A Disclaimer.
Weiss Kreuz is not mine. I don't even own posters--that's kinda sad, actually...
A Slight Apology.
I don't take German. Titles and whatnot are from translations, and squeezed from Miyou-chan.
A Dedication.
This fanfic, the entire thing in its entirety, complete or not, is dedicated to my good friend, "Boring Old Miyouko", also known as mentaru. She and I had a Weiss Kreuz marathon at her house, and we both had this huge pause of silence and tearfulness when Gluhen ended. This fic is for her, since I don't believe Aya deserves such a crappy ending, and I want to give her a somewhat happier one.
Hearts for you, Miyou-chan.
Zukunft
denken.
.think.commence.
Delinquent children these days. His goal was to help them as he had been helped; he wanted them to have a chance to live at piece. He wanted them to feel loved, to know there was room to love even after all the pain, even after their mistakes.
The ability to live made them human. The ability to love made them more. Even after death, they would leave a legacy, whether their mission was completed or not.
He knew he couldn't help every child, even though he truly wished to. There were some who strayed, some who would stray, like the small, staggering child who struggled his way down the sidewalk with the many others walking in his direction. The kid didn't look up, hand in his jacket pocket, trembling and upset, yet quiet, and Aya knew what was to happen.
Each person on that stretch of concrete had one thing in common. They were sinners. They had lied, stolen, cheated, and in his case, killed. A new sinner was in the making, Aya could tell. All met their appropriate fate. He already knew his; the crucifix he carried was heavy, weighed with the burdens of many.
He could almost tell what was to come.
The familiar burn of sharp steel as it ripped past the two layers of fabric, through his flesh, inch by inch, at a downward angle...
He gasped softly.
The boy was a sinner. His blood stained a child's hands, a child's impure hands... He wanted to carry that cross too. He carried sins and burdens. He couldn't allow that child to carry the sin of murder for the rest of his life.
Ironic. It seemed appropriate. The murderer of hundreds... creates a sinner in his death...
By the time he came to a halt in front of a mailbox, with one sharp breath inhaled, he knew he had to stop.
He wasn't a god... He was far from it...
His knees gave way. As he sank to the ground, his right hand held the knife in place, trying not to shift it in any way to possibly rupture any internal organs, but he knew it didn't help. Blood seeped through his clothing, warming his gloved hands, as he sat quietly on the cold ground. Sinners walked on this ground... a sinner was going to die on this ground...
He knew it could be over. He was paying for his sins, for the sins of many...
His eyes shut slowly, a soft whisper escaping drifting into the air.
"That's right..."
He was ready to leave, to travel to those unnaturally beautiful days, selling flowers from the trailer. As a soft, gentle breath escaped his lips, he found himself ready to face Hell if need be.
...is this an ending? is it already over? the silence...
This was his life.
This was his life.
He was a married man.
He woke up in a hospital. He had a name, he just couldn't remember it. He had a story, he just didn't know. He loved a woman, but he found her... he thought.
She fixed his tie that morning, since he couldn't quite remember how to fix it properly himself. Her hands were delicate, straightening the fabric, smoothing it down his tone chest, adjusting his jacket... all done with precision and care.
Asuka...
She was a lovely wife. After they had eaten breakfast, they grabbed the two bags of trash and left together. A reason for togetherness... because he shouldn't be alone. He didn't want to. It scared him.
He knew there was something...
What was it?
He could remember her words that day, when she told him. Amnesia. And he could possibly never remember... he didn't need to try, it would be better to start over. They were married, they were happy, he didn't need to remember anything.
So he just went to work quietly that morning, after a small kiss goodbye. They walked. He could have taken the car, but she might have needed it if she was called in. Plus, walks were good. The doctors told him that walking could help keep him fit and clear his mind.
Another man in a dark blue suit with a black briefcase in hand. Another man on the sidewalks...
A sinner and he doesn't even know it.
His pale, hazel eyes look around him for familiar faces. Asuka told him not to look so hard, but he couldn't help it. It was the mystery which lay behind not knowing that bothered him. He wanted to know, he wanted to find out; he didn't have an identity without his past. He was just another living shell...
Empty...
But as he walked the vaguely familiar sidewalks, he saw a stranger. The man was crouched by a mailbox, skin pale and losing color. He had a hand at his midsection, and his eyes were closed. A homeless man wouldn't have dressed so nicely.
He wanted to find out. Something was drawing him to this man...
Calling? Calling?
Hello. Yohji Kudou is here.
The man froze. Yohji... yes, his name. This man...
Aya... Fujimiya Aya...
Who is he?
Yohji gasped, looking at this unconscious figure. Dropping to his knees, he placed a hand on the man's neck, checking for a pulse. Faint... but there nonetheless. He wasn't dead... not yet, anyway. Thankfully.
Someone screamed. Yohji called out for help. A person pulled out a cell phone. The body was moved to lay, a bloody hand pulled from a bleeding wound... Was he dying? Was he dead?
...I should have gotten there sooner... but... why? Who is Aya? He... he means...
He knew this was getting rediculous. He was thinking, contemplating... it was rediculous. There had to be an answer; a reason had to be in here, a purpose, a solution... an answer. That was all he wanted. Answers.
Did he even have a question?
That's the question right there...
"Go back to the general population," the prison guard demanded. He wanted him to mingle. There was no reason to hide in solitary confinement. His days in there were now finished. He could start them again, whenever he wished, three days from today.
The smug action was not needed in the cafeteria. He knew he could be attacked for that. Hiding... this was all hiding. His outbursts, hiding his emotions behind false ones... he didn't know what he was doing.
He didn't even know what he was doing.
They had him outside. Everyone was outside, for the air. The calm, fresh air... it would calm them down. Yet they worked themselves up over soccer. So rough, chasing, tackling, cheating... playing.
They lost the ball.
That was when he found it.
He gave them a challenge. Catch him, free food. They lost the wager, he gained an answer.
Soccer was the answer?
Confrontation... solving the problem made an answer.
That made a lot more sense than four concrete walls and a cold floor. In the cafeteria, he gave his lunch away anyway. He wanted real food.
"Can I have my phone call?" he asked. "I want to leave."
They couldn't deny him.
He wasn't going to be stopped.
Can I? I... I think I know why I'm going... but... where...
He was in a car.
He was often in a car. She sat next to him quietly as the driver cruised down a highway.
They were going to get him back. He remembered, he knew, he was coming. It had to be. A reunion was in need. But it wasn't going to last for long; nothing ever lasted for long.
Ephemeral happiness... excellent...
Let us continue.
They continued to drive down this stretch of road, cars flashing past them, silent and tinted on the other side of the windows. He seemed unphazed by any of it, a phone at his ear. "Yes... I'll come get you."
He would always come to get him.
A small smile formed. Weak and mysterious, but there. And he knew why. There was a purpose to this... there was an answer...
...it was always true... you really can't run forever...
masks always shattered...
even the loners need company... once in a while...
sometimes the answers didn't matter...
the past... it's always there...
stop running.
"Weiss... there is a mission."
.denken.end.
Think.
.wk.
What do you guys think? I hope you liked it, it was fun to write. And it's all for Miyou-chan because she helps me a lot, and we had a WK marathon at her house, and hated the ending, and so I wrote this for her, so it won't end so... bad-like.
Yeah... love!
:Darkness Princess.