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Written by:
Gal-chan (Aya-kun) & Ana-chan (Ken)
Aya Fujimiya: Abyssinian@Kritiker.Org
Ken Hidaka: Siberian@Kritiker.Org

Weiß Kreuz © Project Weiß and Koyasu Takehito

Http://Www.Kritiker.Org

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Midnight Blossoms
Prequel to Sleeping Orchids

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Night settled over Tokyo, only the lights of the city illuminating the black velvet sky which hung amidst the stars twinkling down. The ebony cover of the long night covered over the world, hiding secret lives of those populating the world under the darkness. Some secrets good and others bad and others just that... secrets they admit to no one. Not even themselves. The cover of night brings double lives, reveals true faces, true feelings the bearer perhaps does not even know themselves...

But when the morning comes all traces disappear but in the memory, a different face shown to the world than the night sees. Some people thrive in the dark illusion, the mystery, the intrigue, the facades of the night. Some even fail to realize the difference in the facades. Where do the facades end and the realities begin... some fail to know, fail to ever know or even ask. For the answer is the one they would never accept, never favor.

Such was the lives for four males living in Tokyo, lost in a sea of anonymity, which was how they wished it to be. They didn't want to be heros. They didn't want their faces to be remembered. They didn't want to be martyrs. They didn't want to be sinners or saints. Sometimes one could say they really didn't know -what- they wanted... but they were content with whatever it was.

They lived their lives in the night, striving to bring light to the true darkness of the world. But whether they fit in the black or the white was something they often asked themselves. And some of them still just really do not care. They do as they do and that is all they need to know.

One of these men who moved like the night he worked in, with skin like the pale moonlight, ever silent and graceful, as fluid as the night falls over the city, stood in a doorway, staring at one of his fellow Weiß assassins as he lay sleeping in his bed. He stood as he did most nights come midnight, lightly leaning against the doorframe, his violet gaze coolly looking over the male. The moonlight fell over bronzed limbs through a window near the bed, warming the skin to a pale honey shade stretched tight over toned muscles, velvet and silk over steel. An alabaster skinned hand slowly slid down the doorframe as the man who wielded the blade, as hard and sharp as his personality, slipped into the other assassin's room a few more feet, content for the moment to watch him as he lay in slumber. He was so innocent while sleeping, much as he was while awake to the world as well. There was a softness to the male's face as his body curled against a pillow holding it close to his bare chest, something as simple as a feather pillow was even held dear to the former soccer player. Silly really, that he held such endearments for a simple pillow...

Still keeping his characteristic silence, the redhead folded his arms over his chest, his expression hard and unreadable as he looked at the clawed assassin. For a moment he had the quick wondering thought of what exactly they were... but did it really matter? They were Aya and Ken. That is all they ever were. Anything between the two of them stayed in this bedroom and never else mattered. It was never spoken on or hinted at because it mattered at no other time.

A sliver of moonlight touched over the stoic man's face as he stepped further into the room, the door closing behind him with a muted click. His face was smooth like porcelain, an immovable impenetrable marble statue. The silent spectre that glided into his room nearly each night, the same man who brought death to others came to enjoy the pleasures of that golden tanned flesh. That was all this was. A type of agreement, a way to relieve the sexual tension that had been between the two of them since day one so it would not interfere in their daily lives.

The light moved down his slender pale torso as he continued moving towards the bed silently, the moonlight casting an almost ethereal glow to his body clad only in a only a pair of dark blue pants, the color lost in the darkness of the room. Standing by the bed, he let his hardened jewel gaze fall on slumbering male, his eyes traveling up that lean athletic form with a quickly forming and fading smirk. He simply waited for him to slip from his sleeping state because of the redhead's close proximity. They were assassins and always slept lightly, ready to awaken at the wrong drop of a pin.

An agreement yes, but one that the sleeping male had never formally consented to, but in time had resigned himself to it and now on occasion dared to look forward to.

This wasn't one of those nights. It had been an especially hard mission for Ken Hidaka. A mission which only he and Youji and gone on. They were aiming to stop an Ultimate Fighting ring in Tokyo that had gone bad. Much like the Human Chess matches from long ago. Pitting man against man. While it had once been a legitimate organization, once new management had taken hold of it, it had turned deadly. Men no longer fighting for glory and money but for survival. No weapons just skill and strength. Hence why Ken had been chosen to enlist and infiltrate the organization with Youji acting as his manager and back up.

Tonight had been his initiation and Ken had been victorious and had come back virtually unscathed. A few bruises, a split lip and a slightly swollen cheekbone. He was more exhausted than anything else and had immediately fallen to sleep once his head hit the pillow.

Yet even in sleep, his body betrayed him. Imaging Aya's smooth body over his, invading it with his usual silent cruelty. Those slender hips pistoning relentlessly into his backside no mercy, just pure lust. Yet in sleep was when the reality changed. Yes, Aya was above him, but Ken wasn't face down as he usually was. In his dreams he was on his back looking up into the bejeweled gaze of his leader, his thick muscled legs draped over the redhead's shoulders, nimbly skilled fingers working over his own length. It was wild and passionate but most importantly... it was shared. Ken taking part in the act as well. Aya giving as good as he took, and when it was all over he stayed. Stayed and held the trembling brunette in his arms and cooed softly, danced butterfly kisses over his body, and suckled him to climax.

