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Part: 3/3
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: KenxOC, maybe KenxYohji if you squint
Warnings: severely messed up bad guys, attempted NCS, blood and violence, angst (it's Weiss - do you expect anything less?)
Disclaimer: Not mine - I just perv ;P
Not worksafe. PG-13 for sexual situations and blood-kink. Lime.
Violence and angst for everyone!
The Weiss boys are after a killer, and they're using one of their own as bait.
Yohji dodged another bullet fired at him by one of the black suited men, driving a fist into the man’s gut before taking his head off with his garrotting wire. There were so damned many of them! No matter where he turned, it seemed there were more of the bastards waiting for him. He’d been separated from Aya within ten minutes of entering the building, and now these damn pests were trying to take him down to hell with them. He smiled grimly, green eyes flashing over the top of his sunglasses. Too bad he wasn’t interested in visiting hell again any time soon.
He severed the arm off of another man and rolled behind a pillar as two more opened fire on him. From his position in the front hall, he could see the smoking ruins of what used to be the west wing, still burning merrily from the explosion Omi had triggered. He smiled, shaking his head slightly. Only the Chibi would have thought to hide a half pound of C4 inside a soccer ball.
Rolling to one side, Yohji lashed out against his opponents with lightning speed. There was a choked exclamation as his wire looped around both of their necks, the glistening thread tightening dangerously around fragile windpipes. They dropped their guns in sudden panic, desperate to be free. A single sharp tug and their necks snapped, two pairs of legs crumpling suddenly to the ground, their eyes wide and glassy in death.
Yohji had no time to think before another enemy launched himself at him and he was battling for his life again. Jerking a knife from the man’s belt, he jammed it into his belly, following the move with a neat slice across the neck. It wasn’t exactly the most professional job, but he was getting fed up with finesse.
*Balinese!* Omi’s voice shouted in his ear, startling in its intensity.
“What’s up
*I need you to check on Siberian. He isn’t responding to my signals. You’re the closest one to his position*
“Can do Chibi.” A man rounded the corner in front of him, his gun at the ready. The blond man jumped out of the way of the attack and neatly decapitated his enemy. “Where is he?”
*Four doors down from the main foyer on the left. Hurry Balinese, I’m worried*
“Don’t concern your genki blond head,
*Understood.
The line went quiet in his ear and Yohji took off in the direction Omi had directed, stopping only briefly to deal with a few more annoying pests along the way.
The door was locked from the inside so Yohji, not in the mood for playing around, kicked it in with one booted foot. He dashed through the splintered remains of the door, green eyes scanning the room for his friend.
His search was cut short as a group of men burst into the room behind him and immediately opened fire. Swearing, he rolled behind the bar on his right, the sounds of shattering glass and spilling liquid filling the room as bullets whizzed through the air above him. Sparing a brief frown for all that wasted alcohol, Yohji launched a skein of wire at a nearby lamp, pulling it down on top of his opponents.
They scrambled out of the way before any damage was done, but the break in their attack gave Yohji a chance to retaliate. He dove over the top of the bar, falling into a roll that took him right in front of the stunned men. A quick blow to the head had one of them on the ground, a loop of wire taking care of another.
He danced back before the other four could lay their hands on him, his expression mocking. “Are you enjoying this as much as I am?” he drawled, lashing out whip-like to strike the gun out of the hands of the man closest to him. “I’ll warn you though, I’m not as easy as I look.”
A muffled groan caught his attention, and Yohji glanced over towards the other end of the room. It took him a moment to realize that the still blue shape lying on the coffee table was a person, and another heartbeat longer to register that he recognized that unruly mop of brown hair.
“Siberian!” he barked, taking a half step towards his comrade.
Taking advantage of his distraction, one of the men fired at him, managing to get him in the arm before he rolled away.
“Shimatta!” he swore, unrolling more wire between his gloved fingers. “I could use your help here Siberian!”
If Ken heard him, he gave no indication of it, lying so still that it was hard to tell if he was even alive.
“Fuck this,” Yohji growled. Snaking out his weapon, he pulled another lamp down on top of the black suited men and dove for one of the discarded guns. They reacted quicker this time, moving in for the kill, but Yohji was faster. Smirking at them from beneath his glasses, the blond opened fire from his crouched position on the floor, striking point blank. A few quick seconds and all four had dropped like stones, their blood seeping out to mingle with that already staining the rich carpet.
