Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Warmth ❯ Part Two ( Chapter 2 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Author's Notes: Updated due to popular demand. ^^ Here is the next part. There will be three more. I hope you enjoy!

Part Two
A Game of Paintball

"Rise and shine, boys!"

Ken heard the sound of knuckles being rapped against the window before he heard the cheerful voice call out to wake up. He opened his eyes, squinting against the sudden burst of light that assaulted him. He must have overslept again. Youji had come to wake him up to yell at him for not being in the shop on time, but nevertheless, it was an offense he could find it in his immense heart to forgive. After all, the fewer boys around, the more girls that flocked to Youji, and that made him happier than a toddler with their grubby hand in a cookie jar.

But something seemed odd. He was not in his bed, he realized. He was resting against something comfortable, soft and warm against his back, but it was not the comfort of his own mattress. Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear away early morning blur, he glanced around at his surroundings. The tiny, cramped space he was stuffed into was more certainly not the familiar comfort of his bed. He was in the backseat of a car, wrapped up in a disheveled old blanket, and staring blankly out the window into the grinning face of Kudou Youji.

And the warm, soft thing he was against was Fujimiya Aya.

He stared at him, wide-eyed, mouth open as though about to speak, but not even a single squeak would come. Aya looked back down at him, one crimson eyebrow arched delicately. He had perfected that look of pure and utter blandness. No, he had not perfected. He had become the incarnation of bland.

"Sleep well?" he asked in a voice that held no humor, but Ken knew was somehow, in some twisted way, teasing. He instantly ruffled. It was his second nature to be defensive from the get-go. That way, it saved him -- most of the time -- from looking like a complete and utter idiot.

"No, you're bony as hell," he muttered. He pushed away from Aya, fumbling through the folds of blanket surrounding them for the handle of the back door. He did not even give a chance for Youji to back out of the way. Instead he kicked out with his legs, quickly and violently, and the other man was nearly barreled to the ground as the door crashed into his knees.

"Geez, Kenken! Watch it!" Youji leaned down to rub at his knees, acting as though he were some poor, wounded veteran of war that needed tender care. Of course, he would refuse any care unless it was in the form of three or four pretty nurses. Regardless of the pain, he still found it in him to flash them both his knowing, amused grin.

"Did you two have fun out here all alone?" He emphasized the words 'all alone.' It would not have taken a genius to know what he was illusioning to.

"We had loads of fun," Ken said. He tried to glare, but the effect was lost when combined with the sudden and furious blush that appeared on his cheeks.

Aya slid out of the car behind him. The trench coat he had worn the night before was rumbled and looking in desperate need of an ironing. Ken glanced down at his own clothes and found them in the same state of disarray. Laundry loads for them when they got home.

"Youji-kun said we were gonna find you incased in ice." A head poked up from behind the propped up hood of the car. Omi was grease-stained but smiling. His hair was pushed back from his eyes with the backwards baseball cap he wore, but a few strands of blonde peeked through. He let out a breath of air, blowing them out of his line of vision.

"We're fine," Aya intoned quietly. He folded his arms. "Would have been better if someone had realized we were stuck earlier." He directed his words at Youji. The other man held up his hands, in a gesture of surrender.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, "we knew you were gone, but by the time Omi and I got back to the shop, the snow was coming down too hard for us to head out again. We just figured you'd use your infinite resources as a world-class assassin to save both your butts."

Ken watched the expression Aya wore change. He wanted to be irritated with them, but at the same time, he knew that Youji was right. They would have been needlessly endangered if they had come out as well. Ken knew it was better that they had stayed where they were. He and Aya had survived the night, after all. No harm done.

Aya moved away from Youji to stand beside Omi at the hood of the car. "What's wrong with it?"

"Your battery is dead," Omi said. Ken almost smiled. He had said the same exact thing the night before.

"But don't worry," the youngest member of Weiss continued, "I jump-started it with Youji's car. It should run fine, at least until we get back to Tokyo. Then you can take it to the shop."

"Our little Omi is a real whiz when it comes to cars, turns out," Youji interjected. He reached over and removed the cap Omi wore, plunking it down on his own head, and using Omi's vulnerable state as an opportunity to ruffle his hair affectionately. "He could probably fix it on his own."

