Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Walking Your Own Path ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Author's note: eh…I'm a newbie at writing for Weiss Kreuz…so please, use your cybernetic pen and correct any mistakes that I may have made please? And are they IC, OOC, or WAY OOC? Oi….*sweatdrop* I really wouldn't know…thank you, Arigato, merci beaucoup, and whatnot for reading this stupid excuse for a fic.

Pairing: Shounain ai, Omi and Ken

Walking your own path: Prologue

Omi…

The sky was dark…darker than it had any right to be. It was dark even with the stars twinkling wickedly like strings of multifaceted jewels on a silver chain; it was dark despite the soft reflection of florescent lights on the windowpane. The weatherman had proclaimed that spring had finally reached Tokyo and the buds of golden-green were soon to unfurl their leaves on the austere branches of the cherry blossoms. Or that was what the weatherman said. Then why did the air chill around him with the frost of winter?

Ken pulled his brown leather jacket closer, trying to stave off the cold, albeit unsuccessfully, stuffing his already gloved hands into his pockets. Alone, he stared blindly into the sky, looking for some benediction in the cloud-strewn heavens, but what he saw did not comfort him. He had done it. He had gone and done it…fallen in love with Omi, fallen in love with that assassin with the angel's face…but that was impossible.

"Baka…" He whispered, then more harshly, "BAKA!" He slammed his cast onto the wooden baluster, ignoring the residual ache that came with a broken arm. How could he? He was a Weiss. Falling in love with a teammate brought no one anything but pain. On a mission, Aya, Yohji…Omi…they trusted him. They trusted him to be able to do his job without letting his feelings get in the way of the mission. They trusted him not to screw up because of his emotions…yet that was precisely what he was doing: letting his emotions get in the way…and it had almost gotten them killed.

***

(Flashback)

Ken's eyes swept briefly over his teammates, ascertaining whether they were ready or not. Sometimes, he still wondered how Aya and Yohji hid their slim, lanky forms so well in the almost nonexistent shadows, moving almost silently but for the soft shrrr-shrr of their trench coats and the slight gleam of Yohji's glasses. But this was not the time to ask. Their target: Nawari Tenchi, leader of the Black Hand Organization (BHO). For the kidnap, rape, and callous murder of more than a hundred pre-adolescent children, Kriteker had ordered the death of the him and those who served as his guards and hirelings; a fitting end to a most deserving individual.

Ken checked his watch, timing it out carefully. They had already infiltrated the building and in two minutes, Omi would have hacked into the security system, disabling the spy cams and the trip-wire traps that seemed to be riddled throughout the whole damn building, especially centralizing around Nawari's office. All they had to do was wait for his signal.

All right…almost time…Ken smiled grimly, clenching his fist. Immediately, steel claws protruded from his gloves, gleaming with deadly promise as he held it slightly in front of him. Any second now…

Suddenly before he could make his move, the door burst open on its own, slamming roughly against the wall with a resounding bang. Out of the corner of his eye, Ken saw the other two Weiss tense, frozen in the instant before they had been about to move into the room. Something was wrong…

"Hey boss, guess what? Got a little present for ya!" A dark-clad man with an unplaceable accent walked, or rather swaggered into the room, carrying a bundle of limp cloth over his right shoulder. Something clenched in Ken's stomach, an unfamiliar feeling of dread and horror, mingling with growing fury. It can't be…

"Really?" Nawari's nasal, high-pitched voice emerged from behind the long mahogany desk and Ken could here the impatient tapping of fingernails against wood, but he wasn't interested in that. His nerve endings were thrumming almost violently as he stared at Nawari's bodyguard, and his own breathing seemed to loud, rasping harshly in his own ears. The heat in his belly spiraled outwards, infecting his limbs, his eyes, as adrenaline rushed through his veins…it couldn't be… "What have you brought me, Yoko, another child? You seem to have manhandled this one a bit too roughly."

Yoko chuckled before tossing his burden onto the cold, marble floor with deliberate cruelty, eliciting a moan of pain from the still form. "Lookie lookie what I found, a little rat that got his hands caught in the wiring system, eh? What should we do with him, boss?" He kicked the bundle brutally, nudging it with his boot heel so it rolled around to reveal a bruised and battered face, a thin stream of blood already pooling beneath the swollen lip…

Aya was signaling him to stay motionless lest he set off a hidden alarm, but Ken ignored him. His eyes narrowed into slits as he moved forward slightly into the light, breath coming out of his lungs in a hiss. He would recognize that baggy jacket and black bandana anywhere…Omi. That pile of shattered bone and lacerated body had Omi's face on it…

"Sha-ne!" The war cry erupted from his throat was not of his volition as he charged at the guard, arm extended in a clawing gesture. Yoko looked up, the surprise in his dark green orbs quickly turning to sadistic pleasure as he pivoted on a heel, causing Ken to stumble a few steps, touching only a whisper of air before he caught himself enough to leap away as a meaty fist slammed into the ground where he had been only a few seconds ago. The floor fractured, hairline cracks racing outwards in a five point star, jagged edges going perilously close to where Omi's inert form lay.

