Disclaimer: Weiss is property of Koyasu Takehito. Saiyuki is property of Minekura Kazuya. I am not either one of these people. This is my first major crossover, which was inspired by reading some excellent fanfiction by many other talented authors and the simple "What if..." that starts almost all of these sorts of things. While I tried to keep things as close as possible to how they actually are in their own universes, some creative liberties have been taken regarding timelines and backstories in this 'verse.

Special Thanks: Shinnonekochan for introducing me to Weiss, for being my super Hakkai-beta, correcting all of my awful grammar, and not ripping her hair out in the process. Sankyuu naa!

Melting into Rain

Part 1: Gojyo's Story

-14 Years Ago, Tokyo, Japan-

The narrow apartment complex almost hung over into the street, painted a faded, dirty white and creaking with the icy November wind. Dogs barked in vain somewhere down the street and there was evidence that the entire neighborhood was a frequent home to crime and poverty. The streets were empty aside from a few old cars parked on the sides, and graffiti-covered dumpsters lined either side of the building. Sirens blared briefly in the distance. All in all, it was not the most welcoming place to live.

One of the bottom apartments' windows glowed eerily with the unmistakable flicker of a television set. They were one of the rare families in the area that had a TV here, at least, one that hadn't been stolen yet. A teenage boy sat on a worn-out brown couch, remote dangling freely from his hand. His eyes were unfocused – no matter what channel he'd turned to, the TV was the last thing on his mind.

The sirens were getting closer. He closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his short dark brown hair. 'I hope he got away alright.' His feet shifted on the coffee table, giving away his fear of touching the floor.

After all, it was dark and sticky with freshly spilled blood…

-One Hour Earlier-

"Is Mom coming home tonight?"

Sha Jien stopped in the middle of rummaging through the refrigerator at the voice of his younger brother. He closed the door and was faced with what looked like the most hopeful expression he'd ever seen.

"Don't know, kid," he answered, hoping Gojyo wouldn't realize he'd begun to lose himself in his own thoughts. "She's been real busy lately, you remember that."

The younger boy's red hair still managed to shine under the dim kitchen lights and Jien always felt his heart stop when he looked into those matching blood-red eyes. Truly, Gojyo never realized just how haunting those colors were.

Gojyo always mistook it for derision when others looked at his features that way, but the elder of the two knew the kid was constantly viewed as something exotic and beautiful -- he'd have women all over him once he got a little older.

"Yeah." Gojyo's eyes were now staring down at the cracked kitchen tile. "I just wanted to apologize to her for yesterday…"

Jien's breath caught and he mentally cursed himself for that day. He had just gotten home from his part time job to hear screaming coming from inside the apartment. He'd flung the door open only to find red flowers scattered across the floor and their mother standing over his little brother, pulling his hair, with tears streaming down her face. This was a common scene in their home, as hard as Jien tried to stop it.

Jien would always pry their mother away as best he could, shaking her until she recognized his face and stopped her hysterics. Gojyo always remained crumpled on the stained carpet, or curled in a ball and shaking until she left the room. The boy always blamed himself for their conflicts, never realizing just how sick the woman actually was.

Jien decided he had to distract Gojyo – and himself – from thinking about that incident. "You get all your homework done already?" However, Jien found that even though he was making small talk, his mind unwillingly continued on to other things.

The touchiest and most frequent subject he dwelled on was their mother. She'd hated the younger boy since his birth. Her husband, Jien's father, was always out of the home, always traveling abroad, leaving her with a young boy to take care of.

Outside of Jien's memories, Gojyo shrugged. "Nah, guess I'll work on it now." He then moved to the table in the corner of the kitchen, mindful of one of its loose legs. A few schoolbooks soon littered the table with the redheaded boy bent over them, humming a bit in time with the movements of his pencil.

Alone in his thoughts, Jien was left busying himself with getting ingredients out of the refrigerator. It was already nearing five o'clock, meaning that Gojyo was probably starving. As he put together a sandwich, Jien couldn't help but remember more about what had changed in his brother's short life.

During the winter following Jien's tenth birthday, his father returned home with an extra family member. Jien was sent into the other room for the initial conversation, but for years afterwards, as his mother descended into the madness of her hatred, he managed to learn the whole story whenever she would happen to trap him for a conversation.

