Disclaimer: Weiß Kruez characters belong to Koyasu Takehito and Project
Weiß.
Presence
Written by: Psyienna
December, 2001
Moonlight streamed through gaps in the haphazardly closed blinds, splashing the room in odd blotches of color and darkness. Omi crouched down behind his hiding spot, allowing his eyes to adapt to the dim surroundings. Melding into the shadows, he studied the room's dimensions, the key points of the mission running through his head and weaving a countermelody around his steady, even heartbeat. Finally, it was time. Clicking the code Manx had given him, he ducked down behind the cozy chair as the entrance glowed an angry yellow, pulsing and shimmering. With a gentle push, he leaped effortlessly through the large barrier and landed noiselessly on the carpeted floor, darting furtive glances towards the target as he swiftly hid behind an open door.
Seconds ticked by, and still no movement from their quarry. Finally, he stood and flashed the ok sign through the rectangular opening. A gloved hand returned a thumbs up. The taller assassins' shadows swelled as they approached the opening, a bright yellow border framing the black void. Seeing Ken suddenly sticking out of the wall at a bizarre angle forced Omi to look twice. His friend's head turned every which way, thick bangs obscuring the bright brown eyes. He sprung into the room and Aya followed immediately. Omi chuckled to himself as the rakish figure preened slightly, smoothing his ebony trenchcoat. After a long pause, Omi waved furiously at Yohji, who was leaning forward on the overstuffed armchair, smoking a cigarette as he peered at them, a sour frown crunching his face.
Omi and Ken exchanged bemused glances; the eldest Weiß member was fearless to the point of being reckless, and yet he was hesitant to enter the target's room. "What is he afraid of?" Ken whispered in Omi's ear. "He's only leaving the wallscroll."
The younger boy shrugged. Manx had assured them that the portal was harmless, but why was Yohji so frightened? Omi believed traveling from their universe into someone else's reality wasn't the strangest mission they had been assigned, but the tallest assassin apparently thought otherwise. The blonde shifted nervously in the chair, mussing the scarlet slipcover as he fidgeted. Finally he tossed the cigarette butt aside and with a soft curse got down on his hands and knees, crawled to the entrance, held onto the chair, and shinnied gingerly through the wallscroll, over the edge, and down onto the floor by Omi's feet. Yohji quickly stood and fussed over the entrance with his back to the others, turning to them only when the wallscroll border turned a soft green. The other three assassins shared a secret smile; the blonde was getting a ribbing after the mission was over.
Ken took an interest in the things amassed around their feet. "Aa, it's just like my room!" he murmured happily, pointing towards the scattered Rollerblades and running shoes.
Yohji strolled over to the bed, stretching and flexing his back. "Ee, that chair is uncomfortable!" he whispered back, jabbing his thumb at the overstuffed chair with the silken coverslip. "And what do we have here?" He turned and leaned close to the bed, staring at the target's reflection, a gentle smile tugging at his face. A thought came to him and he grinned. "I wonder, is she sleeping.. " He started to pull up the covers slightly, curious to see what was underneath...
Only to receive a smack on the back of the head. "YOHJI-KUN!" Omi shouted, not caring what hour it was. "Ali-chan is sleeping and you can't even BEGIN to THINK- "
Ken rushed over, separating the two and trying to hush them. "Shhh, you don't want her to wake up, do you? And tonight, of all nights," he admonished.
Yohji huffed imperiously and grinned at the dark-haired assassin. "Ah, Manx said she can't hear us, unless we want her to." He thought for a minute, then recalled a ballad he often heard on the clock radio. "Walk with me and I can guarantee, you're gonna find nobody else like me," he sang, then smiled as the sleeping woman barely flicked an eyelid. "See? She's lost in her own dreams, her own wishes-"
Omi stared sadly at the wallscroll hanging by the door. "She hasn't wished for much lately," he commented softly. "And her wishes haven't come true."
They all became somber, even Aya, who had staked out the bedroom door, watching for intruders. The redhead frowned as he contemplated the changes to her room. It used to be a lively place; laughter echoed through the bedroom as she joked with friends and her father, and any spare time was spent studying. But now the books lay discarded, and the cluttered and chaotic room was a sad reflection of the woman's spirit. The comfy chair was being heavily used, for she spent hours wrapped in a blanket and staring sadly out the window, or even at the wallscroll, during sleepless nights.