The dreams rarely varied, but they were always hot and left him drenched in sweat and the evidence of his passion wetting his sheets.

The dream was quickly cut short though as his aqua eyes snapped to attention fixating on the redhead hovering near his bed. Without saying a word, Ken merely shook off the covers and removed his jogging shorts, trying to hide the angry erection that sprung to life between his legs and rolled over to press his face into the pillow, legs parting, hips lifting for Aya's imminent invasion.

Violet met turquoise for a brief second, the pale moonlight dancing in Ken's eyes before he turned away to present his body to the red haired male so often called the leader of Weiß. Seeing the male easily submit and present his body for the oncoming penetration only caused the ache between his legs already formed from his observation of the sleeping male to increase to a burning desire, demanding release before the fire overtook his entire body and caused his cool facade to snap. The bed shifted slightly under his weight as he sat down on the mattress, slim fingers withdrawing a small vial of oil to lubricate himself with. Feeling his own fingers playing over his pale organ was the only thing even remotely hinting at foreplay to the pair unless one counted his careful observation of the former soccer player as he let the dreams of Morpheus overtake him. But that was simply Aya's way, to observe with a keen eye all around him.

The long fingers stroked over the already firmed flesh, the crimson haired male rubbing the slick liquids over himself so he would be able to gain entrance into that willing body lying on the bed. Keeping all of his motions fluid and elegant and in perfect control, enabling himself to push deeper into the velvet heat he got to enjoy night after night. The thought to ask Ken to put his own graceful fingers onto his partner's flesh, the same flesh that had embedded itself into him night after night, never once crossed his mind. That would imply there being more between them. Nor did he lubricate his length for Ken's own ease and pleasure, only his own. He didn't come to him for a deeper relationship or some perfect union only Ken could give to him... It was for selfish gratification and they both knew it.

Sliding the small bottle back into his pajama pants pocket, he pushed his own pants down and slid over into position, pulling the broader form close against his. Aya's slickened hand slid down over the younger male's thigh, parting his legs wider as his taller frame settled over him. His other hand wrapped up under his arm to cup his shoulder, pulling Ken's body to lock against his intimately, but it was a false hint of fond intimacy between the two. The tip of his hard arousal pressed against the cleft between Ken's muscled cheeks before his hips rolled forward in a hard deep thrust, driving himself almost completely in with the initial penetration. A low sigh that stirred the chocolate brown strands at the nape of Ken's neck was the only evidence of his pleasure as his organ was engulfed by the other male's form, Aya silent as always even in emotionless coupling.

The sound of the redhead's hand moving over that pale shaft sent shivers down Ken's spine. Shivers he tried to suppress for fear of what Aya would do. The first few times Aya had come to his room he submitted himself out of fear. There was the fact that no one ever dared tell the redhead no, and the fact that the first time had been after Aya had gone on a solo mission. He'd come into his room still in gear still with the katana in hand and with blood coated fingers peeled back his pajamas and opened his own fly and pushed his way in. The next morning Ken didn't know if that had been his blood on the sheets or the target's, that night having been his first time with anyone.

Even now he feared the cold calculating way Aya came into his room, in time though he came to find subtle ways to bring himself his own pleasure. Wiggling lightly into the bed, turning the reality into something he would enjoy. Over all creating a reality of his own that wasn't what had been occurring.

It wasn't also fear of turning away Aya or even fighting back, but there had been the fact that before the first time, Ken had fallen in love with his stoic leader. There was a pain and loneliness that matched his own. A look of loss and the desire to belong buried beneath the ice. Ken had been too stunned that first night to react and every night since, he harbored the hope that someday Aya would come to love him through this act. Realize that it wasn't just a body, but him. He could have gone to Youji or a prostitute but it had been him. Ken Hidaka.

Touching back on the present when Aya's hands touched him and prepared him he focused once more on the sounds about the room. The slick wetness of skin brushing against skin. Ken sighed softly into the pillow. At the first thrust, Ken tightened at the pain that shot up from his backside that always started their session. He bit the pillow to bite a cry of pain. His own arousal straining painfully against the rough cotton sheets. Rough because the dryer was broken and he'd been forced to hang his sheets outside to dry. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the pained tears from falling. Aya never needing to see those. He held his breath and dared to breathe only when unconsciousness threatened. And as the steady pistoning rhythm began, so did the hope that maybe tonight would be different.

Violet eyes rimmed in dark ruby lashes fluttered shut at the tight heat of the male wrapping around him with every thrust, a low moan of pleasure escaping Aya's lips. Every single thing about the male that was so warm and bright and cheery encased him as he struck deep into Ken's hot core. Shifting to a position to press even deeper into his partner's form, his face buried against the soft chocolate strands, muffling any sounds of content that were pulled from the older assassin.

