Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Talking To The Dead ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter 4

His right hand gripped the wrapped stems convulsively as he gathered the courage to speak.

"I just wish someone would tell me what's going on."

Flowers sprinkled forth from Ken's tilted hand as he relaxed his grip, landing concentrically on the ground in a disordered splay. Freesia mixed in the grass, along with roses, zinnias, and periwinkles; the effect was chaotic, but surprisingly beautiful. Ken tossed the empty wrapper in a trash receptacle behind him and knelt to the ground among the flowers, careful to avoid crushing them with his body.

He pulled an incense stick out of his coat and leaned forward to place it in the holder at the base. It was only when he neared within an inch of it that he noticed the still-smoldering half stick protruding from the holder.

That's strange, he wondered, thinking back to earlier in the day. There's no way the stick I lit this morning could have lasted this long.

Suddenly suspicious, he looked around the graveyard. No other life forms were visible in the dying rays of the setting sun.

Well, maybe Aya decided to come by and pay his respects, Ken reasoned. He's probably not the sort that would leave flowers.

He turned back to the grave marker, but found himself unable to stop staring at the half-burned incense. Somehow, he did not feel right talking to Omi when it was a stranger's incense burning at the base. His conversations were between he and Omi alone; the presence of the foreign scent both distracted and reminded him of the fact that he was not the only person who mourned Omi Tsukiyono.

Twilight had closed in by the time the incense stick burned out. Ken quickly lit a new stick and replaced it in the holder. He bowed his head and breathed in the heady India-rose scented smoke as he collected his thoughts.

"Hi Omi," he began unsteadily, almost shyly. "Long time no see, huh?"

A light breeze disrupted the stream of incense, pulling it briefly off to the right. Ken watched anxiously to make certain the incense remained lit. Only when he was convinced it would stay burning did he allow himself to relax.

Idly, he picked a freesia up from the grass next to him and held it up for inspection.

"I brought some more flowers...freesia, your favorite." He continued talking quickly, fighting the tightness that suddenly gripped his throat. "I went all over Tokyo to find them. Even though I should have started in the most obvious place first. I don't know, I guess at the time I just didn't want to face them, didn't want to go in there until I'd made my decision..."

He trailed off abruptly. Above him, a few stars were just visible on the horizon.

"But then it didn't matter any more. I no longer had an excuse to avoid them."

Reverently, he placed the flower directly at the base of the marker. "You probably even grew these ones yourself. They're beautiful, of course. You always had a way with flowers..."

To his mind's eye a vision came, unbidden, of Omi humming as he gently placed a pot in the front window, turning it so that the smallest flower would receive the most sunlight. When he inquired why he had not just cut the flower off, Omi turned and smiled at him.

"The smallest one may not be the prettiest or the sturdiest, but it's often the one that smells the sweetest. Anything can shine as long as you give it a chance."

Ken smiled fondly. Omi had been right, of course. A week later he found that same flower in a vase on the table, sweetening the kitchen air with its resplendent fragrance.

He shook his head, dismissing the pleasant memory to the recesses of his mind for the time being. He had not come here to reminisce; he had more urgent things to reflect upon, and this was the only place, it seemed, that he could find peace of mind.

"Sorry, Omi. I'm very distractable right now, it seems. It's been a..." he paused, considering his words carefully. "...a very trying day."

He smiled sardonically. Now that is an understatement if I ever heard one.

"I spoke with Aya today."

His smile vanished. He sucked in his breath, steadying himself.

"It... er, could have gone better, I guess." He dropped his eyes. He could almost feel Omi's censuring gaze radiating from the grave marker.

He compelled himself to continue. "See, I was trying to find out about your last mission. And I'd spent the entire afternoon looking but I couldn't find anything - I'd just about hit my breaking point - when he walked, no, waltzed into the room and told me -"

Ken stopped to catch his breath. He was beginning to hyperventilate.

"He told me he was on the mission when you died."

The grave marker stared dispassionately back at him. Above, the stars twinkled brightly in the night sky. Ken hugged his arms tightly around himself. He waited until he felt he was calm enough to continue before speaking again, in more subdued whisper.

"I... I kinda lost it." He dropped his head in shame. "I don't know what came over me, I just wanted to hurt him, needed to see him bleed..."

He gripped his fists tightly at his side and shut his eyes. He could still see the cold fury in Aya's eyes when he had lunged at him.

"He stopped me, of course," he finished. "And when I finally calmed down, he told me about the mission."

His confession past, Ken finally allowed himself to look back up at the grave. The incense had burned to the end of the stick. He pulled another stick out of his coat and lit it, breathing deep its calming scent before placing it into the holder with unsteady hands.

"I was so angry with him. I was angry with him because he was supposed to protect you. I was angry with him because he couldn't save you. I was angry with him, because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find anything out about your last mission, and he knew all along and never offered the information.

"But I guess most of all, I was angry with him because I couldn't save you. And he made a convenient target." He slumped his shoulders. "I guess that's what this all comes down to, then, right? Me and my misplaced anger."

Ken sighed. He might as well say it; he had danced around the subject enough already.

"And that's really the root of it all, right? Because I didn't know, I couldn't be there. I couldn't do anything - not while I was stuck in that damn hospital..."

He bowed his head, forcing himself to continue speaking despite the strain.

"I'll bet you probably knew all about that, though. You probably even knew where Yohji's been for the past six months." He shook his head, a rueful smile beginning to play across his lips.

"No matter what we did, no matter where we went, we never could hide from you. You cared too much to lose us so easily..."

A sudden pang of loneliness struck him hard in the gut. He swallowed, his next words barely louder than the whisper of the wind blowing through the graveyard.

"What happened, Omi?"

What happened on your last mission?

What happened to Weiss?

What happened to me?

The thud of heavy footsteps hitting pavement jostled Ken from his reverie. He narrowed his eyes, watching the passing jogger with ill-concealed suspicion.

Why does he have to run past here, anyhow? he glowered. Couldn't he find somewhere else to run?

Doesn't he know the kinds of people that hang around in graveyards at night?

Ken chuckled grimly for a moment, before transitioning to a sigh. The mood had been broken, but at least he felt a little better for having talked things out.

He unfolded his legs and stretched, allowing blood to flow into his legs and circulate before attempting to stand. Rising to his feet, he looked down once again at the mess of flowers surrounding the grave.

Omi really would prefer it this way, he decided.

"Well Omi, it's getting late and I've got somewhere I need to go early tomorrow morning. If I get any answers, I'll be sure to let you know."

He considered the grave marker for a moment. "This would be so much easier if you could just talk back, you know? Though," he tilted his head to the side, "I guess it's not as though you're really in there, is it."

The wind whistled past, carrying the grave's silent assent.

Ken shook his head bemusedly. "I should have expected as much. Goodnight, Omi." He bowed, walked three steps back, turned, and jogged back to the entrance.

Tomorrow he would get his answers.

One way or another.

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freesia - Trust, Innocence