Omi tried to bat away his hands without success. "No way, I don't know that much... you better take it to the shop, Aya-kun, just to be careful."

Aya nodded. "Sure. I will."

"Then can we get a move on?" Youji asked. "We had to close down the shop to come and get you guys, and let me tell you, those girls weren't a bit pleased."

"Let's go," Aya said. He slid into the front seat of his car. It started on the first turn to the ignition. Ken could see him through the window give a visible sigh of relief, his eyes closing briefly as he exhaled. The last thing he needed was for his damned car to break down again on the way home.

"I'll go with Aya-kun," Omi volunteered. "In case the car decides to act up."

Ken felt an arm drape around his shoulders. "Then that leaves you with me, Kenken," Youji said. He looked up to see the older man grinning down at him. Joy of joys.

He watched Omi sit down in the passenger seat beside Aya. That seat had been his just hours ago. He wondered why it bothered him to see Omi there. It was not that he was jealous. He knew it was nothing like that. Couldn't be something like that. But it still bothered him for some reason. It gnawed at him, even as they drove away, and he and Youji pulled out behind them to follow them home.

He leaned his arm against the car door, leaning his weight against it. Wind rushed over him, biting at his cheeks. Youji, of course, would have decided he wanted a car that he never kept the top on of, and one he always insisted to drive at speeds that defied the laws of not only the country but gravity. His hair whipped around his face, lashing at his cheeks. It was getting too long again. But he thought he would leave it that way. He hated having to go on a monthly basis to the barber. It was too much of a pain.

The car slowed as they entered more populated areas nearer to Tokyo. Even Youji was forced to obey the law sometimes. Ken was not grateful for the lessening of speed. Less speed, less wind, which meant that he and Youji would be able to talk without the roar of the engine and the rush of wind drowning them out. And he wasn't too sure he really wanted to hear what Youji had to say.

He waited, glancing at the other man from the corner of his eye. It would be coming, sooner or later. Some teasing comment. Some quip dripping of innuendo. Youji always teased him, but recently it had turned to more personal things. He always had something to say about everything Ken did, and most of the time, it had something to do with Aya.

"Well?" he asked finally.

Youji looked at him, briefly. "Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"What about?" Youji asked. He reached into the inside pocket of the denim jacket he wore and removed a packet of cigarettes. He held it out to Ken. "Get me out one of those, will you?"

Ken took the pack from him and tapped it effortlessly against the palm of his hand. He removed the first cigarette that dislodged from the others and held it out to Youji. The older man put it to his lips, and still concentrating on the road and balancing the wheel with his knees, lit it up.

"I haven't got anything to say," he said.

"That's a first," Ken murmured.

"Why, you want to hear something in particular? A lecture?"

Ken glanced at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, what've you got for me today?"

"Well, I've got the good ol' give it the college try. Or we could just go with what happens when you get attracted to your friends."

Ken bristled. "I'm not attracted to Aya!"

"Oh, is it Aya? I thought it was Omi." Youji grinned at him. He knew exactly what he meant, and Ken knew it too. He was jerking his chain just to get a rise out of him. And unfortunately, it was working.

Ken folded his arms. "Fine. So I am. Beats the hell out of me why, but I am."

"We can't control who we're attracted to, Kenken."

"No kidding..."

He fisted a hand against his cheek, staring out at the buildings they passed without seeing anything. He had known that he was attracted to Aya for weeks, months even, but why was the one thing he had yet to figure out. It wasn't even like Aya was a likeable person. He was rude and reclusive, stubborn and headstrong, and a complete jerk when he wanted to be. So what was it about him?

"Do you think it's weird?"

"What?" Youji looked at him, surprised.

"That I'm attracted to Aya," Ken said. "Is it weird?"

Youji was silent a moment. "That's a hard question. Do I think it's weird you like him? Yeah, sure I do. I mean, it's fricking Aya we're talking about here." He paused. "Or are you asking the moral dilemma of whether or not I think it's weird you like a guy?"

