Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Zweiter Chancen ❯ Day #1... ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

*****3*****


When new days dawn, life feels all the more a miracle, and every drop of dew is like the remnants of a dream clinging to the object it feeds. With all the wonders of the world, beginnings - whether they be sunrises or second chances - are the most wondrous of all.

"Omi, can you pass me those lilacs? Aya wants them closer to the front."

"In a minute, Ken-kun. My hands aren't cooperating today." the demure blonde replies, fumbling with the ties of his apron.

Ken chuckles, admiring his companion's expression of distress, and promptly bridges the gap between them, spinning Omi around to take control of the situation. Sighing in exasperation, Omi allows Ken to tie his apron for him, but taps his foot impatiently, annoyed at finding himself once again in the role of helpless victim. He hates being treated like a child.

"You didn't have to do that, Ken-kun." he grumbles, hurrying over to grab the lilacs Ken had requested. "I could have done it myself."

Shaking his head as he accepts the pots of flowers, Ken skitters off to the front. "Whatever you say, Omiitchi. Heaven forbid, someone actually tries to be polite and do something for you." he adds, oozing sarcasm. "As smart as you are, you'd think you could handle a little help once in a while. No one can do everything by themselves."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Omi protests, becoming quite uncomfortable with his own cynical words. "I just don't want you guys thinking you have to take care of me. How long have we been working together now? Years? I know I was young when it all started, but I'm not a child anymore."

Ken turns back, smiling in a manner almost skeptical, but gentle and understanding enough to prove to Omi there isn't anything to be getting so worked up over. No one ever intends to treat Omi like a child, they just see him as a younger brother. He is the youngest, after all. Or...at least...he was.

Taking this awkward moment of unsure silence, Ken opens the shutters, releasing the light of the sun into the shop, and preparing them for an honest day's work.

Omi discovers his cheeks feel surprisingly warm, standing immobile near the counter, and watching his friend's movements with mild discomfort. "Ken-kun...gomen...I don't know why I'm being so edgy today."

"I do." Ken grins, stretching back his arms as he returns to the rear of the shop. "Ever think your sudden 'I'm-an-adult!' mood has something to do with our new coworker? He's about the same age you were when this all started. Maybe you're hoping you can finally pass the 'Baby Bear' torch."

"Baby Bear!?!"

"It's just an example."

"Well...if you use *that* example...who would everyone else be?"

Ken takes a moment to consider this. "I'd be 'Papa Bear', no question." he beams, straightening his posture proudly.

At this, Omi tilts his head, contemplating the fairy tale for the rest of their assignments. "I guess that makes Aya-kun 'Mama Bear'." he snickers.

"And Youji's 'Goldylocks'!" Ken exclaims, bursting out laughing at the image of Kudo Youji with ringlet curls and a little pink dress. "I'll never look at that story the same way again!"

The giggling florists fall over each other in amusement, laughing loudly at their friends' expense. Sadly, their fun is brought to a deplorable halt as the door leading up to their apartment slams open, shuddering the walls with the force of its blow.

"Where is he!?!" Ran bellows, his face red with anger, while the flames within his violet eyes glitter dangerously.

"Nan desu, ka? Aya-kun, what are you talking about?" Omi asks timidly, shying away, and clinging to the counter behind him.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! Schuldrich!! Where is he!?!"

Turning to each other in fear, Ken and Omi stand at a loss, torn from their light-hearted moment, and tossed into the middle of a hurricane's wake.

"I asked you a question!" Ran shouts, stalking forward. "Where - !"

WHAM. The irate red-head is cut off rather abruptly, as the storage room door swings open, and an unsuspecting Emery bounds out of it. The poor boy's vision had been partially blocked by the large boxes he was carrying, and caught completely unaware, he ran right into the figure in front of him.

Thrown to the ground, Emery lies flat on his back now, with the boxes having landed roughly on his chest, and smudges of dislodged dirt soiling his apron.

