Weiss Kreuz is the creation of Takehito Koyasu, belonging to Mr. Koyasu and any entities he has granted legal rights to. I do not possess or claim any sort of right to the characters, situation or plot of Weiss Kreuz. This story is merely a fan work expressing my appreciation.
This story is also a gift-fic for my wonderfully talented friend, Tex-chan. I highly recommend reading her stories posted here!
Shot
Each of them had their own ways of coping with the unique stresses of their job. Omi threw himself into his schoolwork and his computer analysis and hacking skills with a frenetic vigor after the latest mission had gone sour. Ken started a new 'learn to play soccer' program for the kids. Yohji wondered that Ken didn't see the boy in his students – then he wondered if Ken did, which disturbed him more. Aya – Aya reviewed the notes of the mission, trying to figure out what went wrong and how to prevent it the next time. He trained like a fiend, spending endless hours in the weapons room and slicing to ribbons practice dummy after practice dummy. He didn't talk about it. None of them did. But, with Aya, it was like he tightened all of his emotions down into a bitter, little ball and swallowed it, becoming even more of a pain in the ass than usual. As for Yohji...
Yohji found his distraction – and comfort – as always, in the candle-lit company and perfumed arms of his latest lover. Whenever he was with her, he could push aside the dead, unseeing eyes of the child they had tried to save – tried, and failed, to save. Those eyes stared at him every time he closed his eyes, otherwise. Even alcohol hadn't been enough to banish them, so he spent every possible minute away, away from the shop, away from the guys, away from the dead child's accusing eyes...
Still, there was only so much catting around that Kritiker, and the guys, would tolerate. So, he'd waited until he was sure they'd all be asleep and carefully slunk his way back. He'd used the door to the Koneko, thinking to keep any noise of his return from waking the others. He'd just be here in the morning, distributing his cocky grin along with coffee at breakfast before taking his shift in the shop.
"Aya!" Yohji froze and uttered a strangled whisper at finding Aya at the shop's counter. Aya wasn't doing anything, arranging flowers, looking over the books, setting up for the next day – he just stood there, at the counter, with an uncharacteristically vague sort of air about him.
Aya looked up at Yohji. "I'm going to be shot on Thursday."
"What?" Yohji took a closer look at the other man. Aya's eyes, opened so wide he could see their purple hue, didn't quite focus. Sleepwalking, Yohji realized. And talking in his sleep, too.
"Shot. Thursday." Aya blinked. His eyelids drooped after that. Yohji had seen Aya sleepwalking half a dozen times over the years, so he knew he had to guide him back to his room, now. Whatever had driven the man to walk in his sleep had been appeased when he told Yohji his message. Waking Aya was the last thing he wanted to do. Not that Aya would react violently, no – it disturbed his equilibrium that he walked in his sleep. Greatly. Yohji had learned over time that it was best to simply guide Aya back to his room, see that he got into bed, and never mention the episode. Aya denied that he walked, or talked, in his sleep. Yohji wasn't quite sure why it distressed him so much – heck it even made sense with how tightly wound Aya was normally, but to keep the peace he'd learned to go along. They never talked about it, so Yohji wasn't even sure that Ken and Omi even knew that Aya walked in his sleep from time to time.
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Well, damn! Yohji thought, staring at the reflection in his mirror the next morning. It wasn't his appearance that sparked the expletive. No, it was remembering Aya's sleepwalking episode from the night before. Yohji didn't believe in ESP, reading the future and all that crap, but, neither did Aya. So, what had compelled Aya to get up from his bed, wander down to the flower shop and tell Yohji he was going to be shot on Thursday? It was really starting to piss Yohji off that he knew he couldn't simply ask Aya about it. First, Aya would have no memory of the entire thing. Second, it would piss Aya off that Yohji claimed he was sleepwalking again. So, asking Aya what the hell he meant by 'I'm going to be shot on Thursday' was a lose-lose situation.
And, Yohji worried.