Weiß had become so concerned about the situation that Persia had ordered an emergency mission. They all instantly agreed ("Anything to help a woman in need," Yohji quipped), but the correct course of action on their current mission remained unclear.
Aya's eyes narrowed as a faint rustling whispered in his ears. Tensing, he unsheathed his katana, ready to leap at any threat.
A little black face peered curiously around the corner at him. The sword blade glinted and shifted, anxious to deliver the killing blow- until the elderly Scottish Terrier waddled around the corner, stopping to lap at the water dish. Aya was relieved that the dog wasn't a threat; he couldn't help but glance at his comrades, hoping no one had noticed.
And they hadn't. Ken was slowly putting things away in the messy room, occasionally tripping and falling over his own feet. Yohji tsked tsked as he sorted through the closet, examining the woman's wardrobe. "Iya!" he muttered, staring in dismay at the paltry selection. "Does this girl wear anything except baggy jeans, baggy T-shirts, and baggy sweatshirts?"
Omi twisted in the office chair, turning away from the computer monitor. "They're easy to wear when you're working at the computer, Yohji- kun," he answered. "She dresses like me!"
Yohji's sensual mouth twisted into a frown. "I noticed," he replied politely, then turned back to his task. Humming softly, he grabbed armfuls of clothes and disappeared into the wallscroll.
With a sigh, Omi turned back to the computer monitor, tracing a finger over the text. "Ahhh!" he said excitedly, suddenly understanding the code scrolling by on the screen. "The btree isn't performing the split correctly, the pointer's looking at the wrong memory location-" His fingers flashed over the battered keyboard. Yohji returned, carrying a large pile; he dropped his load in the closet and retreated into the wallscroll with the rest of the hanging clothes. Aya stood his ground, eyes searching the darkness, keeping the others safe.
After a couple of hours, Weiß stood back and admired their handiwork. The bedroom floor sparkled and the books were neatly stacked next to the computer. The closet was freshly organized, and the barely closed doors bulged into the room. The computer was merrily humming through endless test files. Ken leaped out of sight and returned with a crisp-cold glass of milk and a large plate of warm, fresh cookies that he placed on the desk, grinning at his own ingenuity.
Yohji leaned down once more, gently squeezing the woman's hand, soothing her as she sighed. Weiß meant so much to her- and over time, she had come to mean the world to them. "No more tears, no more sadness, ne?" he murmured. "Find the sparkle in your smile again. Find that joy, make us smile too."
"We have to go," Omi warned, waving at the portal. "It's almost daylight, and you remember what Manx said about the dawn-"
Omi entered the portal and took his place by the window. But just as Yohji was about to follow, Ken scooted ahead of him and plopped down in the chair, grinning mischievously.
"Baka-yaro! You asshole!" Yohji sputtered.
"Hey! Move your feet, lose your seat!" Ken laughed back, grinning. Yohji couldn't resist Ken when he was so cheerful, and with a heavy sigh, the blonde clapped his hand on Omi's shoulder. "You got the URLs of those porn story sites off her computer, right, Omittichi?"
Omi's blue eyes widened in shock, then he grinned ruefully. "I'll show you later, ok?" he asked, glancing back through the entrance. "Aya- kun! Hayaku!"
The sun had peeked over the horizon, and the wallscroll border glowed an angry, hostile red. Aya hustled through, then reappeared a moment later, cradling an object in his gloved hands. Setting it down, he smoothed the woman's tangled strands away from her face.
"Merry Christmas- Ali."
Then he disappeared into the portal, and the room was dark and still.
//===========
The woman awoke with a start, rubbing her already-tired eyes. She had overslept, and she had so much work to do! The project leader wanted to see their program the next day, and she had an inkling of how to fix the problem that had been dogging her for weeks. Stumbling to her feet, she followed her usual path halfway to the computer before she realized that the path no longer existed. Her room was as organized as the day she moved in; everything was in its proper place. Shaking her head, she spent a few moments trying to recall what had happened. Finally, she dismissed the clean room as the results of a forgotten midnight cleaning frenzy. Sitting in her chair, she almost knocked over a tall glass of milk. She grabbed it in time but sloshed the creamy liquid over a cookie plate. They were still warm, as if they had come from the oven. After a moment of hesitation, hunger overcame her and started tapping away, juggling a cookie from hand to hand while she typed. Suddenly she stopped, gazing blankly at the screen.