Ran, more solidly stanced, had only been tossed off balance, and remains on his feet, but the malice in his expression is enhanced even more than before. "You let him wander about the shop alone! Are you out of your minds!?"

"K'so, Ran! Shut up already!!" Ken venomously replies, coming to the young boy's defense, and leaving the safety of the counter behind. "He is not a threat! He's just a kid, for Christ's sake. Give him a break."

Far from backing down, Ran glares daggers back at his bold companion. "*You* are responsible for him today. That means you don't let him out of your sight. Understand? Child or no, I will not allow him free reign over our lives while he stays here."

Sneering down at the boy still sprawled on the floor, Ran returns the frightened blue eyes staring up at him with narrowed eyes of his own. He refuses to see Emery as anything but Schuldrich.

Swiftly, Ken bends down beside the fallen boy, lifting the boxes of soil and extra pots from his chest, and offers a friendly hand to help him back to his feet. Emery smiles weakly in response to this assistance, but cannot bring himself to lift his eyes and look at Ran.

How can he react when he doesn't even understand what reasons anyone could have to hate him this much?

"I thought you said you had soccer practice today, Ken." the gradually calming red-head inquires, keeping his distance from the others as they sluggishly return to their work. "What are you doing in the shop?"

"Practice isn't till after lunch." Ken explains casually, retaining a look of disgusted indifference. "Is there something wrong with wanting to be helpful in the mean time?"

Ran grimaces, kicking himself internally for giving his friends reason to resent him, though still steadfast in his distrust of someone so recently an enemy who caused him more grief than he cares to remember. "There is nothing wrong with it. Just...be more careful. For my peace of mind, if nothing else. After all, you have enough experience with betrayal. You should know by now that people aren't always as trustworthy as you would like to believe."

Moving away to acquire his own apron still hanging on one of the hooks near the back, Ran leaves the argument fueled for later development, having closed his end with a line unforgivingly uncalled for.

Ken is adamant to fire off some cruel comeback in reply, but thinks better of it, snatching up his spray bottle to attack the wilting flowers in the corner.

Searching for anything he can grasp to calm his nerves, Emery grabs hold of Omi's arm before the blonde can return to work as well, and beseeches him without saying a word.

"Don't worry, they do this alot. It's not your fault." Omi soothes, smiling as encouragingly as he can. "Ever since Aya-kun first joined Weiss, they've found it pretty easy to get into fights. I think they're just too much alike, to tell you the truth. They get under each others skin because they care so much about each other. They'll be friends again before the end of the day, you'll see."

Emery is somewhat put at ease, and releases Omi with a nod, watching as the three florists work about the shop, straying as far away from each other as possible.

Determined to earn his keep and prove his honest desire to be something more than they seem to be expecting from him, he smoothes his apron, dusting off the remnants of dirt, ties his long, sunset hair back into a messy pony-tail, and heads for the front to attend the lilies.

Just as the young boy makes his way closer to the entrance, the first customers of the day skip their way inside the shop, and instantly turn their attention on him. "Kawaii, Mariko!! Look! There's a new one!" shrieks a young girl, about Emery's age, with long brown hair and honey eyes.

The girl's companion, clearly the same age, only with shorter hair the color of ebony, clutches her friend in disbelief as they corner poor Emery in their adoration. "You're right, Michiru! He's even prettier than the others!"

“Oh...Ohaiyo. Can I help you...?” Emery squeaks, clutching the wall behind him as they move in uncomfortably close.

The girls don’t seem to recognize his anxiety, however. “Sugoi! You’re even the same age as us!” Mariko swoons. “We have to know your stats! What’s your name?”

“...Emery...”

“Birthday? Bloodtype? Flower?” Michiru rants, grinning madly.

“Uhhh...birthday...? I guess it’s...April 17th...” Emery stammers, surprised as he begins to recall the small details of who he is. “...AB bloodtype...I think...but...flower? I don’t know what you mean.”