Throwing down the smoking gun, Yohji vaulted over the black sofa towards Ken, nearly landing on the body of a middle aged man lying on the floor, a knife buried hilt deep in his chest. He’d been dead for at least ten minutes judging by the drying blood on his chin and shirt. Must have been the target, Yohji realized, taking in the brown business suit and the beeping heart monitor on his upper chest. Fat lot of good that security device did him when the alarm was already going off, although he probably hadn’t been expecting someone to blow up half of his house in order to kill him. Yohji shrugged, shoving blond hair back from his face. His mistake.
A slight shift of the form lying on the table had him coming back to himself, and Yohji abandoned the dead
“Siberian!” he hissed, then lower, “Ken! Can you hear me Ken?”
Ken stirred slightly, raising his head slowly as though it were too heavy to lift. “Yoh...-ji?” he asked, his voice faint.
“In the flesh. What’s your status Siberian?”
“Lousy.” Ken laughed hollowly, but the sound was quickly cut off by a short gasp.
“Ken?” Yohji reached forward to turn the young man over, only to see Ken jerk away, his whole body quivering.
“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, trying to draw in on himself.
“What the hell?” demanded Yohji. “What’s wrong with you?!” Roughly, he grabbed the brunette by the shoulder and forced him onto his back. He had to bite back a gasp at what he saw.
Ken was dressed in a pair of blue pyjamas, the pants riding dangerously low on his hips and all the buttons of the shirt undone, leaving his chest bare. A deep gash ran diagonally across his chest almost from one armpit to the opposite hip, the blood smeared all over him a mute testament to the severity of the wound. A shard of glass the length of Yohji’s hand was embedded in Ken’s left shoulder, the wound still leaking blood and staining the glass pink. He had heavy bruising around his neck and across his shoulders which Yohji was willing to bet would be an angry purple in just a few hours time. It looked like the soccer player would be out of commission for a while.
“Jesus, Ken,” Yohji breathed. “Maybe you weren’t his type after all?” He reached out to brush the hair out of the other man’s eyes and was shocked when Ken’s breath caught, his head leaning closer to the contact.
“Ken?” Yohji asked, leaning forward to look into his eyes. The sheer amount of lust swimming in those chocolate brown depths stunned him and he drew back in surprise. “Ken?” he asked again, uncertain.
Ken hung his head miserably. “Nerve stimulating aphrodisiac on the pyjamas,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. It was only then that Yohji noted the high colour on the man’s cheeks and the heaving chest. “It’s too strong for me to control it.”
“We’ve got to get you out of here.” Yohji declared, trying to ignore Ken’s ‘condition’ for now. “Can you walk?”
“Negative. They gave me a muscle relaxant when I realized what had happened.” He attempted to smile and failed. “I couldn’t even message Omi to let him know the mission was a success.”
“Damn the mission!” scowled Yohji. “The others can take care of it. Give me your arm.” He reached out for the brunette, only to have him jerk his hand away.
“Dammit Yohji, I can’t!” Ken cried, trembling uncontrollably. “Don’t you see? Just sitting here, not moving, I can feel the table underneath me and the blood running down my chest. It all affects me more than I’d ever have thought possible. If you touch me…” he shuddered, unable to continue.
Yohji pursed his lips in thought. “Will my coat help block any of it?”
“No,” Ken sighed, a tired kind of sound. “And it’s not likely that I’ll pass out from the stimulus, either good or bad.” He turned empty brown eyes to the blond. “He made them beg for it as he mutilated them, that’s how strong this drug is.”
“Sick fuck,” Yohji growled, taking a moment to kick the cooling corpse beside him. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “So how am I supposed to get you out of here?” he demanded. “Can we afford to wait until it wears off?”
“No.
Yohji swore. “So what the hell are we supposed to do?”
A bullet suddenly whizzed through the air next to Yohji’s head, startling them both. Yohji immediately launched himself at the man in the doorway, looping a coil of wire around his neck and pulling tight before he could fire again. A sickening crack and the body flopped to the floor, the man’s gun clattering down next to him.
“We need to think of something fast,” Yohji warned, reeling the wire back in. “Who knows how many more of these pests could come wandering in.”
