Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Watch Me As I Fade Away ❯ 'My' Yohji? ( Chapter 5 )

"If it was anyone but me you were showing this stuff to, I'd believe you in a second."

Yohji is currently sifting through the contents of my wallet. He keeps gravitating back to my credit and library cards in awe.

"I mean, if this is a prank, it's really first class." He says, running his finger over the embossed numbers on my bank card. "Plastic is so rare, this would have cost a…."

I interrupt him. "Why would it be a prank?"

"Well, if it is one, you already know…" The look of awe drops off his face, quickly replaced with a much more depressed expression, "but if anyone was going to pull something this elaborate, I'd be the first target."

"Besides," he adds, "you did know my name, which was kinda suspicious…."

"I already explained that!" I can't help interrupting him again, "There's another version of you where I'm from! We're good friends, and we even live together, and-"

"I know, I know, you told me that." Yohji says, dismissing my outburst with a wave, "But I can't help it. I'm just not used to people talking to me if they don't have to…" he breaks eye contact and looks off at the wall behind me, "…or if they're not saying something mean to me…." Yohji trails off, putting down the bank card and sadly leaning against his right arm which was propped against the table.

"But why?" I ask. This is just too weird. A socially shunned Yohji?! No way. "The Yohji I know is so popular….Why don't people like you here?!"

"Me, popular?" Yohji asks with a bitter laugh. "Now I know you're just messing with me."

Any irritation I have ever felt for my Yohji (and there has been quite a bit) melts away with the hurt I see reflected in this Yohji's eyes.

"I swear, I'm not." I say solemnly, crawling around to Yohji's side of the table. "Yohji's my friend. Even if you're not the same Yohji, you're my friend too, okay?"

"If you say so." Yohji replies half-heartedly.

"No, look," I say, and hug him. "I wouldn't be willing to do that if I was just out to hurt you, would I?"

"It depended on how badly you wanted to hurt me." Yohji answers. He crosses his arms over his chest protectively. "For all I know, you just want to build up my trust so that I'll feel even shittier when you turn around and laugh at me. Sorry to be so cynical, but no one has ever wanted anything to do with me. It's just the way things are."

"I swear, I'm telling the truth. I was betrayed by my own best friend-there's nothing I hate worse than people who lie."

Yohji just looks at me skeptically and waits for me to continue.

"Remember when I first saw you? I thought you were about to kill yourself! I was scared as hell! Scared because I thought you were about to die!" I say, pointing at him, "I couldn't have faked how scared I was!"

"That is true..." Yohji looks thoughtful, "you were definitely freaked out when I first saw you…."

"I swear I…."

"Okay, okay, no need to keep repeating yourself. Look, I want to believe you. I think I will believe you. I'll give you a warning first, though. If, after I decide to trust you, I find out you're lying, I will kill you. So if this is some sick joke, you better tell me now, and I'll let you leave."

I shake my head. "It's not."

"Look me in the eyes and promise."

I have looked Yohji in the eyes many times before, but I've never seen him look at me this intensely before. I feel like he's trying to look clear through me…as if, he could read my mind by simply staring hard enough. I can tell he's serious about killing me too. Gulp.

"Cross my heart."

Neither of us wants to break the eye contact first, so an awkward silent staring match follows. I want him to know that I meant it.

"Now please, Yohji. I want to know why you think people would want to hurt you. I genuinely don't understand."

He sighs, and tugs at one of the strands of hair in front of his ear. A look of utter revulsion briefly crosses his face when he looks at it.

"Because," he says, tucking the strand behind his ear, "I shouldn't exist."

"Huh?"

"Listen, it's a long story. Why don't I go get some tea first, okay?"

"Um, sure." I don't really know how I should answer that. What does he mean he shouldn't exist?

Yohji pulls his futon from the closet and lays it out in the corner. There's so little room now that he has to step on it in order to get past the table.

"I'll just be a few minutes. Go ahead and get comfortable, but don't leave my room, all right?"

"Okay." I answer obediently, and sit down on the futon. Weird, I never thought about it, but it's been several years since I last used a futon. It feels strange being so close to the floor.

I take advantage of Yohji's absence to change into the clothes he gave me. They'll take some getting used to. There's so much fabric….500 yen says I'll trip within ten minutes of trying to walk in these things.

I start analyzing my surroundings to pass the time. So this is Yohji's room, huh? It's so different from his personality. I mean, the personality I'm used to….
Man, my Yohji would totally flip out if he saw this….
My Yohji?
Er…even in my mind that sounded wrong.
But for all I know, I've lost my mind. So I'm not gonna worry about it.
Righto.

Hey this futon is actually pretty comfy.

It's been a stressful afternoon. It wouldn't hurt if I just closed my eyes for a minute….

* * *

I wake up to two green eyes five inches from my face.

"Shit Yohji! What are you doing in my room?! You almost gave me a heart attack, I-"

Oh crap. I just remembered where I am.

Hey maybe it was a dream! I sit up, and look around….

Yohji's still wearing a hakama, and I'm still on a futon. Not a dream. Double crap.

Yohji looks amused.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you."

"Why? So you could scrutinize my face?!"

"You were talking in your sleep." Yohji answers, grinning, "I was trying to hear what you were saying."

I talk in my sleep? Triple crap. "Uh, what did I say?"

"Quit hogging the remote, Yohji, I want to check the soccer score!"

Er, that does sound like something I'd say.