Fortunately, Aya was the one on duty in the flower shop today, so Yohji could keep an eye on him. Sure, it was only Monday, but still... Yohji hoped that he could figure out what was going on before Thursday, and head whatever it was off at the pass.
Aya's daunting purple gaze flicked up as Yohji tied his shop apron on. "You returned."
Right. Aya was probably upset that he'd been gone for a few days with his latest lover. "Yeah, I figured it was time for me to pull my weight around here."
"Good. I had to take your shift last Friday," Aya told him before turning to help a customer. Yohji felt a bit guilty about that. All of them did it to Aya, all the time – get so involved in something in their own lives that they'd blow off one of their shifts in the flower shop. They all knew it was just a front, so sometimes it didn't seem as important as, say, studying for a hard test, as in Omi's case, or showing a lady an especially good time, as in Yohji's. Yohji had no idea what Ken's reasons were for ditching his flower shop shifts, but he knew the ex-soccer player had done it to Aya, too.
"So, you take my shift on Thursday to repay me," Aya stated once he'd finished with ringing up the middle-aged woman's sale.
"Thursday?" Yohji repeated. That was the day he was resolved to stick to Aya like a second shadow. "I'm not sure..."
"Thursday, Kudou. It's the least you can do. Friday was busy from open to close," Aya glared at him.
"O-okay," Yohji finally agreed. He'd make damn sure Ken or Omi could spell him, though, so he could follow Aya. There was no way he was letting his friend out of his sight on Thursday.
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"Well, damn!" Yohji cursed. Ken had been late taking over his shift in the shop. Yohji couldn't think of a plausible reason to delay Aya fast enough, and so had watched helplessly as Aya had taken off his work apron, hung it from the hook behind the door, scooped up his keys and jacket and matter-of-factly walked through the door. It had only been a couple of minutes, but Yohji had lost sight of Aya and had no idea where he was going. He skittered to a halt at seeing Aya's car parked in its usual spot in the alley behind the store.
"First bit of good luck I've had today," Yohji muttered. Okay, Aya had to be within walking distance. He only had a five minute lead, tops, and no idea Yohji was fixing to follow him. Yohji grimaced. That was probably a good thing. He couldn't help but worry until he got to the bottom of this whole 'shot' thing, and he knew he'd driven Aya crazy this past week. He couldn't help it. It would be one thing if Aya were to buy it during a mission, heck, that was the hazard they all accepted in their line of work, but quite another if Aya were to simply be the victim of some random street crime. Yohji couldn't bear it if Aya were shot, and killed, in a random mugging, for example. Sure, Aya could take care of himself, if he had a sword in his hands, and sure, he knew some hand-to-hand fighting, too, but Yohji wasn't sure Aya would muster the 'kill or be killed' instinct fast enough if he were caught off-guard and not on a mission. And, even if he did, Yohji had no illusions how any of them would fare without their weapons against armed, determined thieves, muggers or killers.
He touched the 'watch' he wore to reassure himself it was still there. Aside from Omi's ability to secrete a few darts or throwing knives about his person, Yohji was the only one of the four who could walk around in his 'normal' life with his weapon.
"Okay, if Aya likes it or not, I'm following him. Now, where could he have gone?" Yohji muttered to himself, ignoring the odd look a passing teenager shot his way.
Left, what the hell, Yohji decided. It was the right choice as he spied a rose petal on the sidewalk. It could have been left by anyone in our shop today, he told himself. Still, he didn't believe it. He was sure Aya had unknowingly dropped it, to serve as a sign to point him in the right direction. He felt a very determined shiver of fear run up his spine when he realized the petal was red. Blood red.
There didn't seem to be anything of interest along the street. Yohji glanced into each storefront as he passed by, but the stores – a hairdresser, pharmacy, restaurant, electronics store – not only didn't have his friend helpfully visible through their windows, but didn't seem like the sort of place Aya would have any sort of interest in, either.
Where the hell did you go? Yohji asked. What did that bit about being shot mean, anyway? he couldn't help but ask, for more than the hundredth time this week.