Keeping his hand wrapped up around Ken's shoulder he drove hard into him, every motion smooth and striking fully to the hidden depths of his body. Pale fingers flexed and massaged lightly on the gentle curve of his shoulder, even the almost unconscious tender touches hard pressed into the smooth skin where his shoulder curved into his arm. Slickened fingers slid up the male's leg to hold onto the gentle swell of his hip, rubbing it as he gripped it to pull the golden form against his in the ruthless hard rhythm. Ken's flesh was warm under his touch, Aya able to feel the toned muscles rippling under the bronzed skin, all of it his to enjoy in whatever way simply because he said he could.

His logical thought was soon lost in a controlled haze of lust, the full form of the cloud of passion he always got glimpses of whenever looking at Ken, even from the very first time he met him... Then it had been an angry meeting of blade and claw, one striving to kill the other, the other striving to save his own life and get an advantage in the unexpected meeting. Now it was flesh on flesh, but at times it seemed to be far too similar to that fateful moonless night on the rooftop with Aya first joined Weiß. It was a battle for control and domination, one the ruby haired male knew he would be the victor in always simply because that was how it always was.

Their first meeting like this had been after his first solo mission, perhaps in a way his first true kill because it had simply been the hunter and the hunted. A foreshadowing hint of how he hope he would one day face the one he sought, Reiji Takatori. Blade on blade, man vs. man. Each battling for their life and the first blood and strike that would bring the other down. The target had been an expert samurai trained in kendo and other types of swordplay, his "classes" for fencing being mere facades to pull in young males for... training on his more experienced students. A blood lust game, pure and simple, where the deaths were passed off as accidental, a young student of the blade taking on a far too experienced expert. That was why Aya was chosen and no other to take out the target. He was a professional with his blade, the best Kritiker had, able to change his own style to meet his opponent's, able to pick out details and know their weak points. All others on the mission would have been in danger and liabilities. He had gone in as a young student who took on the master and won.

But after the kill... perhaps it had been the man's speed and skill with the blade that had left him confused and torn. The target's grace with a katana resembling his own, reminding him far too much of himself. It left him empty... Dead. He returned home and felt nothing, and felt absolutely nothing until he was buried inside Ken's warm body. An almost animalistic rage had sent him to Ken's room after he returned from the mission, something he had been almost unaware of doing until the force of his own climax that night pulled him from the slight daze he had fallen into, broken the shock he'd let overcome him.

And nearly every single night since then they had played this game of domination and control and sex, Aya coming to his room at a precise time and leaving after he was spent for the night. It was simply how it was, without ever explained reason or logic. And without argument.

Argue it? Deny it? No Ken would never do that. This was something he wanted... somewhat. Not in the way it was being delivered but it was good enough for him. It was something only he could give their leader. So what if it left him in tears after he closed the door. They dried eventually. So what if his ass felt like it was on fire after their coupling. A warm bath usually helped with that. It was okay that his own pleasure was never seen to. That's what he had hands for. The feeling of shame, powerlessness, worthlessness... they went away in time. He knew he had to mean something if Aya was doing this to him. Had to... or what would stop him from going to someone else.

His body tightened at the thought a sudden groan of pleasure as it coincided with a deep penetrating thrust from the redhead. Regardless of the way Aya treated him, Ken did enjoy the feeling of Aya inside him, of being possessed by him, of... belonging to him. In the time that they'd begun this Ken had become feeling like a slave almost. A slave to Aya's lust and need and himself the willing vessel for him to ravage.

Ken hugged the pillow tighter against his face, masking the occasional cries of pain mingled with those of pleasure. That line was constantly being redrawn. The line of pleasure and pain. Through it all he longed to tell Aya how he felt, but feared his reaction, feared he'd stop. So he kept silent. He was always silent.

Though... maybe tonight he'd work up the courage to ask him to stay...

As his partner's already almost painfully tight body sheathed more closely about him, Aya gave out a low moan of pleasure as he almost always did moments before his climax. His usual cool body heated as he gave a final plunge into the other male, his hips angling to rub the tip over the hidden spot of pleasure in Ken's body as the tight friction increased the temperature of his body near exponentially. Almost involuntarily his arm slipped about Ken's waist to pull him up against him, almost gently cradling him as his body was overtaken by tremors. Hot fluids of the evidence of his lust for the male were released into the deep channels of his form as he continued to shiver from the force of the orgasm.

As the last of his shivers died off and his breathing started to return to normal, a soft breath of air escaped his lips. It was a sound he'd never once made before, a soft whisper of Ken's name, his low deep tones still husky with orgasmic pleasure. Said in an almost dreamlike state, his body and mind still lost in a haze of pleasure. Still locked close with him, Aya pulled in slow breaths to calm himself and return to reality. His arms stayed about the male, an odd sort of peace flowing over him that he only found with Ken in his arms. The man's pale forehead stayed leaned against his shoulder, not saying a word as he lay there in his frequent bedmate's sheets, the cotton surface of them slightly damp with the thin sheen of sweat on his pale skin from the heat and pleasure Ken's body gave to him. His long lashes tickled lightly on the tanned skin of Ken's back as he left them shut for now.