Turning back to the table, he noticed that Ken was eyeing him oddly. “Ken? What’s with that look?” He cocked one hand on his hip. “Don’t tell me you’re up for some hanky-panky in the middle of a mission?”
Ken snorted slightly, although his drug-glazed eyes flickered slightly in response to the mental stimulus. “As if Yohji. You’re not my type, remember? I think,” he said slowly, “...that I’ve found a way for you to get me out of here.”
“Well let’s hear it then, Ken-ken. We’ve overstayed our welcome long enough.”
Ken remained silent for a moment, as if weighing his options. Finally he squared his shoulders and looked up at Yohji resolutely. “I want you to strangle me,” he declared, his voice firm.
“Nani?!” Whatever Yohji had been expecting, that wasn’t it. “Are you serious Ken? If you have a death wish, I can just leave and let one of those black suited bastards finish you off.”
“Not what I meant, Yohji.” Ken paused, trying to articulate his thoughts, a light tremor wracking his frame. “You can use your garrotte to make someone pass out instead of killing them, right?”
“Yeah,” Yohji hedged. “But that’s a mighty fine line to walk Ken. Are you sure you want to risk it?”
Ken looked straight back at him, his expression open. “It’s not like we have a lot of choice right now. This drug could make me jump Momoe-san and you’re a lot prettier than she is.”
“Aww, I love you too Ken-ken.”
“Baka!” Ken grumbled, colouring. “You know what I mean. I seriously doubt we’ll be able to get out of here if I’m conscious. Besides,” he looked up at Yohji through his bangs. “I trust you, Yohji.”
“That’s always a mistake,” Yohji murmured wryly, but stepped closer to Ken nonetheless. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, uncoiling a length of wire.
Trembling slightly, although whether from the drug or nervousness Yohji couldn’t tell, Ken nodded.
Nodding in response, Yohji stood next to the table and looped the wire around Ken’s neck. The brunette’s hands came up out of reflex, clawing at empty air as Yohji increased the pressure. He gasped hoarsely, his eyes glazing over with a frightening mix of pleasure and pain as his body arched towards Yohji. The blond man could feel the beat of Ken’s pulse along the wire slowing as his air was gradually cut off, but kept up the pressure until the line went slack, Ken’s whole body sagging down as he fell into unconsciousness.
Letting go immediately, Yohji caught Ken before he could fall off of the table and felt desperately for a pulse. For a few breathless moments he thought he’d killed the fool, but then found a tiny beat of life in his throat. It was faint, but there.
Yohji sighed in relief and stood up. Thankful for the protection of his gloves, he carefully pulled the shard of glass out of Ken’s shoulder, wincing in sympathy at the torn skin. He ripped the sleeve of Ken’s shirt to use as a makeshift bandage, if only to slow the bleeding until proper care could be provided for him. After a moments thought, he bent and pulled the knife out of
“
*Understood. Be careful Balinese*
Yohji grinned, even though Omi couldn’t see him. “When am I ever not, Chibi? I’ll see you in a bit.”
He regarded Ken for a moment, then pulled off his long coat and draped it around the unconscious assassin. Picking him up, mindful of his injuries, Yohji took a moment to give
*****
Ken officially felt like shit. His throat hurt, his shoulder hurt, his chest hurt, his whole body felt like it was on fire and, to top it all off, he had a colossal headache. He winced at the light coming through his bedroom window, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed for a year or two.
“Ken-kun! You’re awake!”
Of course, that wasn’t going to happen.
Sighing slightly, Ken gave opening his eyes one more try. The light gradually faded to a more tolerable level, and he could just make out Omi fidgeting nervously on a chair next to his bed, dressed in his school uniform. The young boy smiled in relief as he took in Ken’s mostly coherent state.
“Thank goodness you’re alright!” the blond boy declared, the worry evident in his voice. “You’ve been out for almost 32 hours.”
“Then why do I still feel like crap?” Ken asked, his voice raspy.
“Because you were drugged and had the shit beaten out of you, genius,” Yohji’s voice came from the doorway. “Not even Aya the Implacable would be feeling all that hot after that.”
A muffled whack followed that particular insight as Aya appeared in the doorway behind Yohji.
“Itai!” the lanky blond protested, rubbing his head where Aya had smacked him. “What was that for?”