The files had changed! Shocked, she leaned forward, her nose almost touching the screen as she scanned her program. The documentation was beautifully done, and the macros.she'd learn a thing or two from their construction. Half-dazed, she compiled and ran the program, including all the test files. Everything worked perfectly.
Chewing a pen, she settled back in her office chair and thought. The computer files and room were undeniably different. But who did all the work? Was it her father? Or a friend? Still perplexed about the sudden change in fortune, she clambered to her feet and prepared for a shower. Opening the closet doors, the woman reached for a towel but leaped back instinctively as the pent-up closet exploded, covering her with clothes.
"GAH!" She shook her head and pulled the clothing off her face. It was sleek and smooth.her jaw dropped as she touched the black leather hip- huggers bundled up in a cashmere sweater and silk scarf. Her mouth gaped and stayed that way as she peered in the closet. Not everything was as trendy as the hip-huggers, but the closet had been transformed into something out of a fashion stylist's dream; every garment was expensive and in good taste. And to judge by the pants and sweater, they were her size.
She turned, totally bewildered now- and squarely faced the wallscroll. It had changed. The cloth was worn and familiar underneath her fingertips. But Ken was lounging in the chair, head thrown back, graceful hands as sensuous as the suggestive position of his body- except for the mocking smile he aimed upwards at a glowering Yohji, who wore a resigned grin. Aya peered silently back at her, grasping his katana, with a shy smile briefly touching his face, and Omi was sweeter than ever, looking towards a corner of the room. She followed his gaze, then reached out in wonderment. On her bedstead, a tiny delicate rose in a crystal vase twinkled in the dappling sunbeams. She smelled deeply of its perfume, and with a knowing smile, she turned back to the wallscroll, not really believing, but accepting all the same.
"Arigatou gozaimasu," she murmured, giving a graceful bow. "Merry Christmas, Weiß."
She left the room, unaware of the soft wink Ken gave her behind her back.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you're interested in the wallscroll, check out:
http://store.yahoo.com/animenation/z204.html
Otherwise, Merry Christmas!
Presence
Written by: Psyienna
December, 2001
Moonlight streamed through gaps in the haphazardly closed blinds, splashing the room in odd blotches of color and darkness. Omi crouched down behind his hiding spot, allowing his eyes to adapt to the dim surroundings. Melding into the shadows, he studied the room's dimensions, the key points of the mission running through his head and weaving a countermelody around his steady, even heartbeat. Finally, it was time. Clicking the code Manx had given him, he ducked down behind the cozy chair as the entrance glowed an angry yellow, pulsing and shimmering. With a gentle push, he leaped effortlessly through the large barrier and landed noiselessly on the carpeted floor, darting furtive glances towards the target as he swiftly hid behind an open door.
Seconds ticked by, and still no movement from their quarry. Finally, he stood and flashed the ok sign through the rectangular opening. A gloved hand returned a thumbs up. The taller assassins' shadows swelled as they approached the opening, a bright yellow border framing the black void. Seeing Ken suddenly sticking out of the wall at a bizarre angle forced Omi to look twice. His friend's head turned every which way, thick bangs obscuring the bright brown eyes. He sprung into the room and Aya followed immediately. Omi chuckled to himself as the rakish figure preened slightly, smoothing his ebony trenchcoat. After a long pause, Omi waved furiously at Yohji, who was leaning forward on the overstuffed armchair, smoking a cigarette as he peered at them, a sour frown crunching his face.
Omi and Ken exchanged bemused glances; the eldest Weiß member was fearless to the point of being reckless, and yet he was hesitant to enter the target's room. "What is he afraid of?" Ken whispered in Omi's ear. "He's only leaving the wallscroll."
The younger boy shrugged. Manx had assured them that the portal was harmless, but why was Yohji so frightened? Omi believed traveling from their universe into someone else's reality wasn't the strangest mission they had been assigned, but the tallest assassin apparently thought otherwise. The blonde shifted nervously in the chair, mussing the scarlet slipcover as he fidgeted. Finally he tossed the cigarette butt aside and with a soft curse got down on his hands and knees, crawled to the entrance, held onto the chair, and shinnied gingerly through the wallscroll, over the edge, and down onto the floor by Omi's feet. Yohji quickly stood and fussed over the entrance with his back to the others, turning to them only when the wallscroll border turned a soft green. The other three assassins shared a secret smile; the blonde was getting a ribbing after the mission was over.
