Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Zweiter Chancen ❯ Ken ( Chapter 4 )

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

*****4*****


“Break left! Now right! Pass to Seishu! Good job!” Ken hollers, on the balls of his feet as he watches from the sidelines of their makeshift soccer field.

A mass of young boys, all pre-teen and highly energetic, bound from one side to the other, and Emery is right in the middle, joining in on every play.

Working up quite an impressive sweat, the young German has been playing the entire time, learning the basics with Ken’s hyperactive team. Truth be told, his level of skill started out about the same as the younger boys around him, but he is advancing incredibly fast, dribbling the ball from foot to foot like it was old habit.

“All right, everyone, bring it in!” Ken grins, gesturing for the youngster handling the ball to toss it his direction, and waiting as the horde of kids races in from the field. “That’s all for today. You guys did great. Even helped teach my new friend a few things. I’m proud of you. Now, get on home, and I’ll see you next week.”

“Ja ne, Ken-niisan! We love you!!”

“You, too, Emmy-chan! You’re the best!”

Watching as the boys run off to find their parents - who are gradually arriving to pick their children up - Ken walks over to Emery and pats him good-naturedly on the back. “Not bad, Em. You’ve got even faster reflexes than me. It’s a shame you didn’t get into sports earlier.”

Emery blushes, still breathing hard, and plops down in the grass, stretching his neck from side to side. “It’s murder keeping up with those kids, though. How do you do it every week?”

“You kidding? I love those little guys! The bouncier, the better.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Ken-san.” Emery smiles, taking a long breath of fresh, Spring air. Soon, Ken joins him in the grass, and the two sit together, basking in the peace of finished practice and warm sunshine. After a few contented moments, Emery tilts his head, glancing at Ken from the corner of his eyes. “Do you...really think I have fast reflexes...?”

“The fastest.” Ken beams. “But I’m not surprised. You’ve always had that weird, superhuman speed thing going on. I couldn’t even land a punch when we used to fight Schwa...uhh...I mean...”

Instantly, Ken bites his tongue, ashamed at speaking so casually about topics Emery not only doesn’t understand, but couldn’t possibly enjoy hearing about.

“Gomen...ignore me. I’m just rambling.”

“No, I want to hear.” Emery contradicts, sitting up straighter, and inching closer to Ken in the grass. “I know you’re afraid to tell me who I am, but it can’t hurt to give away the little things, ne? Can’t you answer just a few, small questions?”

Caught in the act of a situation he should never have gotten himself into, Ken nibbles on his lower lip nervously, leaning back on his elbows, and debating his rather limited options. “Ran would be really pissed if I did that. The others, too. It was a group decision for *your* benefit, ya know?”

“I know. But...it’s who I am.” the younger boy sighs, appearing deeply troubled - the perfect magic to break Ken’s resolve. “What if you had to go through life without a clue about who you were? Wouldn’t you want to know things?”

“...well...” Ken ponders, swiftly caving. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a disaster if I answered a couple questions.”

Victory!

“What do you wanna know?”

Emery takes a moment to think about that, and then turns immediately back to Ken, smiling even larger than he had out on the field. “I know I have another name: Schuldrich. But...by the way you’ve been talking about me...all of you...I get the feeling I’m supposed to be...older, too. So...how old am I?”

“...errr...Youji’s age.” Ken admits, after a moment of hesitation. “Around 22. You’re not quite as tall as he is, but you’re bigger than me. Skinny though, and super fast. Heh. I guess you’re just kinda miniaturized now.”

Nodding along, Emery grasps this opportunity for control over the conversation, hoping he can con a little more out of Ken without the brunette realizing he is giving too much away. “And...my...voice?”

“Deeper, I guess. But basically the same.”

“How about habits or...hobbies?”

“I think you might smoke a little, but not nearly as much as Youji.”

Crinkling his nose in disgust, Emery recoils and shakes his head vigorously. “Yuck. I hate cigarette smoke. I wonder what made me start doing that.”

