Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz, nor any of their plots or characters (sadly) they are just on rent, and I'm not making any money. Please RR!!
WARNING!! Do not read any further if you are carrying on from Chapter 3!!!It will make no sense what so ever. Please go back and read Chapters 1 2, then come back here.
Red Rose Rising : Chapter 3b
Youji looked at Aya's limp form. He pressed two fingers against Aya's white throat. He could feel a feeble heart beat, so he wasn't dead, but Aya was close. He stripped off his denim jacket and t-shirt, and pressed the thinner material against the open wound in Aya's right side. Youji had a naturally loud voice, so he had no doubt that he would be heard.
"KEN! OMI! CALL AN AMBULANCE! NOW!" He heard a faint reply, then a voice – he thought it was Omi – on the telephone. He folded the jacket up, and tied the sleeves tight around Aya's torso, a makeshift bandage that wouldn't hold up long, but paramedics would be here soon, it'd just have to do. Youji could hear someone leaping up the stairs, and suddenly self-conscious, made a futile attempt to wipe away the tears staining his face.
"IN HERE," He yelled again, then as he repeated himself, Youji realised how bad it would look. He was half-naked, crying over a heavily bleeding man, lying on his bed. He had no idea what the others would think, but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell them what really happened, at least, not all of it.
Ken appeared at the open doorway, and gawped at the scene laid out. Youji saw the questions coming, and cut them off.
"When's the ambulance gonna be here?"
"In a few minutes. What happened?"
"Good. When I came in he was sitting on the end of my bed, then when I asked what he wanted he fell backwards, then I saw he was bleeding." Youji looked back at Aya's face, even paler then it usually was.
Ken was staring too; he was trying to work out why Aya looked so calm, unless he wanted this... No, he'd never let himself die, not until Taketori was dead... So why was he so... happy? He was interrupted from his cycle of thoughts by the wee-woo of a siren drawing closer. He looked back at Youji, who was silently crying.
"Hey, Youji?" Ken touched his shoulder, the skin cold "you should get a coat on, you'll freeze." Youji turned at this contact, his jade eyes strangely dead, but still brimming with tears. He nodded, and his manner reminded Ken of a child, yes, a lost child.
Youji unfolded, his eyes turned downwards. He walked over to the door, and pulled a coat off the hook indiscriminately. He was about to put it on, then he noticed what one he'd chosen. It was about calf-length, a matt navy with two white stripes forming a cross on the arms. His eyes focused on it, and widened in horror. Every time he wore this coat, someone died. He flung it across the room, suddenly angry at the apparent omen, and picked another coat off the ground, and slipped it over his shoulders.
Less than two minutes later, Aya's face was covered by an oxygen mask, and what seemed like miles of white gauze were being wound round his waist. Youji had insisted he went in the ambulance with Aya, and Ken and Omi had said that they'd follow them in his car. He could see the dark world outside through the back-windows; the sidewalks were being dusted with tiny flakes of pure white snow, the first fall of the year. He heard a vague murmur of a voice, and turned round.
"Sorry, what?" He was slightly disorientated, and squeezed his eyes shut then opened then again, trying to clear his head.
"Your hand's bleeding, you need a dressing on it." The young paramedic reached out and took hold of is wrist, and examined Youji's hand. "It's just a small cut, but where did you get all these scars?" She had begun to wrap more gauze around his palm where his nails had dug into his hand, but her eyes were on the white lines that criss-crossed his fingers.
"I'm a florist," he smiled weakly "Thorns can be sharp." Silently, he added to himself, 'Yeah, so is wire.' He watched passively as she finished the bandage.
"Can you still move it?" she asked. Youji flexed his hand, and found he could.
"Yeah, thanks." Everything swayed to the right as the ambulance swung round into the A E entrance. A second paramedic opened the doors, and jumped down onto the tarmac below. Everyone started yelling, demanding drips and forms, and information about Aya's condition. Youji stepped down, and followed the metal hospital bed. He ran ahead, elbowing open doors, and moving people out the way. Eventually the group of doctors came to a set of dark blue doors, and someone grabbed Youji's arm and held him back as the gurney went in.
"Sir? You can't go in there, members of the public aren't allowed in operating theatre. Turn left at the end of this corridor, and there's a waiting room, we'll keep you informed, what's your name?"
