Title – Price of Forgiveness (Chpt 7)
Author - HourglassThorne, hourglassthorne@yahoo.com
Rating – R (see warnings)
Pairing(s) - Pairing yet to be specified
Warning(s) – Glühen spoilers;
strong language; graphic
violence; disturbing content
Notes: completely random, but I learned today that
"alt 225" creates the "ß" symbol in "weiß" and "alt 129" creates the "ü" in
"Glühen" (but you have to use the numerical keypad on your keyboard). Also, the reference to Farfarello's love
interest is taken from the Schwarz "Dramatic Image" albums. This happens between the OVAs and Glühen.
Status of fanfic – ongoing
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"Oh my God," Michel whispered in horrified disbelief as he backed away from Aya and the folder, his spring green eyes as large as saucers and both his hands brought up to cover his mouth. Ken and Aya were still staring at the first picture before them, though the dark-haired Japanese man could feel the nausea washing over him, along with the prickling sensation of hot tears stinging at his eyes, unshed.
"Who? Why? This is too horrible…" Ken murmured under his breath. Then, he tilted his head up slightly to look at his partner's expression, caught off-guard by what he saw. "Aya?"
The slender red head's expression was as stoic as it usually was when looking at information from a mission folder. His lips were set in a grim line, and the muscles of his jaw were tightened. What broke from the usual image, though, were the slender man's amythest eyes. Unblinking, they clearly reflected endless amounts of horror and pain at what they took in. When he finally closed his eyes, he slowly closed the folder along with them, taking a few steps backward till the backs of his legs met up with the side of a nearby sofa, where he sat down upon one of the plush arms. He held the black folder between his two hands, pressed together as if in prayer before his bowed head, eyes still shut tightly. When Ken took a few cautious steps forward, he noticed that Aya's hands were trembling slightly, and that the lithe assassin/florist was taking deep, purposefully measured breaths.
Finally, Aya took one last deep breath and opened his eyes to look at Mihirogi. "When did this happen?"
"The murder took place two weeks ago. Forensics in the Tokyo police department finally released Asuka's body four days ago, and the funeral occurred early yesterday afternoon."
"Jeeze," Ken muttered, taking a seat beside Aya on the sofa properly, running his fingers through his hair. "It can't be even twenty-four hours since then…"
Omi's voice then took Mihirogi's place. "Youji and Kaiya were supposed to follow me after the funeral. I was planning on sheltering them at Tsukiyono Castle until Weiß found and took care of whoever had killed Asuka." The young man's voice was strange to listen to for Aya and Ken. It was serious, full of authority, and not Omi. When he mentioned "Weiß" both of them turned to look at him, melancholy in their gaze. Suddenly standing before them was not their Omi, or even Bombay, but Mamoru Takatori… Persia… the shadowed commander of a Weiß that did not include them. If the now authoritative young man noticed the slightly pained looks upon his former teammates' faces, he had become adept enough in his persona as a Takatori and Persia to keep from reflecting that pain in his own eyes. "Persia" continued with his commentary.
"However, after the funeral, several things happened at once. Youji's car, which had been trailing my own as we left the cemetary, suddenly veered off course. I tried to call him on his cell, but he didn't answer, and my driver would not allow me to follow after him. Weiß tried to follow him in their own vehicle, which was trailing behind his, but they were intercepted."
"Intercepted?" Ken questioned.
"They were cut off by a two vehicles, from which four people, two men and two women came out and engaged them in open combat in broad daylight. When Weiß fought with them, their attackers were using abilities very similar to those used by Schwarz. They barely made it out of the conflict alive. It seemed, though, that the purpose of the attack was not to take them out, but to simply make them lose track of Youji and Kaiya."
Aya's amythest eyes narrowed dangerously. "Schwarz… Are they the ones after Youji and his daughter?"