Ken took an interest in the things amassed around their feet. "Aa, it's just like my room!" he murmured happily, pointing towards the scattered Rollerblades and running shoes.
Yohji strolled over to the bed, stretching and flexing his back. "Ee, that chair is uncomfortable!" he whispered back, jabbing his thumb at the overstuffed chair with the silken coverslip. "And what do we have here?" He turned and leaned close to the bed, staring at the target's reflection, a gentle smile tugging at his face. A thought came to him and he grinned. "I wonder, is she sleeping.. " He started to pull up the covers slightly, curious to see what was underneath...
Only to receive a smack on the back of the head. "YOHJI-KUN!" Omi shouted, not caring what hour it was. "Ali-chan is sleeping and you can't even BEGIN to THINK- "
Ken rushed over, separating the two and trying to hush them. "Shhh, you don't want her to wake up, do you? And tonight, of all nights," he admonished.
Yohji huffed imperiously and grinned at the dark-haired assassin. "Ah, Manx said she can't hear us, unless we want her to." He thought for a minute, then recalled a ballad he often heard on the clock radio. "Walk with me and I can guarantee, you're gonna find nobody else like me," he sang, then smiled as the sleeping woman barely flicked an eyelid. "See? She's lost in her own dreams, her own wishes-"
Omi stared sadly at the wallscroll hanging by the door. "She hasn't wished for much lately," he commented softly. "And her wishes haven't come true."
They all became somber, even Aya, who had staked out the bedroom door, watching for intruders. The redhead frowned as he contemplated the changes to her room. It used to be a lively place; laughter echoed through the bedroom as she joked with friends and her father, and any spare time was spent studying. But now the books lay discarded, and the cluttered and chaotic room was a sad reflection of the woman's spirit. The comfy chair was being heavily used, for she spent hours wrapped in a blanket and staring sadly out the window, or even at the wallscroll, during sleepless nights.
Weiß had become so concerned about the situation that Persia had ordered an emergency mission. They all instantly agreed ("Anything to help a woman in need," Yohji quipped), but the correct course of action on their current mission remained unclear.
Aya's eyes narrowed as a faint rustling whispered in his ears. Tensing, he unsheathed his katana, ready to leap at any threat.
A little black face peered curiously around the corner at him. The sword blade glinted and shifted, anxious to deliver the killing blow- until the elderly Scottish Terrier waddled around the corner, stopping to lap at the water dish. Aya was relieved that the dog wasn't a threat; he couldn't help but glance at his comrades, hoping no one had noticed.
And they hadn't. Ken was slowly putting things away in the messy room, occasionally tripping and falling over his own feet. Yohji tsked tsked as he sorted through the closet, examining the woman's wardrobe. "Iya!" he muttered, staring in dismay at the paltry selection. "Does this girl wear anything except baggy jeans, baggy T-shirts, and baggy sweatshirts?"
Omi twisted in the office chair, turning away from the computer monitor. "They're easy to wear when you're working at the computer, Yohji- kun," he answered. "She dresses like me!"
Yohji's sensual mouth twisted into a frown. "I noticed," he replied politely, then turned back to his task. Humming softly, he grabbed armfuls of clothes and disappeared into the wallscroll.
With a sigh, Omi turned back to the computer monitor, tracing a finger over the text. "Ahhh!" he said excitedly, suddenly understanding the code scrolling by on the screen. "The btree isn't performing the split correctly, the pointer's looking at the wrong memory location-" His fingers flashed over the battered keyboard. Yohji returned, carrying a large pile; he dropped his load in the closet and retreated into the wallscroll with the rest of the hanging clothes. Aya stood his ground, eyes searching the darkness, keeping the others safe.
After a couple of hours, Weiß stood back and admired their handiwork. The bedroom floor sparkled and the books were neatly stacked next to the computer. The closet was freshly organized, and the barely closed doors bulged into the room. The computer was merrily humming through endless test files. Ken leaped out of sight and returned with a crisp-cold glass of milk and a large plate of warm, fresh cookies that he placed on the desk, grinning at his own ingenuity.