“I’ve often asked Youji the very same thing, but I don’t think there’s an intelligent enough answer.” Ken replies matter-of-factly. “Hey, look on the bright side. Now you can quit.”

Still with his usual large and carefree smile, Ken gets to his feet after that, scooping up the ball in the process, and moving to collect his bag a few feet away. The worn out young man appears to be getting ready to head home, but poor Emery isn’t ready to join him.

Promptly, the flustered boy searches for a way to continue their conversation, even as it is quickly slipping through his pale, thin fingers. “Matte, Ken-san! We don’t have to go back yet, do we? I have more questions.”

“Gomen ne, Emery. I’ve already said more than I should just by saying anything at all.” Ken chides, and then swings his bag over his shoulder to emphasize his intentions on leaving.

This particular sports bag is one Ken has had forever - navy blue with a few scattered signatures from some of his favorite players - and as old as it is getting these days, he refuses to buy a new one.

Sadly, the zipper has been starting to tear recently, and the bag wasn’t completely closed when he picked it up from the ground, causing a few things to tumble out and land softly in the grass.

Emery has gotten to his feet by now, somewhat dejectedly, and bends to help pick the items up: a stray sock, a stop watch, and a tattered pair of fingerless gloves.

Those worn-in, black gloves hold more intrigue than anything. Made of leather and soft cotton, they look deeply loved, most likely something Ken has had for years.

“These are interesting, Ken-san. What are they for?” Emery inquires, handing the sock and stop watch back to his companion, but hanging on to the gloves to admire them more closely.

“They’re just my old soccer gloves.”

“Soccer gloves?”

“More for show than anything.” Ken explains. “They were a fashion statement, I guess. A friend gave them to me.”

Emery is quite puzzled by this, but gently gives the gloves back, despite his deepening curiosity. “Oh. How come you don’t wear them then?”

Fingering the fabric in his own hands now, Ken hesitates, staring intently at the gloves as if they hold the answer to Emery’s question within themselves.

They don’t. But maybe he doesn’t either.

“It would feel too weird to wear them again. That friend...was never really my friend after all...and I don’t play soccer professionally anymore.”

“But...they’re still in your bag. Why keep them if you don’t use them?”

Small silence again; he had never really thought about it. They belong in that bag, surrounded by all his gear, and there to stare back at him from the bottom of the pile whenever he opens it up.

There isn’t a logical reason.

“I keep them because...I can’t bring myself to get rid of ‘em.” Ken whispers, suddenly melancholy, and knocked a bit off balance by being brought to the attention of something he had never really faced.

Without another word, he tosses the gloves into the bag, throws Emery a half-hearted grin, and leads the way back to their ride. A motorcycle may be a little cramped seating two people when it was only built for one, but hey, it’s the only way to travel.


-----


“Aya-kun!! I have to run upstairs a minute! Be right back!” Omi calls towards the storage room, taking quick survey over the empty shop.

They are still open, but business has been slow for almost twenty minutes, and Ran should be done in the back soon enough, giving the small blonde time to check on supper without anyone slipping in unnoticed.

Just as Omi dashes out of sight, however, two people *do* slip in, and they are both quite taken aback by finding the shop unattended.

“This is creepy.” Ken mentions slowly, studying the space around him as he and Emery enter through the front door. “Where is everyone? I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I better check upstairs.” Turning to Emery, he looks suddenly very serious, but puts on a confident resolve to soothe any fears the boy might have. “Wait down here and watch over the shop. I’ll be back before you know it, but yell for me if anything happens, okay?”

Emery nods, not soothed in the least, but sure enough of himself to allow Ken to leave him alone without protesting. Once the brunette is gone, though, his youthful imagination begins to get the better of him.

Turning briskly to the right, he is certain he heard something in the corner. Yes. No. Maybe not. It might have been the wind, but it might have also been some evil villain waiting to devour him should he venture too far from the light. How can he be sure?