"Well well, another pesky rodent, eh? And what's your name, pretty boy?" Yoko rose slowly, parting his lips to reveal his almost jagged teeth, some rotten from the root canal, some just black stubs among the sickly yellowish green of the others. He advanced in an indifferent, almost methodical manner as Ken tried to analyze the strength, the speed, of his opponent. From what he had seen, this man possessed both…but that wasn't going to stop him.

"Hunters of light that hunt the beasts of darkness," Ken spat out, crouching low to the floor. "Weiss!"

He leapt for the other man's jugular again, but Yoko was too fast, grabbing onto his arm. Suddenly a flare of white-hot pain shot up his right side and he heard a sickening, wet crack, interpreting it accurately to mean the fracture of his Humerus. He managed to free himself cradling his arm as he backed away, bumping into something at his feet. He glanced down to reassure himself that Omi was still breathing before, fixing his gaze on the now circling bodyguard.

"Kuso…"

"Come here little rat, rat, rat…" Yoko laughed mockingly, "come on over…"

"Kiss my ass!" Ken screamed, "You die now!" But before he could even fully extend his claws again, he felt a fist encircling his neck, the touch almost as gentle as butterfly wings, before the fingers slammed closed, cutting off his air, cutting off his voice.

His last conscious memory was of the delighted smile on the other man's face, the fetid breath that blew across his own face with every breath the other took. And the pain of squeezing fingers, tighter, tighter…

"Oh no, little rat, you've got it wrong, you've got it all wrong. You see, I've got you."

***

He slumped over the railing, wishing he could wash that memory from his mind. He had woken up later to find his arm in a cast and his voice hoarse from the damage to his windpipe, remnants of his beating exhibited in the bruises of cyclone green and wan yellow-violet that ringed his neck and face. Aya and Yohji too had looked worse for wear, although characteristically, Yohji only complained good-naturedly on the way that he had lost his shades during the battle. While he had attempted to stave off Yoko, it seemed that they had gone after the real target, only to find that he had already surrounded himself in a labyrinth of traps and mazes. They had returned just in time to keep Yoko from slitting his throat (Ken still didn't know whether he wanted to thank them or not) but the damn man had gotten away despite their best efforts.

In other words, mission failure, and it was his entire fault. If he had waited, formulated a plan before charging in there like a mad wild-cat, perhaps…

Ken dropped his head into his arms. He could still hear the cold accusation in Aya's emotionless voice as he said, "If you cannot trust in Omi; if you cannot trust in any of our judgement or abilities before you act, then you do not belong in Weiss."

A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye, tapering down to a thin line of wetness. Aya…what if I have every faith in your abilities…but have lost faith in mine? Then what do I do?

His head was bowed, so he missed the streak of fire shot across the night's sky, for a brief second illuminating Heaven's sable robe with hues of violet and crimson before fading into dusky black again. I wish…that I could find some way to make it better.

***

Dawn was just breaking over Tokyo when Omi's room cracked open slightly and a man in a baggy leather jacket and jeans slipped into the room, closing the door soundlessly behind him. Silently, he studied the younger boy's harried face, noting the waxy pallor of his complexion, the dark rings around his eyes, and the way ever breath seemed to shake his thin form like the breeze would do leaves on a branch…

"Omi…" The boy didn't open his eyes, merely moaned, haunted by dark nightmares of his own. Ken sighed quietly, reaching into his inner pocket of his jacket to pull out a spray of morning glories, setting them beside Omi's head. "Sleep well, Omi. May we all one day meet again." He brushed Omi's sweat-soaked locks out of his face, calming him somewhat. God, he wanted to stay, just stay by the bedside and make sure that nothing bad would happen, protect him from the harm that came with an assassin's profession…

He pivoted around swiftly before a moment's indecision could make him weak, grabbing his backpack on the way out the door. He unlocked the flower shop enough to crawl under before rebolting and locking the door. His motorcycle was already waiting patiently outside, so he got on, inserting the key into the ignition. Something slipped from his pocket and he frowned slightly, bending to pick it up. The dried petals of a sunflower rested in his hands, glowing with brilliancy in the early morning.

Briefly Omi's face flashed across his mind. Before a particularly difficult mission, Omi had given him the sunflower…"Ken-kun, here's a sunflower to match your sunny disposition. Please accept it as a gift and take care of yourself!"

Pushing the memory from his mind, Ken pressed on the gas pedal, tearing down the road as his vision blurred, the sunlight blinding him as it refracted on his tears, causing shimmering rainbows to dance before his eyes. There was nothing he could do right now, not until he could find his perspective, keep his calm. Otherwise, he would endanger yet another mission as soon as he saw Omi get hurt…

***

Omi tossed his head feverishly, lost in the middle of a fever dream. He reached his hand out blindly, the fingers that remained unbroken groping blindly for something that had been there, but no longer was. His arched his back before collapsing back into exhaustion, alternately burning and freezing in this hell of his own making. His fingers brushed the silky petals of the morning glories, disrupting them from their delicate place on his pillow. A single bloom tumbled from the bed, dropping to the floor to lay forlornly against the navy blue carpet.

"Ken-kun…"