Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Sous-Chef ❯ Chapter 1

The Sous-Chef

 

 

“Ouch!”

 

Yohji reached down behind him to disentangle the scratchy vines from his ankles. He really had to learn to wear pants if he was going to go bushwhacking in a valley that was full of random blackberry vines. But it was such a nice day...

 

He threw his head back and took a deep breath of rural French countryside. The sweetness of the air amazed him. He popped several berries in his mouth—the vine had to do penance for scratching up his sacred flesh, after all—and continued up the steep hill into Bonnieux, where he and Schuldig were staying. At least, they would stay until Schu got some wild hair up his bum about wanting to see the street where JFK was shot, or patronize the world's largest brothel, or taste the ice in Antarctica, or whatever.

 

Ostensibly, they were here in the Luberon Valley in southern France so that Schu could see the château of the Marquis de Sade, or Marquis de Shar-day as Yohji liked to pronounce it. The château was a condemned structure that sat atop a neighboring hill, looming over the little town of Lacoste. Yohji couldn't find it in himself to become interested in crumbling old buildings; he loved nature and he loved places where there were lots of people, but he'd always found history tiresome if not downright boring. So today he had wandered around the countryside, chatting with the people working on the vineyards, even helping them harvest the grapes, while Schuldig went to commune with the spirit of the Marquis.

 

Yohji smiled, thinking of the old vintners that had looked at him with such suspicious eyes. It seemed most of the older generation were terribly intolerant of those who were not Provencal. That was one of the great things about Schu; he could manipulate the linguistic centers of the brain so that he could transfer any language he knew into someone else's brain. And what with all their travels, Schuldig knew just about every language on the planet. He didn't really understand how the language-transfer worked; Schu was not at all patient with explanations of what to him was second nature. But it seemed that while Schuldig couldn't physically manipulate synaptic pathways and so forth, he could make you think in ways that altered them. So, by making you think you knew a language, your brain physically responded as if you did. Yohji had asked what the difference was between knowing a language and just having your brain respond as if you knew it, at which point Schu had climbed a tree and started throwing coconuts at him—they'd been in the Greater Antilles at the time.

 

The upshot of all this was that Yohji could speak Provencal like a native, right down to pronouncing “oui” in that nasal, duck-quacking way. Thus, he had spent the day chatting up the vintners and working on the yards. Ordinarily, he would have been opposed to spending a day in the French countryside doing hard labor, but grape-pickers got a lot of breaks, and during these breaks they got to sample some of the vintages, so Yohji had gotten to spend the day pleasantly tipsy on good wine. Mostly red table wine, but still quite nice. Plus, the company was surprisingly good. The younger generation (i.e. everyone under 50 or so) were pretty worldly, and certainly weren't the cloistered buffoons that the older French seemed to be.

 

“They are like oysters, the old men,” one guy - Javier, he thought - had told him when he had voiced those thoughts. “They are closed up tight, and difficult to pry open, but there are pearls inside some. But who wants the pearl of a smelly old man?”

 

“The old women are even worse,” piped in another, as he refilled Yohji's cup.

 

All in all, a good day…but he'd had quite enough of being away from Schuldig. A day apart was spent really apart - no telepathic communication allowed. This measure was necessary for what little was left of their sanity. Spending every minute of all 24 hours in the day together was hell on any relationship.

 

When the remains of Esszet had been hunting Schu in earnest, they'd had to be constantly on the move. Sometimes they'd spend weeks living out of a car, with no way to access any funds - Nagi and Omi had eventually solved that problem for them - and with very few baths, very little sleep, and almost no food, tempers ran very hot. There were screaming matches, fistfights and telepathic assaults, threats, false accusations and hard feelings. Yohji had even tried to leave once.