It turned out that after some explaining - rather, matter-of-fact stating - his father had told his mother that there had been a mistress "in Europe somewhere" and they'd had a child together. His father's last trip there had been so that he could be with her when she gave birth. A mere two weeks later, she'd died from complications brought on by the delivery and the baby, named Gojyo, was brought back to Japan.

Jien vividly remembered the events of Gojyo's first week in the family, as it was the one when his happy world cracked down the middle. The first thing to trouble him was the manner in which his mother regarded the baby: she would not even touch the newborn, as if it was diseased. Were it not for the young boy taking care of his brother, Gojyo would've died. Stress did not even begin to describe Jien's life at that point. He was expected to be a perfect elementary school student and not tell anyone that he was parenting his baby brother. Things only got worse a few years later… when his father suddenly died.

If Jien's life had been cracked before, this completely shattered it. Gojyo was still in his toddler years at the time and still very much in need of care. Jien ended up having a breakdown at school one day, not being able to take control of his anxiety over his brother. He remained in that state for the rest of the day.

"Whatcha doin', Jien?"

His little brother's voice once again dragged him out of the depths of his musings. He realized he'd been staring at the plate on the counter without actually making anything. He laughed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he replied to Gojyo. "Making you dinner. Guess I just spaced out for a second."

"Ah, 'kay." The simple answer seemed to pacify the young boy, the blood-red hair once again flowing in front of his face as he bent over his paper. Jien's vision was lost in that hair, reminding him of how things had only gotten worse.

Around Gojyo's fourth birthday, about six months after their father's death, things took a turn for the worse. The money their father had left for them was gone and their mother had spiraled down into alcohol and drugs, out every night and sometimes not returning for days. A neighbor had cared for Jien and Gojyo during those times, but she had never once called the police about the situation. It was right around that time that they moved. The bank repossessed the house and Jien's broken home was shifted to an equally broken neighborhood.

Gojyo started school in the new district, where he was constantly mocked for being a "half-breed." His hair and eyes, unnatural even among the few foreign students, made him an instant outsider. Thus, he frequently got into fights. That would've been enough to worry about on its own, but he also became a target of the school's bullies. It was a common sight for Jien to find Gojyo waiting for him on the porch when he got home from high school, afraid to enter the house until his older brother walked in with him.

Back in the kitchen, Gojyo kept glancing up at the wall clock. This struck Jien as peculiar until he noticed the time himself. She was going to be home sometime tonight, and Gojyo's fear was palpable.

That was the reason Gojyo waited for him outside. The year Gojyo started school also marked the year their mother started to pay attention to him, though not in the way Jien had hoped. She seemed to be doing better with him out of the house, but it wasn't long before she noticed him coming home from school one day and then, in a haze of grief and wine, she lunged for him. She screamed at him for being the reason they lived in the slum-like apartment. She knocked the little boy to the ground, threatening to stab his eyes out and yank out his hair, because they were probably "her fault," using all sorts of names for the woman who'd given birth to the redhead. Jien was nowhere near strong enough to stop her, but a well-placed slap had momentarily gotten her back to her senses… what remained of them at any rate.

The abuse was an almost daily occurrence. Gojyo began to desperately seek her approval, bringing her gifts, being overly obedient, and taking responsibility for any wrong that happened in her life. From the way Jien saw Gojyo react, it was almost as if he told her to hit him, if that would make her pain go away. That had been the pattern for more than 3 years now. Recently, though, Jien saw the same look in Gojyo's eyes almost every day.

Jien was jerked back to his surroundings as he noticed a bruise forming around Gojyo's right eye. "Who did that to you?" he asked, his voice coming out softly. He heard a car driving down the street and quickly prayed it wasn't their mother - perhaps she'd found some guy to go home with tonight.

Gojyo pulled away from Jien's touch, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. "None of your business. Anyway, I won that fight."

"I know you probably did, but I still want to know who did it and why."

The red eyes were blazing defiance. For an eight year old, Gojyo hardly possessed any of the innocence common for that age. "What does it matter? Who do you think you are, my dad?" After a moment of silence, his expression softened. "Fine. It was that shit-head, Jin. Called me a 'gaijin' and told me to go back where I came from. I told him to go back -- he's half-Chinese, the bastard."

