Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Walking Your Own Path ❯ Voice on the Phone ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I own a sword…but it isn't Aya's. I own some shades, but they aren't Yohji's. I own some darts, but they're rubber tipped and there's no way I'll ever get gloves like Ken's. So technically…no.

Author's note: Arigato, minna-sans, for your wonderful reviews! Please forgive the time it took to post this but my muse has been wracking havoc on my mind and my teachers have been junking up my days…not a good combination, ne? Thank you, youjibaracuda for helping me beta and straighten out the various inconsistencies in some conversations Much luv! ^_~

Voice on the Phone

"Ken-kun…" Then, "KEN-KUN! DON'T ABANDON ME! DON'T ABANDON ME LIKE MY FATHER!! WHY DON'T YOU COME FOR ME???" Sweat tricked from his brow, slicking the oiled locks of his hair with wetness.

"Ken!" No…

"KEN!" No…no stop it…

"Hey, KEN!"

Ken shot up, almost tumbling from the bed as he looked wildly around, every muscle in his body tensed into combat readiness. Instead of the ominous flashes of steel and darkness, the blinding glare of yellow-white sunlight peaked through the pale blinds, drenching the room in various shades of orange and crimson. Like blood, He thought, with a shudder. Shakily he drew his hand across his brow, feeling like an aspen leaf blown in a strong gale.

"Kuso…" He muttered, then realized that the loud pounding was not from his heart, but a fist on the door.

"K-en, wake up! The shop's opening at eight o' clock today and you need to be there in half an hour! I left directions on the table and your bike is out front, so I'm gonna leave first okay? Are you even awake?? Ken!!"

Yuriko's voice, loud and exasperated, penetrated the haze that seemed to envelop him and he shook his head slightly in confusion, before replying, "I'm awake…I'll be there, in half an hour."

"Good! Don't be late…ja!" The sound of footsteps quickly receded from his doorway and once again, he was left alone with his thoughts.

Sighing quietly, he slowly got off the floor, raking his hands through his dark tresses before shaking his head in determination. He dragged on his jeans and baggy brown jacket in one hurried motion, checking his appearance absently in the mirror and then promptly left the room. Wandering into the kitchen, he smiled slightly at the steaming cup of coffee that had been left on the table for him. Aya had never understood why he liked the dark bittersweet liquid; Omi had tried it once, then winced at the scalding taste and turned back to his cup of Darjeeling with a forced smile. It had been too bitter, he had explained later, it reminded him of hopes and fantasies that one could always dream of happening, but never would.

Omi was like that, always able to feel things that were less apparent to other people. An empath, perhaps, Ken reflected, toying absently with the silver edged teaspoon. He felt people's pain as if it were his own. Despite his own problems, and he had many, he strove to bring a smile to other people's faces with a simple word or proffered flower, filched from a bouquet or snapped from a stem when he thought no one was looking. It was his greatest joy, hearing laughter…Ken jerked out of his memories, a little bit startled at himself. How, he thought in frustration, can a cup of coffee make me think of him? This is getting out of hand!

Ken raised the cup to his lips, then hesitated. All the sudden, he didn't feel much like coffee anymore. Abruptly, he grabbed the note on the desk and the brass key that lay beside it and headed for the door, leaving the dark tan liquid on the table. The door slammed, wobbling the slowly cooling liquid, causing little droplets to splash over the sides, slowly tracing its way down the mug to rest on the oak panels of the table.

***

"The Kawasaki?" Yuriko tipped her head to a side, unconsciously flipping back her hair as listened to a customer on the phone, "Yes, it's a brand new model, no…no, never been used. Well, if you want, we can bring it in for you and you can tell us if you like it…you will? Okay, we'll have it by Monday, is that a good time for you? Okay…okay…no, no, that's fine!" The bell on the door tinkled merrily and Yuriko glanced around and smiled absently as Ken walked through the door. Covering the mouthpiece, she said silently, One moment, before going back to the man on the other end.

Ken nodded back and took the opportunity to take a glance around the shop. The not unpleasantly musky scent of oiled leather mixed with the sharper stench of gasoline fumes and old race pendants were tacked to the walls like triumphant banners. Bike parts, carburetors, spark plugs, wheels, all were stacked or displayed neatly, each in its particular place.

"The bikes are in the back," Yuriko hung up the phone and grinned cheerfully as she watched Ken peruse the little room with an connoisseur's appreciation. "It's not much…but it's not bad, either, is it?" She glanced with proprietary pride around her, crossing her arms across her chest. "After working with Daren for a while, we both agreed that it was in our best interest to split. Different personalities, I guess. But now, he supplies the bikes and parts, and I get a cut of the profit for selling his stuff in Japan. It's not a bad deal, don't you think?"