 

He winced at the memory. He'd waited until he was certain Schu was deeply asleep, then gathered up all of his things, which at that time didn't amount to more than you could fit in a small backpack. Without looking back, he had trudged down the thickly forested mountain where they had been holed up for several days. It wasn't until he'd reached the bottom that he suddenly remembered why, when Schuldig had told Yohji that he could run from Esszet with him if he wanted, he had said yes. Firstly, the thought of Schu on the lam by himself, having to keep himself low-profile and isolated most of the time, unable to communicate with anyone he knew except Brad - and that only by phone once a week- was too pathetic. Secondly, there was really nothing to keep Yohji in Tokyo. Omi was becoming Mamoru, and had also had Ken committed to a Kritiker-affiliated psychiatric facility to treat his disturbing bloodlust. And Aya…Aya had taken his sister and moved to Kyoto, with instructions that no one was to get in touch with him except Omi, and then only if it was a life-threatening situation. That had hurt even more than Yohji would have expected it to, but he was glad that Aya was trying to start fresh, and happy that he and his sister could now take care of each other.

 

Lastly, Yohji loved Schuldig to the point of fanaticism. Loved him intensely, had come to need him. Loved everything about him, even the things he couldn't stand and which grated on his nerves. It was wonderful, it was exciting and scorching, exquisitely painful and tiring, thirsting and quenching hunger, hungering and quenching thirst. Yohji didn't think he could do without it, anymore. The prospect of life without Schuldig seemed inescapably bleak and colorless. Joyless. Loveless.

 

Yohji had turned immediately and trudged back up the mountain. He had a pretty good sense of direction, and while it took him about twice as long to find the car as it had to find the bottom of the mountain, he did find it eventually.

 

Schuldig was sitting on the trunk, crying silently into his fists. He didn't seem to know Yohji was there. He hadn't been using his telepathy much, since there was only Yohji around, and Yohji preferred to converse verbally. Yohji had opened his mouth to speak, but halted when Schu took his fists away from his face and opened his left hand. In it was the cheap silver ring Yohji had given Schu for his last birthday. It was nothing special, just a silver ring with Celtic scrollwork and a small black cross. All he could afford at the time. More than he could afford, actually, and they both knew it. Schu had made fun of it, and Yohji had made light of it, but since then Yohji had never seen him without the ring on.

 

Yohji walked up to Schu and hugged him fiercely. Schuldig gasped, and struggled a little, then slumped against Yohji and started to cry in earnest. Yohji felt his own eyes start to mist up and burn, and sighed. “I still love you, bitch,” he murmured into Schu's hair, voice none too steady. Schuldig hugged him tight, and they didn't move for a long, long time.

 

Oddly enough, Schu never mentioned that incident again. It was extremely unlike Schuldig to let something like that go. For a while afterward, Yohji would wake up in a rush, certain that he would be on the dewy ground and that Schuldig and the car would be long gone. But Schu never once abandoned him, never even tried to. And not long after that, they got access to money, and Brad informed them that there had been a coup in Esszet and that the new leadership wasn't interested in persecuting Schwarz. There were still a few powerful factions on the hunt, angry about the changes in Esszet and eager to blame Schwarz, so they couldn't really settle down, but things still got a whole lot better. In fact, Yohji thought it was pretty close to the mark to say he was having the time of his life.

 

Yohji paused in his reminiscing to discover that he was in front of the building they were living in, a two-story stone anachronism with Spanish terra-cotta roof tiles. Seemed like every place anywhere near the Mediterranean used the same roof tiles. Tiles that were often well over a hundred years old and would often slide off and crash to the ground during the high winds of the Mistral. But hey, they were pretty.

 

He climbed the steps that wound through an alley to the second floor, and turned the knob. It was unlocked. Of course it was unlocked; apparently this was pretty much a crime-free area. Or at least it was until he and Schu arrived…well, they hadn't done much. A bit of thievery, a bit of mind-controlled adultery that led to an extremely amusing bar brawl between a man who was too drunk to realize that he'd long since dropped the bottle he was trying to stave heads in with, and the adulterer who was a whiny coward and refused to put down his pot-bellied pig, even to defend himself. In the end, the pig was the winner - it was the only one of the lot left standing. As a prize Schuldig wanted to feed it some mushrooms he'd picked earlier in the day, but since Yohji liked animals he didn't let him.

 

Yohji opened the door to find the entire floor covered with paint-spattered dropcloths. As he was staring at the floor in confusion he heard movement, and looked up in time to see a naked Schuldig body-slam the far wall.

 

“Schu! What are you…” He trailed off as Schuldig turned to face him with a big grin, his front painted blue from the neck down.