A distinctive flash of red hair caught his eye. Yes! There you are! Yohji wanted to cry out, he was so elated at finding Aya but stopped himself just in time. Melting back toward the buildings, he found his private investigator skills asserting themselves as he tailed Aya on this mysterious mission. It became harder and harder as Aya made his way toward one of the more run-down, and dangerous, areas of town, since there were fewer people walking around. Still, it didn't seem as if Aya were concerned. He never once glanced back to even notice that Yohji followed him.
Yohji fumed. Didn't Aya realize how dangerous this area was?! Didn't he feel the giant bulls-eye on his back that Yohji could half-see painted there? If Aya was worried enough over getting shot today that he was walking and talking in his fucking sleep about it, the least Yohji expected of him was not to go and make meeting up with Mr. Death so damn easy on the specter.
Aya entered a rather run-down building. Sheesh, you don't have to be so punctual with your meeting with death, you know that, you idiot? Yohji barely had time to register that the signs on the building were tattered and old placards for various sorts of doctors as he rushed to enter the building himself. Having lost sight of Aya again, Yohji was relieved to spy him through the streaked and dirty windows of one of the waiting rooms in one of the doctors' offices as he dashed by.
"So, what the heck are you doing here?" Yohji asked, leaning in the open doorway and grinning at his friend.
"Yoh-Yohji!" Aya blinked up at him in disbelief for a single moment before his usual cool mask slid calmly into place. "I have an appointment with the doctor. I will be returning to the shop once I'm finished here."
"Sure, sure. You don't mind if I keep you company, though?" Yohji entered the waiting room and sat down in the battered chair facing Aya's.
"Actually, I do."
"Well, tough. I'm not letting you out of my sight." Yohji stopped trying to banter with Aya.
"What's gotten into you, Kudou? You've been in my face and in my business all week. It's pissing me off." Aya finally told him.
"I'm worried about you," Yohji admitted softly.
Aya fixed him with a blank look that somehow conveyed disgust. "Why?"
"You told me you were getting shot today."
"I did no such thing," Aya said flatly.
"Yes, you did."
"When?"
Yohji couldn't help but feel as if he and Aya were brothers when they had back-and-forth arguments like this. Omi would probably laugh if he were to turn toward the teen and complain about Aya the way a bratty kid would to a parent when they started such useless arguments, but Ken would most likely just look at him blankly. Aya's eyes narrowed at him impatiently, as he was still waiting for an answer.
"Look, man, you hate it when I mention it, but you were, uhm, at the counter in the shop when I came home Sunday. It was late and you were..."
"Don't you dare say I was walking in my sleep, Yohji," Aya warned.
"Fine, I won't." The last thing Yohji wanted was for Aya to get upset and storm off. "But, you seemed to be worried about today, saying something about being shot on Thursday." Yohji looked over his shades at his friend, letting Aya see how sincerely worried he'd been. Aya blinked at him. Then laughed. "You're laughing at me?" Yohji demanded incredulously.
"Well, yeah." Aya sniggered. "I must have just been apprehensive about today's appointment, that's all. You've been an A-number-one jerk all week just because of this? There's no need for you to have worried. I'm not going to be killed today. At least not by a gunshot, if that's been your concern. Go on, go on home. I'll meet you there in a little while."
"No."
"What?"
"No. I'm not going anywhere without you."
"You are still on my case over this? Look, I don't want you here. I'm not in any sort of danger so, you can just..."
"I'm not budging without you. Until I'm satisfied, you are not getting out of my sight, Aya."
"You are such an asshole, you know that, Kudou?"
"Mr. Fujimiya, the doctor will see you now," the nurse called from the reception desk.
"I'm going with you," Yohji stood when Aya did, and caught his arm. Aya glared up at him. Yohji didn't let him go.
"Mr. Fujimiya?" the nurse asked.
"Fine. You can come with," Aya hissed at Yohji. "Just let go of my arm!"
Yohji let his hand drop, but stayed right behind Aya as the younger man pushed open a door and walked through a narrow corridor to a tiny room.