Ken found he couldn't meet his eyes. "I guess it's a little of both," he admitted.

"Somebody once said love transcends gender. That's what I think."

"So it's not weird?"

Youji glanced at him, only for a brief second, and smiled. "It's not weird."

Aya and Omi turned at a crossroad while Youji continued forward in his own car. The former two intended to go to the auto shop down the street and a few blocks away, only a brief walking distance from the flower shop. Ken was grateful to lose sight of them. He and Youji would be back at the flower store before they were done at the auto place, which would give him plenty of time to shower, change, and get downstairs to work. Which meant plenty of time he had that would not be filled with seeing Aya or being forced to think about the night before or his attraction to the other man.

"I'll brave the girls alone, I suppose," Youji said. He sighed dramatically as he slammed shut the driver's side door. "It'll be torture."

"If I hear you scream, I'll come save you," Ken promised, grinning.

Youji flashed him one of his smiles that spoke far more than his words. "Just make sure you know what kind of scream it is."

"Youji, you're disgusting."

"Guilty as charged."

Shaking his head, Ken carelessly pressed the button to lower the garage door as he opened another into the comfort of the basement of their apartment. The screen that Persia appeared on to give them missions sat silently against the far wall. No, not Persia. Just a generated image of him. Ken stared at it thoughtfully for a moment. Hard to think that they were closing in almost six months since the death of their mentor and guardian. And depressing.

He shrugged. Some things couldn't be changed.

He trotted up the steps two at a time. Through the thin material of the walls, he could hear Youji in the shop. The older man was blabbering about one thing or another. He paused, listening. It was another of his flower stories, he realized. Youji liked to tease the girls by going through dramatics of how there was always one flower that suited just one person. He would finish by presenting whatever girl he was charming at the time with the flower he deemed worthy of her, free of charge. Aya was always yelling at him for that...

Up another flight of stairs and he was on the apartment floor that he and Aya shared. Youji and Omi were one floor above them, completing the small three-story building. He wandered down the hall and into the bathroom at the far end, kicking off his shoes as he went. He should have left them outside in the garage, but not thinking, had gone inside still wearing them.

He stripped out of his rumpled clothes in front of the mirror. As he pulled the shirt over his head, he noticed something on his skin, marring already marred flesh -- burn scars from when Kase had tried to have him killed. But this was fresh. He touched the mark gingerly.

Blood, he realized. Dried blood. It had seeped through his shirt and stained his skin.

"Shit." He murmured the curse below his breath.

He had killed the target from the night before. Aya had offered. Aya had told him to go ahead, to clear an escape route, but he hadn't listened to him. Only said that he could do it and that he would do it. Ken frowned at his reflection. The expression Aya had worn in that moment was unreadable then, but he realized now what it was. Apprehension. Concern. Aya had not wanted him to kill the target.

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes and leaned over the tub to turn on the shower. Aya was trying to protect him. But there was nothing endearing about that. It was frustrating. Aya didn't trust him to do it. Aya didn't think him capable to do it. After so long of working together, Aya still thought he wasn't good enough.

He would show him different. Even if it killed him to try, he would show Aya that he wasn't worthless, that he was as strong as he was.

Youji barely glanced at him as he came into the shop through the back door, still struggling to tie his apron around his waist. His hair was damp from the brief shower, but he was clean, dressed in fresh clothes that did not reek of blood, and that was all he wanted.

Omi was in the shop as well, sitting at the counter and ringing up the charge for an overzealous girl, loaded down with more flowers than were humanly necessary. But Aya...

"Where's Aya?" A girl voiced his own question before he had the chance.

"He's off today," Youji said, swooping over in a movement that reminded Ken of a vulture sweeping in on a carcass. Which was really an awful analogy and almost made him feel sick to his stomach. "But I could help you," Youji continued, smiling brightly at his newest girl to charm.

Ken tuned them out. Youji was dealing with customers and Omi was manning the register, which meant he had the supreme joy of doing any of the arrangements that were requested of them. He plopped down on a stool, reaching over for a rose from a vase full of them. Stripping the thorns came before anything else. He hated stripping thorns. He always managed to cut himself somehow, and by the end of the day, all of his fingers were wrapped up in band-aids.

