Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Who wants to live forever? ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz belong to Project Weiß and Koyasu Takehito. I'm using them without permission.

*^*^* Who wants to live forever? *^*^*

Ken thrust with the full weight of his body into the other man. He withdrew, dark blood shining on his bugnuks in the starlight. His victim stared back at him, eyes glowing black with anger that Ken would swear he'd never seen in him before. The man fell to his knees, then crumpled into the ground.

Ken shifted in his bed, blue and white-striped cotton pyjamas rubbing gently against his skin. Slowly he opened his eyes, straining into the darkness, confused at his surroundings. Hadn't he, just a few moments ago, been somewhere else? He tried to recall his dream, having that vague feeling in the back of his head that even if he didn't fully remember, he was sure it had been good.

The moonlight shifted and fell on his face for the first time since he'd woken. How strange... He hadn't noticed that his room was darker than it should have been. He groggily turned to the window, only to see a dark shape melt backwards into the purple velvet sky.

"Kase...?" he asked it aloud, blinking rapidly to dispel the sleep.

With a jolt, he remembered his dream. "Kase!" he shouted, throwing his bedclothes off, then recoiling at the coldness. He decided on a compromise, wrapping the quilt quickly around himself and heading to the window.

There was nothing there. For a second, Ken tried to remember what exactly had made him think that his former friend was not only alive but also waiting for him at his window. Dreams could make anything seem real...

He sank to the floor, pulled the quilt over his head like a hood and crossed his arms to hug his shoulders. He stayed there for some time, having no energy to stand up and return to bed. He somehow felt it would be wrong, even disrespectful, to go back to sleep now. Shouldn't he be in tears? God forbid he'd be used to this!

Some time later he stood up purposefully, then scowled when he realised he'd no idea what that purpose was. He was going somewhere, he knew that much. To prove this to himself, he put on his plain blue slippers and went out into the corridor.

He paused outside Omi's room, and strained his ears to see if he could hear tapping on a computer keyboard. After all, it was possible that Weiß's hacking genius hadn't gone to sleep yet. He couldn't hear anything, so he put his ear right up against the door. Still nothing. Well, that probably meant he was using the mouse, right? And so he was probably still awake, right?

He knocked once, then strode in with his newfound purpose, only to find that Omi was not at his computer. In fact, the Omi-shaped bump in the bed would suggest he'd gone to sleep.

Ken gently eased himself back out of the door, stepping only with the balls of his feet, and congratulated himself on his agility.

"Papa...?" came a small voice from underneath the bedclothes.

He hadn't made a sound! He was certain of it!

"Omi, um, sorry. Are you awake?" he asked.

"No," Omi replied in soft breathy murmur that made Ken blush. "Sorry." There was a distinctive 'thump' as his head hit the pillow.

Ken tiptoed out, shutting the door behind him as softly as was humanly possible. What now? Talking to Aya and Youji was not an option. Aya wasn't someone you went to have a friendly chat with, and the time of night only cemented that fact. Youji might well be up right now, but he was unlikely to be alone. So. Just Ken himself then.

He padded into the kitchen and hit the light switch, then screwed up his eyes at the sudden brightness. It felt too early to eat, but a hot drink would do nicely right about now. He looked along one of the shelves and spied a packet of Aya's Congou Rose tea. Aya might notice some of his tea gone, but he probably wouldn't mind. Or wouldn't comment, at least.

He switched on the kettle and grabbed his mug that he'd left out on the kitchen table maybe two days ago. Running it under the hot tap, Ken stared out of the window and wondered if this was a good enough response to Kase's death. He swallowed hard to avoid that sickly feeling in his stomach that told him no reaction would ever be perfect.

In the distance he heard the rumble of the taxis that were still around in the early hours, for those that had missed their last trains home. The sounds of others rushing about their lives, drinking too much, talking to the wrong kinds of people, having fun... Life continued without him. His name meant nothing anymore, except as an obscure answer in TV sports quizzes. And yes, it was the fault of the very man whom he mourned. He continued to watch the taxis go by until he heard the 'click' of the kettle that told him it had boiled.

Something behind him echoed that click. He shivered and turned around slowly so he wouldn't attract attention. Once again, he saw nothing, and yet... This time he had expected he would, had been hoping Omi would... But no. Mere darkness.

"Omi...? Is that you?" he called out softly. It had better not be Youji, who would laugh about it for weeks.

He scanned the area, much like he would during a mission, expecting something to move. Something would give away its position and he would attack it with lethal force.

