Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Never Goodbye ❯ In the End, All We Can Do is Let Go ( Chapter 1 )

Just an idea I had. This show is such a goldmine for fan fiction, I couldn't help but add my own into the fray. This is part of “The Aya/Omi Smutathon and All-out Fluffapalooza”. Sorry if you do not like this pairing, I do, and there aren't many well-written stories for this couple. Also, this is a crossover with Yami no Matsuei.

 

I would like to give you all the benefit of the doubt, but… Just so you know, thoughts and flashbacks are in italics. This is dark, poor Omi - don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but his torture was necessary.

 

Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz belongs to Takehito Koyasu, Yami no Matsuei belongs to. I am just a humble storyteller, barrowing these characters while I take a break from my original projects—or from writer's block. :) I do not want, nor have I received, any compensation for this.

 

Final note: As always, please enjoy.

 

 

Never Goodbye

 

In the End, All We Can Do is Let Go

 

Pain. Regret. Fear - tons of fear. A truckload more of pain. This was not how he pictured going out. When it came down to it, going out never came to mind anymore. The threat of the light fading was something believed by twelve-year-old assassins, not eighteen-year-old ones. The possibility of death was something just exploited these days to say all he wanted to his lover without seeming soft and clingy, something to bring up to get a piece of ass. Never was it a real fear.

 

And now that's all there was.

 

Tears streamed down his bloodied, sweaty, bruised face. It had been hours ago that thresholds for pain had been trampled upon. To say this was showing his enemy weakness would be ignorant and ass-kick worthy. He had always been able to withstand so much, mentally and physically. When shrapnel or solid bullet embedded itself into his muscle he could deal with it, stab wounds - fine. Even being beaten and held by people he was supposed to have loved long ago did nothing to his spirit. But this was entirely different. His little body was filled with every kind of pain imaginable and Omi could not help screaming as his dark tormentors crept closer for yet another round.

 

Wrong place at the wrong time.

 

The thought was incredible but so tragically true. These people, if one could call them that, had nothing to do with what he and his team had been sent out to do. Of course Weiss had done their job well and the hacker had got what he needed to find the target's business colleagues, but on his way to meet the other cats, he ran into some trouble. Nothing was more annoying than running into Schwartz, but running into the German mind reader of the super elite force.

 

It was only a small scuffle. For some reason the orange-haired bastard enjoyed playing with him, never hurting him too much and never letting Omi get in a good hit. Mastermind was in the middle of an evil laugh, with the younger man in a painful hold, when he stopped altogether to take several steps back until he was running. Omi didn't know what to make of his enemy's behavior and really became agitated when the German shouted for him to run as well. By then it was too late.

 

The already dark night became shrouded in thick shadows all around him in the silent alley. A biting chill raced up his back and latched onto his heart, suffocating him, making him tremble even with nothing in sight. There were six of them. As black as the shadows seemingly doing their bidding. Even if his incredible reflexes had kicked in, the poison on such deadly darts would have done no good. A scream to alert anyone began but was cut off before a tiny whimper could escape as they rushed him, falling upon him with their cold hands and sharp nails. They were excited and clawing at his body, the acrid, hot breath from smiling mouths made his skin cold and sticky. After that, Omi couldn't remember what happened.

 

He awoke tied down on a concrete floor. By the looks of it, they were in a warehouse of sorts. The smell of motor oil and fish hung heavy and Omi knew they were at the docks. Some hope that Weiss would hone in on his tracking device died when his fogged brain picked up on the state of his undress. Panic seized him as hollow eyes stared at his naked form from within the darkness beyond. Soon their fun began.

 

It wasn't ritualistic nor was it for black market medical use. They only wanted pleasure, and received it, by torturing him. His slightly tan, unblemished skin was cut and pierced, bones were broken, pieces were cut off, parts were sewn together, and they laughed and played in his spilling blood like the happiest children. Only when they started slicing him apart and pulling out his perfect teeth did he start to scream. They seemed to hate him for his strength and resorted to extremes to get their desired cries.

 

Talking to them got him nowhere. From the beginning he had tried to reason. If they didn't know his real identity, if this wasn't about vengeance on Weiss, something could be done. But they spoke not a word. Only shrill laughter and excited chatter in a language all their own was what he heard, until they poked his eardrums out.

