Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Monozuki ❯ Kyo and Hypericum ( Chapter 13 )

Monozuki - An Idle Curiosity

A Weiss Kreuz/Yami no Matsuei crossover.

 

By Kelly

 

Monozuki 13: Kyo and Hypericum

 

 

 

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Note: Thank you for the kind reviews. I hope we'll continue to live up to your expectations both for crossing YnM and WK, and in providing a plot.

 

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It amused Kyo terribly whenthe handsome blond gestured that he follow Takashi inside, allowing for the former P.I. to be the last one in. There was an impatient cough from behind him; Kyo threw a quick grin over his shoulder, only to be answered by narrow, sharp green eyes. He put a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

 

"What, you don't want to seduce me anymore now?" he pouted.

 

Disappointingly, that failed to provoke the older man in quite the way he had hoped, as the Weiss' expression turned angry. "Listen, you guys had better have a damned good explanation for turning up here--"

 

"Kyo!"

 

The sharp warning in that familiar tone put an abrupt halt to Kyo's intended baiting. He spun around, light and fast on his feet, peripherally aware that the assassin he showed his back to assumed a ready stance but that too, he ignored. He knew better than to dally when Takashi used that tone. Especially when an impatient/worried frown was already creasing his love's forehead, and Takashi needed someone to turn the doorknob for him.

 

The metal was cool in his hand, turning easily as he shot an apologetic smile to his partner. The latch clicked, the door swung open, but as he shuffled aside to let Takashi enter, something hard, fast, invisible and completely wrong hit him like a sledgehammer.

 

Gasping, Kyo stumbled, almost losing his footing when Takashi backed rapidly into him and made it a foregone conclusion. With a yelp, Kyo grabbed his partner around the waist and in return, was steadied by strong arms encircling him from behind.

 

The crazed conga line jammed up the doorway, complete with muffled curses from Kyo who found himself uncomfortably sandwiched between his husband (whose weight was not helped by the injured boy he carried), and the blond, former P.I. who took advantage of their proximity to feel him up.

 

“Stop that!” He threw an indignant glare behind his shoulder.

 

The green eyes were coolly amused. “Just making sure you're alright,” the assassin answered smoothly.

 

“Whatever,” Kyo grunted irritably. It was such a blatant lie that he almost felt like calling it out. His earlier mood of cheer was deteriorating rapidly, not helped by the stink of death and hatred that had hit him the instant he set foot in the shop house. “Taka? What the hell is it?”

 

Takashi shook himself, adjusting the burden he was carrying. He jutted out his chin, pointing within and to their right. “Check that out for yourself, Kyo. I need to treat this one fast. Is there somewhere more comfortable I can put him?” he asked someone inside.

 

Craning his head over Takashi's shoulder, Kyo could make out the redhead he had seenyesterday. What was his name again? Ah, Fujimiya Aya/Ran. The suspicion evident on those pale features made Kudoh's positively welcoming.

 

“He's a doctor, Aya. We should let him take a look at Omi,” said Kudoh from behind him. The tall swordsman bristled but apparently the senior Hunter's willingness to let them in, as well as the fact that the little assassin, Omi, had a death grip on his husband's jacket was enough to make him dip his head and gesture them in.

 

“Upstairs,” was the clipped reply. “Do you need anything else?”

 

Takashi hurried in, barely taking the time to take off his shoes by the genkan, saying, “A first aid kit, if you have one. Isopropyl alcohol, and latex gloves if you use them in the shop. . .?”

 

The rest of the instructions faded away as the pair of them disappeared up a staircase located in the hallway beyond the kitchen. A prod from Kudoh made Kyo scowl, but he obediently came in, taking off his own shoes and claiming the fuzzy blue house slippers. They looked quite comfortable. Already he had lost interest in the slight boy carried by his husband, despite the fact that he had sensed almost the same undercurrent of malice permeating the wound which even now coated the kitchen like stubborn grease. Besides, Takashi would take care of whatever it was that ailed the little assassin.

 

Hands clasped safely behind his back, Kyo shuffled cautiously further into the kitchen, heading for the now apparent source of the stink that was still offending his nose and senses something awful. And it wasn't just the dried blood and gore either. The construct so artistically arranged on the kitchen table (and it can't be anything but; the funny lines and squiggles, complete with a salutation to Agaliarept, General of the Second Legionof Makai's army, was a dead giveaway, pardon the pun) assaulted him on both the physical and spiritual level. All Shinigami were sensitive to the negative vibrations of death, what with them being denizens of the Land of the Dead themselves. But there was death, and there was death.