Yohji leaned down once more, gently squeezing the woman's hand, soothing her as she sighed. Weiß meant so much to her- and over time, she had come to mean the world to them. "No more tears, no more sadness, ne?" he murmured. "Find the sparkle in your smile again. Find that joy, make us smile too."
"We have to go," Omi warned, waving at the portal. "It's almost daylight, and you remember what Manx said about the dawn-"
Omi entered the portal and took his place by the window. But just as Yohji was about to follow, Ken scooted ahead of him and plopped down in the chair, grinning mischievously.
"Baka-yaro! You asshole!" Yohji sputtered.
"Hey! Move your feet, lose your seat!" Ken laughed back, grinning. Yohji couldn't resist Ken when he was so cheerful, and with a heavy sigh, the blonde clapped his hand on Omi's shoulder. "You got the URLs of those porn story sites off her computer, right, Omittichi?"
Omi's blue eyes widened in shock, then he grinned ruefully. "I'll show you later, ok?" he asked, glancing back through the entrance. "Aya- kun! Hayaku!"
The sun had peeked over the horizon, and the wallscroll border glowed an angry, hostile red. Aya hustled through, then reappeared a moment later, cradling an object in his gloved hands. Setting it down, he smoothed the woman's tangled strands away from her face.
"Merry Christmas- Ali."
Then he disappeared into the portal, and the room was dark and still.
//===========
The woman awoke with a start, rubbing her already-tired eyes. She had overslept, and she had so much work to do! The project leader wanted to see their program the next day, and she had an inkling of how to fix the problem that had been dogging her for weeks. Stumbling to her feet, she followed her usual path halfway to the computer before she realized that the path no longer existed. Her room was as organized as the day she moved in; everything was in its proper place. Shaking her head, she spent a few moments trying to recall what had happened. Finally, she dismissed the clean room as the results of a forgotten midnight cleaning frenzy. Sitting in her chair, she almost knocked over a tall glass of milk. She grabbed it in time but sloshed the creamy liquid over a cookie plate. They were still warm, as if they had come from the oven. After a moment of hesitation, hunger overcame her and started tapping away, juggling a cookie from hand to hand while she typed. Suddenly she stopped, gazing blankly at the screen.
The files had changed! Shocked, she leaned forward, her nose almost touching the screen as she scanned her program. The documentation was beautifully done, and the macros.she'd learn a thing or two from their construction. Half-dazed, she compiled and ran the program, including all the test files. Everything worked perfectly.
Chewing a pen, she settled back in her office chair and thought. The computer files and room were undeniably different. But who did all the work? Was it her father? Or a friend? Still perplexed about the sudden change in fortune, she clambered to her feet and prepared for a shower. Opening the closet doors, the woman reached for a towel but leaped back instinctively as the pent-up closet exploded, covering her with clothes.
"GAH!" She shook her head and pulled the clothing off her face. It was sleek and smooth.her jaw dropped as she touched the black leather hip- huggers bundled up in a cashmere sweater and silk scarf. Her mouth gaped and stayed that way as she peered in the closet. Not everything was as trendy as the hip-huggers, but the closet had been transformed into something out of a fashion stylist's dream; every garment was expensive and in good taste. And to judge by the pants and sweater, they were her size.
She turned, totally bewildered now- and squarely faced the wallscroll. It had changed. The cloth was worn and familiar underneath her fingertips. But Ken was lounging in the chair, head thrown back, graceful hands as sensuous as the suggestive position of his body- except for the mocking smile he aimed upwards at a glowering Yohji, who wore a resigned grin. Aya peered silently back at her, grasping his katana, with a shy smile briefly touching his face, and Omi was sweeter than ever, looking towards a corner of the room. She followed his gaze, then reached out in wonderment. On her bedstead, a tiny delicate rose in a crystal vase twinkled in the dappling sunbeams. She smelled deeply of its perfume, and with a knowing smile, she turned back to the wallscroll, not really believing, but accepting all the same.
"Arigatou gozaimasu," she murmured, giving a graceful bow. "Merry Christmas, Weiß."
She left the room, unaware of the soft wink Ken gave her behind her back.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you're interested in the wallscroll, check out:
http://store.yahoo.com/animenation/z204.html
Otherwise, Merry Christmas!