After The Rain 3 - Return To The Game

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(Yohji and Omi. Memories.)

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Watching the door close behind Aya, Omi sucked his lower lip between his teeth and began to worry the soft flesh, while his fingers played with the cigarette case. It had taken him a long time to find enough resolve and resources, but now, perhaps, the time was right, just as Yohji had foreseen... Yohji, in his easy, lucid ways. Maybe it did not take Crawford's type of imagination to see enough of the future, and it took no gift at all, but all the strength he had,to remember...

Remember.
And not break under the burden of sorrow...

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"Is it true?" Yohji, face ashen, eyes dull, leaned against the door of their mission room. They heard the outside door slam as Aya stormed out, and shortly afterwards, the engine of the Porsche screamed as he drove off. Yohji winced a little and dropped the half-unsheathed katana he had been hugging to his chestagainst Aya's wrath. The blade clunked to the wooden floor, and Yohji gave it a shove with his foot that sent it slithering against the door.

Omi crouched on the workbench that served for a seat. Elbows on his knees, hands pressed together at the knuckles andfisting in the overlong sleeves of his tee, sneaker-clad feet dangling listlessly. His head bent low, he merely nodded.

Silence settled between them, thick and cold, clinging to the skin like fog. Omi sniffed and scrubbed one cotton-wrapped hand over his face. Yohji could not see his expression and had no idea what to say right then, so he lit two cigarettes and offered one to Omi, who took it without a word.

"So," Yohji broke the stillness, "you're a Takatori. So what?"

Omi tensed up a bit more, his shoulders hunched and heaving. "Man, Yotan... after all that happened..." A puff of blue smoke, another wipe over his face, blond bangs hanging stubbornly over his features.

"It's not your fault."

More smoke. "My ass," Omi whispered hoarsely, "I nearly killed him... I know what he's thinkin' now, and I can't even blame him now."1

"You were following orders, weren't you? And it never happened anyway."

"'Cos you were there." Finally, Omi looked up, eyes dark and watery. "I'd have done it, yanno. For Kritiker. I believed..." He broke off to suck in a deep lungful of smoke. His hand with the cigarette was shaking, and his nose dribbled a little. He did not notice. "You've been right all along."

Yohji shrugged. "Chance.Everyone's fooled now and then, Omitchi. It happens."

"He... he came after me with the sword," Omi rasped, his voice barely above his breath. "He meant to cut me down."

Yohji came to life. "Yeah, and you'd have let him." He walked across and sat down by Omi's side. "He'll calm down, yanno."

"He nearly cut you."

A wry smile curled Yohji's lips, and he gave Omi a glance from hooded eyes. "I can handle it."

"You just patched up... with him, I mean."

"It'll mend. It always does."

Omi looked lost. "He'll think... it just looks like I fooled him all along. All of you."

"Perhaps we've all been led on,but not by you," Yohji said quietly through another breathful of smoke, watching as Omi's face tightened, then as his lips puckered and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back tears. Omi slumped, burying his head in the protective embrace of his crossed arms, cigarette idly turning to ash between his fingers.

Yohji laid his hard, wire-scoured hand onto Omi's shoulder and shook him a little. "Hey, chibi..."

"Don't fuckin' chibi me, Yohji," came the bitter retort. "How many times... ah, bullshit. Why aren't you surprised at least?"

Yohji left his hand where it was. Warm and heavy. "Now then... how should I put it... well, I've always been like curious... uh... so let's just say, as a leftover from a former life of mine-"

"Yohji!"

Yohji shifted closer, and his arm settled around Omi's shoulders. "Okay then. I did a bit of my own research, some time ago. Beyond the mission briefings for our previous Takatori jobs. Wealwaysseemed to get too little detail to go by, yanno."

"Ah... I see..." Cheeks burning with shame, the young man tried to twist away, butYohji's arm was heavy, its weight comforting and compelling, muscles of steel beneath fancy clothes and tanned skin. So Omi let himself and slump against thewarm, firm body that was offered so willingly to support him.

Another silence. Singlehandedly, Yohji shook anew cigarette from a crunched-up packet with the glowing end of the previous one. This time, he did not offer a smoke to Omi, but tossed the empty packet carelessly onto the floor. "Well, it was just speculation on my part 'cos the files that mattered were sealed off too well for my patchy skills. Hacking isn't exactly my forte."

"I could have..."

Yohji's arm tightened. "Aa. I figured... I was wrong, wasn't I?"

Omi shook his head and dropped his cigarette end. He watched it smoulder on the bare floorplanks. "It doesn't matter now. I guess I didn't really wanna know that much." He paused, one foot swinging lightly back and forth. "I'm so tired, Yohji," he said, voice flat and resigned.

He looked up, blue eyes meeting green in a bitter, lost look. "You must think I tried to hide... what can I do now? Crawford told me my... grandfather was keen to meet me. Now that I know what Persia didn't tell me."

"Why don't you go and listen what he's got to say?" Yohji said, measuring his words carefully. "Your grandfather, that is?"

Omi swallowed hard. "You don't mean this, do you? I told Crawford to get stuffed."

"Sure thing, chibi."

"Yohji... " Omi shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. "I cannot lead Weiss like that... it's so fuckin' hard anyway, and I haven't even told Ken yet." Despair washed over his face, and he buried it at Yohji's shoulder. "I'm so fed up... I wanna go to sleep an' sleep an' never wake up again..."

"Bollocks," Yohji declared calmly. "Look, each one of us would like another chance, right? Ken... well, he won't begrudge you trying. Aya is desperate 'cos he thinks he's a lost soul, but he's only an idiot who one day will find out just that. I just need to kick some sense into him, and then he'll be glad to start over. And you... what if you could return to what by rights should be yours anyway? Like it or not, you can do a lot with that much money and power. Even what we're doing here, but better."

"Dirty money. Aya would never forgive me."

"Does it matter? It doesn't have to be us, yanno."

Omi winced and looked up at Yohji, surprised at the cool expression on his face. "I thought..."

"Him and me? Let's say we're fraught, at least, and troubled at best." Yohji snorted a little. "Not your fault. Or anyone else's, really. And let me tell you, Omitchi, if I had such a chance, I'd grab it and not look back once."

Omi stared at him for a moment, before he breathed, "You're a fuckin' bloody liar, Yotan."

"Nope. Not this time, I swear for all it's worth." Yohji tugged at a strand of Omi's hair at the nape of his neck, then let go and shoved the younger man back. "I'll try and find that blockhead before he can unleash hell on whoever happens to cross him now. You, if you blow it, I promise I'll abandon this shit for good. Weiss, justice, you, the lot."

He rose with a smooth, fluid motion and winked at Omi. "See ya, chibi. Dress nicely, huh? Yanno, suit an' all that."

"I... I have no suit."

"Yes you do. On your bed. I thought light grey would be fine, with a nice blue tie. Matches your eyes. Well,you can always exchange it if you don't like it; the receipt is in the breast pocket."

And Yohji closed the door softly.
Leaving Omi alone... in the dark... with his ghosts...

xxx

The office was still, filled with the glittering night of the city.The air laced with a faint whiff ofAya's scent, the familiar aroma of pine needles and steel. Omi sighed and lit another of the thin brown cigarettes. Aya knew nothing, really, and neither did Ken. Times had changed, things were not the way they had been anymore.

Yohji would understand, as he had always done.

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1 see 'Fading Light'