Disclaimers: I do not own Weiss Kreuz, or any of its respective characters.
So please don't sue me, I don't have any money.
This story is also written as a continuation of NekoSandy's "Fractured Futures Trilogy" and is written with her permission, so for the love of mercy don't harass me for using the original characters that appeared in her story.
A New Dawn Emerges. Part thirteen.
Yohji's head nearly hits the tabletop from shock. "I really look about sixteen or seventeen?"
"Wait," suspicion colors Ken's dark eyes. "How old are you?"
Pulling his wallet out of Koneko's purse, Yohji finds his driver's license and tosses it over for Ken to read the birth date. "Read the date under my name. . . It is not written American style. The way that it is read is day, month, and then year." With that said, he waits for Ken's reaction.
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Arriving at the grave, Omi can see several bouquets of flowers; though, there are no cattleyas amongst the various species of flowers. Apparently the girls that frequent the flower shop have been here. The grave is simple, the way that Yohji would have liked. 'Yohji Kudou, Beloved Friend,' is the inscription engraved in the unyielding granite. Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbles; rain beating down everything in its path.
Kneeling at the grave, Omi sweeps some of the wilted petals away from the dark granite. Can it really be true that Yohji is back? Apparently Ken believes that kid is Yotan. Jeeze, that Neko kid looks like he could be younger than me. . . He's definitely shorter. But those eyes. . . Those were pure Yohji.
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Ken looks down at the year on the puertorrican driver's license. At first the math doesn't quite add up, it can't be. . . It finally sinks in, "You are 22 years old?!"
"Hai hai," glancing up at the clock, Yohji asks, "Oy, no one here other than Omi has really learned to cook yet, right?"
Raising one delicate fiery eyebrow Aya looks at the small blond, "You cook?"
"Uhm, only with a lot of really good supervision to make sure that I don't set the kitchen on fire," Yohji replies, "but Koneko is a natural in the kitchen."
"That girl. . . Koneko," Ken starts. "She is taking this situation well. In fact, she is taking all of this too well."
"Koneko looks at life with a smile and a giggle, if not she would start screaming." Yohji calmly walks over to the doorway, pokes his head out and calls Koneko, his voice projecting clear and strong, "Oy, Koneko-chan!"
Koneko's response is immediate, matching the volume of Yohji's call, "Haaaaai?" Aya and Ken both unconsciously flinch at the level of noise.
Ten minutes later, Koneko has started cooking and has handed over a small list of things to complete the meal she has plotted out in her head. Neko/Yohji takes the list, looks it over, picks up a pencil and translates it into kana. Looking from Aya to Ken, Yohji hands the list to Aya. Smiling he asks, "Aya~n pick these up please?"
Aya just raises an eyebrow.
Hopping up onto the countertop, Neko cocks his head slightly to the side, "Aya~n, onega~i?" nose wrinkling slightly on the lengthening of the last syllable.
The instant Aya is out of sight, Koneko calmly goes over and removes the roll of paper towels from its wall mount; with a small huff of indignation, she goes up on her tip-toes and smacks Neko over the head with the roll. "Countertops are for food and food preparation, not sitting," she comments to him in English.
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Opening the door, Schuldig climbs into Brad's BMW. The best person to use to track the email that Adrian sent is Weiss's Bombay, and if any of those silly kittens get in his way he will make them regret the day they were born, never mind the fact that they helped him and Brad not that long ago. A smirk spreads across his face; they always knew I was a bastard. Starting the engine Schuldig chuckles slightly as he listens to the car's purring.
Pulling up in front of the flower shop, Schuldig silently scans the minds of those inside. Three people. Ken, Yohji/Neko and Koneko. Aya and Omi are not there. In Yohji's mind he can pick up a lingering sadness. Same with Ken, but Yotan's is more evident. Out of curiosity he probes a little deeper and finds the source of Yotan's heartache, Omi has rejected him. Jeeze, poor kid, (why the h*ll am I calling him a kid?!) he travels so far just to find his lover, only to have that same person reject him. . . not just reject him, Omi struck him and told him in no uncertain words that he wanted nothing to do with him. That is harsh.
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Jumping down from the countertop, Yohji goes over and picks up a coffee mug. With 'coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee' practically chanting through his head he pours himself a cup. Practically beaming, since he saw that the coffee used was his favorite brand from when he used to live here, he takes a sip and. . .
Ken was not all that enthusiastic when he got sprayed with coffee after Yohji's reaction to his initial taste of Japanese coffee. The dark haired assassin gives Yohji a dirty look as the small blonde is getting some water to remove what he considers an offending taste from his mouth.
"Que'en cara'[1]. . . Ken-kun, what is wrong with this coffee?"
Koneko reaches over, takes the cup from Neko's hand and takes a sip. Thankfully she reaches the sink before spitting the coffee out. "Puñeta! Y yo pensaba que el café americano era malo[2]. . . .
"Ahem, Neko-kun," Ken starts in japanese, "I hate to point this out, but that is the same brand of coffee that you used to always drink," "and what was it that your friend said just now?"