He barely heard Youji flirting with the girls or Omi sputtering when they teased him mercilessly. Their voices faded out and he concentrated only on what he was doing. He only broke from the daze when a girl would come over to him, and smiling at him, batting their eyes, would ask him to make them arrangement. And he would smile back with his plastered on Nice Face and do whatever ridiculous thing they asked from him.

One wanted some hideous thing that was more puce than it was maroon with orange lilies. Orange and puce.

He watched as people came in and out, but did not really see them. His mind was somewhere else. And when his mind was somewhere else, he slashed up his fingers on rose thorns.

"Dammit," he hissed beneath his breath. Another slash to his thumb. He stuck it in his mouth, sucking on the wound. Just great.

He was standing to go search for a band-aid when he suddenly felt something being pressed into the small of his back. The muzzle of a rifle. He could tell by the way it felt, digging into his spine. Not a sniper rifle. More like a hunting rifle.

How the hell had someone gotten a hunting rifle into the shop without anyone else noticing?

He started to turn, taking his movements with painful, deliberate care. The urge to clench his eyes shut was almost overbearing. If his guts were going to be splattered all over the floor and the wall behind him, he did not think he wanted to see it as it happened.

One eye was squinted shut as he turned to face his attacker. Both flew open when he saw who it was.

"Aya?"

Aya had a rifle tucked under one arm, another held in his gloved fist. The expression on his face was a mixture of bland and amusement. Ken could feel himself turning red. He had thought it was a real gun. He had almost convinced himself that someone was standing behind him, ready to pull the trigger at any moment, and paint the room with his insides. And all it had turned out to be was Aya, carrying in his hands two paintball guns.

"You said you wanted to play," the older man said simply. He held out the rifle in his left hand to him. Ken stared at him.

"But I'm working--"

"Don't worry about it!" Youji interrupted. He was grinning nearly from ear to ear. "Omi and I can handle things around here. It hasn't been busy."

"Yeah, go," Omi piped in. "Just be careful. Those paintball things hurt."

Ken stared alternately between the rifle and Aya. He hadn't thought for a moment that when he had asked Aya to take him the night before, in a sleep-starved induced stupor, that the older man would have taken him seriously. He wasn't even sure if he had meant what he said about wanting to go. Guns were not his specialty.

"You still want to go?" Aya asked. There was a hint of impatience in his voice.

Ken slowly took the gun from him. "I guess."

"Go easy on him, Aya," Youji called. "He's just a baby."

Ken flashed him a look of pure and utter loathing.

He wanted to ask how they would get to wherever it was people played paintball, but he doubted that Aya would even offer him a second glance. He followed along obediently and silently, asking no questions that would receive no answers.

Aya must have asked Youji to let him borrow his car, because it was to the garage that Aya was leading him. He almost wanted to suggest that they go on his motorcycle instead, but he had a feeling Aya wouldn't have liked that idea much. Having to sit on the back of the bike while balancing two rifles would not have only been a blow to his ego, but might get them some unwanted attention from the police. They would have looked like crazed gunmen riding his bike down the highway.

He sat down in the passenger side for the second time in the day, his arm resting along the top of the car. Aya opened up the garage door before joining him. He was tempted to ask if he could drive. It wasn't every day Youji let someone else touch his baby. Then again, it wasn't every day that Youji would pass up an opportunity to see Ken mortifyingly embarrassed.

He twisted the band-aid around the tip of his index finger. Aya rarely spoke when he was driving. Not that it was an often occurrence that he spoke at all, but when he was driving, he always seemed to be further and further away. Driving with him to missions or riding back with him from them, Ken had become used to the intense silence. But something was uncomfortable about it now. Maybe because it wasn't a mission they were going to. They were doing something normal, natural for people their age.

Or he thought it was normal, anyway. He had never played paintball before. For all he knew, all of the people that played could have been disgustingly calm maniacs like Aya was.

Ken did not look up throughout the drive, not until he felt the car come to a sudden, abrupt stop. He sat up them, using his hands to push himself up from his slumped down position. His eyes wandered over the area.