"Kudou Youji. What are they doing in there?" Youji looked through the small circular windows. He couldn't see Aya, but by the amount of equipment that was being wheeled in, all he didn't know the purpose of, it looked scarily morbid.
"He needs a blood transfusion, and his essential organs need to be sewn up. Please, Sir, the waiting room?" The doctor laid his hand on Youji's shoulder, and pushed him towards the direction of the waiting room. He took the hint and started to walk down the sterile white corridor, feeling completely numb...
I'm novacaine I'm numb and nothing's real
Like the coldest winter you are frozen from me
Pink Numb
Ken and Omi were already waiting room when the double doors leading in from the corridors swung open and Youji strode in. Everyone turned round as the edges of the doors slammed into the walls on either side. Omi caught himself in the middle of a train of thought, and stared at his teammate, bare chest showing through his open coat and fists clenching so hard they were white. Youji's blazing green eyes fixed on a row of empty seats, and he flung himself down in one. In an instant all the usual control of his muscles failed him, and he slackened, like a puppet whose strings have just been cut, and wept. Omi walked over quietly, and sat in the empty seat on Youji's left. He couldn't think of anything to say, although he could usually offer comfort in any kind of situation, in the face of the floods of tears he was dumbstruck.
After a few strained minutes Ken came over from the desk after providing the receptionist with their contact details. He tactfully chose the free seat next to Omi, throwing occasional worried glances at Youji, who had stopped crying, but was staring forlornly a pot plant opposite him. After another half-hour of silence, Omi yawned.
" Hyuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh! (Author's Note: Yes, that was a yawn!) I'm off to find a coffee machine. Either of you want one while I'm up?" He waved a hand in front of Youji's face "You want a coffee?" He shook his head, and went back to staring at the plant. "Ken? You?"
"Yeah, I'll have one. Decaf if there is."
"I don't know how you cope without caffeine." Omi actually went for decaf too, but he was trying to start a conversation. When it was clear it wasn't going to work, he set off in search for a vending machine.
After several hundred metres of corridor, he found one. It was cheap, and most likely tasted awful, but it was better than nothing. He dug in his pockets for change, not surprisingly, he couldn't find any.
"Here." Omi turned round to see Youji standing with several yen lying in his palm. "Get me one too, preferably with extra caffeine."
"Sure." Omi put in the money and pressed the selection buttons. He performed the usual circus with the paper cups, nearly burning himself when the boiling coffee splashed down. (Author's Note: See? If a computer genius can't work them, who can? They can be weapons of mass annoyance!) He handed one to Youji, and turned back to the machine, and poured out Ken's decaf and his. He turned, doing the strange half-dance that everyone does when confronted with too hot coffee in both hands.
"Hold them a second," He passed both over to Youji while he dug in his pockets again. He came up with a pair of fingerless gloves, and put on one on. "Protection." He grinned sheepishly, took his coffee and promptly burned his tongue on it.
"Drink it over fast, then you don't taste it so much. First rule of the caffeine addict." Youji demonstrated, downing his coffee in one go. He crushed the cup in one hand, and then artfully threw it in a passing bin. Omi shook his head; Kudou Youji was a multi-talented man.
They turned the corner into the waiting room, to see Ken at the receptionist's desk, waving his arms and trying to make a point. Omi rolled his eyes. Subtlety had never been Ken's strong point. As they came closer, they could hear their conversation:
"Look, he came in about half an hour ago, heavy bleeding, I'm on his contact details."
"I'm sorry sir, but the only Fujimiya Aya we have registered is female and has been checked in for several years..."
"Well, can you do a search on Fujimiya then?" As he saw Omi and Youji coming over, he pulled a face, and told them what was happening.
"Okay, listen to this: They haven't got Aya on their files, apparently he's a girl and has been checked in for years! Is that mine? Thanks." Ken took the paper cup and took a swig. "Eeeewww. They probably have a 'Poisoned by Hospital Coffee Ward'..."
The receptionist hit a few keys on the keyboard, and turned back round to Ken.