Like what, Ken? The dirty dishes? Would the kitchen sink leap to defend itself?

"Sorry..." he whispered. His excuse and his apology.

He turned back to kettle, with a quick glance at the world beyond the window-pane.

In that brief moment, he saw it. A familiar face behind the glass, staring back at him, assessing him.

Ken's hands shot out in front of him, curling into fists as he tried to activate the bugnuks that he wasn't wearing. It was habit, a learned reaction, and not resembling his true thoughts at all. His eyes flicked from his hands held ridiculously in the air before him and that face. That face...

Ken didn't take his eyes off him, didn't even blink. His heart tried to fight its way out of his body through his throat, as he backed away slowly, feeling his way around the kitchen units until he reached the back door. He fumbled with the lock several times before it opened, and felt a burning weight pressed to his chest at the thought of taking his eyes off the other man as he went outside. Would he just disappear as he'd done earlier, outside Ken's bedroom? Would Kase Kouichirou vanish if he took his eyes off him, even if it was just a second?

But there he was. Just the same as the day Ken killed him.

Ken's eyes tingled and he blinked rapidly to dispel the sensation. In that brief moment Kase closed in on him, pressing against his body, so that not even a tiny shard of light could pass between them. His head was tugged back by his silky brown fringe, and Ken stared back into the taller man's eyes, transfixed. He was suddenly very aware of his own breathing. He held the other man's gaze, trying to comprehend that look in Kase's eyes. Was it... Was it hatred?

He would have looked away, if it were possible. But Kase had a firm hold on him, so tight that it hurt.

"Idiot," Kase hissed between clenched teeth. He released his grip, letting Ken's head fall forwards again in a dismissive 'snap', leaving the boy to stare at the ground.

"How...?" Ken murmured. In response, he heard a sound like an umbrella opening, and felt himself gently rising off the ground. A rhythmic beat surrounded them; he instinctively clutched at the other man's jacket, at first terrified, then curious, and finally just glad he had an excuse to hold Kase so tightly. He rubbed against the soft velvet, tasting the late nights and missing days.

They were now parallel to the roof of the 'Koneko no Sumu Ie'. He reached out to grab the iron railing, then swung his legs over the railing to land with an exaggerated bounce. He started to hurry back to the stairs that led back to his room, but Kase pulled him back to the edge. They stood in silence, looking out at night-time Tokyo. Neon green and electric pink signs winked at him and invited him to take part in any and every activity taking place right now. The winds assaulted Ken's face, carrying all the conflicting scents of the city. The whispering breeze swept his hair back and penetrated the seams of his pyjamas. He shivered, and remembered why he had been so eager to run back indoors, that his clothes weren't much use for keeping someone warm on a night like this. Was that a good enough reason to creep closer to Kase? He hoped so.

"Come with me, and tomorrow you won't feel that."

It was a simple statement, yet it confused Ken. Here was his former lover, a man who didn't die, who had wings, who didn't feel the cold like he did. What had transformed him? He rested his elbows against the railing, and lay his head on his hands, still shaking slightly. "What do you mean?"

Kase laughed softly and rested his hand possessively on Ken's shoulder. "Become like me. Live forever. It's simple."

Ken brushed his hand away. "Aren't you sorry for what happened?"

"Should I be? It's your fault, Ken. You behaved like a naive idiot, and paid for it."

"No," Ken shook his head, and gripped the railings tightly. "No. I should've been able to trust you."

"Life is for the risk-takers, and I abandoned you because, well," Kase laughed, "that hardly describes you, now does it? No, I realise I should instead turn you into someone who deserves this life."

"Liar." It was the worst accusation that Ken could possibly think to level at someone he once loved. The dizzy realisation that his ex was alive was sinking away, replaced with the truth of their relationship. Kase was alive, and that was enough for him. Whatever that man got up to now was his own affair until Persia gave them a new mission.

Ken ducked his head so he no longer had to look at that slimy arrogant smile, and walked away. Calmly. All anger shut firmly inside him, with not a trace of it showing.

"Everyone wants to live forever. Even you." Ken felt waves of annoyance at Kase's attempt to ruin his calm, dignified exit. "Pele. Ronaldo. I'd probably be able to think of more, but I don't keep up with the sport like I used to." He laughed loudly enough that Ken would be able to hear it clearly. "*Their* names will be remembered."

Ken kept walking, mouth tugged into a sadder frown than usual.

"I destroyed your dreams so that you would find another way. And because of that, look what I can offer you!"