It reminded him of an arena. There was one single building standing to their left, a few other cars parked around them, but most of what it was, was a hollowed out dirt pit. Obstacles and obstructions dotted the field, from broken down cars that looked like they had seen far better days, to a row of tires blocking out one area from another, and towers built of old, cracking wood. It looked like a junkyard, Ken realized. Just a very well organized one.

Aya handed him his gun. "Here." He started to walk away, not bothering to wait for him. Ken stumbled out of the car and trotted to catch up with the older man.

"Hey, are you going to explain this to me or what?" he demanded. "Even if it is just paint, I don't want to go out there and just be target practice for you."

He was almost certain Aya smirked at that.

"Since you're just a beginner I'll make it easy for you." He walked out into the field, glancing around at his surroundings. "I already called ahead. We have the place to ourselves."

Ken was not sure whether or not he should be nervous. On the one hand, he did not have to worry about other people taking shots out of the dark at him. But at the same time, that meant Aya would have his attention focused only and completely on him.

"So just one on one?" he asked.

"One on one," Aya replied. Ken knew for a fact that he was smirking now. He almost wanted to punch him.

"One hit and it's over?"

"We'll play easy. Three hits, then it's over."

Ken made a face. "Don't go easy on me just because I'm a beginner."

Aya smiled in a way that made him feel inexplicably nervous. "I won't," he promised.

"Yeah, right." Ken muttered the words beneath his breath. Aya did not hear him or did not deem it necessary to respond to. He was already walking away from him, getting a better grasp of his surroundings. Ken followed a few paces behind him.

Aya stopped suddenly and turned to face him. "Ready?"

"Hell no."

"Too bad."

The muzzle of Aya's gun was aimed on him before he had the chance to react. He saw Aya beginning to pull back the trigger, and out of blind instinct, he instantly rolled out of the way, tucking his own gun in close to his body. A splatter of yellow paint struck the ground behind him. He felt a droplet fly up and strike his cheek.

"Don't waste any time, do you?" he hissed between clenched teeth. He jumped to his feet and ran for the nearest cover. Aya did not waste any more rounds on him, instead moving to his own shelter.

Resting the barrel of the gun against his shoulder and gripping it between both hands, back pressed against a disheveled piece of scrap metal, Ken spared a glance over his shoulder. He could not see Aya. He was there one moment and gone the next. But he knew better than to reveal himself too soon. Working with Aya for as long as he had, he had learned his stealth movements as though they were his own. He had a feeling it would be his only advantage on the field.

His eyes caught a flicker of movement, and blindly, he whirled and aimed. A ball of red paint from his rifle struck nothing but dirt. But he could see Aya moving slowly and carefully along, like a man without a care in the world. Suddenly he wanted to beat him even more than before. Anything to get rid of that smugness Aya had about him.

He crept from his hiding place. The gun fired before he saw it or its owner. A round of yellow paint struck him full in the chest, the impact nearly barreling him over. Omi was right. The paintball things did hurt.

"That's gonna bruise..." He murmured the words.

He moved again to hide behind the twisted piece of metal. Experience as an assassin should have told him it was stupid to move out when he had. If their mock fighting were real, he would have known better than to reveal himself so early in the game. But no one had ever said he was the brightest crayon in the box. He learned through trial and error. He was just lucky it had yet to get him killed.

He inclined his head slightly, listening to see if Aya would make a sound. Not that he would. Aya always moved silently, even when he did not mean to. Ken could remember more times than he liked to admit to in the flower shop that Aya had scared the crap out of him just by walking up to him from behind. He didn't know he was there until he spoke, and then the next thing he knew, he was jumping out of his skin and trying to restrain a pathetic yelp.

Without sound to warn him of where Aya was or whether or not he was approaching, he knew he was a sitting duck. And while sitting around had its perks, taking a chance to move was a better option. That way he could at least gain a better grasp of his surroundings, perhaps even see Aya and take a shot at him. Maybe he could get in a few hits of his own before Aya slaughtered him.