“You have to ask?” Aya breezed past Yohji and went to stand at the foot of Ken’s bed. “Are you feeling better?” he demanded flatly.
Ken blinked, then grinned weakly. “I must look like shit for you to be concerned about me,” he observed.
“Hnn,” the redhead shrugged, crossing his arms over his green apron. It was then that Ken realized that both Aya and Yohji were dressed for work in the Koneko.
“Shouldn’t you be in the shop?”
Yohji strolled over and joined Aya at the foot of the bed. “We haven’t opened yet Ken-ken. We wanted to check up on the status of your ‘cold’ before we went to explain your absence to hoards of admiring girls.” He winked. “I’ll wager you’ll be getting quite a few get well bouquets before the day is out.”
“At least it’s good for business.” Ken’s light chuckle was cut short as a tearing cough overtook him, his whole body shaking. He brought one hand to his sore throat, but hissed and pulled it away almost immediately as the light touch sparked an even stronger rush of pain to his neck.
“Take it easy,” Omi advised, his expression sympathetic. “You’re pretty much a solid bruise from shoulders to chin so the skin’s bound to be tender.”
“That doesn’t explain why my throat is so raw,” Ken objected hoarsely.
It was Yohji who responded, leaning forward to brush a thumb lightly across Ken’s neck just under his chin. The touch sent another wave of agony surging through the sensitized skin. “Sorry Ken-ken,” the blond man apologized. “That’s my fault. It’s kind of tough to strangle someone without bruising the windpipe a little. But hey,” He grinned suddenly, straightening. “At least now you’ve got that throaty, sexy voice thing going for you.”
“Baka.” Ken shook his head. “What…” he paused, trying to articulate his thoughts, memories from the mission spiralling through his mind. “What happened?” he concluded lamely.
“With the mission?” Omi straightened in his chair, his tone becoming crisper, more professional. “Everything went pretty much according to plan. Kritiker has more than enough information to incriminate
“And the house?”
It was Aya who answered. “Even with all the rain, over two thirds of it had burnt down by the time the police and fire department showed up.” His voice was clinically detached as he added, “Not that there was anyone left alive inside to question anyway, of course.”
“Good,” Ken rasped, wincing slightly as the sheets skimmed over the bandages on his chest. Noticing his discomfort, Omi reached over to rearrange the bedclothes. Without thinking, Ken jerked away from the slim hands, his nerves singing.
“Get away!” he gasped.
The pained expression on Omi’s face brought him back to himself. “Sorry Omi,” he apologized as he tried to force his body to relax. “It’s just…” he trailed off helplessly, his face flushing slightly.
“I understand Ken,” Omi answered, his expression understanding despite the lingering hurt in cornflower eyes. “Yohji told us about the drug. We sent the pyjamas you were wearing to Kritiker labs for testing right away.”
“…and?”
Omi faltered, clenching his hands together.
“It’s pretty much what the bastard told you,” Yohji interjected smoothly. “A nerve stimulant that’s been heavily doctored to act as an aphrodisiac. The drug can be administered through either touch or ingestion and, with a high enough concentration, can completely override the mind of the subject to the point that any sort of touch produces physical pleasure. Lasts for five to seven hours, longer if the subject has a weak constitution, and, while there are no lingering side-effects, repeated doses can have a permanent effect on the psyche.” He scowled, looking like he would very much like a cigarette at the moment. “Bloody bastard. His victims’ inability to control their own bodies got him off almost as much as the sex.”
“I noticed,” Ken mumbled, his hands fisting in the sheets.
“One good thing though,” Yohji continued, his tone deliberately light. “Is that it looks like he kept it for his own private ‘entertainment’. The traces of it still left on the fabric didn’t match any known drug in Kritiker’s database and the severity of the subject’s reaction to it would make it fairly easy to find if it was available on the black market.”
“Which means it won’t be used on anyone again,” Aya concluded. He glanced at the clock on the wall and uncrossed his arms. “Get a move on Kudoh,” he ordered, turning. “We’ve got five minutes before the store opens.”
Yohji rolled his eyes dramatically. “What have I done to deserve this? I should be in bed at this time of the morning.” He grinned at Ken. “Wanna trade? I’ll sit in bed all day and you can go work in the store. I’ll even lend you a turtleneck to hide all that lovely purple.”