 

“You're home!” Schuldig yelled, and ran toward him with outstretched arms. Yohji leapt outside and slammed the front door.

 

::Awww, come on, sweetie-buns! What, are you wearing a formal ballgown all of a sudden? It'll wash off; it's just poster paint.::

 

::It's not that, although I don't feel like being blue at the moment, thanks,:: Yohji sent. ::You've obviously lost your mind. I'm out here for my own safety.::

 

The door opened and a blue hand emerged to grasp his wrist. “Just come in, would you?” Schuldig pleaded. “I haven't seen you all day. I'm having withdrawal.”

 

“Is that why you're suddenly knocking yourself about on walls like a Farfarello?” Yohji asked, allowing himself to be tugged into their flat.

 

“Farfarello didn't throw himself against walls, he threw other people,” Schu replied, walking over to a large bucket of dark blue paint. He tucked some strands of hair up into the pile he'd made of it on his head, then bent to the bucket and pulled a large brush out. He began re-applying the paint to his body.

 

Yohji sighed, and took his cigarettes out of his pocket. After he lit up and was comfortably clouding his lungs, he said, “Okay, whatever. Are you going to explain this to me? Does this have something to do with that art school you visited?”

 

“Yes, actually,” Schu answered, running the brush over his chest, deliberately teasing his nipples a little. Yohji shivered. “Apparently there was this art show in the 60's that was just this guy pushing naked models against a wall in front of a well-dressed audience. They did kind of a re-creation of that show at the school, and the body prints looked interesting, but there were no impressions of men.”

 

“Ah. So you decided to make up for that here?” Yohji inquired, his eyes running along the line of Schu-imprints that were now covering almost two walls of the studio flat.

 

“Hey, the landlady said we could paint if we wanted,” Schu pouted. “And if you're going to make body impressions, who's got a better body than me?”

 

Yohji smirked, running his eyes lazily over his blue Schu. “Can't argue with that.”

 

“Of course you can't. Now are you going to help me with the last one?”

 

“Eh?”

 

“Instead of me body-slamming the wall, you could be the artist and push me against it.” Schuldig raised an eyebrow and smiled, running his hands slowly down his sides, teasing his ribs with his fingernails.

 

Yohji shuddered as his heart thumped forcefully against his ribcage. “I can do that,” he murmured. He tossed his cigarette in an ash tray, and stripped his shirt off.

 

Schuldig laughed as he started undoing his shorts. “You only need your hands for this, Yohji,” he teased.

 

“Like hell,” Yohji growled, kicking off his shoes.

 

“Well hurry, would you? This stuff dries really fast.” Schuldig pranced over to the last blank spot on the wall and tossed a heavy-lidded look over his shoulder.

 

Finally nude, Yohji grabbed one of the tubes of lube off of the coffee table - there was lube in every area of the studio, and lots of it - and walked behind Schuldig. He ran his fingers lightly down Schuldig's spine, and nibbled the nape of his neck. “What do I do?”

 

“You…use both hands to press my body against the wall…mmm,” Schuldig breathed, as Yohji bit his earlobe.

 

Yohji dropped the lube, and gently pushed Schu's shoulders against the wall, kneading the muscles a little with the heels of his hands. Slowly he worked his hands along Schuldig's arms, one hand slowly pressing and sliding down each tricep as he moved his body closer. When his hands found Schuldig's hands, their bodies were almost flat against each other. Schuldig leaned his head back onto Yohji's shoulder and turned his face up for a kiss, but Yohji smiled and pulled back, trailing his fingernails back up Schu's arms.

 

“You're such a tease,” Schu pouted.

 

Yohji didn't respond, just began working his hands down Schu's back, pushing each part of it against the wall. Schuldig growled when he skipped over his ass to his thighs. Yohji knelt to get the lube off the floor, and began coating the fingers of his right hand while he nibbled the back of Schu's knees.

 

Schuldig giggled batted at Yohji's head. “Quit that! Why do you have this obsession with my kneepits? Freak.”

 

“I'm not obsessed with them, I just like hearing you giggle,” Yohji replied, slicking his fingers with lube. “I'll show you what I'm obsessed with.” He reached up with his dry hand and squeezed one of Schuldig's asscheeks, pushing it aside and shoving two fingers all the way inside of him. “This.”