Ken spun around and charged. The wind rushed past him as he raced towards the other man, his feet pounded against the rooftop. He swung his fist forward towards to connect with Kase's jaw, trusting in the speed and momentum of his fist.

"Owwww!" Ken recoiled, cradling his blood-smothered fist. He screwed his eyes together tightly, and it was several seconds before he was able to fully open them, and more before he could see anything but white. He felt a roaring in his ears as the blood rushed to his head. He fell forwards.

Kase caught him and held him tightly in his arms. Ken lay there motionless, ashamed for wanting to stay. He felt the other man's cool hands against him, colder even than the night air that breathed through every part of him. He relaxed and moved into every caress, and when Kase's hands eventually slipped between the widely-spaced buttons of Ken's pyjamas, he allowed it.

Ken felt a warm line of pain across his chest, felt Kase leaving three more wounds that created a lattice pattern etched around his nipple, branding Ken for life. He felt the other man run a claw across the top gash, then bring his hand up, forcing his forefinger beyond Ken's night-chilled lips. Ken accepted and sucked, not because he liked that bitter taste, but because Kase desired it.

Without warning, he felt his lover's cold body vanish and he was left standing with his mouth open, lapping only at cool air. Then, he felt Kase's hands back on him as he was roughly turned around so he could look Kase in the eye. His eyes widened when he saw his friend's face sprayed with blood, then realised were no cuts or bruises. All that blood belonged to Ken. He looked down at his fist, broken skin and blood smashed together.

"It will heal," Kase informed him.

"But I..."

Kase lunged forward and caught Ken's exposed nipple between his teeth, drawing out a long, erratic whimper. His tongue darted over, around, and under the nub, giving special attention to the bloodied wounds.

Ken reached up and pulled Kase towards him, pressing against him, letting him drink all he needed. His whimpers turned to explosive gasps that became clouds of steam in contact with the arctic atmosphere.

Kase tugged against his embrace and moved his attentions upwards, until his tongue caressed the base of Ken's neck. Ken shuddered at Kase's icy breath.

"Say 'yes'," Kase told him.

"To what?" breathed Ken.

"A new life with me, being like me. Say 'yes'."

A life with Kase was one thing, and one that Ken might have considered. But living like him? Abandoning friends, loved ones?

"No," Ken said clearly, surprising himself as his show of defiance echoed around the rooftops.

Abruptly, the sensation of his lover against him was gone, and Ken was left alone on the rooftop, hugging only himself to keep warm.

***

Ken was just about to go back to his room; his fingers rested on the door handle. He stood there, frozen, tapping a childhood rhyme against the metal.

What now?

Explanations, of course. That's what he wanted. A nice, scientific explanation to tell him... well, what?

So Kase was alive? Big deal! He'd `died' once himself. So Kase could fly? He'd seen a scientist transform into a many-tentacled monster.

The best response, he decided, was the one he had chosen earlier, when the only complication was his own regret over losing Kase. A hot drink, hopefully followed by the other occupants of the flat waking up and coming down to breakfast. It wouldn't be long now, after all. He was surprised to find that he was looking forward to seeing Youji, who'd tease him terribly for actually being awake. Well, good. He needed that right now.

He headed back to the kitchen, remembering that his tea would be getting cold. Or would it? How long had he been gone? Maybe he should start wearing a watch.

He walked in and heard the knock of ceramics as Omi brought two cups of fresh tea over to the table.

"Sorry," the younger boy half-sighed, half-yawned, as he flopped onto one of the wooden chairs. "I wasn't really awake earlier."

"It's okay," Ken reassured him. "I kinda guessed."

"Once I woke up, I came down here, and I made myself some tea too!" Omi said, rubbing his eyes clumsily. "Don't worry, I emptied the kettle. You should always use fresh water to make tea, or else it won't taste as nice. Did you know that?"

This was news to Ken, but he nodded anyway. "Really?"

Omi nodded back, then there was silence.

"I was having trouble sleeping," confessed Ken. "I thought you'd be up."

"Yeah?" Omi leaned forward. "Oh!" he said suddenly, standing up sharply, his eyes wide, and raced out the room.

"Omi?" Ken called after him. "Where're you going?" He remained there, confused. Had he done something wrong? Said something stupid? Even if he had, Omi wasn't the type to hold it against him, was he? He'd apologise and hope the boy wasn't going to hate him forever. He'd already turned his back on Kase, and for Omi to do the same to him would be unbearable.

He rested his head on the hard wooden surface of the table and sheltered it with his hands. He hated the night. It meant either a mission or dealing with the after-effects of a mission. And now, he realised, it made normal things seem strange. It magnified every fear, while good judgement was lost to the miasma of night.