"I guess I have to believe you now, you'd be a damn good actor to keep it up even in your sleep!" Yohji looks relieved. "So…what's a soccer?"

"Something you hate." I don't feel like elaborating. It's my turn to get questions answered.

Yohji frowns. "I hate something important to you?"

"Well, yeah." I answer, "Don't worry, I hate plenty of your stuff too."

His frown deepens. "I thought you said we were good friends?"

"We are! But, that doesn't mean we're exactly the same!"

"Oh." Yohji's obviously confused. "I'm afraid I don't know much about having friends."

Ouch. I almost feel bad about pressing my question. But I've got to find out what's the deal with this place.

"Why?! I just can't imagine people not liking you Yohji! What did you mean when you said you shouldn't exist?!"

He gives me a sad smile. "It sounds like….in your world….everywhere is the same?"

"Not exactly. What do you mean?"

"I mean," he clarifies, "that Japan is like other counties? That, for example, a Chinese person would know the same things as a Japanese person, or even a European person?"

"More or less."

"Well, here Japan is separate. The government wants to keep our culture pure. Except for two merchant ships a year-one from China, and the other from Holland-there's no interaction with the rest of the world at all."

"Oh."

"They say, that technology is evil. That other countries just want to weaken us, and adopting their ways would insult our ancestors."

"You mean like how it was before Emperor Meiji Westernized?" I ask.

"Emporer Meiji?" Yohji echoes. "There has never been an Emperor named Meiji. What are you talking about?"

Oooh. Now I get it. No Meji restoration! Japan never modernized. The world as I knew it has never existed. Oh fuck.

"It's a load of shit though." Yohji continues, "Technology comes through on those two ships. The government knows what we're missing. They let some of it through. But only the richest, most important people have access. It helps the upper class stay in power. Most people….don't even know what the rest of the world is like."

"So, I take it you're upper class?"

"If I wasn't, I'd have been killed at birth." Yohji replies.

"How come?"

"How many Japanese people have you seen with blond hair?!" Yohji asks, almost exasperatedly. "I'm not 'pure Japanese'! I'm a freak!"

"You're a natural blond?" I ask. I guess that must sound fairly stupid….

"Why wouldn't I be?!"

"I just always assumed you dyed your hair to look sexier."

"SEXIER?!!" It looks like Yohji's eyes are about to pop right out of his head. "This doesn't make me look sexier," he tugs on his hair and points at it, "it's a big sign telling people to stay away from me! Do you know what I would give to look normal?!!!"

"Well, no. The Yohji in my world prides himself on being better then everyone. He would hate to be considered 'normal'."

"He seems strange! I wish….I wish I was that Yohji. He sounds so much happier than me."

"He's not." I answer seriously. "He acts happy, but he's actually a very sad person. Something very bad happened to him once. He won't talk about it, but you can see it in his eyes."

"Oh." Says Yohji, looking down at his lap. "I should have guessed. If it's not one thing, it's another. I really can't picture a happy version of myself, anyway."

"Don't say that." I answer. In an attempt to be comforting (not my strongest forte) I place my hands over his. "I'd bet you're actually better off than the Yohji I know. Our world isn't very nice either."

"How would you know?!" He asks, defensively. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be an outcast?!"

"Yes I do." I look him straight in the eye. "My friend's betrayal left me publicly disgraced. I'm dead to the world. I've only got three friends…"

"Three friends! I would kill to have just one! You really can't know-"

"You do have one." I interrupt. "Now, please. You still haven't finished explaining everything to me. I want to know how you ended up with blond hair."

"Okay." He sighs, "It's not that interesting, but, my grandfather was an ambassador who came on the yearly ship from Holland. He was stupid enough to bring his daughter along with him, and…."

"And?"

"He was assassinated by a fanatical separatist. His daughter was stranded alone, and if my father hadn't taken her in, she would have been killed shortly after."

Woah. Sounds like a movie plot!

"The original plan was for her to be sent home on the next ship that came, but she was very beautiful, and my disgusting father couldn't keep his grimy hands off her. He had saved her, so who was she to say no to him? You are looking at the unfortunate result of that outcome."

"The family was utterly humiliated. My mother and I weren't allowed to leave the house at all. It wasn't safe. And to make things even worse, my stupid dad was already married. His wife was really bitter about the affair, so I suspect that she's the one who eventually tipped off the authorities."

"Tipped off the authorities?"

"Yeah," Yohji replies, "When I was five years old, my mom was exposed. Foreigners are forbidden, and she was legally executed. I was supposed to be killed too, but since dad's so important, they let me live. If he had been anyone else I'd be dead right now."

"That's horrible." I whisper.

"Oh it gets even better." He answers bitterly. "He let me live, but he hates me because I remind him of her."

I try my best too look sympathetic. Man, I suck at the empathy thing. Omi's the one who should be here, especially since he's such good friends with Yohji (in the normal world). Yeah, Omi would have him smiling in five seconds flat….

"Thanks to ol' dad I'm above the law. But I have nothing. I didn't even get the family name…."

"You're not named Kudoh?"

"I am named Kudoh. But search me where they came up with that name. I suspect they probably picked it out of a hat. It wouldn't do for the distinguished family line to be tarnished with street trash like me."

"Uh, what should your name have been?" This is so strange, I wonder if the Yohji in my world has the right name then?!

"Oh, Takatori." Yohji casually stifles a yawn. "Hey, you want some of this tea I got? I'm afraid it's gotten cold by now…."

TAKATORI?! Ooooh, shit.