 

Schuldig groaned, and spread his legs further apart. Yohji, who'd been hard since he'd first laid hands on his beautiful lover, began preparing him as rapidly as he could. He nuzzled and kissed Schuldig's bum, reaching around to stroke him.

 

“There's paint on that, you know,” Schuldig commented, somewhat breathlessly.

 

Yohji pulled his fingers gently out, then tripped Schuldig backward over his knee so that he fell onto the dropcloth.

 

“Hey!” Schuldig squawked, indignant. “What the hell was that for?”

 

Yohji paid no attention, but rose swiftly to his feet, picked up the bucket of blue paint, and splashed it over Schuldig.

 

For once, Schu was speechless.

 

Yohji shrugged. “You said it dries fast. I like you better wet.” Following this statement, he dove on top of his boyfriend before said boyfriend could recover his senses and try to hold this against him. He probably still would, but he couldn't say much since Yohji was now covered in paint as well. He slid around a little, experimentally, bringing his still-rigid cock against Schuldig's not-so-rigid one. He looked down at his lover, who looked like he was either trying to look livid or trying not to laugh.

 

::I'm going to beat you senseless if you get blue paint up my ass,:: Schuldig sent, grabbing Yohji and kissing him tongue-first.

 

::I'll look forward to that, then,:: Yohji said, grinding and sliding some more. ::Y'know, this is pretty fun.::

 

::So use massage oil or cooking oil next time you want to play slip n' slide on Schuldig.::

 

::I used to have one of those when I was a kid,:: Yohji reminisced, grabbing his and Schu's cocks in one hand and stroking them hard. Schuldig gasped into his mouth, and then started thrusting his tongue rhythmically in and out of Yohji's mouth. Yohji imagined steam rising off of them. ::Oddly enough, this activity is not very evocative of memories from that by-gone age.::

 

Schuldig stopped kissing him to laugh loudly. Yohji released their cocks - Schuldig was fully hard again by now, indicating some level of forgiveness - and hauled one of Schu's legs over his shoulder, pushing the other to the side. Schuldig was still laughing when Yohji pushed into him, not too gently, in the way that made Schuldig give that lusty cry that Yohji always loved to hear. He reached down and wrote “Yohji's” in the paint on Schu's chest. He smiled; the thought of fiery, irritating, psyche-twisting, loud-clothes-wearing, insufferable, beautiful Schuldig being his always made him very happy.

 

Schuldig raised an eyebrow, and reached up to write on Yohji's chest, but Yohji grabbed both of his wrists and slammed them up above his head. He took both wrists in one hand and let Schu's leg off his shoulder to the crook of his arm. He shifted the angle of his hips slightly, and thrust hard, covering Schuldig's mouth with his own just in time - the little landlady downstairs had spoken to them more than once about their noisy fucking.

 

Schuldig screamed into his mouth as his prostate was stabbed in just the right way, so Yohji did it over and over again until both of them were panting, and Schuldig only had enough breath to whimper.

 

In a move that they'd perfected over the years, Yohji released both Schu's hands and his leg, and hauled Schuldig up while Yohji sat back on his own feet, so that Schuldig was straddling his lap - all without slipping out of him, barely breaking stride. Schuldig rode him hard, throwing back his head and tossing his blue-spattered orange mane about. Yohji was finding it very difficult to avoid going into his finishing rhythm. He grabbed Schuldig's cock and ran his thumb along the underside of the head, and Schu rocked forward. They kissed over and over as Schuldig thrust into his hand. When Yohji felt Schuldig start to tense, he started pounding into him like a jackhammer. Schuldig leaned forward and bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood as he came. Yohji barely felt it at the time. He spilled into Schuldig a few seconds later.

 

Coming to his senses, he heard the sound of Schuldig spitting. “That's not very attractive, you know,” Yohji admonished. “I mean, I know we've already had sex so you don't have to worry about not getting any, but jeez - “

 

::Shut up, dimwit. This paint doesn't taste good and I just got a big mouthful of it from your shoulder.:: “I'm going to brush my teeth,” Schuldig announced.