"It's a really good deal." Ken admitted, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Yuriko laughed at Ken's hesitant response and shrugged easily, "Well, we all know you can sell flowers, for what that's worth. Now…what do you know about bikes, hmmm?"

"I know as much as you do." Ken retorted, a little stung.

If anything, Yuriko's grin widened as she came around the counter to stand in front of him, hands on her hips. Her eyebrow tipped mockingly as she said in a challenging manner, "Oh really…we'll see what you can do then, won't we?"

For the first time in a long time, Ken felt his own lips stretch into a real smile, barely a tug of the lips, but it was enough. He'll be all right, Yuriko decided in relief as he went to deal with a customer looking for a spare wheel. It might take him a while, but he'll be all right…

***

Three months later

Ken sighed, sprawling down in a chair as he accepted a Coke from Yuriko, grinning somewhat tiredly, "Has anyone told you you're a slave driver?" He asked, "Work from eight to eight, and still, you say we aren't finished with the day…what do I look like, a mule? Even…" He paused slightly, "Even Aya wasn't this bad…he at least let us take half an hour off for lunch!" Unconsciously, a thread of wistful nostalgia entered his voice, but Yuriko's sensitive ears caught the strain of unhappiness in his voice.

Deciding the best course was to ignore it for the moment, Yuriko snorted, not the least impressed with his exaggerated act of exhaustion. "Give me a break! I woke up earlier than you did and you saw the schedule card. This place opens until nine, only an hour to go!" He groaned theatrically, slumping lower in his seat, but Yuriko was unfazed as she said cheerfully, "I told you I'd make you work for your stay, Hidaki!"

Ken snorted, sadness fleeing from his face as if it had never been there as he toasted her mockingly, "Cheers to that," he muttered, then cocked his head as the bell chimed again, a humorously tortured expression crossing his face. "Oh no…if I have to deal with another amateur motorcyclist rant on how he wants to enter the winter games next year…" He let the dire warning trail off, planting a hangdog expression on his face and causing Yuriko to laugh.

"All right…I'll take pity on you, just this once!" She rose to her feet, wincing at the pins and needles pricks of cramps. "But next time, you get to handle the next blue-haired granny looking for a thrill. Can't have my workers slack off!"

"Slack off!" Ken sputtered in protest, but Yuriko walked off before he could begin to list his complaints. He smiled wearily, shifting to find a comfortable position in the plastic fold-up chair as he swallowed a mouthful of the carbonated beverage. This had been what he had needed from the start: normality. Haggling, arguing, taking orders, and selling…he smiled in satisfaction, massaging his weaker arm. The cast had come off a few days ago, and it wasn't as strong as it had been, the muscles atrophying from lack of work. But it would get stronger. Being here, it soothed his soul. He had once believed there was nothing more important than being able to fulfill a mission, now he knew he was wrong. The most important thing in life was peace of mind.

"Of course it's the best quality!" Yuriko's indignant voice caused him to glance absently over at her to see who was the irate customer…and he almost choked. His eyes narrowed and he straightened, coming slowly out of his slouched position, hands fisting unconsciously at his side.

"And I said, that this," The man gave the offending motorcycle a contemptuous kick. "…is a piece of crap."

Yuriko's eyes darkened in anger, but she managed a reasonable voice as she said coldly, "If you believe so, then don't buy it. But don't damage the merchandise either. Forgive me if I do not see it fit to see you out the door." She kicked up the foot stand and grabbed the handlebars, prepared to walk the bike from the showroom, but the man blocked her way, an ugly grin curling his lips.

"Feisty bitch-"

"Is something wrong sir?" Ken stood up, setting down the empty can with deadly grace before he walked forward to stand beside Yuriko, a feral expression planted on his hard-planed face. The hulking, emerald-eyed man swung towards him, assessing the new threat, and a hard gleam of recognition crossed his face.

"So…this is where the rat lives."

"Rat? Ken-kun, what does he mean?" Yuriko looked at Ken and gasped, stepping back from the man she didn't know. His handsome face, normally expressive in humor and teasing, had the frigidity of ice, but the fire, the burning fury just underneath the thin layer of opaque glass was the most fearful thing of all. It transformed him from a happy-go-lucky man, carelessly at ease with both irritable customer and little child, into…something else. A predator. A stalker…an assassin.

Yuriko shivered, stepping away from both men. Just then, she didn't know who was the more dangerous. "Ken-kun?" She whispered again, causing the other man to grin derisively.