He moved slowly, holding the rifle close and with his finger posed on the trigger. His eyes scanned the area. There he was. He could see his shadow. Aya was knelt down on one knee behind the broken down car; he could tell by the outline of his shadow. Smiling slightly to himself, Ken began to creep along, intensely aware of his own movements. If he made even the slightest sound, Aya would be up and shooting him before he could even start to pull back his own trigger.

He walked around the back of the car. Aya could not see him; he was facing away from him, aiming for where he had been before. Ken glanced around the trunk of the car. It was a clean shot. Aya would have no idea where it had come from.

The red paint exploded against his back, staining the white jacket he wore crimson. Aya whirled around on him. Ken grinned.

"You should always watch your back."

Aya rolled his eyes. "One shot and you're suddenly a genius."

"I am a genius," Ken declared. "I'm not the one covered in paint, now am I?"

"Are you?" Aya raised an eyebrow, gaze falling deliberately to the yellow splotch of paint on his chest. Ken glared at him.

"Yeah, well, at least I didn't get shot in the back."

Aya raised his rifle. "We can change that."

Ken ducked. The shot sailed over his head. Leaping to his feet, he ran around the side of the car, but it was already too late. Aya fired again. He felt the paintball explode against his back.

"Ow, shit! Those things hurt that close up!"

"Idiot." Aya was without sympathy. Not that he had expected any.

"Shut up."

Ken lifted his rifle and fired blindly, another close range attack. He did not see where it struck, only Aya go down on one knee.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "It can't have hurt as much as you did me."

Aya did not respond. Frowning slightly, Ken backed away from the car separating them. "What did I hit?"

"My knee," Aya answered. "I blew it out when I was a kid." His voice was strained.

"Oh, crap."

Ken moved around the back of the car. Aya was knelt down, a hand to his knee. Red paint stained through his hand, as well as his jeans. It looked almost like blood, Ken thought somewhere in the back of his mind. It was too bright to be blood, but the way it struck and the way it dripped down his leg, it almost looked like a real gunshot wound.

"I didn't know you had a bad knee." He knelt down beside the older man.

"I don't have a bad knee," Aya said, his tone somewhat defensive. "I just got hurt. Sometimes it can start to act up again."

Ken ignored the defensive act. "I guess that close of impact hit it pretty bad."

"Yeah."

"Sorry." Ken didn't know why he was apologizing. It wasn't as though he could have known. "You should've mentioned it and I wouldn't have aimed there."

"You weren't aiming there to begin with," Aya said pointedly.

"Oh. Yeah. There is that." Ken laughed sheepishly.

Aya bowed his head. Ken opened his mouth to suggest that they take a break, but did not have the chance to speak. Aya interrupted him.

"Ken, do you know what the first rule of fighting is?"

He stared down at the bowed crimson head. "No. What's the first rule?"

It happened too quickly for him to have a chance to react. For one brief second, Aya was looking at him, eyes staring into his own, searching him for a sign of something -- anything. And then as quick as the moment it had come it was over. He felt a round strike him full in the chest, and not prepared for the abrupt attack, he fell flat on his back, his breathing coming low and shallow. Aya loomed above him.

"Know your enemy," he said. He was smiling.

Ken stared up at him.

"You... you asshole! You tricked me!"

"Yes."

"You cheated!"

"There aren't any rules in this game."

Ken struggled to sit up and glare at Aya at the same time. "You're still an asshole."

A hand extended to him. He glared at it for a moment. Maybe if he stared hard enough, his hand would catch on fire and melt away. That would have been divine retribution.

Sighing, he accepted the outstretched hand. No such luck.

"What made you so sure I'd fall for it?"

"Because I know you," Aya said simply. "You're a bleeding heart."

"I--I am not."

"Yes, you are."

Ken bit his tongue to keep from bursting out, 'Am not!' He did not think Aya would have much respect for him if he engaged in such a juvenile argument.

"You said you would let me win," he said instead.

"Next time."

Ken felt his mouth curve into a smile. Next time, huh. So there would be a next time. He would beat him then. Aya would not win again. Not if he could do anything to stop him.

"Next time, then. I'll beat you next time."

Aya smiled. "Next time."