 

“Okay. Then join me in the shower, would you?”

 

“Of course. You get to clean me, since you made such a mess,” Schuldig said as he flounced to the sink in their little bathroom.

 

“But you were already a mess,” Yohji pointed out.

 

“Don't try to get out of it. Besides,” Schu added, shooting him an evil smirk, “I haven't gotten my shot at your ass yet, my darling.”

 

::Mmmm, shower sex,:: Yohji thought, as he followed Schuldig. It was a testament to his stamina that he already felt stirrings of lust, or so he told himself.

 

Schuldig laughed as he closed the door behind them.

 

********

 

Well-satisfied and having cleaned up the studio, Schuldig and Yohji were sharing cigarettes while lying on their featherbed. Yohji was drifting from here to there in his mind, since Schuldig was off mind-surfing the locals. He did that now and then wherever they went, partially to amuse himself, partially to listen for rumor of Esszet agents. There had been no rumors of that sort for a while now. Yohji was starting to relax a bit, though he knew it was dangerous to let down his guard at all. He just couldn't help it.

 

“Yohji?”

 

“Hmm? What, baby?” Yohji mumbled, coming out of his thoughts.

 

“I'm hungry.”

 

“So eat something.”

 

“I want some pain-de-chocolat from Giselle's.”

 

“Schuldig - “ Yohji glanced at his watch. “It's almost 7:00. You know Giselle's is only open until six.”

 

Schuldig waved his hand impatiently. “Don't worry about that, she'll be waiting at the door with it.”

 

Yohji rolled his eyes. The joys of telepathy. “Did your legs break sometime between when we finished cleaning and when we got into bed?”

 

“You go. I'm tired. Besides, I'm still scanning the town.”

 

“I know scanning for Esszet wouldn't take that long in a town this size.”

 

“So I'm taking detours. It doesn't change the fact.” Schuldig put his arm over his eyes.

 

Yohji lifted Schuldig's arm and looked into his deep blue eyes. “You're lucky you're so cute, or I'd bring you one of Solange's anchovy-goat cheese pastries.” Solange was the landlady, who loved to cook for them. When she'd made that particular delicacy, Schuldig hadn't wanted to eat it, but…Solange could be a little scary, quite frankly, and he'd ended up having to eat his entire serving or risk getting them evicted. More literally, thrown into the street, concussed from being struck with her enormous black skillet. The instant they'd gotten upstairs Schuldig had raced to the bathroom and puked for what seemed a very long time. Sometimes Schuldig had nightmares about eating the stuff, and he'd gag involuntarily whenever it was mentioned.

 

Now was no exception. Schuldig put a hand over his mouth and glared daggers at Yohji.

 

“Kill your appetite?” Yohji snickered.

 

Schuldig responded by kicking him off the bed. “Get going, you bastard.”

 

Yohji sighed, getting off the floor - not a bit hurt - and kissing Schuldig on the forehead, for which he was whapped hard on the shoulder. He paused after opening the front door, just to admire his boyfriend for a few seconds. He was a little miffed that Schuldig was sending him alone on an errand after they'd been apart most of the day, but he decided he might as well get over it. “Bye, sweetness,” Yohji called, and closed the door quickly before Schu could throw anything at him for the nickname.

 

******

 

Yohji made it halfway to Giselle's before he heard Schuldig in his mind, sounding very odd. ::Yohji.::

 

::What's up, Schu?:: he asked, smiling and waving at some of the locals that he'd seen around before.

 

::You'll never guess who's in Bonnieux.::

 

::Hm? Is John Malkovich back in town?:: The inhabitants of Bonnieux liked to mention that John Malkovich kept a flat here in town. Yohji hadn't bought it at first, but Schuldig had confirmed it.

 

::Who knows? Forget Giselle's; go to the Café Bonnieux. Look around the outside tables for a woman sitting alone, drinking apple beer. I'm keeping the guys around her from hitting on her.::

 

Yohji hurried up a side lane toward the Café. ::Esszet?:: he asked, fingering his watch.