"Yes Ken-kun, what does it mean? Ken-kun…such an endearment. Lovers? No…Friends certainly, so she must know, doesn't she? No? I'm surprised at you Ken-kun…keeping secrets, eh? Tell her." He invited mockingly, "Tell her who you are, who I am. What are you waiting for?"

Ken felt his muscles coil into tense readiness, feeling his world shatter in glass shards again. He didn't smile in anticipation although there was a cold glitter in his eyes as he said quietly, "If you wish to talk business, we will speak outside. Away from innocent bystanders…Yoko of the Black Hand." He stepped forward and pushed the bulkier man roughly towards the door, but nothing seemed to disturb his mask of cold amusement.

"You remembered my name? Charmed." Yoko chuckled softly, the notes of his laughter dropping like obsidian crystals pinging on a cymbal, then he shrugged lazily, never taking his eyes of Ken's still form. "But no, be patient…not everything is in its place yet. I merely came to buy a few goods…" Yoko glanced at Yuriko leeringly, wetting his lips with his tongue, and she shuddered, inching slightly behind Ken's taller form. "Who knew that such a visit would reap such great rewards, eh?" He bowed slightly, then still laughing to himself, pivoted and walked towards the door. "Take care of your friends, Weiss. You never know when a touch will spring the mousetrap," Yoko's eyes gleamed in the darkening shadows of the room as he added, "And if the mousetrap fails…well, there's always a cat to finish the job."

"Weiss? Rat? Ken, what is he talking about?" Yuriko tugged on Ken's jacket when Yoko had left, concern and fear still hovering in the depths of her honey-brown eyes. "Ken-kun, what aren't you telling me?"

Ken glanced down at her and tried to smile reassuringly, but his expression of veiled anger did not completely leave. "Don't worry Yuriko. Just someone I knew in another life, another time…he doesn't know what he's talking about." But still…He hesitated for a moment as Yuriko began closing shop and slipped silently to the back room on the pretext of putting a stack of parts away. Silently, he stared at the phone; it would be so easy to walk away, so easy to forget it all. He didn't owe them anything, and they didn't want him…so easy just to pretend today, right now, never happened.

He sighed then, and reached for the phone, because no matter how much he wanted to stay apart, he wouldn't…couldn't do that to them. Slowly, he dialed the chief of police's number. He fiddled anxiously with the phone wire, then wiped his hands on his jeans in a mixture of anticipation and dread. Since leaving, he wasn't sure how his welcome would be.

"Moshi moshi?" Greeted a voice cheerfully and Ken bowed his head, not realizing how much he had missed his former friends until now.

"Manx?"

Immediately the phone clicked abruptly and there was a pleasant hum of classical music as he was put on hold. After a while, her voice came back on the line, warm with surprised pleasure. "This is a secure line, Siberian. You're back?" Ken gave a slight sound of denial, hating the immediate coldness that filled her voice. "I'm sorry, I must have mistaken you for someone else. How may I help you?"

"It…it's Ken, Manx. I need you to tell something to Persia for me."

He twisted the phone wire in his hand, a stab of pain going through his heart when Manx's voice returned to its original pleasantness with no real intonation that he could read. It had all the emotion of granite; it was the voice she used to speak to strangers with. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you are talking about. If you would like to leave a message with the chief of police, I could-"

"Please…" Ken swallowed hard, whispering, "this is important." From his pocket, he withdrew the black wallet that he had picked off Yoko when he shoved the bloodthirsty killer out the door. He flipped to one of the inserts and added hoarsely, "Maybe you don't understand why I left…why I had to leave. But Manx…I don't want to see Omi-kun killed, and we both know that Kriticker's going send Weiss on the road to hell with or without briefing."

"That is the path they chose-"

"Manx…" Ken took a deep breath, "Just trust me."

There was a subtle pause at the other end before Manx said quietly, "I don't trust Siberian. He left Weiss, forsook the white cross he willingly took to protect the innocents in this world. He left at the first sign of weakness and in doing so, broke all his oaths made to Kriteker, to Persia, and to Weiss. No, I don't trust the promises of Siberian at all." Then she sighed, a small sound of defeat and perhaps resignation as she added slowly, "But…I do trust Ken Hidaki's love of his friends…and I know he would never hurt them. All right then…Ken. Tell me what Persia…and Weiss…needs to know."