“I don’t think so Yohji.” Ken paused, considering something. “You own a turtleneck? Doesn’t that cover too much skin for you?”
“Actually I was going to steal one of Aya’s.” Dodging the hand aimed at his head, Yohji winked over the top of his glasses as the redhead stalked out of the room ahead of him. “Ah well, duty calls. Will you miss me?”
“How can I miss you if you won’t go away?”
“You’re a creative boy, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” The blond glanced over at Omi. “You’d better hurry or you’re going to be late for school. You can mother Ken when you get back.”
“Yohji-kun?” Omi asked sweetly.
“Yes Omittchi?”
“Go to work.”
With a laugh, Yohji left the room, his footsteps echoing on the stairs down to the store. Omi sighed and shook his head, a faint smile hovering on his lips. He turned to look at Ken. “Will you be alright Ken-kun? You should probably stay in bed as much as possible to give your wounds a chance to heal.”
“I’ll be fine Omi, you go to school.” Ken urged. “I may as well catch up on my sleep while I’ve got the chance.”
“Alright then.” The genki blond picked up his schoolbag from the floor next to Ken’s bed and headed out of the room. “I hope you’re feeling better this afternoon Ken-kun.”
“Thanks Omi. Have a good day at school.”
As Omi left, pulling the door carefully closed behind him, Ken sank back into his pillow, feeling suddenly incredibly weary. Putting the last few days firmly out of his head, he rolled over and gratefully fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
*****
“Mind if I join you?”
Ken turned slightly, the warm evening breeze gently ruffling his hair as he looked towards the figure standing behind him on the roof of the Koneko. Green eyes stared back at him expressionlessly from underneath blond hair that was streaked with gold in the dwindling light of the setting sun. Shrugging slightly, mindful of his shoulder, Ken resumed his contemplation of the horizon, arms crossed loosely over the top of the fence enclosing the roof. “If you want.”
Yohji sauntered over to lean on the fence next to Ken, a can of beer of each hand. “Here,” he said, offering one to the younger man. “I thought you could use one of these.”
“Thanks.” Taking the drink, Ken looked at his friend. The taller man had discarded his purple work shirt in favour of a sleeveless crop top, fairly usual attire for Yohji. What caught Ken’s attention, however, was the wide swath of medical bandage wrapped tightly around the playboy’s left bicep, partially obscuring his tattoo. The white fabric was tinged a pinkish colour around the centre.
“I can’t believe you were dumb enough to carry me out of there with a bullet in your arm,” Ken snorted, the light touch of concern in his voice belying the caustic words. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”
Yohji shrugged. “I try.” He glanced appraisingly at his companion. The green soccer jersey the brunette wore did nothing to hide the massive bruising on his shoulders nor the angry red welt circling his neck. “Although I’m not sure you’ve got any right to lecture me about my injuries right now Ken-ken,” he chided lightly. “Since I’d say you look a damn sight worse than I do. Are you sure you don’t want to steal a sweater from Aya?”
Ken shrugged carelessly, taking another drink. “No one up here to see me but you guys. Besides, it’s too warm for a sweater.”
“Maybe.” Silence settled between them for several long minutes, each man caught up in his own thoughts as the day slipped away behind them.
Finally, Ken sighed impatiently and turned to look at Yohji. “What did you want Yohji?”
“Nothing really,” Yohji answered, still staring out into the distance. The wind tossed his long hair back, the strands dancing on the evening breeze. “I just thought you might like something to talk to other than the sunset. It doesn’t really answer very well.”
“Talk about what?” Irrationally angry, Ken glared at his friend’s profile. “You think I’m upset about what happened on the mission, don’t you? That is so like you, Yohji. Can’t you give me a little more credit? Yeah, this mission was a little unusual, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Why do you think I need someone to cry to?”
“Who said I did?” Yohji answered lazily, still not looking at him. “You managed to kill
Ken didn’t respond right away, his expression blank as he looked at Yohji’s calm face. With a slight sigh, he slouched lower over the fence, his chin pillowed in the crook of one arm.
