Title: Chaos
Pairing: Brad/Ken
Notes: Not sure whether this is a oneshot or a part of something bigger. We've been meaning to write a Brad/Ken fic for a while now, we simply didn't have the time.
~~*~~
Sir Isaac Newton once claimed that the universe was in perfect order. And the world, liking the idea of order, accepted his ideology.
Years and years later, a new ideology arose. The universe is in chaos. This was the birth of chaos theory.
In a world of order, can chaos truly exist?
~~*~~
A hand reached out to shield squinting eyes from the sunlight. It was mid-July and the weather was scorching in the West coast of the US. Predictably, this dry bout came after a rather nasty winter.
He stayed with his grandmother this time. His father, long since used to leaving him on his own, had swept yet another unsuspecting victim off her feet. He snorted, eyes narrowed, at the thought of his incompetent of a father.
At seventeen, not yet an adult, he was the true leader of his father's company. Of course, to outsiders, his father was the face of the company. The face of competence. It's amazing how easily fooled human beings are.
He pushed his glasses back in place, the frame sliding slightly down his nose. He looked down at his watch, counting down silently.
3...
2...
1...
"BRAD!"
A small smirk made its way to his cold features, marring the placid surface. But within moments it was gone, as he got to his feet and walked back into the house. Predictably, the old woman was wheezing and ready to rant. Her face was crimson, evidence that all the blood in her body had rushed to her face.
Maybe if all that blood was pumping to her face, her heart would stop beating and she'd fall dead to the floor. But it was all wistful thinking.
"Yes grandmother?" He asked, the epitome of innocence. Or cold indifference, whichever's which.
"What have you //done//?" She demanded in anguish. "That girl's parents have been calling me all day!" The old bat was starting her rant, apparently.
"I don't suppose you could elaborate, could you? Which girl are you talking about?"
"Marlene!" She exclaimed. "The one who was clinging on to you last month!"
"Oh. That one."
"Yes, that one." The old woman gritted her teeth. It surprised him that he still had them actually. She must be over 100 by this time. Or maybe that was just what he thought? But since when did he care anyway?
"Well you have to specify, I've lost track of them." He said easily.
"Lost track..." She trailed off, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and horror. Suddenly, an ear-piercing wail erupted from those ranting lips. "Why do you have to come here? Why can't that son of mine just leave you in an orphanage somewhere! He doesn't need you, why on Earth does he keep you around?"
"That, grandmother, has to do with your son's incompetence as a leader. He can barely tie his own shoes let alone run a company. Without me, why he would have nothing." He paused, the smirk back on his face as he landed the final blow. "And that would mean you won't have any money to pay any of the little boys you keep around."
He didn't know it was possible for someone to turn from completely red in the face to white as sheet in about two seconds flat. But being a witness to this event, all he did was make note of this occurrence and stored it in his memory.
"How dare you." She spat out, her voice barely a whisper.
"Oh do stop with the dramatics, it's getting very predictable." He didn't even wait for the tirade to restart, turning around and walking away. As he left the house calmly, he heard something being thrown against the wall. He saw the rare China shatter at the back of his mind, knowing beforehand that this event would happen.
He always enjoyed it more when he has seen the event before because it meant he would be able to enjoy it twice. Heartless, cold and twisted, three words that his family use to describe him. But they couldn't touch him, because he always remains one step ahead. And perhaps, in the back of their mind, they knew that he could easily kill them in their sleep without remorse and without getting caught.
~~*~~
He blinked when the soccer ball rolled over and bumped against his head. He sat up from where he laid on the grass, staring at the ball with disinterestedly, half-wondering what fool was playing with it.
"Ah, gomen!" A young voice called out. He turned around, meeting innocent brown eyes. All his life he has been with other children and all they ever do was annoy them. Yet for some unknown reason this boy's presence wasn't a threat or an annoyance, which puzzled him.
//Give it time.// He told himself. //He'll annoy you soon enough.//
He paused for a moment. What did the boy say again?