As he lay there, the light feelings of comfort and unity stayed with him, something Aya brushed off as he was still embedded in his nightly lover's backside, his organ growing flaccid and spent for now. A part of himself warred with another part, the cold logical half of him telling him that what he came for had been completed so there was no need to stay any longer. His perfect composure was returning... something that Ken's close presence threatened. The feel of him pressed close against him also threatened his control, threatened to have his passions rise a second time and have him desire to stay longer than intended. Though Ken would allow it, it went against something he'd told himself when first continuing this relationship. He didn't come to Ken for a unifying relationship or a deep intimate contact. Staying for another round and longer would signify that. He already had received what he came for tonight.

The male beneath Aya was still wound tightly. His arousal pressing painfully into the mattress almost demanding release, but Ken bit his lip to keep from pleading. This was a silent arrangement. The last time Ken had tried to speak he'd found a pale hand covering his lips and having to fight desperately to keep his tears from falling at the seeming insensitivity of the gesture. It was rare that a moan or gasp was heard from Ken, only into his pillow and within the deep recesses of his mind would he allow those impassioned cries.

His head turned so that he might breathe and it was then that he caught the whisper of his name and felt the seemingly tender hold about his waist. Ken's mouth opened to speak, to ask for his own release, make tonight their first shared experience, but he dared not. The fear of rejection and denial too great. That fear overruling the need to climax though his organ protested loudly. Yet Ken was determined not to shame himself in front of Aya. If the redhead knew that he'd received pleasure from this he might stop and Ken would be lost.

It was a fine line of fear and anguish he walked in the dark of night, but to just feel the press of the body that belonged to the man he'd fallen in love with he'd walk it. Walk it in silence and cling to the photon of hope that glimmered within the darkness of the night.

Oblivious to Ken's mild uncomfort or just not caring, Aya tilted his hips to slowly pull his length out of the tightness of his partner's body, another shiver racking his form at the tight friction even with the adequate lubrication he had applied to himself before penetration. Rolling his shoulders back to make himself relax before the pleasure of Ken's body could stir his passions once more, he moved his slender form to kneel on the bed over the backs of the male's toned thighs, his legs on either side of the facedown male. Lifting up, he pulled his pajama pants back up to cover himself and started to move off of the bed to return to his own room as he always did before something caught his attention.

With the other man's head turned, the moonlight fell across his cheek where there was a small smear of blood, giving an obvious hint to the cut on his cheek surrounded by an angry dark blue bruise on his smooth cheek, red tinging the edges even in the pale light of the room. Obviously a tiny injury from the Ultimate Fighting ring mission the athletic male had gone on. A faint smirk touched lightly on his lips... Even he hadn't been able to injure Ken except for a tiny bruise which faded in a day when they first had their duel in the flower shoppe just after he joined Weiß. Those in the fighting ring were good... It was no wonder Ken had received the near-solo mission. The cynical upturn to his lips faded to a light frown as he moved his fingers out to touch carefully on the cut, not wanting to press on the sore spot, seeing the blood was dried and the injury had obviously not been tended to. It was uncommon that any of Weiß would allow even a tiny injury to go unnoticed and uncared for.

Getting up from the bed he moved to the bathroom to gather up a damp cloth and bandages to tend to the cut himself before it could get worse, causing questions to come up in the shoppe from the annoying pests- customers. Questions they just would rather not bother with finding some fanciful lie to get around without raising suspicion to their nightly profession.

He suppressed a wince at the touch to his cheek, Ken never wanting to show pain in front of the redhead. He was stronger than that made of tougher stuff to let the discomfort of a wounded cheek bother him. Especially when his backside was nearly on fire from the rough treatment.

He'd felt the heady pang of loss when Aya had withdrawn himself knowing there would be nothing else this night as it was nearly every night. The sound of Aya resetting his clothes seeming to echo like a death toll in his ears, and the creak of the mattress as he stood amplified it. He closed his eyes as he always did waiting for the pad of feet and the click of his door followed by that of Aya's to signal his departure and return to his room and to sleep, eventually to forget what just transpired between them.

Yet that didn't happen. Ken heard the distinct sound of someone in his bathroom rummaging in his medicine cabinet then the faucet. A confused crease marred his smooth golden brow as he sat up. He groaned at the sudden, angry pulling at his wet arousal. It was all he could do to refrain from curling his hand over the length and seeing the job done. Which he would do, once Aya had left the room. In the mean time he simply sat on the edge of the bed too curious to bother with his shorts at the moment.

Moving smoothly through the room with a fluid grace like that of a feline, Aya moved back to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, pulling his legs up under himself as he reached his hand to touch on the man's opposite cheek, turning him better towards him. Holding the damp cloth in his slender fingers, he lifted it to wash away the dried blood as gently as possible, imaging the soreness that the male must be feeling from such a bruise on a tender bit of flesh.