"Gojyo…" Jien tried to keep the disappointed tone out of his voice. "You have to stop getting into fights like this; it's not good if-" He suddenly stopped as he heard the doorknob turning. 'Shit. She is home.' He instinctively put himself between his brother and the door. He felt a hand grip his arm.

Gojyo's voice suddenly became tentative. "She's… gonna be herself tonight, right?" There was one memory he clung to where she'd taken them out for ice cream… Where she'd laughed and smiled… Where she'd called Gojyo by name and not hit him or screamed at him once the whole evening. There were rare instances like those when they acted like a real family, but they could be counted on one hand.

"Jien?" The woman's low voice echoed in the entryway. "Jien, are you home? Mommy's missed you so much..." The older boy grimaced. Even when he had been little, she'd never used that kind of baby talk. It was another sign of how far her mental illness had progressed.

"Yeah, I'm here, Mom," he replied, glancing back quickly at his forgotten brother, who had folded in on himself quite impressively. Gojyo was always attempting to make himself as small as possible, as if he was trying to shrink from her sight. "Did you drink at all tonight?" 'Please say no, please, no.'

She rounded the corner, one of the straps of her dress falling down and a lop-sided smile on her face. "I'm the parent, Jien, I can look after myself. Now, go get food." A bill was shoved into his hand as he stared at it. This was barely enough to buy something for all of them. He supposed that his only choice was that rundown fast food place on the corner.

"For all… three of us?" he ventured. He had to judge what state of mind she was in before he left her alone with his younger brother. She nodded and insisted that he go. He quickly turned to Gojyo, who was biting his lip, and whispered quickly, "Go to your room and lock your door until I get back." The situation was still too ambiguous for him to tell if he could trust her tonight.

Shaking, Gojyo did as he was told, padding down the hallway to his room.

Jien waited until he heard the click of the lock and looked back at his mother, who seemed to not have noticed the whole exchange. "I'll be back in about fifteen minutes."

Jien had never hurried so fast in his life. The food seemed to take forever to finish and he got back at such a speed that he was outrunning cars as they drove down the street. Yet, as he reached for the door, he felt his stomach twist at the noise from within.

She was screaming and crying, cursing something and then there were some loud thuds.

Jien's eyes widened. 'Why the hell did Gojyo come out of his room?'

The door was locked and, in his haste, Jien hadn't taken his keys with him. The pounding noises got louder and he barely heard a small cry that he immediately recognized as his brother.

"Mom… please! Mom, I'm sorry!"

Tears stinging his eyes, everything fled from Jien's mind except for saving Gojyo. He scanned around and noticed the shed behind the apartment complex was open. Rummaging around in it for a minute found him an axe, which he was soon swinging at the door, hacking away at it until he could reach the lock inside. He forgot to drop it and ran through the entryway, then to the living room.

The one thing he focused on was the blood. The red wormed its way into his brain and he trailed it to two open wounds on Gojyo's left cheek. Their mother was above him, striking him over and over with broken nails, crying. Her blows kept landing on those same wounds, deepening them until the skin had broken. That's when Jien saw the expression on his brother's face.

Gojyo's body went slack; he closed his eyes and waited. His mouth moved, forming the words, "It's ok."

The next thing Jien knew, a lifeless body fell to the ground.

Gojyo slowly opened his eyes and they swept up in uncertainty to his older brother. The blade of the axe was coated in blood, which was dripping down onto their mother's body.

Jien couldn't stop himself. The tears were freely flowing now as the axe fell from his hand. He hated his existence more than anything at that moment. "Gojyo-" His voice came out choked. 'I killed my mother. My own mother -- I murdered her.' "Run."

"W-what?" The red-haired boy continued to stare at the body. He once again began to shake.

Jien stepped over their mother to pull Gojyo to his feet. "I love you, bro, now… run," he said as he pushed Gojyo toward the door. When the boy continued to stare at him dazedly, Jien had no choice but to yell. "RUN AWAY!" he roared.

Gojyo's eyes widened, but he skittered off.

-+-

Now, here he was. He'd called the police in his state of shock, after making sure his brother was nowhere on the premises. He listened to the sirens as they stopped right in front of his house before turning off the TV.

"I guess it's time."