 

This particular death belonged quite firmly in the second category.

 

“So, which evil magician did you guys offend?” he asked distractedly over his shoulder, eyes never leaving the defaced table. The flowers, a type of lily he didn't recognise and mock orange blossoms only added a certain sick twist that briefly churned his stomach. Kyo scowled again. Whoever the guy was, he'd kick his butt just for tainting his preference for lilies, the sick bastard.

 

“Magician?” the other Hunter, a Hidaka Ken, repeated doubtfully from the hallway outside. “What sort of crack are y—holy shit, Yohji! Who the hell did this?!”

 

Kyo nodded to himself. Yes, it's amazing what you can overlook when you're already highly strung from tension. There was a quiet sigh from behind.

 

“We don't know. I was minding the store and when I went back here for a drink, I found the kitchen already like. . .this.”

 

The dark haired Shinigami hummed softly. Kudoh was lying. Or at least, not telling the entire truth. He could tell. He could also tell that Hidaka knew as well, or perhaps, these assassins had secret hand signals or some such and even now, Kudoh was telling his team mate the entire story behind his back.

 

“Look, whoever you are. . .this is just the work of some sick psycho, nothing more. Someone who wanted to rile us up and- ”

 

“Shush,” he said absently, earning a splutter from Hidaka.

 

“Who the hell are these people, Yohji?” was Hidaka's furious whisper. “You know them?”

 

“Met them at a club last night,” Kudoh replied in a strained voice. “I didn't expect to see them again, truthfully.”

 

“So we're just going to stand by and do nothing?! If Ma- ”

 

“Ken! Omi is hurt. You know as well as I do that we can't take him to the hospital. Besides, I have questions of my own to ask them. I for one, do not believe in coincidences.”

 

“We are compromising ourselves! Instead of just- ”

 

The rest Kyo tuned out. The rather macabre spell construct held his attention fully, concentration sharpening his mind and, for now, it pushed the fog that clouded his thoughts to the back. Crouching so that he was eyelevel with the tabletop, Kyo still refused to touch the thing directly, caution warning him that there was more to this than what it appeared to be. Slowly, as precise and careful as Takashi was with a scalpel, Kyo reached out with his power, and tugged.

 

Air came alive, showing itself in bright, lacy patterns with all the colors of the rainbow and beyond; colors that no human wordscould describe. All living things left imprints; humans carried with them a gold-amber sort of charge, a veritable static field whose intensity was in proportion with the person's presence, so to speak. Shinigami were silvery-grey, their aura all the brighter especially in the Land of the Dead. But besides life, magic left its mark as well; colorful squiggles and lines and patterns of matter and energy ordered into shape for specific purposes.

 

This construct of dead cat and flowers left an imprint that stole Kyo's breath away.

 

The feline had died excruciatingly slow; there was a greasy, bluish black miasma hanging over the table, roiling like oil scum stirred fretfully. Shot through it were sickly strands of red, black and oddly enough, silver. The twisted net of strings enveloped the haze of animal despair and hurt, containing it within. But there was something strange about the entire thing. The spell looked to be. . .waiting?

 

Kyo's eyes narrowed. Where was it? Where was. . . ah! He hooked an invisible filament of charged air, whispered a furious prayer of protection and stasis and with a hurried entreaty to Enma, he pulled.

 

Sparks leapt from gored tabby to greasy fog. Instead of disappearing, the fireflies of sick light hung frozen in the air between, outlining a pattern which he read with growing uneasiness.

 

Someone gasped. “What the fuck. . .?”

 

He turned to the two assassins in surprise. “You can see it?”

 

Both Kudoh and Hidaka looked rather sick themselves and to Kyo's astonishment, their eyes were fixed not on the cat itself, but rather, a few feet above it.

 

“Is that some sort of. . .poisonous gas?” Kudoh asked doubtfully. “Timed release maybe? It sure wasn't there earlier, but. . .it's not. . .moving.”

 

“And what's with the light show?” Hidaka added.

 

Huh. They were highly spiritual. Enma's decision seemed to make more sense now, given the fact that these two humans could see the result of his spell unveiling. Kyo turned his attention back to the revealed curse.