"Is this yours?" He asked, pointing at the ball. The boy nodded, smiling widely. But he suddenly paused and the smile turned sheepish. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, brown bangs tumbling down to hide his eyes.
"Sorry, I guess my Japanese slipped for a second there." He apologized.
Ah. That would explain it.
"You're Japanese?" Brad asked, dropping the ball into the young boy's hands.
"Yup! My name's Ken!"
"Ken? Just Ken?"
"It's short from Kenji, but people always look at me funny whenever I say that." Ken said, scrunching up his face.
"Kenji's far more interesting than just Ken." Brad said, though he mentally berated himself for even talking to the kid. Rolling his eyes, he scooted over to a nearby tree, leaning his back against it. The boy beamed down at him, ball held tightly by small hands.
"Really? You think so?" Brad shrugged, not willing to divulge his thoughts. Brad Crawford is cold, calculating and above all, meticulous. He never makes mistakes and yet, the moment he spoke to the boy, he knew he made a mistake.
And then, to his own disbelief, he made another.
"Are you doing anything?" Ken shook his head. "Come on, I'll buy you an ice cream." And while his mind screamed in horror, yelling bloody murder and cursing him for whatever it was that he was doing...for once he simply let those voices fade into the background.
Something was happening and he was curious as to what the fates had in mind. And this little boy seemed to be the key, so why not try and find out?
"Sure!" Ken exclaimed, grabbing Brad's hand even as the teenager got to his feet. Brad blinked at the smaller hand that seemed to have latched on to his, but any protest dissipated the moment he saw the young boy's beaming face.
He couldn't say anything but stare at the boy, the chaos that appeared out of nowhere to disrupt his perfectly ordered world. And as Ken pulled him away, he realized he was being pulled by chaos itself into a world that he didn't know. Spiraling downwards until he reach rock bottom. And of course, after that, there was nowhere to go but up, right?
~~*~~
A hand reached out to shield squinting eyes from the sunlight. It was mid-July and Tokyo was a furnace. Every summer it was the same thing and he always wondered why he stayed. He was a strange sight to behold. A man in his mid to late twenties in his perfect business suit lying on the grass.
But not a lot of people frequented this particular park. And people have learned to ignore him anyway. He supposed it had to do with the scorching glare he would always send their way whenever they do stare. It was hot in the sun, but in the shade of the tree it was actually quite cool. And this was the only time he had to be alone with his thoughts.
He had to get away from that annoying German, that headache inducing psychopath and that frustratingly silent boy. He was a leader from birth, but not even he can stand leading a bunch of dysfunctional assassins for long before going insane. He let the images of his teammates drift away, letting his mind go blank for the day.
He was starting to fall asleep when he felt something bump softly against his head. He opened his eyes, looking to the side at what woke him. His eyes widened when he saw the black and white patterns of the soccer ball. Immediately he sat up, looking around in bewilderment. Not a lot of people can catch Brad Crawford by surprise after all, as he prided himself with the fact that he is never surprised...well, almost never.
He found that he was disappointed that the brown gaze of a child didn't meet him. He was more disappointed that no one seemed to be around to claim the ball either. He stared down at it, bouncing it slightly in his hands. It didn't take long for the soft, unmistakably male laughter to register.
He felt a sense of déjà vu as he whirled around. But the sight he saw was not that of a boy barely nine. The man staring back at him with familiar brown eyes was almost twenty by this time. Yet the smile he wore was still the same. The same carefree smile he wore when he was a child.
And once again Brad Crawford found himself staring at the living person who caused such chaos in his meticulously ordered world.
"Hi Brad." Slowly, the frown melted away. And for the first time in too long, Brad Crawford finally graced the world with a genuine smile.
"Hello Kenji."
Verdict? Good/Bad/Ugly/You both should be shot?
Weiss Kreuz (c) Project Weiss, Koyasu Takehito, et al.