 

::No, you dolt. How long have we been running from them? Five years? And just like that I'd send you straight to an agent? Are you really that dumb?::

 

::You don't love me for my brains,:: Yohji teased, a little relieved. He'd known it couldn't be Esszet, but couldn't think of anything else that would put that note of…whatever it was in Schuldig's voice.

 

::Like hell I don't. No, it's not Esszet. Are you there yet?::

 

::Almost.::

 

Schuldig sighed in his mind. ::I wouldn't tell you she was here at all, but if I don't tell you then you'll probably run into her anyway and get on my case about not telling you. I'm forgoing sweets to make sure you get a chance to talk to her, so remember to be properly appreciative.::

 

::Who is it, Schu?:: Yohji sent, as the Café came into view. He walked quickly toward it, scanning the outside tables.

 

::You'll see. You don't mind if I listen in on your conversation, do you?::

 

::I could hardly stop you. I can't think of anyone I'd mind you listening in on, though.::

 

::Good,:: sent Schu, and fell silent.

 

Yohji felt his gaze drawn to a woman who was sitting with her back to him. Her hair was very long and wavy, dark brown. She didn't strike him as familiar, but she was the only woman he could see that wasn't with someone. And she did appear to be drinking apple beer. So, he walked over to her, around her table so he could see her face.

 

He recognized her instantly, and felt a warm joy bubbling up inside of him, which he tried unsuccessfully to quell. It didn't really have much to do with who she was, but that her presence here meant that -

 

::Don't get your hopes up. He's not here. Do you think she'd be out here alone, at the mercy of all these lecherous Frenchmen, if he was here?:: Schuldig snapped, and Yohji could recognize the jealousy in his tone.

 

Before he could respond to Schuldig, he noticed that the woman had turned inquiring and slightly suspicious eyes to him. He collected himself and gave her his sunniest smile.

 

“Aya-chan!” he cried.

 

Her huge dark eyes blinked up at him. “Ummm…you're Yohji, right?”

 

He smiled at her. “Got it in one, sweetheart. You don't seem surprised to see me here.”

 

She nudged the chair next across from her with her foot, indicating that Yohji could sit down. He did so, wincing a little as his butt hit the cold cast-iron. Damn that overenthusiastic lover, he smirked, recalling the way Schu had slammed into him in the shower. Aya-chan was talking, though, so he forced himself back to the moment.

 

“I'm not surprised at anything anymore,” Aya-chan was saying. “After finding out that while you were in a two-year coma your brother became an assassin-slash-florist to avenge your family, discovering mad kidney-stealing, mutant-making scientists, secret paranormal organizations and incestuous lust for you, while you yourself almost had a demon summoned into you before you even woke up, and beyond that you didn't even age for two years, might still not be aging even now, what's surprising?”

 

“Well, I guess that'd be…” Yohji frowned. “Wait. Back up a second. What's this about `incestuous lust'? Aya - I mean, Ran, was obsessive, yeah, but there was never anything to indicate - “

 

Aya-chan crossed her arms, giving him a wry, somewhat bitter smirk. “You aren't his sister, and you didn't see the way he was after we started living together.”

 

“No, you're right. Why don't you explain it to me?” Yohji asked, suddenly feeling pretty nervous for Ay - Ran - oh, hell, it'd always be Aya to him. He didn't like to think about where this was going.

 

“Well, for one thing, he forbade me to join any clubs or organizations, to get a part-time job, to go on dates or go out with friends, or even to study-groups - anything besides school that didn't take place either during school hours or under our roof, under his nose, I wasn't allowed to do. And of course I couldn't go where I wanted to for University, I had to stick with the University of Kyoto or nothing. Of course I'd still have to come home directly after classes and still couldn't date anyone. I'd have to bring anyone I was interested in home where he could keep an eye on us, if I wanted to see them outside of school. He almost always scared them away with his interrogating, sharpening his katana in front of them or whatever.” She sipped her beer, looking at him blandly.

 

Yohji was starting to get annoyed, even as he smiled inwardly at Ran's boyfriend-warding tactics. “I understand how that could be smothering, Aya-chan, but there are very good reasons for that. You're lucky he let you stay in Japan at all. I'm sure he's let you know that the aforementioned paranormal organization is still hunting for us? Not to mention all the perfectly normal enemies we made as assassins? Anyone at all could try to get to him through you. Of course he was paranoid about it; he's been trained and conditioned to be. And I still don't see where you're getting this `lust' thing from.” Actually, Yohji wasn't entirely sure Esszet was still hunting Weiss, but it was better for them to be too paranoid than not paranoid enough.