 

“That, my friend, is very bad news,” he announced thoughtfully. “Someone out there wishes you ill.”

 

“We can tell.”

 

Kyo resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the blond.

 

He went on to explain, “This curse is one of malicious intent. He was obviously aiming f—“

 

Hidaka interrupted him. “Wait a damn minute. Did you say `curse'?” he demanded.

 

The Shinigami rocked back on his heels, arms hanging over his knees. “Yes, I did,” he replied impatiently.

 

“Curse as in magic? Like. . .abracadabra and all that shit?”

 

“I prefer a good Sanskrit incantation myself but yes, magic and all that `shit',” Kyo answered wryly, quotation marks practically hanging in the air. The two Hunters exchanged looks; Hidaka with plain scepticism and Kudoh, strangely inscrutable.

 

“Listen,” Hidaka started slowly, acting for all the world as though he was trying to explain a difficult concept to particularly dim-witted child. “Magic doesn't exist. Everyone knows that. This is just. . .” he waved vaguely in the dark cloud's direction, “Just some sick, psycho stuff someone pulled on us. Weird scribbles and a dead cat do not a magic spell make.”

 

Kyo opted for blandness. “Really? I didn't know. Tell me, just what exactly did Eszett wanted to do to your team mate's sister again?”

 

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Faster than he could have thought possible, Kyo found himself flying back through the air, making theacquaintance of a very hard wall.

 

“Ow,” he complained petulantly. “That hurts, you idiot!”

 

Hidaka snarled in his face, “How did you find out about Eszett and Aya-chan? Who do you work for?! What are you doing here?!”

 

“Ken! Ken-kun!” Kudoh pulled Hidaka's arm in a vain attempt to make his team mate let go of the chokehold he held the increasingly irate Kyo in. “Ken, calm down! We're not going to get any answers like this!”

 

The young Shinigami took matters in his own hands. Eyes narrowing, Kyo said, quite distinctly despite Hidaka's rather suffocating grip, “Let go.”

 

There was a flash of actinic light, painfully bright, leaping out from him to Hidaka, and the brown-haired assassin did just that; he let go, falling back with a yelp of surprise. Stumbling, he was quickly caught by Kudoh, the both of them staring at Kyo as though he had grown two heads.

 

Kyo sniffed, straightening his shirt and fixing his jacket irritably. “Thiswas a gift from Takashi, you jerk,” he huffed. “I'd appreciate not being manhandled, gentlemen, thank you very much.”

 

Wearily, Kudoh said, "Kenken, whatever you were about to say, shut up. And you, whoever the hell you are, lay off the cute act and fix that goddammed mess on the table."

 

The young Shinigami clucked his tongue. “My cuteness is not an act. It is entirely natural, as is my hair color while, I doubt I can say the same for yours.”

 

Slanted green eyes narrowed. “Ha. Ha.”

 

“Ah, see? We're getting along so well already!” Kyo clapped delightedly. “I knew you were a nice guy underneath all that leather.”

 

“Yohji!”

 

“Stop that!”

 

Shrugging affably as order was restored, Kyo offered them a purely benign smile, at odds with his earlier flare of temper.“Now, about that curse. Can't do anything about it,” he told them blandly, wandering over to the fridge, taking in the post-it notes, cute magnets and old recipes cut out from magazines. He opened the brushed steel-plated door, peering inside distractedly. “Standard procedure; I cannot dispel what is obviously a ritualised magic. Not until myself and my partner have recorded its structure, the spell's target and if possible, the spell's maker. Paperwork,” he added, voice muffled as he thoughtfully perused the contents of the fridge, “is a bitch. Tatsumi will have our heads if we don't do things according to procedure.”

 

He turned to face his rather bemused audience. “What kind of kitchen,” he said, quite severely, “does not have any chocolate ice cream and chocolate sauce?”

 

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Hypericum (coffee beans): Animosity

 

Agaliarept - A Grand General of Hell, commander of the second legion and possessed of the power to discover all secrets. He commands Buer, Guseyn, and Botis.

 

And for some giggles concerning the hierarchy of demons:

www. meta- religion. com / Esoterism / Demonology / who_ is_ who. htm

and

http:// athenaeum. asiya. org / Grand_ Grimoire. pdf