***

The flower shop was eerily silent; the dimming rays of the sun flashing into the transparent windows in shades of sickly vermilion and dark yellow-greens. In the haunting shadows of dusk, Yohji glowered at a flower, muttering to himself as he tried to coax it from its comfortable place in the soil. "You're getting too small for this tiny pot," He muttered, shoving up his sunglasses in vexation, "You're going to wither and die, then Aya's going to take his katana to my ass for not taking care of you. Maybe I'll just kill you myself and get it over with." When the bloom remained unimpressed by Yohji's threat, he threw down his spade, wiping his hands on a convenient towel. "Damn thing."

He was stretching his cramping back, when he noticed that Omi had wandered into the room. Beckoning him over with a wave, Yohji called, "Hey, Omi! Help me with this thing, will you? The roots aren't coming out and I swear, I've tried everything."

Instead of the cheery 'hai!' the old Omi would have given, this one merely changed directions, hand outstretched for the garden spade. Not bothering to murmur gentle words to the reluctant bloom or light quips to Yohji, Omi wedged the tool into the earth, carefully scraping away the first layer of soil. Then he expertly flipped the plant over, letting the plant stay in his hand while the loose soil spilled like dark chocolate around his slightly spread fingers, over the spotlessly white tiles of the floor.

"Kuso!" Yohji cursed, throwing the towel on the offending mound of dark earth. He glowered at it then muttered, "That was exactly what I was trying not to do, kid! Now I'm going to have to mop all over again!"

The younger boy glanced at him, then shrugged almost indifferently, offering the plant into Yohji's care. "You should have used newspapers then. I'll be right back." He replied tonelessly, then ducked back out of the shop again, as silent as an aimlessly wandering wraith. Yohji sighed, scooping the dirt back into his callused palms.

He stared broodingly at the small heap in his hand. Earth, terra, soil…whatever you called it, it was still dirt. "Just a bunch of shit!" Yohji said aloud, his voice echoing strangely in the crisp silence. Ever since Ken had left, this place had been plunged into a gloomy haze of apathy. Aya's silence was nothing strange, but Omi…Omi was walking that thin line between sanity and dementia. When things went bad, it was always Omi with his innocent, sparkling, smile, ready to cheer people up, encourage them with the 'next mission will go better.' But now? Silence. The damn kid was turning into another Aya! "As if we need another one." Yohji muttered, "I don't even know why we bother pretending anymore…"

"Because you need to keep your identities a secret." A feminine voice made him start violently and whirl around, hand going instinctively to the watch at his wrist.

"Manx!" He relaxed minutely then grinned his famous play-boy grin, tossing the loam into the compost bin. Ignoring the mess on the floor for now, Yohji leaned against the wall, tipping up his shades. "You finally decided that I'm worth your time? When do you want our first date to be?" He sidled up to her and in that eternal game they played, Manx glared coolly and sidestepped his advances.

"No, I don't sleep with the people I work with." Manx's lips curled up slightly, a mischievous twinkle sparkling briefly in her eyes as she added, "And especially not with well-known lechers."

"You wound me!" Yohji laid his hand over his heart, wincing dramatically. Then in a complete reversal, he winked with devastating charm, asking, "Are you sure? I could make it worth your time…Manx."

"Down, Fido." She said dryly, waving a sheaf of papers in her hand. She smiled, almost impishly, then sobered as she continued, "We have more information to help you on your mission again. Want to hear it?"

Yohji's façade of relaxed confidence and playfulness melted away into surprise and censor as he hissed lowly, "Are you crazy? Manx, Omi's-"

"Fine." A voice interrupted and the two looked up in almost guiltily at Omi as he hung his apron on one of the well-oiled pegs on the wall. He nodded listlessly at them; the slowly healing wounds on his face and neck all the more prominent for the pallor of his skin. Dark shadows ringed his eyes, making him look half-dead, but he shrugged at Manx's concerned expression, waving it away with a shake of the hand before asking, "We have a mission, Manx?"

***

Manx tossed the black wallet on the table, leaning back against the smooth plastered wall as she said, "An…informant of Kritiker's was able to breach BMO's security and secure some vital data needed for your mission. In the wallet, you'll find an indent card-key to most of the high security data banks…which include programs that run the external defense networks." She paused significantly before adding, "Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal." Yohji murmured, fingering the tiny chip-card in his hand. "But won't they change the password once they find out this little one's missing?"

Manx tossed her crimson locks, brushing them from her face before answering, almost in amusement. "Yes, that would be intelligent of them, wouldn't it? Actually, that is their most logical move, so if you wish to take the mission…"

"The enemy building has to be infiltrated tonight." Aya finished. For a moment, the violet-eyed man stared at Manx, as if somehow divining some inner truth in her uncomfortable gaze, almost as if he knew… the moment passed, and Aya nodded sharply, rising to his feet. "Mission accepted."

