Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Zweiter Chancen ❯ Omi ( Chapter 6 )

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

*****6*****


Daylight is a peculiar thing. It begins as a signal for morning, and yet it is not always ready to wake when we are. Once in a lonesome while we rise to darkness, and when a heavy heart weighs down our worn bodies, rising out of that darkness is nearly impossible.

Emery doesn’t blame Youji entirely for what happened the night before, but he found himself tossing and turning all night with the memory of what almost happened, and is now clanking about in the kitchen, desperate for something to take his mind off the nightmares he had been afflicted with.

“What’s with all the noise, chibi? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Speak of the devil, or rather...dream of him. Emery had had enough of that for one night, but facing the real thing suddenly seems far worse. “Yo...Youji-san...” he stammers, spinning around to face the advancing blonde. He is already backed against the sink, but it presses more and more into his spine the closer Youji gets.

“Damnit, Emery, please don’t look so scared.” the deflated playboy grimaces, stopping a few feet in front of the boy to keep his distance. “I couldn’t even look at myself in mirror this morning. What I did...what I could have done...it was wrong.”

“You...don’t have to apologize again.” Emery blushes, relaxing a bit now. “I already forgave you.”

“That doesn’t excuse it. I should have stopped when you asked me to, but I didn’t. Too much to drink or not, once isn’t enough to say how sorry I am.”

This is too much, even if Youji disagrees. The seriousness on his face, the remorse, the way he can’t meet his eyes to Emery’s is proof enough that the boy’s dreams had tormented him in vain.

Villains veil themselves in pleasing disguises, but sometimes the opposite is just as true, albeit unintentional. Last night Youji appeared as a monster, but in the end he is just a man.

“Then I forgive you again, Youji-san.” Emery grins, stepping away from the sink. “I’ll admit, I was really scared for awhile. It’s not that I think it’s wrong for...well...for two guys to be...ummm...intimate...but I don’t think I’m...that I’m ready for...”

“You don’t have to say anything, chibi.” Youji intercedes, seeing as how the poor boy’s face is going quite red in his attempt at explaining. “Let’s just agree to be friends.”

Welcoming the gentle hand that slowly reaches to grasp his shoulder, Emery grins even wider, more than willing to forget last night ever happened.

“If there is anything I can do to make it up to you...” Youji continues. “...just say the word. I can’t think of anything that would be too much after making such an ass out of myself.”

“Anything...?” repeats the young red-head, his crystalline-blue eyes glittering as if they have found hidden magic in the word. “If you’ll really do anything, then I already know what I want.” There is a pause, one just long enough to perk Youji’s curiosity. “What I want...is for you to tell me more about who I am.”

Such a sly command, and the unfortunate assassin is now caught in a trap he built for himself. At long last Youji smiles, admiring the boy’s cunning, and with a quick glance behind him to be sure the others are still safely asleep, he agrees. “Fire away.”

Now, this takes some thinking on Emery’s part. He has already found out a few details to add to what he already knew, but the questions he chooses now must be chosen with extreme care.

Never take for granted gifts you are given, especially if you do not know how long they will last.

“Question one is...well...you guys talked about me being able to read minds that first night...and...I...I don’t really understand how that could be possible.”

Youji shakes his head; of course the boy would ask him about this. “It *is* possible. Believe me. You were an empath...or...telepath. One of them has to do with emotions, the other with thoughts, but I’m pretty sure you used to handle both. Basically, you knew what people were thinking, what they were feeling, and you could manipulate their behavior. Don’t let the novelty fool you, though, I’ve heard it isn’t all that nice a gift when you get right down to it.”

Not much of a shock here; Emery had already figured most of that out on his own, at least after what he had heard the others talking about before. Still, he feels a little better now having the truth set in solid foundation.

“Okay...then...what about the others?” the boy questions next. The two of them have gradually moved to the kitchen table and are now sitting across from one another. “You talked about others who were on my... ‘team’...so...who are they?”

This question is where it gets harder for Youji to answer. The reason Weiss had originally decided to keep certain things from Emery was partially to save him from the grief of knowing the truth. But more than that, they didn’t want to risk bringing back too many memories that might change the boy into his old persona before they can figure out what is going on.

No one wants to spoil someone else’s second chance.

“Maybe you better ask me something else, chibi.”

“You said you owed me.” Emery counters. “I don’t want to take advantage of having you make this up to me, so I promise I won’t ask to know anything else...for now. But, please, I need to know this. Who are they?”

In front of him, fidgeting on the tabletop, Youji stares intently at his hands, debating over how he should approach this. But no matter how he chooses to begin, there is no easy way to reveal the information his companion wishes to know. “They...are Schwartz. Black as we are White. The exact opposite of Weiss, and everything we stand for.” he begins, still gazing transfixed at his own long fingers tapping on the table. “There are four members, just like us, and each of us pairs up with one of them whenever we fight. Yes, fight, but since you didn’t ask *that* question, I’m not going into it.”

A small shadow crosses Emery’s face, but he understands, and is content for now to listen to what is willingly given, even if it isn’t everything he desires to know.

“Omi faces off against the youngest...Naoe Nagi. The only Japanese member, and probably the most powerful. He’s telekinetic. He can move things with his mind. It would be an incredibly helpful power if he used it for good. But...he doesn’t.” Youji adds these last few words with mild disdain, and after only the smallest of pauses, continues. “Ken fights Farfarello, the Irish psychopath you had the pleasure of hearing us talk about that first night. He doesn’t really have a power, but some believe he’s immune to pain. Heh. How’s that for scary? As for me, I’m the lucky one who gets partnered with *you*. I’ve yet to get a good shot at you, though. You’re so damn fast and always messing with my mind, I can’t even think straight.”