A flash of anger flared in his eyes before it was suppressed, anger at whoever would strike what was... well, he had admitted it to himself long ago. A very pretty face. He knew that Ken considered himself to be plain when compared to the rest... Omi was the school-boyish cute genki one, Youji was the suave playboy with the silver tongue, Aya was the untouchable cold beauty, but Ken hardly faded into the background. He was warmth and cheer and laughter, a perfect sunny day to Omi's bright spring, Youji's calming autumn, and Aya's chilling biting winter. He was childish and clumsy and naive but... one couldn't help but be drawn to the aqua eyed male, his heated love for life threatening to melt even the coldest exterior.

Seeing the male's face harmed as it was... He knew it was part of the territory that came with being an assassin, but it was just a reminder of how the blood of their targets could stain the ones who spill it.... A reminder of how he often wished Ken would leave Weiß so his boyish innocence wouldn't be tainted, wondering how his innocence wasn't robbed and shattered as his was years ago when he kneeled alone in a crater ruin of an explosion, his parents dead, his sister comatose, for another man's rise to power.

The quick shot of emotion in his winter storm eyes faded as soon as it appeared, hidden along with everything else the redhead may feel behind a carefully constructed and maintained mask. He kept his silence as he continued cleaning the cut as best he could so it wouldn't get worse or infected, seeing no need for words at the moment. It was obvious what he was doing and why he was doing it.

There was an embarrassed weariness in Ken's eyes as he just watched Aya tend to his cut. He had forgotten about it in his exhaustion and need to get to sleep. He'd been banged up worse. He remembered livid purple cast of his chest after Kase had emptied his gun into his Kevlar, twice. He'd thought he was going to die from the pain that surfaced a few days later. This was routine. He got hurt worse occasionally in the shop. It confused him. Aya had never shown him the least bit of kindness, had never been the one to dress his wounds, usually that was Omi's department. So why the sudden display? Was it because... he cared? Ken's aquamarine gaze tried desperately to bore into the depths of the icy gaze that studied his face so intently. His breath caught and his heart raced, and this time he couldn't stop the groan or the fluttering of his lashes or the way his moist petal soft lips fell open as a pang of desire wrenched his groin.

Aya's observant gaze and careful ear took in every single thing about Ken as he tended to the cut but didn't comment on it, just focusing on cleaning the small seeming injury. Bringing the cloth down to inspect his careful work, he brought it back up to rub over the bruise, removing the last of the dried blood. He felt own organ tighten in a quick wave of fire started in his groin at the soft moan and the way Ken's eyes half lidded shut. His violet gaze betrayed nothing and he brought the cloth down to the male's split lip to clean that as well, his fingertips brushing lightly over the rosebud flesh of his lip, most likely the closest he had ever been to the brunette's face other than the times they sparred, pressing their blades edge to edge, trying to kill one another. Plum eyes slowly moved up from his injured lip to meet the curious blue-green gaze, Aya's own lips parting in soft words. His smooth eloquent voice was soft, the male trying not to interrupt the quiet peace of the night as words often did. "Were more injuries inflicted on you or merely these?"

Ken shook his head. "The cheek and lip were the worst of it. Just a few bruises on my chest. Nothing serious. I've had worse." Ken's voice was tight, forced almost. There was a tinge of worry and confusion. He was still unable to understand why Aya was doing this. He never before gave two figs about his condition. The only post solo mission acknowledgement was a faint nod and a look that clearly stated that the man was glad Ken wasn't dead, but only for the reason being that the thought of training a new member would be annoying. That was it. He'd resigned himself to be the team's punching bag and general thug. True Omi and Youji might see him more as a friend and from the secretive looks he received from Youji... there was a heat in those dusty emerald depth that hinted at something more. He sighed without realizing it. The sound cutting through the silence that had once more overtaken the room after being chased away by Aya's chilly voice. He blinked and startled, lifting his gaze timidly to Aya's.

Nodding softly, the redhead continued rubbing the damp cloth as gently as possible over the man's tanned skin, trying not to aggravate the already bruised skin with his touch. Putting the cloth down he picked up a cream, smearing it on his fingertips to rub the cool lotion over his bruised cheek to make it hurt less and enable it to heal faster. Picking up the small tube, he set it in the male's hand for him to apply to his other bruises now or later while he reached for the bandaging tape sitting on the bed next to him. As he heard the sigh and felt Ken's gaze on his, he blinked before just returning to what he was doing. "Did tonight's part of the mission go well?" he inquired, a crimson eyebrow tilting up as he cut the bandaging tape to cover over his cheek. He could always read the mission report later and still would but Ken always... had an interesting way of wording things, making even the most meaningless day sound fascinating. He was a natural storyteller, it was no wonder children adored him, when Aya was just bare facts, telling only what was needed to be known.

The younger male wasn't especially in a story mood. He was sitting there naked with a throbbing erection that only seemed to tighten more as Aya applied the gentle pressure with the cloth and the cream. He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes once more in attempt to get his body to calm down, but it simply refused. A light sheen of sweat broke out over his body at the strain. Any minute he knew he'd start trembling which could only lead to the ultimate embarrassment, which he sure as hell didn't want to do. His eyes squeezed tighter for a minute before he attempted to relax long enough to open them to his teammate. Mission report... right. "It wasn't much different than when you signed up for the human chess match. Only they wanted to make sure I was good so they tossed me in for a round. Wasn't so bad. Well... other than the fact..."