It isn’t terribly dark out yet - almost supper time, and nearly closing - but his perception isn’t cooperating when the possibility of something unpleasant lurking in the shadows seems so very possible indeed.

CRASH! “Norou!!” growls a menacing voice from somewhere near the back of the shop.

Emery is instantly frozen to the spot, breathing heavily as the voice continues, low and vaguely familiar, though too distant to make out completely. “Is...someone there...?” he breathes, inching towards the room he believes the intruder to be lurking in. “...you better leave before...my friends get back...” he threatens, but his voice is too soft for even himself to hear.

Footsteps. The villain is heading for the door as well, and Emery is right in front of it. What should he do? He doesn’t have any weapons, and if he calls for Ken now it might force the intruder to run for it. His only option is to pray help comes in time.

The door begins to open, revealing a shadowy figure, and with a mighty shriek, Emery throws himself on the darkened form, sending both of them tumbling to the floor.

It is a valiant effort put forth by the young German, but not nearly enough to overcome such a strong opponent. Soon, Emery finds himself flat on his back, at the mercy of the man pinning him to the floor.

“You!” the intruder screams. “I warned them about this! I knew it! I knew you couldn’t be trusted!”

Shit! This is no intruder - though Emery now realizes the truth all too late. The man painfully holding him down...is Fujimiya Ran.

“A...Aya-san...I didn’t mean to...I thought -”

“You thought you could take me by surprise?! Thought you could get rid of me without the others around to catch you?!” Ran barks, roughly pulling Emery up from the ground as he gets to his feet, and forcing the boy back against the wall. “I’m not so stupid as to be taken in by your lies, Schwartz.” he snarls, glaring so darkly, his eyes are almost black.

“My name is Emery!” cries out a panicked reply. “Let me go...bitte...it hurts...I didn’t mean to attack you...it was an accident...”

“Do you take me for a fool!?!”

His back aching as it presses into the wall, Emery is no match for the grip on his narrow shoulders, and the tears springing to his eyes have no effect on the man accusing him.

“I should never have allowed you into our home! You deserve nothing but death for the crimes you have committed!” Ran rambles on, so infused with anger, even he would be frightened of himself if he had the means to see what he is doing. “I should kill you now...make you pay for all of it...and for whatever intentions you have here, toying with our lives -”

“TASUKETE!!” Emery screams with every ounce of strength left in him, cutting Ran off, and returning in vain to address him directly. “Hate me all you want, but you’re wrong about me and my intentions. I’m just me - Emery. I thought you were a burglar or something, damnit! Please...believe me...don’t -”

“Aya-kun!”

“What the hell are you doing!?!”

Almost too close to call, Omi and Ken appear from upstairs, dashing in to pry Ran away. Words of accusation and fury fly like a whirlwind from both young men, while tears pour unabashed down Emery’s face as he sinks to the ground, hugging himself around the shoulders.

Omi sinks down beside the trembling boy, gently touching a hand to his shoulder. “Did he hurt you?”

“...I...he...” Emery tries, but is shaking too much to speak the right words.

“Damnit, Ran, what were you thinking!?! He’s 16 years old and you’re barking out death threats?!” Ken bellows in disgust, glaring at Ran as the red-head now begins to back away from them. “For the last time, he isn’t Schuldrich, okay? He’s a kid! The same age your sister was before you lost her!”

“Don’t you dare talk about my sister!!” Ran bites back, halting his retreat, and voicing his words just as adamantly as ever. “If it weren’t for people like *him*, I never would have lost her in the first place!!”

Turning his back on them then, Ran storms up the stairs into the apartment, not even thinking of looking back.

Gathering his nerves, Emery is eventually brought back to his feet, with significant help from his companions, but even on steady ground he finds himself wondering if he can keep surviving these encounters when Ran is so set against him.

Surviving the day is one thing, but surviving the night is becoming harder and harder with every moment he breathes.