"Oh, Koneko was just commenting on how she had always thought that American coffee was bad," let's just not include her cute little explertives thank you very much, "but this can't be the same brand that I used to drink. Strained water would taste better than this stuff."
"Haha, Neko. . . It is the same one, Omi decided that this was the coffee that we would buy, and who is going to argue with him when he has his mind set on something?" Reaching into the cabinet Ken pulls out a canister of coffee and tosses it to Yohji.
Catching the canister, a sad thought crosses his mind. No wonder Omi rejected me. No matter how much like his Yotan I might seem; there are still so many differences between who I was, and who I am now. I can't even enjoy my favorite coffee anymore. A slight tug on his sleeve brings Yohji out of his thoughts. Koneko-chan.
As if puppets with their strings cut, Ken, Yohji and Koneko drop to the floor without a word.
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Stepping out of the (illegally parked) car, Schuldig reaches out with his mind and overloads the consciousness of the three individuals inside the building.
Smirking slightly, Schuldig finds his way to the kitchen and kneels next to Yohji's unconscious form. Tracing a fingertip along the line of Yohji's jaw, he thinks to himself that the boy got the wrong nickname; he looks more like a kitten than a cat. Something this small and sweet looking should not be allowed to have claws. Hmmph, if Bombay still rejects him, Crawford and I should probably welcome this delicate creature with open arms and a little mental manipulation to make him more susceptible to our suggestions. Carefully he picks up the small blond and carries Yotan to the car parked outside.
Placing Yohji in the backseat, Schu binds the boy's hands behind his back with only a whimper of discomfort coming from Yotan's unconscious form as he is pulled into the uncomfortable position. After a moments consideration Schuldig gags him as well, just to be safe in case he should wake before finding Omi. Locking the car door behind him, Schuldig goes back in to get the girl and return her to her friends, and to make sure that the police are not called on account of the missing people.
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----------------------- [1] Que'en cara' shortened form of "Que en el carajo" which loosely translates as "What in the hell"
[2] Puñeta! Y yo pensaba que el café americano era malo . . . translates as: Shit! And I thought that American coffee was bad. . . .
Side note: The comments made about the coffee is based upon my personal opinion of american coffee and comments that have been made to me about japanese coffee. I'm not trying to insult the american coffee industry. . . . and for you coffee enthusiasts, try some puertorrican coffee, Cafe Crema and Yaucono are good ones, though the absolute best of the best is Alto Grande (actually being sold in Japan under the name Grand Lares as a luxury item in prestigious stores and boutiques!).
This story is also written as a continuation of NekoSandy's "Fractured Futures Trilogy" and is written with her permission, so for the love of mercy don't harass me for using the original characters that appeared in her story.
A New Dawn Emerges. Part thirteen.
Yohji's head nearly hits the tabletop from shock. "I really look about sixteen or seventeen?"
"Wait," suspicion colors Ken's dark eyes. "How old are you?"
Pulling his wallet out of Koneko's purse, Yohji finds his driver's license and tosses it over for Ken to read the birth date. "Read the date under my name. . . It is not written American style. The way that it is read is day, month, and then year." With that said, he waits for Ken's reaction.
------------------------------------------------------------
Arriving at the grave, Omi can see several bouquets of flowers; though, there are no cattleyas amongst the various species of flowers. Apparently the girls that frequent the flower shop have been here. The grave is simple, the way that Yohji would have liked. 'Yohji Kudou, Beloved Friend,' is the inscription engraved in the unyielding granite. Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbles; rain beating down everything in its path.
Kneeling at the grave, Omi sweeps some of the wilted petals away from the dark granite. Can it really be true that Yohji is back? Apparently Ken believes that kid is Yotan. Jeeze, that Neko kid looks like he could be younger than me. . . He's definitely shorter. But those eyes. . . Those were pure Yohji.
------------------------------------------------------------
Ken looks down at the year on the puertorrican driver's license. At first the math doesn't quite add up, it can't be. . . It finally sinks in, "You are 22 years old?!"
"Hai hai," glancing up at the clock, Yohji asks, "Oy, no one here other than Omi has really learned to cook yet, right?"
Raising one delicate fiery eyebrow Aya looks at the small blond, "You cook?"
"Uhm, only with a lot of really good supervision to make sure that I don't set the kitchen on fire," Yohji replies, "but Koneko is a natural in the kitchen."
"That girl. . . Koneko," Ken starts. "She is taking this situation well. In fact, she is taking all of this too well."
"Koneko looks at life with a smile and a giggle, if not she would start screaming." Yohji calmly walks over to the doorway, pokes his head out and calls Koneko, his voice projecting clear and strong, "Oy, Koneko-chan!"
Koneko's response is immediate, matching the volume of Yohji's call, "Haaaaai?" Aya and Ken both unconsciously flinch at the level of noise.
Ten minutes later, Koneko has started cooking and has handed over a small list of things to complete the meal she has plotted out in her head. Neko/Yohji takes the list, looks it over, picks up a pencil and translates it into kana. Looking from Aya to Ken, Yohji hands the list to Aya. Smiling he asks, "Aya~n pick these up please?"