Ken's voice trailed off suddenly and looked away. There was a flash of guilt in his eyes before he'd managed to complete the action. "...I nearly killed him." Death was nothing new to him, yet the death of an innocent, who this man clearly was, was another thing entirely. All he saw as he wailed with vengeance and bloodlust was the target's face, and what he was doing to these poor men. Yet he'd nearly taken the young man's life until they'd finally pulled the boy off. Even now he could hear the report of a gun as they'd shot him out of his sight. It sickened him to know that the next fight, he wouldn't have the luxury of the loser being dragged out to be shot, he'd have to kill him.

A flicker of a frown touched on Aya's face before he took Ken's chin in his hands, turning him back to look at him. He still saw that flicker of guilt in Ken's eyes and sighed faintly, a softer part of him that only Aya-chan or his parents would have ever seen from years long past, a part of himself telling him to comfort Ken, to soothe away that hurt in those crystalline eyes. But his parents were dead. His sister in a coma. There was no one to ever comfort him in his hurt... it was a useless and futile desire, which he mentally told his softer self. But it was a hard life they had, he couldn't baby him or they'd never survive. Once more he was amazed Ken had lasted as long as he had doing what they did. In some ways Aya was just as innocent and optimistic as the younger boy but that was a part of himself he locked away the moment he saw his father's building explode. People died... if you weren't careful you would just the victim for another's power and esteem.

"Ken it is part of the mission. Some people are bound to be hurt or killed. It is part of the job we do as assassins." Even as he spoke his voice was even and cool, betraying none of his own inner thoughts. Thoughts of the human chess match he'd been in where he'd have to kill a few of the men in the game to get to the target... A shiver moved over his form as he thought of Jun who had been killed in a match, leaving his young sister alone in the world. Not only had he arranged for flowers to be sent to that girl but had paid her hospital bills until she was well and then had her sent to one of the best orphanages. She was quickly adopted by a loving foster family... but he still carried his own bit of guilt for not being able to stop that game before her brother was killed. Not something he told the rest of Weiß though... it was foolish and dangerous to get involved personally in missions once the target was disposed of, giving their enemies something to track. It had all been done in secret with careful false aliases.

"We cannot save them all..." he said after a moment of silence, letting go of his chin to turn back to bandaging his cheek. "If it was not you tonight it would have been someone else, a helpless tool in the fighting ring to further the corruption. At least he was a beginning to an end, an end only Weiß can bring."

Ken stood abruptly and grabbed his shorts and yanked them up his legs giving the older assassin a generous view of his nude form before concealing the more interesting portions of it. Across the tops of his thighs was a fierce bruise forming that covered a good three inches across the middle. It was painful but Ken didn't feel it. He was simply too shocked by Aya's words.

Turing to face him, the brunette tossed Aya a hard stare of disbelief before disappearing into the bathroom and splashed cold water over his face letting the pure substance cascade in tiny rivulets down his torso that ended tantalizingly at the waistband of his shorts. He emerged a few seconds later still looking at him in disbelief. "I don't know about you... and knowing you, you probably don't care about the other innocent people so long as your sister is safe, but I'm here not only to save your sister but everyone's as well along with their parents and brothers. You might not give a shit about saving them all so long your sister is safe but I -do-. That's what makes you different from me. I give a damn. I'm here not for my own selfish reasons. Sure at first I wanted revenge but let me tell you something, Fujimiya. If getting your revenge against Takatori for what he did to your family is all you're after, then your revenge will be shallow and empty and meaningless.

"Take it from someone who knows. Revenge is a dish best served cold but in tales like ours, when it's finally served it's also spoiled. Nothing changes. NOTHING! In fact... you feel... nothing. Just hollow... That's what's left after revenge, Fujimiya. Bleak, dismal, nothingness! So I -have- to do this for everyone, if I don't... then I'm lost. Then I'm no better than the targets we kill."

A soft amount of bitter laughter rang in the redhead's mind even as he told it to shut up. It was his older, gentler self, the part of him he'd buried away to keep from anymore harm the world had to offer. Some may look at him and think him to be a shell, and in a way he was. Just a chilled cynical vessel, living on until the day where the true Aya could take her name once more and perhaps life could return to some semblance of normalcy. Where his reminder of happy carefree days wasn't lying as a near vegetable in a sterile hospital, in a room visited only by him and for the most part in secret.

The voice of his younger self didn't listen well. It never did. He'd always been an insanely stubborn man. Even as he had a short quiet mental battle with himself, he stared impassionately at Ken, hardly seeming fazed by his sudden rising and departure from the room into the bathroom. And still the mental voice chattered. Sometimes he thought he had split personalities. He crossed his legs idly as he let his eyes wash over his nearly nude form, feeling his passions stir at the sight of the toned form. Even with him bruised, more so than he'd thought originally or mentioned, he was utterly breathtaking. Softer tones chirped up in his mind that it would do him good to tell him that every once in awhile before he makes him hate him with his cold indifference. Just sighing faintly Aya tried once more to ignore the voice that sometimes he wished would just leave him alone until he was ready to take up that life again. Stupid conscience. He thought he had left that behind as well.