Yohji nodded, leaning forward slightly on his elbows as he muttered thoughtfully, "We'll need bait. Maybe we could-"

"I'll go." Yohji stiffened and Aya's feline eyes narrowed. They turned slowly to the youngest member of their team that had thus far remained silent, Yohji's face indicating his complete refusal while Aya merely looked at him with contemplating passivity. Omi gazed calmly at them with dead cerulean eyes, face void of emotion or fear as he repeated. "You two aren't young enough to pass for it. We can't just hire a child from the streets and send him; he wouldn't know what to do. I'll go."

Yohji leapt to his feet, rounding the small kitchen table to grab the younger boy by the shoulders and shake him, hard. Omi's bruised and lacerated face didn't change in expression at all as Yohji yelled harshly, "Omi no baka! Are you crazy? Look at you! Look at what happened to you already! Losing Ken like that really sent you over the deep end of the pool, didn't it? You've gone and lost it-"

"I don't care." When Yohji's grip tightened, Omi clenched his fists defiantly, yanking away from the older man. "I don't care! I'm not a kid so stop treating me like one!" Breathing heavily, he whirled to Manx, demanding, "Ken-kun sent the information. Ken infiltrated BMO and he sent the keys, the cards, the passwords…all through you. He's not doing this for Kritiker or Persia, is he? He's doing this for us, right? Am I right?" For a moment, their eyes locked, azure on azure, fire for fire as they tested each others' wills, willing the other to break.

Manx's eyes dropped first, the darkness of the room masking her expression as she murmured quietly, "Hai."

Omi nodded once, accepting this statement without question before he turned unnaturally bright eyes to his teammates, glaring at them with uncharacteristic fierceness…and the first buds of burgeoning hope: an emotion that they believed had died with Ken's leaving. "Then I'll believe in Ken…and I'll go."

"He betrayed Weiss once-" Aya began, but the reckless fury in Omi's gaze silenced him.

"Don't…say…that." Omi whispered coldly and in his eyes, Aya saw something of himself in that gaze. It reminded him of a seventeen-year-old boy that had become an assassin, a murderer, to avenge the death of his family. That boy's naivete, his pride, the deep passion that burnt from somewhere deep within his soul, were so familiar…Aya nodded, retracting his words.

"You'll wear a tracker on you at all times, Omi." He stated simply, and when the younger boy opened his mouth to argue, Aya warned implacably, "Don't argue, I won't give in a second time today."

Omi hesitated, then nodded, eyes trailing from him to Yohji, who glared angrily at the far corner, refusing to speak to either of them. Omi swallowed hard, some of the bravado fleeing from his face as he whispered, "Yohji-kun….gomen. I know you're only trying to look out for me, but I have to believe in what I feel now. I have to trust Ken." Yohji had stiffened when Omi began to talk but reluctantly, he slid his gaze to downwards to meet the boy's imploring eyes, listening against his will and better judgement.

Quietly, he said, "Look at you. That great hulking bulldozer they call…what was it…Yoko, almost smashed you into bloody pulp. You don't think he can again? He'd recognize you in a heartbeat, considering you haven't completely healed yet. Do you think we can so easily replace you on the team with Ken already gone? It would be overkill, and you know it, Omi."

"But he doesn't oversee all the children coming in." Omi pointed out, "They have aids to do that, and a kid that's been roughed up isn't unusual there! Yohji-kun, please…just trust me for once! I have to do this." When Yohji opened his mouth to protest again, Omi took a deep breath and said softly, "If you had the chance...would you go if Asuka got the information for you?"

Yohji's jaw snapped shut and he stared at Omi, paling slightly. For a while, only silence permeated the room before a ghost of a smile quirked his unwilling lips upwards and he turned to Aya, shaking his head wryly. "He grew up when we weren't looking, didn't he, Aya? I wonder if I will be glad…or just terrified. All right kid, we'll trust you this time…but don't think you can always get your own way like this."

He put a hand around Omi's thin shoulders, giving the boy a slight clap on the back. Aya nodded in his slightly approving way, and for a second, contentment made Omi's lips curl in an answering smile that was all too rare nowadays. It was a smile of hope, of total faith. Azure eyes gleaming brightly, Omi said softly, "Yohji-kun, Aya…trust Ken too. He's still watching over us."

Tbc…

Author's note: Gomen, I just found out what the proper pairings in Weiss were (Omi+Yohji and Ken+Aya), but in the OAVs, I don't know, it sorta seemed like Ken and Omi had the stronger relationship, so I decided to build on that instead. If I offended any of you hard-core Weiss fanatics out there, sorry!