“They mean an image flower, Emmy-chan.” Omi smiles, not quite coming to the rescue, but passing by with an ‘it-will-be-okay’ look and encouraging nod. “It’s the flower that best represents you - your favorite. We all have one.”

Relaxing, but still feeling like a trapped rat by two very hungry kitties, Emery straightens, contemplating the idea. “Oh...I don’t have one of those. What should it be? I’m not really knowledgeable about flowers.”

Passing his gaze out to the veteran florists nearby, Emery meets the eyes of each of his companions, hoping to get a little insight. Omi and Ken both immediately start searching their minds for possibilities, but Ran only scowls, turning away to attend his work.

Having spent far too many wasted hours in the shop - without buying anything, to Ran’s dismay - the girls know the perfect flower for such a darling, young bishounen. “How about Amaryllis?” Michiru suggests, getting a little too close for comfort as she snuggles up to Emery, playing with his stray strands of hair. “You’re such a shy thing, even more timid than Omi-kun.”

“Amaryllis is perfect, Michiru.” Mariko agrees, clamping onto Emery from the other side. “Now he is an official member of the Koneko.”

This, by far, is the final straw. Upon those authoritative words, as if the girls have some stock in the running of the flower shop, Ran has had quite enough of their loitering about.

Stomping back to the front of the room, with his usual death glare in place, he towers over them menacingly. “Stop harassing our workers. This is a business.” he growls, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “If you’re not going to buy something, get out!!”

One might think the girls would be put off by this. However, they are rather used to Ran’s harsh words - a phrase he has used many times before - and think little of it, merely deciding it is time they were on their way.

Belting out a few hasty good-byes, the girls slip out swiftly, avoiding Ran at all costs, and leave the boys to their sweet solitude. At least, until the next bunch ambles in.

“Arigato...Aya-san...they were a bit too much for me.” Emery smiles weakly, blinking up at Ran in gratitude.

“I didn’t come to your rescue.” Ran snaps, glaring with the same rigid emotion he had bestowed upon the giggling girls. “They are always in here causing distractions. I don’t need them using *you* to make more. Now, if you really want to be of some use around here, get back to work.”

Once again, Ran turns on his heels, busying himself in whatever ways he can, and leaves Emery to the bitter truth of his harsh, biting words.

The poor boy would almost prefer having the girls back; nothing is as devastating as that cold, violet stare.

“Don’t worry about distractions, Ran.” Ken begins, smirking in a manner far from anything kind or amusing. “We’re about to leave for soccer practice anyway. Ne, Emery? Ready to go?”

Crystalline eyes of perfect blue dart to the side, catching Ken’s glance, but look near tears by the shimmer of liquid emotion quivering beneath his eyelids. “Hai...getting out of here sounds wonderful.”

Ken smiles for real this time, lifting his apron over his head, and Emery does the same, both ecstatic at the thought of being anywhere but where they are.

Smiling cheerfully as always, even amidst so much animosity, Omi offers a farewell and good luck, not having to specify which comment is meant for who, and whistles away as he continues making arrangements.

Holding still and unapproachable, Ran watches the pair head for the door as well, not failing to catch Ken’s disgusted grimace thrown back at him, nor Emery’s wavering look of sorrow. It doesn’t matter to him, though. They can think whatever they want about him. It isn’t as if he became an assassin to make friends. Why worry about keeping any...?

Unless it is the only thing you have left.

“Emery...” Ken smiles, patting the boy on the back as they head out the door. “...I guarantee you’ll like soccer. You can take out all your aggressions in just one hour of practice. Just imagine the ball is someone you’re not too fond of at the moment. That’s what I do when I need to let off a little steam. There’s a certain red-head I’ve used as target practice more times than I can count.”

The only reply the younger boy gives is a gentle chuckle, but it puts both of them at ease more than they have been all day.