study anymore…"

"I want to get a degreeeee…" wails the blond boy in response. A pencil falls out of his tousled hair and falls on the snow covered entrance steps.

A puzzled Momoe-san looks at the couple making their way out in the freezing weather without winter coats or shoes and sighs "Ah youth! Look at them going all but naked into the snow and not even feeling the cold.. Amazing… Bet they'll have colds tomorrow, though."

She wasn't far off the mark, except that in Omi's case, it was more like pneumonia…<

… Talking about our lives before Weiss…

> "And so I managed to save our goal…" drones on a flushed Ken as he looks hungrily at the scantily clad and half asleep Omi, who is sitting in his computer chair while eyeing longingly his already turned down bed.

Three hours afterwards a now close to comatose Omi has collapsed: his head and torso on this unmade bed and his legs on the chair he'd started the conversation in. A clueless Ken is still recounting his soccer prowess.

The barely heard, "And so I managed to throw the ball back towards Kase. And, boy, you wouldn't believe it; he turned at my call and got the ball smack on his nose…" lulls the tired teen to sleep.

As he faintly snores the narration continues, "And figure that, it broke! And he spent three days in the hospital and his nose didn't get back into shape ever! But that didn't matter to him, we were great friends Kase and I…"

Somehow all of Omi's dreams that night featured himself trying to use the soccer balls Ken threw at him in place of his darts to kill some dark beasts. Needless to say, that particular nightmare didn't end too well…<

We also watched each other's backs on missions.

> "Omi," whispers into his communicator a crouching Siberian tiger (AKA Ken), while looking at a cadre of guards marching before his position, "we have too many guards for me to take out."

"Lie low and don't alert security Ken-kun," replied Omi's voice, sounding tinny over the comm, "or I'll be toast."

"Of course, of course, not to worry," assures a bored Ken, then something catches his eye and he turns to look with wonderment at his discovery.

"Wonder what this red button will do if I press it…" muses the curious soccer fanatic before pressing the above-mentioned implement. The shrill ring of an alarm can be heard all over the complex.

"I'd say that it was the alarm Ken-kun," whines a despairing Omi while looking askance at the armed guards now targeting him in their sights, "and I am going to be so much grinded meat…"<

We always prevailed, even when Omi, under the weight of our profession, had to go for counselling…

> A kind looking old man with glasses perched upon a thin nose and white messy hair sticking up all over the place talks to a twitching and red-eyed Omi. The boy's hands keep closing spasmodically as if he were trying to grab for a weapon.

"There, there," says the psychiatrist chosen by Kritiker, old doctor Hanamura, the genius who got Kikyou out of the depression concerning his sister's death, thus recuperating one of Kritiker's top operatives, "don't be like that. With your line of work, homicidal instincts are bound to surface…"

At that comment the poor boy starts crying brokenly. "You," he sniffs "you don't understand… I don't want to kill anyone."

An unholy gleam now entering the young blond's eyes, the teen continues, "I just want to see that useless idiot Siberian dead at my feet, his entrails spilled out, his puppy dog eyes glazed over…"

As dreadful maniac laughter starts spouting out of Omi's mouth, the kind doctor, sweating furiously, scribbles down prescriptions for the strongest antidepressants and sleeping pills he can think of. Hopefully with this prescription he will get out of seeing any more of this crazy boy as he'd done with that odd black haired man they had sent him from Kyoto.

Outside, a waiting Ken feels a chill running down his spine as the evilest laughter he has ever heard in his life echoes down the corridors of the clinic Kritiker has sent them to.

"My," comments cheerfully the soccer fanatic while kicking a ball he had taken along, to decompress while waiting, into a crash cart lying abandoned to the side and switching it on, "there are some dangerously crazy people in here!"<

Luckily with the proper medications and my invaluable and constant companionship the light of my life was back to his old cheerful self…

> A sheepish Ken enters a totalled shop. Flowers are strewn this way and that, some have even been trampled. Somehow, a stampede seems to have been started in his little flower shop in central Tokyo. A zoned out Omi is lying almost unconscious on the ground. His hair is mussed as if too many hands had been run through it and he has the sort of expression you see on the faces of saints portrayed while having visions in Christian churches' holy art.

Ken scratches the back of his head and comments "Sorry I'm late Omi…"

Getting no response he goes on cheerfully, "I am sorry I missed my shift and left you alone in the psycho fangirls' clutches this afternoon… but you see there was this guy in the park and he was teaching passes to his son in the wrong fashion and…"

The still out of it Omi clutches tightly the bottle he is holding in his left hand as if it were a lifeline. The faint lettering `Nervocalm' can be seen on the nearly empty prescription.

With a disquieting bright smile Omi shakes himself out of his drugged stupor and chirps cheerfully, "Oh it is nothing Ken-kun. It was a pleasure working both our shifts today…"

As the teen's left eye starts to twitch spasmodically the young blond unstops the bottle he is still frantically holding and drinks the dregs down in one long swallow. <

But then nothing that idyllic could ever hope to last. I should have known better than to believe it would.

TBC…

End of 1/5!

=^.^= So you like?