Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Rain Doesn't Grieve ❯ 08 ( Chapter 8 )

8

 

dare ni mo tomeru koto wa dekinai futari dake ni yurusareta wakare no namida wa
kurikaesu ayamachi o koko de owarasu tame no kako no yakusoku

taemanaku afuredasu yokubou wa mitasarenai
honno sukoshi no aida de ii..., hito no sugata ni modoritai

 

No one could stop them, the tears only we could forgive at our parting
The past promise we made to stop the mistakes from repeating over again

I was unfulfilled by the constantly overflowing passions
If only just for a little while..., I want to return to human form

“Lust For Blood” - Gackt Crescent

 

Omi ~ Birthright

 

I don't know what I was expecting.

 

The young aide wheeled me into the local Kritiker offices, and everyone stood to greet me. They clapped their hands together and bowed, then took turns welcoming me and offering me refreshments. The whole thing looked like some low-key office party, which I supposed was the whole point.

 

“We're so glad you're back.”

 

“Let us know if you need anything.”

 

“It's an honor to work with you, Persia-san.”

 

Persia-san. It's already over.

 

I smiled and waved, and allowed Manx to relieve my original wheelchair pilot. She aimed for an elevator, deftly leaving the milling aides and secretaries behind. As the door closed behind us, I sagged back in the seat and let out a rough sigh. “Some homecoming,” I mumbled, not wanting to seem ungrateful but very unsettled by it all.

 

“They've been waiting for a leader for several months now,” Manx explained. “They've been waiting for you. Shuichi had already designated you as his replacement long ago.”

 

“Do you really think I'm ready for this, Manx? I mean, I can't even walk yet.” I watched the floor indicators flash on and off. “What do they expect of me?”

 

“Just that you'll do your job,” Manx replied, “and that you'll be brilliant at it.”

 

“What exactly does that entail?” I asked, getting a little annoyed at her vague answers.

 

As the elevator doors hissed apart, Manx said, “You are now the head of Kritiker. Not just the Japanese offices - the entire organization. I wasn't joking when I said you'd have to rebuild. We're hurting.” She wheeled my chair toward a polished wood door. A tiny light beside the door winked from red to green. The lock clicked softly open.

 

Muted lights came on as we entered, revealing a stark office with a large multi-station desk, two monitors, and recording equipment. A black file cabinet hunched in the far corner. Manx pulled the leather chair away from the desk to make room, and I wheeled myself closer for a look.

 

Below the desk it was even more interesting. Three hard drives, two large storage units, and enough cables to electrify India. His protégé, was I? No wonder he'd aimed me at computers.

 

Manx handed me a CD-ROM, and I put it into the drive.

 

The monitors flickered to life as the disc spun, showing me a grainy image of the back of an office chair, a man's head just visible over the top. I glanced over at the chair Manx had moved, half expecting to see it occupied.

 

Persia's filtered voice spoke out from the desktop. “I'm sorry you have to find out like this. I was hoping you would have a little more time, or that I would have more time. These discs are updated every four months, so you are hearing my words from within four months of my death.”

 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I resisted the urge to look back at the chair. I felt for all the world as though a ghost stood by my side.

 

“Provisions have been made to supply you with a knowledgeable staff, and able assistants. The Japanese division of Kritiker is in your hands, Omi. Perhaps one day you will aspire to lead the entire organization. If you choose that path, know that I have always believed in you.”

 

“Oh, Uncle,” I whispered, the tears welling up in my eyes again. “If only you knew.”

 

“There are several active units within Kritiker-Japan. This disc holds basic information on their structure, but not their composition nor assignments. There will be many layers of security for you to deal with for the more in-depth information. It is a sad reality that we cannot be too careful, and any more specific information in the wrong hands would be disastrous.”

 

The voice went on, mentioning the different units but not telling me anything useful about them. I raised my voice over the narrative and asked, “Manx, can you get me anything more, well, relevant?”

 

“It's already been arranged. Have you seen enough here for today?”

 

I stopped the video and removed the disc. “Yes, I've seen enough.”

 

“This will be your office, unless you'd prefer another one,” Manx told me as she came around the desk and I unlocked my wheels. “You have an apartment here, too. It's downstairs, on the fourth floor. I've already stocked your refrigerator, and your personal effects have been moved in.”

 

“Thank you, Manx,” I whispered, not feeling very thankful at all. This was a nightmare, one long, cold nightmare, and I couldn't wake up. The team was gone, scattered, and I was expected to just turn away and focus on some “greater good”. I didn't even know why Kritiker existed, and everyone presumed that I would be happy to serve it.

 

When we reached my new home, I looked around at all the empty space and thought of Ken, lying in the hospital bed, unable to remember. Then I thought of Yohji, acting like nothing bothered him as he let himself be hurried out of the hospital.

 

Then I thought of Aya.

 

“Omi? Are you all right?” Manx looked genuinely concerned.

 

“I'm fine,” I whispered, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. “Just didn't expect it to feel so empty, that's all.”

 

Ran ~ Hunter

 

The leather felt cold against my skin, but it warmed quickly. I watched myself in the mirror as I dressed. Every scar glowed.

 

I had lost some weight since being in the hospital, but I'd worked hard to keep my muscles strong. Still, my gear didn't fit quite right anymore. I tightened the straps at the waist of my pants; the leather creaked in surprise. The reinforced shirt had no adjusting buckles. I would have to make do with a poor fit tonight.

 

With deep respect, I took up my katana, strapping the sheath to my hip. The weight of the sword was a welcome thing. It had been too long.

 

Manx's instructions had been plain, the target an easy enough one for a single hunter. He was a small-time embezzler with ties to a white slavery ring. Small fish, with big friends. A message had to be sent. Though the team was dissolved and Kritiker in shambles, our work had to continue. Better to do this on orders than go it alone, again.

 

I sighed, trying to recall the passion that had driven me into Kritiker, and nearly wrecked my first assignment. I'd been so much younger then, with so many horrors yet to see. It had all been about honor, and revenge.

 

Now, it was only a job.

 

A necessary job, one that I was very well suited for, but the fire in my heart had gone out. I would deal with this petty criminal tonight, not for the glory but for the cash.

 

No - not even that. To kill for money would make me an assassin, a mercenary. The money didn't matter: I didn't need it anymore.

 

I would do this…for the blood. Blood was real. Humans bleed. Those cult elders had bled, no matter how bizarre they had seemed.

 

Whether by bleeding or shedding the blood of another, I would affirm my humanity.

 

For, once blood is spilt, it, too, becomes cold.