His heart sinking low in his chest, Emery begins to pale now, imagining what it must have been like to fight this person he now considers a friend. Weiss must be truly amazing if they can put such memories aside and take an enemy in from the cold.

“Finally, there’s Ran. He faces Brad Crawford, an American jackass with a stick up his ass the size of a skyscraper. Crawford is your boss, the leader, and from what we’ve seen, the rest of you would do just about anything he told you to.” Pause. Slowly, Youji lifts his emerald eyes from the comfort of his hands and stares with far too much serious emotion back into Emery’s troubled face. “That answer your question? It isn’t even half the story, but it’s all you’re getting. If you aren’t scared yet, you would be if I told you the rest of it.”

Fair enough. Even if he truly did want to know more - and a part of him still does - Emery wouldn’t ask for anything but what he has been given.

The gloom hanging low above the linoleum, and deep in the hearts of both young men, settles for only a short time before light conversation draws it away, and eventually the other members of Weiss arise and make their way into the kitchen as well.

Omi and Ken are their usual bouncy selves, but if it wasn’t already expected, Ran’s silence would give him away as the one person out of place. Sharp glances at Emery, penetrating glares at Youji, and little to say save growls of anger, are what all of them are used to, but it wouldn’t make much difference if they realized something is on the red-head’s mind, because he isn’t sharing.

What happened between Youji and Emery the night before does not need to be shared, but as far as Ran is concerned, it is a situation he must take great care in keeping an eye on, and he certainly plans to.


-----


“I thought you said you had deliveries, Omi-san. What’s all this?”

The flower shop’s go-cart is now parked outside of a large building with unforgiving windows and harshly colored walls. Today is Omi’s day with Emery, and his errands always come with a twist.

The beaming blonde has his hair pulled back with a colorful bandana to ease the heat of the sun, and is lifting one of the many boxes he brought along out of the back of the scooter. “These *are* deliveries, Emmy-chan, just not flowers. A few months ago I got a hold of a few things from my childhood - long story - but I thought the kids at the orphanage could get more use out of them than me.”

“Orphanage?” Emery repeats softly, eyeing the looming building. “So that’s what this place is...”

It doesn’t take much for Omi to realize that Emery is uncomfortable with the idea of where they are, and even without knowing much about Schuldrich’s past, he isn’t surprised. “You can wait out here if you want.” he suggests kindly. “I can take care of these boxes by myself.”

“No, I don’t mind.” mends the young red-head, almost too quickly, obviously hoping to dismiss any belief that he is as disturbed as it would seem. “It’s very kind of you to want to help them, and there’s no reason I shouldn’t do my part, too. Besides, I gotta earn my keep somehow, right?”

One by one, the two boys haul in boxes of Omi’s old toys, clothes, books, and just about anything else a child might enjoy, proving step by step that Emery is becoming more and more suited to his new life.

Eventually, there is only one box left, but when Emery takes it to bring it inside, he suddenly trips on the curb, sending it to the ground with a heaving thud. The unbalanced boy barely touches the ground himself, but the box unfortunately spills onto the sidewalk. Hastily, he picks up the displaced items, but when reaching for the last memento, a gentle hand unexpectedly stops him.

“Let me see that, Emery.” Omi whispers, taking a small stuffed cat from the boy’s grasp, and eyeing it critically as if it might spring to life. “I forgot about this.” he breathes, a little out of character for one usually so full of cheer. “I guess I wasn’t thinking when I packed everything up. There’s no way I’d give this thing away.”

Confused, Emery eyes the pitiful thing in his companions demure hands, but can’t for the life of him figure out why Omi would want to keep it. The white fur is somewhat soiled, and not just from landing on the ground a few seconds before, the stuffing is peeking out at the edges, only a few whiskers are left on the face, and it is clearly missing one of its faded blue eyes.

Quite a sad sight for something once loved so dearly.

“Looks pretty worn.” Emery comments. “Does it have special meaning or something?”

“You could say that.” Omi smiles back, sitting himself down on the curb with the cat in his lap. “I don’t remember very much about when I was younger. This silly cat, though...I remember it like it was yesterday. My mother - I can picture her so clearly - took me with when she went shopping one day, and this cat was in the window of a toy store we passed. I fell in love with it, begged her to buy it for me, but she said we didn’t have time to stop. The next day, when I came down for breakfast, it was sitting in my place at the table. She must have gone back for it later, and wanted to keep it a surprise...” He trails off ever so slightly, a fog settling over his usually bright blue eyes. “I was so young then. It’s the only memory I have of her now...the only thing I have left...of my life before...before...”

“Before Weiss...?”

Slowly, Omi tilts his head up to look at Emery, who is still holding that final box, and looking down at him with more understanding than should be possible. “Hai...before Weiss.” he replies. “Well, we better get that last box inside. Wouldn’t want to keep the kids waiting.”

Emery nods, and takes the hint, leaving Omi on the pavement as he heads inside to deliver that final gift. When he returns, the young florist is still sitting there, eyeing his childhood friend, and Emery’s voice barely reaches him when the boy mentions that they should be heading home.

It reaches him enough, however, to force him out of his reverie, and Omi eventually finds his place in the driver’s seat, with Emery beside him, and that dear stuffed cat placed lovingly between them.