Persia shook his head. "We don't know anything for certain now. Up until this point, all signs had pointed to Estet being completely obliterated. As for Schwarz, Nagi Naoe has been working for Kritiker for the past couple of years now, and Farfarello's God only knows where with this woman named Sally that Nagi swears that he is in love with and protecting…"
Ken stared at Persia incredulously, and even Aya quirked an eyebrow at that revelation.
"…As for Schuldig and Crawford, their current whereabouts are unknown, though not for lack of investigation. I wish I could say that it was safe to assume that the two had died in the explosion that did in Koua Academy. However, if Youji could survive that blast…" He let his words trail off, letting the others draw their own conclusions to the obvious.
Persia had walked over to the windows on the wall opposite the sofa and stared out at the garden beyond it. "This whole situation makes me uneasy. No one at Kritiker has been able to confirm or deny if Youji's being targeted because of his past with Weiß or if it's all just a fucked up coincidence. And the appearance of this new group of men and women with superhuman abilities seemingly out of thin air makes things all the more complicated." He sighed and turned to look back at Aya and Ken, a weariness in his features that made him seem so much older and more mature now than he truly was. If one didn't know better, in that instance it could almost appear that the young man before them was as old, if not a bit older, than his former teammates. "You can't imagine how relieved I was when Mihirogi told me that he and his daughter were with you and safe." In that moment "Persia" slipped away and "Omi" stood before them once more, albeit a quite sad and subdued one.
"How touching."
Several pairs of startled eyes turned to the stairs behind Mihirogi. Dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a black turtleneck, Youji was gazing at the lot of them as he leaned heavily against the banister of the winding staircase. His daughter nowhere in sight, he wore a cold neutral expression on his face, betraying no outward expression, which in itself was a slightly unsettling thing.
"How long have you been here, Kudou-san?" the dark-haired woman asked, to which the tall blonde merely gave a casual shrug to his shoulders before pushing himself up to stand fully.
"Long enough." Youji walked down the stairs, his limp slight, but noticable. "I want answers and I want them now." His now clearly steely emerald gaze flickered to each person present there, though it lingered long and hard on Omi before he came to a stop in front of Aya. "Who the hell am I? And for that matter, who the fuck are all of you?!"
Omi flinched at the pointed accusing glare that Youji sent his way, though Ken was the one to speak up first. "Youji, don't take things out on Omi like that. He was just trying to protect you. We all were--"
"Protect me?!" Youji practically spat out the words with a bitter laugh. "Oh sure, all this cloak and dagger bullshit was to protect me." An equally bitter smile played on his lips as he closed his eyes for a moment. "Mamoru… or what did he call you? Omi? Just what the fuck is your name anyways?! Who the hell are you?!" His eyes snapped open to glare at the young man with hurt and betrayal within the deep green orbs. "Was our whole friendship the past year and a half just some lie you cooked up so that you would have a reason to babysit me and keep me out of trouble if my memories returned?"
"Y-Youji-kun…" Omi's blue eyes were wide and wounded as he tried to talk to Youji.
"Kudou, calm down!" Aya's rich voice commanded as he stood up himself. The older blonde then turned to glare at the redhead, his anger with Omi momentarily distracted.
"And you! Who the fuck do you think you are?! Since we ran into each other all you've been is orders and avoidance, despite the fact that you said we were once friends. Oh, and before I forget…" In a sudden quick motion, Youji whirled about on Aya, backhanded the black folder out of his hands, and connected his clenched fist into the the redhead's jaw, knocking him solidly to the ground.
"Mother of God!"
Michel's sharp exclamation cut through the air. When the others looked at him, they found the young man staring wide eyed and ill-looking at the photos and papers now scattered all over the floor at his feet. When Youji had knocked the folder out of Aya's hands, it had scattered its contents upon impact with the young Irishman. Now, with all the photos scattered over the floor, the horror that the men had seen earlier was now multiplied several times over, as the first picture they had seen was the least disturbing of them all.