 

“He kept telling me how much he loved me all the time, how he never wanted us to be apart ever again, how he didn't want anyone to come between us. Eventually it changed to how he didn't really want anyone else in our lives, period.” She held up her hand to stop him when she saw Yohji was about to speak again. “He was always hugging me and touching me, like he was trying to make sure I wouldn't go anywhere. Even after we'd been living together and I saw him every day for four years.”

 

“That's probably exactly why he would touch you. He probably couldn't believe you were really there. You were in a coma for two years and doctors were constantly telling him that you'd never wake up. Even after four years - “

 

Aya-chan sighed. “I know all that. It still wasn't natural, how much he needed to cling to me and touch me.”

 

“He didn't grab your tits or anything, right?” Yohji said. He meant to sound teasing but he could hear the edge in his voice, and judging from the way Aya-chan's eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed, she heard it also.

 

“No. Never anything that could be construed as improper. At least until I kept waking up with him spooned behind me. He said he couldn't bear waking up and not seeing me, not holding me. He said he wanted us to share his bedroom. I decided that was the last straw, and I cleaned out my account and left.” She finished her beer, crossed her arms and stared defiantly across the table.

 

“You do know he's gay, right?” Yohji asked, unable to think of any other response to that, and a little horrified that Aya-chan might possibly have been right.

 

She raised an eyebrow, looking a lot like her brother for a few seconds, and Yohji's heart clenched. “In high school and University, he would pretty much sleep with whoever wanted to sleep with him. Whatever he may have told you, I don't think he made much of a distinction between male and female when it came to sexual attraction.”

 

Yohji looked back at her helplessly. This information was all new to him, and he had a lot of trouble connecting it with Aya. He decided to push this latest revelation aside for a moment and think about Aya-chan's situation. He could understand how sharing a bed - even just to sleep - added to all the smothering over-protectiveness and neediness would be far too much for a normal, healthy young woman to have to put up with from her brother, and he knew how it would seem to an outsider, but he honestly couldn't believe that Aya meant any of it in an incestuous way. He sighed. “You don't understand what it was like for him, Aya-chan. Once his revenge quest was over, you were just about the only thing that mattered to him. You were probably the only thing he had, once he left Weiss. He - “

 

“That's not my fault!” Aya-chan exclaimed, eyes blazing. He'd obviously touched a nerve. “It's not my fault all this happened to our family, or that Ran became the way he is now. He's so fucking intense! I can't live as the focus of all of that intensity! And I don't have to justify myself to you, damn it!” Her chair scraped harshly on the pavement as she made to storm off in a huff.

 

Yohji reached across the table and gently but firmly grasped her wrist. “Aya-chan, please. I don't mean to argue your choices with you; I'm just worried about your brother. Don't go just yet, okay?” He smiled the most charming smile he could manage.

 

She sat down again, looking at him a little warily. “You don't have to worry about him, you know. He'll be fine. He got all the brains, looks and talent in the family.”

 

Looks and talent he couldn't argue with, though Aya-chan was very cute, but… “Brains, eh? Did you know he killed a guy on stage, during a live stadium concert? Didn't even cover his hair or anything. We teased the shit out of him for that one.” Yohji knew very well that Aya was smart, but sometimes he did some things that made you want to smile and pat him on the head, then back slowly away.

 

Aya-chan waved her hand at him dismissively. “He also got all the self-destructive tendencies. It's got nothing to do with brains. He's one of those people with high intelligence and no common sense, like Einstein. Except instead of the lack coming out as forgetting to wear pants or something cute like that, it manifests as running headlong into a storm of bullets or telling your sister you want her to move into your bedroom. Did you know he'd already been at Todai for two years when our parents were killed?”

 

Yohji's jaw fell open. “No, he hadn't mentioned that. He…he was in Tokyo U when he was 16?”