Violet eyes darkened as he listened to Ken's words, his alabaster face never twitching or showing a bit of reaction. Of course Ken was right in a way... but he always felt so empty anyway, at least when he killed Takatori he could completely pave his way to Hell. And his sister could live again without the man who ruined her family around. He held back a sigh. It had been Aya-chan who had been the good Samaritan, the one who found the good in everyone despite everything. A quality he'd once had but had it ripped away when his world was shattered for one man's rise to power. He'd lost more than just his family that day, but also his innocence and faith in humanity, the faith that the good in people always won out. It was after that he resigned himself to become a common killer... a highly paid killer but a killer nonetheless.

Something kept him from standing and leaving without a word of reply. Who was he to judge him... what he'd said... that was as comforting as he could be now. It was the only way he knew. Cold practical logic. Dammit. But this entire conversation was proving his failed somewhere along the way. It almost hurt to hear those words from Ken. He'd let him get too close... he swore to never do that again. Weiß was just a way to get Aya's medical bills paid, a way to get his revenge... nothing else.

You know that's not true...

And the voice was back. It often didn't leave him alone when night fell, when he was alone without other distractions and company. The voice of his old self... really was annoying at times. Ken's comment about only caring about his sister grated at him, only showing him that those of Weiß really didn't know him and his motives, but how could they? He spent most of his time in silence and solitude, preferring the loneliness most often to other's company. It kept them away if he didn't let them near whatsoever. For a moment he thought to tell Ken of the girl he helped after her brother died but then decided not to. He would simply think he was lying and trying to get him back to bed for another screw... or pass it off as petty since he only helped the girl who had faintly reminded him of a more unfortunate Aya-chan, left with no one simply because Weiß didn't act quickly enough. Because he didn't act quickly enough. Just trying to make her into another Aya-chan. He didn't need to know that the reason the redhead always offered to deal with the back stock from Koneko was because he sent it to Magic Bus on his own bill for anyone who needed flowers to cheer up, anyone alone or ill, the blade expert knowing... or at least hoping... that even a simple vase of flowers could improve someone's condition. It was easier to be the callous shallow prick everyone thought him to be.

"You really have no say in my personal affairs with that man, Ken. I will do as I need for my own reasons and deal with the consequences on my own. I am prepared for it. Unlike you... I've always known who I had to seek to find my revenge." His eyes met the still disbelieving aqua gaze, the redhead mentally sighing. He should have just left and let Ken tend to his own wounds, he wasn't a child. He needed his rest to be prepared for the mission so he could do it properly. Not stayed and had this argument which could go on forever and never reach any middle ground. But still he stayed... though he didn't know why. "Don't try to be everyone's hero... Someone once told me die for someone, not because of someone. Don't get yourself killed on a mission for the wrong reasons. Sometimes getting the target is the best and only thing in our power to do."

Ken's face was contorted in pure anger and rage. He was livid. His chest heaving, hands clenched ready to strike, muscles pulled tight over his frame. He was down right menacing. It was the animal within that Ken tried day in day out to keep at bay. Anger and fury brought it out and he was certainly pissed.

"Don't you -ever- talk about Kase like you know what happened. You don't! You never will! You'll never know the Hell it is to see your hero and best friend die at your own hand because he betrayed you, because he was evil and you never saw it, and you're the reason that evil is there in the first place. It's -my- name that was ruined by -my- actions. It's -my- fault he turned out the way he did. You... you seek revenge for three people. I sought mine not just for myself, but for my family who -still- has to suffer the taint of what their dead son did."

He stepped closer, prowling slowly ready to strike at the redhead at a moment's notice. "The friends I had who believed in me. The fans who worshiped me and I let down. Revenge did NOTHING for me. NOTHING for them. They -still- suffer. And maybe just maybe I can redeem myself for my mistakes and make up for their suffering. Don't tell me what to be or what not to be."

Ken stood before Aya standing mere inches from him. The heat of his body, the fury of words almost tangible. The air thick with the passion and conviction he felt. Before the cold assassin was the pure heat of a young man who believed in something with his very soul. The reality of Ken Hidaka. "Some day somewhere you'll need a hero... and if I wasn't who I was... if I didn't even attempt to rescue everyone even those who didn't seem it, then you'd be shit up a creek, Fujimiya. Who do you think would come to your rescue? Omi? Maybe he feels obligated because you're Weiß. Youji? Not likely. Not without Omi making him. I'd be your only shot when all the chips are down. Not because I have to but because I'd want to. Because you, just like everyone else, deserves a chance to live. What you do with that chance is yours, but you still deserve it and I'd fight for it to the death."