There was blood. So much blood everywhere. It bathed the floors and stained the walls in long streaks and splatters. Flowers, furniture, even framed photographs of the happier moments of the young couple were defiled by the crimson humour. That much was evident in the first picture Aya, Ken, and Michel had viewed. What was now shown in more horrifying detail, however, was the state of Asuka Ikeda's body.
The initial photograph of the crime scene had shown the young woman's body scattered haphazardly around the room, completely dismembered. Adding to the brutality of the image was the fact that she had not been cut or slashed apart so much as ripped apart piece by piece, bone joints with torn mucles, clothing, and other shreded bodily fibers clearly visible against the backdrop of blood-stained carpeting and flora. In other pictures that the men had not viewed, closeups of the brutality showed even more gruesome details. Upon the woman's limbs and torso were jagged gashes that had been inflicted before her dismemberment. There was also graphic evidence that she was raped as well. Finally, there was a close up picture of the young woman's head, features barely recognizable as where her eyes had been were now gaping empty sockets, and a strange archaic looking symbol had been burned into her left cheek.
"Youji-kun?" Omi's tenative voice brought Aya and Ken out of the horrified trances they had fallen into upon seeing the more graphic details of Asuka's murder. Then tore their gazes away from the pictures to look at Youji.
The tall blonde stood there absolutely shell-shocked. All the previous anger and frustration that had been directed at the others had been bled away the instant he saw those pictures, leaving behind a stunned distant expression, though his eyes went from photo to photo, silently processing the gore-filled details.
"N-No… Asuka…" His voice was barely a whisper as his eyes began to fill with tears, staring at the pictures, but obviously seeing something else. "Oh God… No!" Youji began to back away slowly from the photos, his voice becoming louder and more grief-stricken as he brought his hands up to clench at the sides of his head, shaking in denial. "It can't be her! It's not her! No! That is not my Asuka! My Asuka's not dead! She's not! She's not!"
As Youji ranted, Mihirogi hurried over to Michel's side and began to gather up the pictures and slide them into the folder. "Michel?" she started, looking up at the young man with sudden concern as he stood there, seemingly frozen to the floor and looking quite ill as he stared at the older blonde man with tears coursing down his cheeks. She put her hand on the younger blonde's shoulder, snapping him out of his daze long enough to murmur something to him that had him nodding and hurrying down the hall.
Though Omi moved to reach Youji's side as the grieving man sank to his knees, it was Aya who go to him first. "Kudou!" the redhead grabbed at his former partner by the shoulders, trying to force him to look at him. "Youji, look at me!"
Youji shook his head, choking down a sob that threatened to wrack his entire body. "You're wrong! My wife isn't dead. That is not my wife! Where is she? What have you done with her?! Where have you taken Asuka?!" His emerald eyes snapped open, wide and wild, stared straight into Aya's startled violet ones as he grabbed desperately by his shirt.
Ken made a move to break the two apart, but Omi held him back just as a resounding smack echoed through the room. Aya had pushed Youji back and slapped him hard across the face, leaving an angry red handprint on the blonde's tanned cheek. Youji's eyes lost that wild look as he turned to stare at Aya, as if seeing him properly for the first time. Aya kept his stern steady gaze locked with Youji's and shook his head silently. Realization dawning upon him slowly through his grief-induced episode, tears whelled up within those dark green orbs, spilling over as he closed his eyes mournfully. Bowing his head as a broken sob finally wracked through his body, Youji ended up pressing his forehead lightly against Aya's chest. His own amythest gaze finally softening to reflect some of the grief that he himself felt for his friend's pain, Aya lowered his eyes and tenatively eased his own arms about Youji, pulling him closer as the heartwrenching sobs shook through the taller man's slender frame. Close by, holding Omi as the younger man cried silently into his chest, Ken's own head was bowed as the four of them shared in the grief of the one who, for a short moment time, had been given a cruel brief taste of a happiness and life beyond the darkness of their blood-stained pasts.