 

“Yup. Our dad was on the board of trustees, but he would have gotten in regardless. Of course, since our dad was on the board, when our family name was dragged through the mud, the board sent Ran a letter “suggesting” that he withdraw until all the trouble died down. He still has it; he showed it to me. Not that he would have continued with school anyway.”

 

Yohji looked down at his hands, which were clenched into fists in his lap. Aya had lost even more than they had all guessed at. “So…how is he?” he asked quietly. “Is he doing alright?”

 

“I wouldn't know.”

 

He looked up at her sharply. “You don't even keep in touch with him?”

 

She sighed and rolled her eyes, and he wanted to reach across the table and slap her across the face. What exactly did Aya love so much about this brat? “I needed to make a clean break with him for both our sakes. I was going insane. Maybe in a few years, after he's gotten his life together, I'll talk to him again. For now, I'm just enjoying myself.”

 

“On his money. The money he killed to provide you with,” Yohji snarled.

 

Aya-chan stood up abruptly. “It's money he wouldn't accept back from me, and you know it. I don't feel guilty about using it. If you're so concerned about him, get in touch with him yourself. I'm sure you can get a contact number from Mamoru. And this conversation is over. Good-bye, Yohji.” She turned and strode away, seeming as unconcerned and carefree as a young woman vacationing in France could look. The urge to chase after her and beat the snot out of her was almost overwhelming.

 

But hostility toward Aya-chan was quickly overshadowed by concern for Aya. If his little sister had abruptly disappeared, then what would he have done? Yohji's mind filled with all the different ways he could have attempted suicide - or succeeded at it. Seppuku being number one, since Aya seemed to have such a samurai complex. Not having been in contact with any of the members of his former team for nearly 20 months, Yohji wouldn't even have heard about it. In fact, since Aya had pretty much cut all ties with them, maybe none of them would have heard about it. His stomach twisted.

 

Feeling frantic, he got up from his uncomfortable iron chair and hurried back to the apartment. He still had the emergency contact number for Mamoru, and knew that since Brad Crawford was on Kritiker's retainer he'd have been informed if it had changed. “You'd better know something, Mamoru,” he muttered.

 

::I'm sure he does, Yohji,:: Schuldig sent quietly, startling him. He'd forgotten that Schu was listening in.

 

:What makes you think so?:: Yohji asked, weaving through the evening's pub-goers.

 

::I rummaged in her brain a little. It seems that Persia's kept tabs on Ran, and checked in with him once in a while, much to Ran's annoyance. Even Ken has been visiting. Well, I say that, but all information she has about Ran is a little more than a year old.::

 

“A year?!” Yohji exclaimed out loud, startling an elderly man sitting at a table nearby with a glass of pastiche.

 

“Fou! Trés fou!” the gent hollered at him, brandishing his carafe of milky white liquid. He belched, drained the glass and belched again menacingly.

 

“Oui, ç'est ça,” Yohji sighed.

 

::So we're going back to Japan, are we?:: Schuldig sounded chilly, and Yohji chuckled and shook his head.

 

::I don't know yet, Schu. And quit being jealous, would you? I'm not going to leave you for him, I just want to make sure he's alright.::

 

::I might not believe you…but, I've been in your head long enough to know for a fact that you love me most.::

 

Yohji smiled. An older lady, thinking he was smiling at her, winked in what she probably thought was a coquettish manner. He gave her a little wave, and hurried away before she could hit on him.

 

::Turning down a dish like that? You're nuts,:: Schu mocked.

 

::No, I'm `fou'.::

 

::Well, get your scrawny butt up here so we can be `fou' together,:: Schu sent, amusement coloring his thoughts.

 

::Ahh, my favorite thing in life,:: Yohji retorted as he reached their building and climbed the steps. ::After I call Omi, okay?::

 

Schu opened the door before he got to it, and pulled him into a tight hug. “Okay, but only because I don't want you thinking about Aya while we're screwing,” he murmured into Yohji's ear.

 

Yohji rolled his eyes and followed him into the flat.

 

Fou - crazy

Oui, ç'ést ça - lit. `yes, it's that'; basically means `I agree' or `that is so'. You can carry on entire conversations just nodding and saying “Oui, ç'est ça.” The French love it when you agree with them about things.