He jumped at the sound of a box being dumped on the tabletop, and felt small, but strong hands turning him around roughly. No, not roughly, just quickly. Omi was in a hurry.

Ken felt him undoing the remaining buttons on his pyjamas, and he struggled to preserve his modesty. "Omi!" he said, reassuring himself he hadn't squealed, but merely protested.

"You're *bleeding*!" Omi insisted. He peeled away the material, and stared curiously at the perfectly inscribed wound.

Ken opened his mouth to deliver the explanation, then closed it again. There was nothing he could possibly say.

"Who did that?" asked Omi, as he opened the medical kit. He smiled, but didn't meet Ken's eyes.

"Kase," said Ken softly, allowing Omi to interpret as he pleased. He might assume all kinds of things about the relationship, but he'd trust in it being an old wound.

Trust...?

"Kase's alive," he mumbled.

"What!?" spluttered Omi. "Are you sure?"

He knew it was only right and fair that they be told. He'd done that, and now he expected Omi to tell him what should be done about it. "I saw him. He talked to me, and you're not gonna believe this..." He trailed off, sensing that Omi probably wouldn't believe it.

Omi nodded as he reached into the box, asking nothing more of him. He chose a bottle of antiseptic and a clump of cotton wool. Gradually he cleaned Ken's wounds, working from the inside out. Ken stared at the floor, the hospital-like smell of the ointment bringing back memories of the first time they had done this. Omi was the youngest, yet the expert at patching people up, so he had seen to Ken. Youji had taken his mind off the pain by talking him through it, and when all else had failed, pulled silly faces. Aya had joined Weiß later and so wasn't there when Ken got shot the first time, but he learned how to help on later missions. Now he would silently take care of Ken afterwards, wordlessly bringing him mugs of coffee and treats that he hadn't even asked for.

What kind of person could leave them behind? What kind of person would not be honest with them?

"I was happy to see him," he said softly, hoping that Omi wouldn't hear.

Again, Omi merely nodded, looking only at the four criss-crossed scars, as he applied the bandage. With delicate fingers, he smoothed down the medical tape that held the covering.

Ken touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, say something," he urged gently.

"Like what?" Omi bit his lip, shaking slightly. "It doesn't matter what I think."

"Did one of the others tell you --"

"Youji told me!" Omi snapped back. "Not that he needed to."

Ken brought his hand back sharply, away from the boy. "Sorry," he said, although he wasn't sure why.

Omi stood up and put everything he'd used back in the medical kit, slamming it shut. "What he did was unforgivable, and..." He blushed. "I-I can't explain."

Ken's smile felt awkward, and he tried different positions with his mouth so that it would seem more natural.

"I thought that you were..." Omi began, but trailed off. He glanced up, and saw Ken staring up him, eyes full of understanding, teeth bared. He flinched, and faced the floor once more. "I thought you were nice, and I thought we had stuff in common, I never imagined--"

"You never imagined me having sex with him," said Ken, thinking to helpfully supply Omi with one of the key words he was looking for.

"No!" Omi protested. "I can imagine that quite clearly!"

If Omi was a little flushed before, he was crimson now. Ken brought his chair closer. After all, he'd been there too; he'd said things so out-of-place, so stupid, that he'd blushed as much as Omi did right now. He sympathised.

"I can't imagine that you'd enjoy him hurting you!" Omi took a deep breath, and burst into tears.

Ken could only see one response to this. He grabbed Omi and pulled him towards himself, hugging him tightly. "It's okay," he soothed. "It wasn't like that. Not really."

"But I've ruined it!" sobbed Omi, small body shaking. "I've said all the wrong things!"

"I don't care. You're still my friend." He swallowed the last word, realisation suddenly sweeping across him in waves. But surely not?

Ken rested his hand against Omi's back as the boy squirmed needily against his unwounded right side, cheek resting against cheek. Omi's hair smelled of flowers; Ken was unsure of which particular ones they were. He might work in a flower shop, but he knew next to nothing about what he sold. It didn't matter. He closed his eyes, comforted by the warmth of his team-mate. Did Omi have any idea what he was doing to Ken? He decided that just because Youji often made declarations on the innocence of their youngest member, didn't necessarily make them true. Perhaps Omi was doing this deliberately? He hoped so.

And if he was wrong? If Omi just needed to be comforted, if he was straight, then Ken would have screwed up beyond anything describable. He patted Omi on the head and smiled. "We're best friends!"