"Mr. Fujimiya, take off your coat and roll up your sleeves," the white-coated doctor ordered without even glancing up from the chart he was reading. To Yohji's distinct surprise, Aya obeyed, handing his jacket to Yohji to hold. The doctor reached over for a vial of fluid, drew a measured dose of it into a syringe, swabbed Aya's arm with a cotton ball, injected the contents and repeated the process with another vial and Aya's other arm with a rather brusque sort of efficiency – all without making the least bit of eye contact with his patient.
"Wait the usual amount of time before leaving," the doctor ordered, dropping his gaze to make notes in the file. Evidently it was a dismissal as Aya calmly took his coat from Yohji and shrugged back into it on the way back to the waiting room.
In the waiting room a woman tried to keep control of three rambunctious kids while a baby wailed in her arms. The din was overwhelming. Yohji couldn't seem to get Aya to meet his gaze so he could get a 'let's get the heck out of here' signal across, so he sighed and resigned to wait until Aya was ready to leave. After about fifteen minutes, Aya stood up and walked through the door.
"What the hell was that all about? What were those shots?" Yohji demanded once they were out of the building, away from the screaming kids, and walking on their way back home.
"I'd – rather not talk about it."
"I don't care what you'd rather do, Aya. I've been worried for days. The least you can do is tell me why you are letting some rude doctor shoot drugs into you in a seedy, little back-alley sort of medical building for quacks..."
"Enough. My health is my business."
"You – you aren't going to up and die on me from some fucking disease, are you, Aya? That would be just like you, you stupid prick..."
"I'm not dying. At least not from a disease. I really don't want to talk about this."
Yohji grabbed Aya's shoulders and spun him around, forcing the smaller man to look him full in the face. Yohji had no idea what Aya saw in his face; he just knew he couldn't take another week of worry like this again. Whatever it was, Aya glanced away in discomfort, and sighed. Yohji let his arms go. "Look, man, I was just worried..."
"I'll tell you, if only to get you to stop nagging me about it. But, I swear, if you tell anyone else, especially Omi or Ken, I'll kill you. I'll hunt you down and run my sword right through you, Yohji Kudou, if you breathe a word of this to anyone."
Yohji nodded. Aya was vehement, and serious, just as vehement and serious as Yohji had ever seen him. He blinked. Was Aya – blushing?
"That was my monthly appointment for immuno-suppressive therapy."
"Immuno-suppressive...? Allergies? I've never seen you sneezing or anything... What are you allergic to?"
Aya looked Yohji full in the face again, giving Yohji his most pissed off 'you are dumber than dirt for making me say this out loud' look.
"Flowers." He turned and stalked off.
Yohji snerked. He laughed. He chortled. He guffawed. "Fl-fl-flowers?!" He ran to catch up to Aya again. "No way! This was a great practical joke, Aya. You really had me going..."
Aya stopped walking and looked at him.
"You really are a fucking, stupid bastard, Kudou."
"Wait... You're serious? Man, what the fuck kind of fucking unlucky fucking star were you born under, Aya? Allergic to flowers? That's just so fucking funny it's tragic."
"Yeah, hilarious pathos. I don't want to talk about it. And, you better not. I mean it. It's not funny on this end of the needle."
"Shot... It all makes sense, now. No wonder you were talkin' in your sleep."
"I don't talk in my sleep."
"Yes you do, man."
"I do not."
"Do, too."
"Stop it, Yohji."
"Can't make me!"
"You are a fucking prick, you know that?"
"Love you too, Aya!"
- end -
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Author's notes -
I don't normally use such foul language in my stories, so I hope it did not offend anyone too much. Still, with how Yohji is, I think he would curse like a sailor under such stress. He's an ex-P.I./current assassin, after all -- not a choir boy! (Good thing, too, or else he'd have to eat a bar of Lava soap -- the one with pumice in it -- after how he was cursing in this story!)
Reviews, comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome! Please feel free to send a message to me also if you see something awkward that needs to be clarified or fixed. I need all the help I can get.