“It just makes me so frustrated,” he admitted finally, not looking over at Yohji. His face bland, the blond man simply stood there listening. “How could anyone as evil as
Sighing, Yohji dug into his pocket for his cigarettes, tapping one out of the box and lighting up smoothly. Taking a long drag, the lanky playboy leaned back against the fence, his words directed towards the sky above. “I don’t know if anyone can answer that question Ken-ken,” he admitted. “I doubt even
Ken turned his head slightly towards the man next to him. “Do you really think we’re that different from them Yohji?” he asked, his tone subdued. “Do you really think that people wouldn’t hate us if they knew what we really were?”
Yohji snorted. “Of course not. Not even the silly girls who fill the shop would want to so much as look at us if they knew we were assassins. That’s what happens when you live in darkness – the ‘good’ people don’t want you to exist.” He shrugged slightly. “But so what? Do you think we’d be better off to die and let them have their organs harvested like Sakura-chan? Or die of complications from drinking Freud? Maybe they’d rather be hunted for sport by deranged politicians or sold into prostitution rings?” A smile that was not quite genuine flashed across the blond’s handsome face. “Why let other people suffer hell with us just because we’re too afraid of their rejection to protect them? If we’re already here, we may as well take care of some of the bastards who are skulking around while we’re at it. At least we’re fighting against the ‘dark beasts’ instead of for them.”
“Are we?” It was more of an idle comment than a question.
Glancing over at Ken, Yohji found his friend once again staring at the sunset, brown eyes contemplative. The lanky playboy shrugged wordlessly and took another long pull on his cigarette, leaving Ken to his thoughts. The silence between them stretched for several long moments.
“Do you know the worst part of that mission, Yohji?” the soccer player asked suddenly, his voice curiously bland. “I enjoyed killing that bastard.”
“Well damn Ken, that’s hardly a surprise. I’d be worried if you weren’t glad to put him out of your misery…”
“You don’t understand,” interrupted Ken, his tone fierce. He took a deep breath then continued, speaking each word slowly and deliberately. “I honestly enjoyed the sensation of killing him. I felt his body jerk and quiver against me when I stabbed my knife into his side. There was so much blood, spilling hot and thick down the blade and all over my hands, and I liked the feeling.” His fingers twitched in response to the mental stimulus of that memory and he laughed brokenly. “What kind of sicko gets off on killing? I’m no different than he is.”
Yohji frowned. “That was the drug affecting you, Ken. You know you couldn’t help what you were feeling.”
“No?” Sobering again, the brunette sank even further into the pillow of his arms. “The killing’s getting easier, Yohji,” he admitted morosely. “I don’t remember the last time I hesitated to kill someone. Not since Ka… since him. I’ve almost stopped questioning whether I’m justified to be responsible for someone’s death, no matter how twisted they are. I don’t even think about who’s going to mourn those people when they die. I just kill, no questions asked.” The breeze ruffled his green shirt, exposing more of the blood-stained bandage covering his wounded shoulder and the tender pink skin around it. “You’re right that most of my response to killing
Sighing deeply, Yohji pitched his burnt-out cigarette over the edge of the roof and turned to look straight into Ken’s troubled face. “It’s disgusting how naïve you can be sometimes Ken,” he declared roughly. “Listen to yourself. Do you honestly believe that you can regret each and every life you take without going insane? God, the guilt alone would crush you, let alone the indecision and self-recrimination you’d have to face every time you looked in a mirror. You can’t expect yourself to be able to respect the value of human life while living as an assassin, no matter how much you want to.” He paused, letting that sink in, his tone almost conversational as he added, “Actually, the fact that you feel guilty about not being able to feel is probably your biggest problem. You can’t distance yourself from your emotions the way you need to and end up hating yourself for it.”
“Shouldn’t I?” Ken demanded hotly, eyes smouldering. “Don’t we deserve to be hated for what we do?”
“Sometimes,” admitted Yohji calmly. “But like it or not, this is what we are. The killer will always be a part of you, no matter how much you might wish it otherwise.”
“And what happens when it’s the only part of me left?”
Yohji gave his friend a level look. “Are you serious Ken-ken? How can you think, for even a moment, that you have cause to fear that?” He laughed bleakly. “Hell, I’d say you’re the least likely of all of us to go ‘dark beast’. Even the Chibi’s more ruthless than you and all you have to do is say the word ‘Takatori’ to send Aya off the deep end.” He shook his head. “No, Ken, that should be the least of your worries.”
“And you, Yohji?” Ken demanded challengingly, the question meant to cut. “What makes you so sure that you’re worse than me?”