As the brunette approached him, Aya rose to his full height from the bed, tossing the cream he'd earlier been applying to his bruise back to the sheets. Before he said a word that would infuriate the already angered assassin he reached his hands out to take his, knowing all too well the strength of his hit when in a full rage mode and he needed to keep his strength for the mission. There were reasons he chose to keep his own silence most often, only speaking when there was a need. It was difficult to misinterpret silence as his earlier words.... the only comfort he knew how to give, cold logic... were misinterpreted and brought to -this-. From now on he'd leave the injury tending to Omi or the assassin himself instead of taking it upon himself if this was how these things worked out. The inner voice of course chose that moment to laugh at him, telling him if he'd just let down his own pride and listen to Ken maybe he'd realize he had a point.

He didn't much like his 'inner voice' at times.

Even as Ken was utterly enraged and it showed on every bit of his face, Aya's demeanor never changed, his deep lilac eyes never betraying a single bit of his emotions. The bits about Kase and not understanding utter betrayal struck into him, into a hidden part of him, a buried part of his past he tried not to think about. His first days of Kritiker... when he truly learned how the world could hurt. Before he became -this-. Days Weiß didn't know about. They didn't need to know about them. A low shudder passed over his form at the thought before he regained perfect control of himself, staring down at his bright green eyes, the cool blues burned off in his rage. He looked like he was ready to kill the katana expert but just... reminded him of everything that he'd ever been attracted to about the male. Here was the man he'd faced off with on the rooftop when he first been sent to Weiß, the man who he was ready to kill or screw there on the roof.

Even as he felt his own anger escalate from the disagreement, he kept it bottled up, knowing it was late and both of them loosing their tempers would do them no good. "Your parents know you were not guilty of those false crimes, the same way I knew my father to not be guilty of embezzlement when all evidenced seemed to confirm the opposite. Kase wasn't -your- fault any more than..." He paused and almost faltered, a long silent name on the tip of his tongue. A deep frown curved his lips as he found the name from his past hurt to say. "It just wasn't. I meant no offense on my statement," he finished lamely, looking down at his face while still holding his wrists in his grip, feeling the male shake lightly with his storm of emotion. "I never asked you to be my hero, I never asked anyone to be my hero. If I am ever stuck in a situation where I need one I'd probably be better left there because it would be my own actions that brought me whatever situation that is. It would be good for you to remember that I always take responsibility for my actions and their consequences."

"No shit. No one ever asks, but even if a situation came like that... I'd do everything within my power to do something. Not just for you... not just because Aya-chan needs you..." The younger assassin wrenched his hands out of Ran's grasp using his superior strength. He suddenly couldn't meet the intensity of those eyes. Something there, a flicker of something, a trace of humanity, vulnerability. Something that suddenly scared Ken. Something that touched Ken and forced him to turn his eyes downward. "Because... I-ah... Weiß still needs you."

Letting his hands go, Aya blinked to see him suddenly turn his face away and cursed mentally, wondering what had shown in his eyes that moment he thought of his first group with Kritiker and the utter betrayal he faced then. He understood Ken's pain over Kase... far too well... he just never spoke on it because he saw no reason to. It was long past, over, done with. The betrayer was dead at his own blade now. Any weakness that may have been present in the frosted plum gaze was locked away once more from the world, the man hiding behind the thick wall of ice, the inhuman and cold facade he kept up so well. The facade Ken kept threatening to break...

Looking at his downturned face, his cheeks still flushed from his anger and his eyes bright against his smooth skin, Aya sighed faintly into the sudden silence between them. His arm suddenly reached out to loop about Ken's waist, his other wrapping about his shoulders to cradle the back of his head as he pulled him against his form. Always when he saw Ken in full Siberian mode it sent an odd thrill through him, reminding him of the man he met steel to steel so long ago, the fire to his ice even if he refused to admit it. Time to do something he'd been meaning to do since that night when they'd been mere inches apart, blood lust and survival skills kicking in to make them personified anger, Ken pure and wild, Aya controlled and lethal. His fingers laced into his dark strands to pull his head back up even as he tilted down to crush his lips to his, finally giving into the temptation which had always been present in the stoic assassin.

He was being kissed. Ken was beyond speechless. Aya's invading tongue much like the organ between his legs, demanding and insisting. Seeking out what he'd already stamped as his even if he hadn't admitted it. Taking never giving. Ken suddenly felt powerless to the attack, and initially that's what it felt like. The man had simply never kissed him before. Months of slipping into his room and it was only their hips that met, never anything more and certainly not something as intimate as their mouths.

Ken felt his anger crumble under the intensity of the kiss hard at first but the more it was drawn out the softer Aya's lips felt on his own, the more his arms relaxed until he felt as if her were actually being embraced and as if he mattered to the redhead. He moaned suddenly in submission, his own arms snaking about the taller man's neck as he opened his mouth to his, pressing his resurfacing desire against Aya's hips. Whatever it was that was suddenly going on he didn't want it to stop.

A soft moan was muffled by Ken's sweet mouth as he felt his body press close against his, the first time they'd ever been in a position like this. Always he came into his room and took him with the male laying down on his stomach, able to thrust deeper and hold him as tightly or loosely as he would so like, able to muffle his moans into the sweet smelling and soft strands of hair that Ken could never get to behave. The thought to actually give into the urge to kiss him had never really crossed his mind, never seeing the real point to. And now that he was he didn't want to stop...