Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Monozuki ❯ Aya and White Roses ( Chapter 1 )

Monozuki - An Idle Curiosity

A Weiss Kreuz/Yami no Matsuei crossover.

A series of events, both minor and not, studying the effects of the chance curiosity of wondering why would a human willingly kill, when they, the Shinigami, already suffer from their own duty.

Lisa: If you search for Monozuki on ff.net, you'll find it under a different account than mine. Why? Because Kelly started Monozuki; I just hijacked it. The story is being written alternately (more or less) by the two of us. It does not fall in the same time line as my "Reflections," but does belong to the Yami-verse that Kelly began with the Kojiki Trilogy, and which has continued with "When Death Comes a'Knocking," a YnM/Harry Potter crossover.

Kelly: It was supposed to be a drabble. Just a simple foray into a what-if world. How the hell did it evolve a plot is beyond me. Yes, there is more coming up. Damn the plot bunnies! All I wanted was to know what will happen if Weiss ever met Shinigami! The next Monozuki is Lisa's. There is a conspiracy going on.

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Monozuki 1 - Aya and White Roses

By Kelly

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The work was monotonous - cold, disinterested gaze taking in the elaborate arrangement or a simple twist and tie, calculate the cost of flowers and decorations (he scowled briefly for one girl's; Omi had added too many asters to her bouquet of gladiolas), ring up their purchase, growl out the amount, take their money (while adroitly twisting his hand out of the grasps of the too-enthusiastic ones) and give them back the change, if any.

It was an almost mindless task, easy and repetitive, as hypnotic as falling into the rhythm of cut, slash, parry, stroke. A kata dance could elevate him beyond the cares of this world as three hours behind the cash register of the Koneko could.

And even though it was only half-past eight in the morning, his body reveled silently in the familiarity of working the register. Here was comfort, here was routine, here was not where Aya-chan lay cold and unmoving.

The ten thousand yen note crumpled in his sudden grip, prompting a squeak from the owner of the small hand that had reached out to take it.

"A-Aya-san?"

He didn't feel the need to alleviate the girl's nervousness by giving her even a token, apologetic smile. Let the chain-smoker do it if he wanted to; god knew the playboy had experience enough.

And as though his uncharitable thought had summoned the man, Yohji's easy drawl drilled in his ears, a hand roughened at the tips from wire handling tugging the abused note out of his fingers. The blond ignored the cold, violet-glare thrown his way and the former P.I. shot the unfortunate girl a grin. "There ya go, Rika-san. Ignore this grump - he woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning."

Rika, how on earth did Yohji keep track of all their names? giggled and blushed, another conquered name to add to the list of Kudoh Yohji's girls.

He wasn't going to give his teammate the satisfaction of a comeback but neither could he distract himself with another customer. Amazingly enough, even though there was still another fifteen minutes to go before the morning schoolgirl rush had to leave the shop, the hormone-driven she-devils were not draped around the other Koneko `staff'. In fact, almost the entire gaggle of them were gathered around the storefront window, pointing and giggling (do they do anything else? so that little voice in his head snarled) at something across the street.

Aya's height was more than adequate that he didn't even need to crane his head to see over the clustered girls, still cooing and aah-ing. He spotted their newest obsession easily enough.

There was a simple, white painted bench on the sidewalk across the street, overlooking the flower shop. Most days the bench was a whimsical piece, more of a decoration than serving any real use. Today though, a blond angel graced it.

Aya had to wonder where that sentimental drivel came from.

Granted, the boy (he couldn't be more than sixteen years old) was beautiful. Extraordinarily so. Even from this distance, he could say for sure that the youth's wheat-gold hair was as silky as it looked; it couldn't be anything but. With porcelain fair skin, a slender body encased in a denim jacket, orange t-shirt (Hah! Take that Kudoh! I'm not the only one who thinks there's nothing wrong with orange!) faded jeans and sneakers, the boy was an urban dream - too much to be real.

Aya was inclined to blame the tea he had this morning for all the sappy trash his mind seemed to be capable of.

"Excuse me, could you wrap this up please?"

The low, smooth baritone was unexpected. Aya spun around, too fast for a simple florist, and grabbed the glove-clad hand of a stranger who smiled rather quizzically at his `rudeness'.

Customer, not attacker, was what Aya's mind frantically repeated as he tried to let go of the grip he had around the man's wrist but he was frozen. His mind shouted `Innocent!' but his instinct screamed `Danger!'

The hand he was manhandling belonged to a slender male, late twenties most likely. The dark, two-piece suit, crooked tie, scuffed leather shoes and a black trench coat gave the man a rather puzzling air - ingenuousness with a tint of deliberation. The ensemble was at odds with the man's friendly smile. No one dressed like that except for a yakuza, especially with dark sunglasses topping it all off.

"Ah. . Aya-kun?" Omi, ever the peacemaker, polite till the day he died, tugged ineffectually at their hands. "This is a customer, Aya-kun!"

He let go with a scowl. Damn the man (and Yohji, and Rika and the blond apparition) for ruining his day.

"How can I help you?" he asked crisply with no hint of apology. Somewhere to his right, Omi was hyperventilating at his rudeness while money exchanged hands between Yohji and Ken.

Infuriatingly, the man's smile (why won't he take off those damn sunglasses?) only grew bigger. His leather gloved-hands cradled a dozen white roses tenderly, a curious tilt to his head.

"Could you wrap this up for me please?" he repeated. "Just a ribbon would do. `Soka wouldn't like anything too elaborate."

Why the hell would he care what this `Soka thought of anyway? Aya took the roses, a bit more gently than his demeanor suggested (the flowers were blameless after all), and stalked over to the scarred table they used for arrangements. He was finished in just a couple of minutes, and even rang up the man's purchase. It was after pocketing his change and roses were safely enclosed within the cradle of one arm that the man took off his sunglasses.

Aya's breath caught. For one dizzy moment, he thought time and the world had stopped its movement, that everything else was at a standstill.

Violet eyes stared into his. A shade darker than his own and even more compelling. Sweat, icy-cold, popped out, running an uncomfortable rivulet down his spine.

"Thank you," the man said, still with that easy smile as he pocketed his shades. "'Soka is going to love this."

Aya could only watch dumbly as the man turned, moving with a slow, sure grace that parted the girls easily and his mind duly noted how a few of their faces went slack with sudden adoration. The man was that handsome. Eerily so. Because underneath that easy smle, Aya sensed. . .something. And for the life of him, he could not say what it was. Only that he had never felt this. . . insignificant before. Not even when confronting the powers of Schwarz for the first time.

His eyes tracked the man's lithe form out of the shop and across the street. He took absent notice of the girls' excited whispers of who is that gorgeous creature? Waah, two cute guys in one morning! Lucky! and he kept on staring, even as, unsurprisingly, the man approached the blond boy on the bench and presentedthe roses with a bow.

The blond said something, prompting a laugh from the taller man and Aya would have dismissed this Alice morning for sheer fancy if not for what happened next.

The young boy looked past his companion and stared straight into his eyes. He was sure of it. The distance and murmurs between them, the plate glass window, all of it disappeared under that gaze that refused to let go and Aya found himself gasping for breath.

It was over in a second. The boy broke the contact first and together, man and ethereal child walked away, white petals trailing in their wake.

"Hey, Aya. . .you okay?"

He ignored Ken and he ignored the curious stares of the girls still crowding the shop. When he tried to sleep later that night, his dream was riddled with violet eyes that laughed and green eyes that judged.

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