Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Twilight Youji ❯ ouch ( Prologue )

Twilight Youji

By Nix Winter

Disclaimers: I don't own Weiss Kruez. I'm just writing cuz it's three in the morning and I can't sleep.

Warnings: I make no claim that this is canon or has perfect grammar.

Notes: Ne… come see my stuff at www.onepinkrose.com

Twilight Youji

They weren't angels. They weren't always nice when they came home from late night work. Okay. Ken and Omi were nice.

The mission had been urgent. There were children involved and the nature of the crimes about to be committed enraged Youji, even though the females victims weren't old enough for Omi's attention, let alone Youji's. It had set them all on edge. It was the nature of evil.

It was the nature of humanity, complex and without easy to draw lines sometimes. This mission hadn't come from Kritiker. It had come from a warning from Schwartz, with a photo of a young girl with long brown hair and hard to define eye color. Skinny and disassociated, she'd stared back at them from the photo. The note had read, "This is the great-great-great-grandmother of my love. She will die on September 19th if you do not intervene." Then it gave an address of a church. It was signed, The Oracle. They all knew who that was.

All of them suspected they were being head fucked. Why didn't Schwartz go save the girl themselves? Ken started it. Wheedling Omi into researching the girl. It had snowballed from there. Six missing girls, all matching her description, from the last six years, and there were siblings of these children missing too. It didn't matter if Schwartz had set a trap for them. It didn't matter if Kritiker had not condoned the mission. Weiss was going to clean it up.

Youji hated missions where things happened in front of children. Standing in the back of the green house, he covered his mouth, as if that could keep the bile from rising into it. He tried to remember what happened, but the last three or four hours of mission were fogging up for him now.

Behind him, he heard Ken kick the door closed, heard Omi moan in his sleep. Omi had put in nearly forty-eight hours of pre-flight before this mission and Youji was glad he slept. There was something else, but he couldn't remember.

"Kudou," Ken snapped. "You take the first shift. And don't give me any shit. Omi's exhausted."

It was unspoken. It didn't need to be. Ken would sleep with Omi. They'd been sleeping together for nearly six months. Youji floated in the dizziness for a moment, his back to them, as he touched his side, the black, skin tight shirt he wore and brought his fingers away covered in dark, sticky dark. "Yeah, whatever Ken," he said, trying to figure when he'd gotten nicked.

He didn't remember getting hit.

"He's worked," Ken started to make a second assault on Youji's defenses, then realized the man had already agreed. "Thanks, Youji."

"Go on. I've got to change before I open the shop. And I want to do it before Aya gets here."

After Omi had collapsed at the end of the mission, Ken had wanted Aya's car. Aya had taken Ken's motorcycle. God fuck me, Youji thought, realizing he might have bleed in Aya's car.

Ken carried Omi up the back stairs without another word. As soon as they were gone, Youji slipped out of his jacket. His left hand was going numb, heavy and rebellious. This made him slip out of the right side, then pull the jacket from the left. The arm looked okay, fingers looked okay, just numb like a jaw after the dentist's office.

Getting his shirt off was harder than the jacket and in frustration he got a pair of pruning scissors and started cutting. Right up the middle, then, to the side, deciding to just cut through the short sleeve on his left arm. It was a damn shame, because he liked this shirt. There was a dart stuck in his belly, the oddest one, a quarter inch quarrel inbeded in his skin, into the muscle, eight long slender thorn like legs radiating from it, also piercing his skin. It was flush about though, as if it were, still sinking in. Didn't hurt. There was blood though, flowing down under the waist band of his pants. He didn't remember getting hit.

Frightened, he reached for the intercom, hit Ken's buzzer, waited for an acknowledgement, groaned in frustration and hit Omi's. "Ken. Help me."

Only static replied. The volume. They'd turned it down. "Ken," he yelled, holding the intercom button with one hand, touching the dart that had gotten him with his other hand. "Could use some help here!"

How had he gotten hit? They'd been in a basement. Dark. Twenty some odd adults. A boy on the alter. The girl behind it. Youji remembered jumping the alter, shoving the man behind the girl. Remembered the man pulled a dagger. The girl grabbed a hold of his jacket, like she was going to hide behind him. He'd reached to her with his left hand. Yes, he remembered that much. She'd grabbed his hand. She'd been crying. He looked over his shoulder. It was a mistake.

Next. He remembered. He remembered his garrote around the man's throat. Tightening until the man's Latin cursing was strangled away. The girl was behind him still. Her face pressed to his back. She was hiding. The dagger, dart, whatever it was screamed when he touched it. The scream radiated up his ribs, down to hips, red acid hot. "Owww," he moaned.

The back door opened. Aya threw Ken's keys down on the potting bench glared at Youji. "I've told you. Don't change in the green house. Go upstairs."

"Can't," Youji snapped back, baiting Aya, just for the fun of it. Memories were dropping out of his mind now, slipping away like sand. Quite vividly, he did remember wanting to see those lips smile. Remembered planning to catch those lips in a kiss. "Smile at me, lover," he said, words strained, smeared out like paint gone thin.

"What is your problem," Aya snarled, coming around the bench between them, halting.

Blood had pooled around one of Youji's boots now, smeared across pale abdomen where his fingers had touched. "I don't remember," Youji said, honestly. "I only remember wanting to see you smile."

"Why," Aya said, moving quickly towards Youji, though the taller man didn't know why. He liked having his lovers hands on him, one arm wrap around his waist, fingers holding his pants. They were lovers. Youji didn't remember it, but he wanted it that way.

"Ken! Omi!" Aya bellowed, as he lowed Youji to the green house floor. "Now!"

Youji's fingers had taken hold of Aya's jacket, but Aya didn't pry him loose. Aya knew they weren't lovers. What he hadn't known, was that Youji leaned that way. He pressed his fingers to the fluttering pulse at Youji's wrist, watching it at his throat, watching his eyelids twitch slightly. "Ken! Hurry up! Youji's down."

If it had been a normal mission, they could have just called for assistance from their normal Kritiker medical team. It wasn't though. They'd gone without permission and this was going to get them all in trouble. "Youji, you'd better wake up if you want to see me smile."