It was in the look in the young boy's eyes, in his strained smile, and it told Ken the opposite was also true. If Omi needed more, then now Ken might as well have destroyed the universe. Or worse. He bit his lip and tasted blood.

"I saw him fly. He said he was immortal." Ken knew he was talking too fast, wasn't saying anything that sense. *We're best friends!* he could almost hear his voice squeak in repetition. He saw his hand reach out and pat the boy once, twice on the head. Now his imagination added an extra detail; Omi's mouth twisting into sadness before he turned away.

Omi pulled away. "It's possible," he sighed. "We've already seen that scientists can change their bodies on a cellular level, so theoretically it's not impossible to ensure the cells keep regenerating too. I suppose."

"I see," said Ken, not understanding anything Omi had said. He'd just focussed on the way each word had been drawn out, as if merely holding a conversation was too much effort for their most experienced member. "He said he could make me immortal...?"

Omi sighed more visibly, and sat himself down at the other end of the kitchen table. "I don't have all the answers, Ken. Why does everyone expect that? I don't know anything!"

They lapsed into silence once more. Ken gazed at his mug, watching the steam rise off it, occasionally glancing across at Omi. He wanted to feel that warm body against himself again, but he had destroyed any chance of that. He started to wonder whether it would be ruder to look in his direction and appear to be staring, or to ignore him. He hoped that Omi would say just the right thing, and then he could casually hint that if Omi was interested, he might be as well.

He started to wish Omi would say anything.

"If I could, I'd want to be immortal," Omi said eventually.

"Huh?" said Ken's mouth before his brain had any say in the matter.

"You're not supposed to want that, are you?"

"You'd get bored, right?"

"So they say. But think about technology over the last century!" Omi smiled his first genuine smile that Ken had seen. "I mean, we have television and the internet now!"

"So?" asked Ken, utterly baffled.

"They stop you from being lonely," Omi explained.

Ken frowned. "Do you get lonely?"

"No." Omi insisted after a short pause. "I meant people in general. You'd finally be free to do everything you'd always wanted."

"You feel trapped now," Ken said slowly, realising that he'd finally found an expression for something he'd often felt, but never fully noticed.

Omi's face became pale, his lips pursed together tightly. He closed his eyes.

Ken leapt from his seat to be beside Omi. "Hey, look! I'm gonna make sure we both get immortality." He patted the boy gently on his shoulder.

That feeling of being restrained, of being bored with the life you were living. Ennui, or whatever else you wanted to call it. It had been with him so long and he'd never even realised it creeping up on him. He wanted to throw his mug across the room, wanted to pound his fist into the table and watch it split in two. He couldn't. Wouldn't. The people who created this situation would be only too happy to let him work it out in another pointless, yet terribly worthwhile mission. That was control. That was what he hated.

He suddenly noticed that Omi had said something and was waiting for an answer.

"Because we're friends, right?" Omi repeated.

He looked down to where Omi was sitting in his chair and looking up at him as tears formed in his eyes again. How long had he waited just to hear Ken's response as to whether they were even friends?

"We are, right?"

Ken crouched so that he was at the same level as Omi, and hugged him. "Please don't cry anymore. Please," he found himself murmuring as he pressed Omi's head to his chest, hand resting on his back. The sound of choked-back tears stopped almost instantaneously, but neither moved. Ken held him as gently as he could, but his hands kept twitching. They wanted to punch and smash whatever unnameable entity had put Omi and himself in this situation. Instead, he rubbed Omi's back and, with the bravado of a man who was going to commit emotional suicide, ran his fingers through the other boy's hair.

"Ken...?"

"No?" he guessed, his voice close to cracking.

Omi's answer was to dive at him, exuberantly hugging him back, breathless with happiness. Ken softly kissed the base of his neck, too angry to kiss him on the lips and look him in the eye.

"I'll talk to him," he said, clenching his fists..

"Are you sure? Everything's okay now," Omi ducked his head, his soft hair falling down in front of his face.

"I'll make everything even better," Ken growled, barely noticing the way the boy recoiled slightly.

He dashed out of the kitchen door, pyjama top wide open and showing the large white bandage on his chest.

"Be careful!" shouted Omi behind him. "Please!"

***

Outside, shreds of morning amethyst were smeared against a pale slate-grey sky. He could hear the rush of the dawn traffic and the calls of seagulls. He blinked back the sleep and thought how different things seemed when the night was left behind.