 

This shouldn't have happened. Over and over again Omi felt in his slowly beating heart that this was all wrong. Terrible regret filled his soul. He was leaving. He didn't want to, but it was just too hard to hang on anymore. Visions of beautiful eyes, a kind, shy smile, and protective arms filled his mind. Omi hated to leave. And as he slipped away, he heard those things laughing at the sight of such pure, crystalline tears sliding out of such pretty, dull blue eyes.

 

-

-

-

 

“You're right, kid. This wasn't supposed to happen.”

 

Tsukiyono Omi could only blink and swallow after watching a part of his own death on a very large flat-screen TV. Looking down at his clenched fists, he now noticed he was in very pale khakis and a white hooded sweatshirt. This was definitely not where he was a moment ago. And yet there was no pain, he felt fine and from the looks of it, not an open gash was upon him. What the hell was going on?

 

“Hello? Are you with me?”

 

Omi snapped his head back up to look at the woman behind the desk, remote held lightly in one nail-polished hand. He swallowed hard, willing himself to not look at the image paused on the screen. “I'm sorry, what did you say?”

 

Her big brown eyes rolled but she kept her voice friendly. “You newbies are all alike with your incoherentness. I bet you missed all of our conversation, huh?” The blush from the boy across from her was all the affirmation she needed. “Okay then, let's start from the beginning. On behalf of all of us at the Hall of Candles, I would like to apologize for your very untimely demise.”

 

So that was it then, he really was dead. Of course this wasn't what he thought Hell would look like, or have Halls of Candles, but he felt so tired so decided to go along with it.

 

“You're not in Hell, son.” Both Omi and the youthful woman turned their attention to the deep voice at the door. “Thank you for keeping him here, Mariko-san until I could fetch him,” It was an older, graying man and he turned to Omi and added, “please, come with me to discuss your future plans.”

 

“Future plans?” Omi couldn't help but question after leaving the office. Wasn't death supposed to end all?

 

“You have some choices, Tsukiyono-san. However you have only a little while to choose. I am Keicho-san, by the way.”

 

Going down a hall and through a series of doors, Omi finally saw why this place was named as such. Rows and rows of candles lit the vast room. The smell of smoldering wick tickled his nose and once again Omi was amazed he still had senses. This was all so strange.

 

“You were not supposed to have died yet.” Keicho-san was quiet, staring at flickering flames before his old eyes. Without giving the boy a chance to speak he continued, “The both of you were supposed to have lived for a very long time, Tsukiyono-san. He is fine, although, I don't need to tell you that this will be quite a blow to him once they find your body.” He paused when there was a hitch in the breathing beside him. It was always hard for lovers to leave each other.

 

“If he will be fine, then I need not linger.” Omi closed his eyes, willing the tears away.

 

“You could choose that,” Keicho nodded, thinking about everything and anything as the flames licked back and forth before him. “or you could choose another ending.”

 

“I deserve Hell.”

 

“Obviously you don't if you came here first.”

 

“But the things I've done—”

 

“You should know things are not so black and white, Tsukiyono-san.”

 

Omi let the man's statement echo in the hall for a moment before finally asking his question. “What are my choices, sir?”

 

“You can go to Heaven and await reincarnation. One such as you does not deserve it, but if you feel you must, you can go to Hell where some punishment will be thought up for you. Or…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Not everyone is offered this third and final option, but you have tremendous skill. There is a department in the after-life, not Heaven and not Hell. It is a sort of investigation bureau that helps with those circumstances that slip by Heaven and Hell's watch. You would be a part of this, you would be a shinigami.”

 

“A guardian of death?” Omi couldn't help the fear and awe come into his voice, this all being too unreal to accept.

 

“We are not as horrible and dark as you think.”

 

“Why are you offering me this?”

 

Keicho shrugged and turned toward him. “Like I said, you have great skills for this kind of work, you would be used to it, and you could help protect those you love and others from things too dark for earthly authorities to take care of.” He saw the suspicious look fill Omi's eyes and took on a serious tone. “Those beings that took your life Omi are not necessarily human. They are a very big threat, you have experience with them, and others will die. I thought you might want to help.”

 

“I'll do it.” He could never allow others to suffer the way he did if he could stop it. “I will become a shinigami, but I have some things I want made perfectly clear.”