Aya just raises an eyebrow.
Hopping up onto the countertop, Neko cocks his head slightly to the side, "Aya~n, onega~i?" nose wrinkling slightly on the lengthening of the last syllable.
The instant Aya is out of sight, Koneko calmly goes over and removes the roll of paper towels from its wall mount; with a small huff of indignation, she goes up on her tip-toes and smacks Neko over the head with the roll. "Countertops are for food and food preparation, not sitting," she comments to him in English.
------------------------------------------------------------
Opening the door, Schuldig climbs into Brad's BMW. The best person to use to track the email that Adrian sent is Weiss's Bombay, and if any of those silly kittens get in his way he will make them regret the day they were born, never mind the fact that they helped him and Brad not that long ago. A smirk spreads across his face; they always knew I was a bastard. Starting the engine Schuldig chuckles slightly as he listens to the car's purring.
Pulling up in front of the flower shop, Schuldig silently scans the minds of those inside. Three people. Ken, Yohji/Neko and Koneko. Aya and Omi are not there. In Yohji's mind he can pick up a lingering sadness. Same with Ken, but Yotan's is more evident. Out of curiosity he probes a little deeper and finds the source of Yotan's heartache, Omi has rejected him. Jeeze, poor kid, (why the h*ll am I calling him a kid?!) he travels so far just to find his lover, only to have that same person reject him. . . not just reject him, Omi struck him and told him in no uncertain words that he wanted nothing to do with him. That is harsh.
------------------------------------------------------------
Jumping down from the countertop, Yohji goes over and picks up a coffee mug. With 'coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee' practically chanting through his head he pours himself a cup. Practically beaming, since he saw that the coffee used was his favorite brand from when he used to live here, he takes a sip and. . .
Ken was not all that enthusiastic when he got sprayed with coffee after Yohji's reaction to his initial taste of Japanese coffee. The dark haired assassin gives Yohji a dirty look as the small blonde is getting some water to remove what he considers an offending taste from his mouth.
"Que'en cara'[1]. . . Ken-kun, what is wrong with this coffee?"
Koneko reaches over, takes the cup from Neko's hand and takes a sip. Thankfully she reaches the sink before spitting the coffee out. "Puñeta! Y yo pensaba que el café americano era malo[2]. . . .
"Ahem, Neko-kun," Ken starts in japanese, "I hate to point this out, but that is the same brand of coffee that you used to always drink," "and what was it that your friend said just now?"
"Oh, Koneko was just commenting on how she had always thought that American coffee was bad," let's just not include her cute little explertives thank you very much, "but this can't be the same brand that I used to drink. Strained water would taste better than this stuff."
"Haha, Neko. . . It is the same one, Omi decided that this was the coffee that we would buy, and who is going to argue with him when he has his mind set on something?" Reaching into the cabinet Ken pulls out a canister of coffee and tosses it to Yohji.
Catching the canister, a sad thought crosses his mind. No wonder Omi rejected me. No matter how much like his Yotan I might seem; there are still so many differences between who I was, and who I am now. I can't even enjoy my favorite coffee anymore. A slight tug on his sleeve brings Yohji out of his thoughts. Koneko-chan.
As if puppets with their strings cut, Ken, Yohji and Koneko drop to the floor without a word.
------------------------------------------------------------
Stepping out of the (illegally parked) car, Schuldig reaches out with his mind and overloads the consciousness of the three individuals inside the building.
Smirking slightly, Schuldig finds his way to the kitchen and kneels next to Yohji's unconscious form. Tracing a fingertip along the line of Yohji's jaw, he thinks to himself that the boy got the wrong nickname; he looks more like a kitten than a cat. Something this small and sweet looking should not be allowed to have claws. Hmmph, if Bombay still rejects him, Crawford and I should probably welcome this delicate creature with open arms and a little mental manipulation to make him more susceptible to our suggestions. Carefully he picks up the small blond and carries Yotan to the car parked outside.
Placing Yohji in the backseat, Schu binds the boy's hands behind his back with only a whimper of discomfort coming from Yotan's unconscious form as he is pulled into the uncomfortable position. After a moments consideration Schuldig gags him as well, just to be safe in case he should wake before finding Omi. Locking the car door behind him, Schuldig goes back in to get the girl and return her to her friends, and to make sure that the police are not called on account of the missing people.
------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------- [1] Que'en cara' shortened form of "Que en el carajo" which loosely translates as "What in the hell"
[2] Puñeta! Y yo pensaba que el café americano era malo . . . translates as: Shit! And I thought that American coffee was bad. . . .
Side note: The comments made about the coffee is based upon my personal opinion of american coffee and comments that have been made to me about japanese coffee. I'm not trying to insult the american coffee industry. . . . and for you coffee enthusiasts, try some puertorrican coffee, Cafe Crema and Yaucono are good ones, though the absolute best of the best is Alto Grande (actually being sold in Japan under the name Grand Lares as a luxury item in prestigious stores and boutiques!).