"Tsk tsk tsk. You really haven't thought this through, have you?" The voice from above echoed his thoughts exactly. Ken looked up to see Kase bearing down upon him, his dark form outlined elegantly against the dawn. His bat-like wings were outstretched, and it seemed to Ken that they ached to surround him completely. Almost frozen in time, those wings beat in slow-motion as Kase controlled his descent.

Ken stared, captivated by the beauty of the man that gracefully landed just ahead of him, who smiled with fanged teeth.

"I knew you'd return," Kase asked, drawing Ken closer to him.

Ken swallowed hard and tried to ignore the pressure against his wound. "I'll come with you, but only on one condition."

"You're in no position to demand anything."

Ken stared at the ground, lost for words.

"Just you." Kase stroked Ken's cheek "You alone. I need no other puppets."

"You were listening in on us," murmured Ken.

For the first time, Kase smiled. "No. That's just what everyone asks for."

Omi had convinced him that immortality would solve everything, that his life would be improved. He'd move as far away from his previous life as he possibly could, and he'd really leave it all behind. But not without his best friend. A shudder ran through him upon hearing that phrase again. No. They were more than that.

"If I can't bring Omi along with me, then my answer is no." Finally, he'd put it into words. That was a sentence he could believe in.

Kase rubbed his temple in mock-resignation. "And I did so want you to think you had made the decision for yourself." He leapt forward, claws the colour of flint extending with a 'snap'.

Instinct made Ken throw himself away from Kase, but he wasn't fast enough. Caught by his hair, he felt himself being lifted up. There was a rushing sound in his ears, and he blinked back the dark liquid that trickled into his left eye. The dizzying sensation, as if he was falling downside-up, ended when his skull met the hard rooftop with a crack.

When he opened his eyes, Kase was on top of him. He tried to pushed the other man away weakly, as he struggled against the light-headed feeling to remember why he need to do this. Cold pain at the base of his neck complicated his thoughts.

Carried on the wind, someone called out for him with many voices. Church bells echoed inside his head.

"Omi?"

The sound of that name angered the man on top of him, who pressed his icicle-like tongue into Ken's wound. Yes, that's what it was; he recognised well the sensation of profuse bleeding. Ken craned his neck in the direction that Kase was now looking.

There was sound like the ripping of wet fabric, and Ken felt glacial droplets on his face which numbed his skin where they fell. Kase's torn wrist dripped treacle-blood, which he offered.

The church bells tolled again, became clearer and more tuneless, until they started to resemble footsteps on a metal staircase. "Ken!" he heard the name screamed from outside himself.

"Drink." Kase's lips moved, his wrist was held in front of Ken's lips. The scent was overpoweringly sweet, like syrup. It looked luscious, despite the manner in which it cold-burned him. Ken brought his head forward, for just the briefest taste, when the weight upon him lifted, and the hand was removed.

"I knew we couldn't trust you!" The voice sounded above his head like a shrill instrument.

Ken levered himself up, to see the two figures fighting on the edge of the roof. Outlined against a variegated sky, the dust thrown up by them caught the light like fireflies. The smaller silhouette was struck by an lucky hit to his jaw, and fell backwards. His darker opponent pounced.

"OMI!" Ken screamed that name without pause for breath. The teenager drew his knees up to his chest, and rested his forehead. He half-gasped, half-choked his way to breathlessness before pulling himself up. He tried to limp over to the couple but fell forward, cracking his kneecap loudly on the harsh surface.

Ahead of him all he could see was a bundle on the floor. Kase made up the bulk of it, dwarfing the small boy underneath him. He quivered slightly, and Siberian raised his fists, ready to fight, ready to avenge the boy who should have become his lover.

Instead, Omi rolled Kase off his slight frame, and stared at Ken, wide eyes blazing hollow blue in the gloaming. He seemed as if he now lived something other than this ephemeral life.

"I believed in death," he said simply, retrieving a silver dart from the body beside him. "Ever since I was a child, I've known it was inevitable. But now..." He licked his lips, tasting the blood that was drying there. His teeth were stained crimson, and he was bleeding from lacerations in his neck.

"Are you okay?" asked Ken softly, not quite believing what he saw.

"Time will tell. Lots of time." Omi walked over to where Ken lay, and offered a fragile blood-stained hand to help him up.

They headed back in the direction of the kitchen where the medical kit still lay, holding each other tightly.

"After all, we only have a lifetime together." whispered Omi. "Unless I--"

Ken cut him off with a kiss. "Shh. I never wanted to live forever anyway." With a melancholy smile, he kissed his lover once again.

Owari.