The brunette was not prepared for the sheer amount of tired sadness in his friend’s eyes as he replied, “Does killing one’s dead girlfriend ring any bells for you Ken-ken?” Yohji sighed and leaned back against the fence, long legs stretched out casually in front of him. “The fact is, Ken, that you’re not the only one who’s getting used to killing. I must’ve killed a good couple dozen guys on that mission, but you don’t see me dwelling in misery and self-loathing about it. I can’t afford to. It won’t change anything anyway, except maybe to finally drive me insane. This is just the way life is, it’s as simple as that.”
“And we’re just supposed to accept that?”
He shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. “Pretty much. We all cope in our owns ways. Omi’s got his schoolwork and his computers, I’ve got my ladies, and Aya… well, maybe he’s not the best example. But hey, at least you’ve got your children and your soccer to help keep you sane, unlike our Fearless Leader.”
Ken’s eyes softened slightly at the mention of his soccer kids, yet his expression still remained troubled. “How do you know that’s enough?”
“I don’t. It’s not up to me to convince you it’s worth fighting the darkness. You’ve got to do that yourself. All I know is that it’s a lot easier to keep from getting lost in it if you’ve got a little bit of light to guide you back. And if the darkness inside you is deeper than usual, well, that just means you’ve got to fight harder to get yourself out again. Just remember to focus on what’s important to you – those kids matter, don’t they?”
“…Yeah, they do.”
Yohji nodded sagely. “Well there you have it then. As long as you’ve got them, you’ll be alright. Just because your soul’s a little battered doesn’t mean you’re doomed. It just means you can live and appreciate the good that manages to find its way through the bad.” He glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye. “I think that’s a much more tolerable and a lot less melodramatic way of looking at things, don’t you?”
There was silence for a moment as Ken thought over what Yohji had said. Shadows began creeping across the roof around them as the sun sank further below the horizon. Finally Ken turned to face the blond, a resigned smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Kudoh Yohji? That made way too much sense for it to be you.”
Yohji laughed agreeably. “That’s better,” he approved. “The dead eyed look really doesn’t do anything for you Ken-ken, so don’t stress your poor little self out worrying like this.” He tilted his head back, swallowing the last few mouthfuls of his drink. “And that’s all the time we have left on ‘Life Lessons with Kudoh Yohji’ ‘cause I’m right out of beer.” He stretched leisurely and levered himself away from the fence, shadows dancing over his lean frame as he turned to grin at Ken. “I think I’ll head on in and see what the Chibi made for dinner. Last I saw, he was watching a movie if you’re interested.”
“Hnn,” Ken murmured, not moving as Yohji walked away towards the door back down to the Koneko. Turning back to the sunset, the brunette idly listened to Yohji’s steady footfalls in the quiet, his head swirling with thoughts and unanswered questions. The metal hinges squeaked as the blond assassin pulled the door open, warm light spilling out onto the darkening roof around him.
“Yohji?” It was out before Ken realized.
“Yeah?”
Pause. “Thanks.”
Yohji glanced back over his shoulder, green eyes smiling at the brunette’s back from behind dark lenses. “Anytime Ken-ken. Anytime.”
The door shut behind the lanky assassin with a click, his steps receding down the stairs and leaving only calm silence in their wake. Alone again, Ken stared sightlessly at the world below him, the last embers of sunlight burnishing everything to a fiery gold and helping to soothe his tumultuous thoughts. Ken revelled in the end of the day for several long moments, standing silhouetted against the sky as the sun sank slowly down below the horizon.
Stepping back with a small sigh, the brunette stretched, wincing slightly as his shoulder protested the movement. It really was time he went inside. Soon it would be too dark to find his way back downstairs. Besides, he still had his tape of the
Mind made up, Ken turned and began walking towards the door, his stomach grumbling at him warningly. He’d slept through most of the day after all, and hadn’t really felt much like eating before now. He grinned wolfishly as he reasoned that Yohji would just have to share his dinner with him – he was practically an invalid, after all. He needed to regain his strength.
Feeling considerably better than he had when he’d come up, the slim young man threw open the door with a bang, taking the stairs two at a time as he descended eagerly into the well-lit interior of the house below.
*Because, in a perfect world, pretty florist assassins actually use their code names on missions.