He Could Have Loved
Fanfiction written by MYTHICAL COLORS
Disclaimer for Dummies: Weiss Kreuz Kapitel or Gluhen aren't mine. But we all know this.
I get so lazy to write fanfic so when the inspiration hits, I try to pay attention to it as much as I can.
SPOILERS FOR WK GLUHEN EPISODE 9. You've been warned.
Also, this is a one-shot.Meaning NO SEQUELS.
Aya held Asami in his arms as she was dying. He wondered what he had done to anger God now.
Thoughts of how he missed her only by seconds plagued him. If he'd gotten here sooner, perhaps he could've still told her to run. He would've had to let go of her, but she could still run, live, be free from the curse that seemed to loom over him.
But she would be alright. She would have a chance to find happiness, a concept so vague and strange to him now.
How many people must suffer until he could be fully punished for what he was. What he had become?
Asami's blood flowed from the opening made in her stomach by Tsuji's bare hands. An unending, flowing stream reminding him of all the hate, sadness and pain that came back to collect what was due of him once more.
The crimson dripped from the corner of her quivering lips. In her final moments, Asami Kyouko wanted to hold "Fujimiya-sensei"'s hand, and could not. Her weakening grip on the blue-green organizer in her hand faltered as life slipped away from her frame. Closer to death she was, she whispered his name. Aya. His name was beautiful. Like he was. Inside and out. As he knelt there holding her, she saw his pristine white wings through her blurry vision. An angel who came to her comfort her in her last moments. She cared not to see the blood on his hands, the ugly black feathers that lay hidden behind the rest of the pure white. His true self which held the sword that took so many lives and spilled so much blood.
She wanted to say so much more, but could not.
"Aya... sensei..."
Asami closed her eyes and gave in.
She was gone.
Once more, the images and smell of death surrounded him. He was not death, he was not the devil. Yet this was his life.
He was a murderer.
Aya stared at the opened blue-green organizer that fell out of Asami's grasp. A silver-white diskette lay over the pages, mocking him. Reminding him that there was no escape from the damnation of his soul.
Once more, Aya Fujimiya, Abyssinian closed his eyes and waited for the tears. None came. There was only burning anguish while the last ounce of hope was drained from him. He remained where he was, holding the lifeless body of the woman he could have loved.
Note: Yeah, Asami's first name wasn't really mentioned as far as I remembered. So I gave her one. If anyone remembers, please tell me so I can edit this. ^^;
Reviews and comments (negative or positive) are appreciated.
And flamers are free to send their comments to, but at least be original and amusing about it.
~Dea