"Sir? We have two patients under the name 'Fujimiya', one of whom matches the description you gave, but I'm afraid you have the name wrong. Your friend is registered under Ran, as first name, you must have him confused with his sister." The effect was instantaneous. Ken choked on his coffee, Omi thumped him on the back, while he stared at Youji, and Youji stared at the receptionist. He looked back at the other two.
"Neither of you ever heard him mention a sister?" He looked back at the receptionist, "Can I see his profile on that thing?"
"Yes, but I'm afraid you can't see what he was checked in for, or the treatment he received." She handed over an A4 printout "Here you are. You need to sign here." Youji signed in his scrawl while staring at the paper. He started to walk away from the desk, Ken and Omi trying to read as well. They stopped and read for a few minutes.
"My God. It is him. Address, age, description." Omi was the first to speak. He ran his eyes over the dates 'Ran' had checked in. "Yeah, it is him, no wonder he insisted he came on his own all the time. Bloody hell, he first checked in at age 17. What was that for?"
"Excuse me, are you relatives of Fujimiya Ran?" The three of them turned round, to see a young nurse in hospital uniform. Normally, Youji would have assessed her for a potential date, but just now she was just a woman. Again, Omi was the first to speak.
"Yes, we came in with him." They stared expectantly at her.
"The surgery was fine, but I'm afraid there's been a problem. Please come with me."
The nurse lead them to a small recovery room with three beds in it, one empty, one occupied by a balding pensioner, and the last held Ran, surrounded by monitors and an oxygen machine. He was scarily paler than before, his perfect skin matching the starched blankets that covered him. An aluminium stand stood beside the bed holding a saline drip, and a nearly empty bag of rich red blood. A doctor approached the trio, the nurse having disappeared from sight. He motioned them to come over to the bedside.
"Your friend has come through the surgery well, but he has a very rare blood type. We only have one more bag of it, then he's on his own. This normally, would be fine, but due to his chronic anaemia, is dangerous. He'll almost certainly pull through, but there is a risk of a shortage of oxygen in his brain." The doctor seemed apologetic, as though it was his personal fault that this had happened. Omi clung to Ken, who had wrapped an arm around him. Youji, however, seemed to be running a drastic thought process. He was.
"What blood type is he?" He asked, his voice loaded in intent.
"A recess negative, but I'm afraid you can't donate blood..."
"Good. Same as me."
"Sir, you can not donate blood, it needs to pass through several health checks before it can be transferred to the patient."
"I'm healthy! I've never done any drugs, or had anything to drink for about a week, I'm not anaemic, what else do you need?" He threw out his arms, exasperated by the refusal. Ken broke in at this point.
"Youji, Ay...Ran will be fine. He's strong, and doesn't give up. We can't stay here, we can go back and wait."
"Wait there then, I'm going to stay here." As he spoke, he drew up a chair and sat down, his glare softening as he watched Ran in his drug-induced sleep of oblivion.
Ken and Omi exited the room and began walking down the hallway, arms still wrapped round each other.
"Ken, you don't think he'll do something stupid, do you?"
"Of course he won't. He knows it's not safe." Ken turned and planted a kiss on Omi's forehead. Omi smiled, and leaned his head on Ken's shoulder.
Youji waited until the doctor was examining the balding man's chart, before quietly leaving. That was the easy bit, now he had to find a storage room before he was missed. He turned right, going the opposite way from Ken and Omi, scanning the door signs for 'Private'. After about 50 metres, he saw one, brought to his attention by a medical student sliding out from behind the door. He waited a few minutes, pretending to read a health and safety notice, then went in. Row upon row of aluminium shelving towered over Youji's head. He took a deep breath, and began searching. After a panic-stricken few minutes, he looked in cupboards under the steel sink, and found what he was searching for. A semi-translucent plastic bag with an attached tube and needle. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket and hurried out of the storage room, and began to run down the hallway, scattering people left and right.
He carried on running till he saw a newsagents, and had an idea. He strolled in and bought a cheap car magazine, and came out carrying it in a plastic bag. He strolled back down the corridor, his muscles screaming at him to run, but he knew that he'd run straight past Omi and Ken, and they'd stop him. Youji eventually found the nearest toilets, and pushed the white swing door open. He was confronted by a row of cubicle doors on his left, and a row of sinks on the right. He turned into the last cubicle, and locked the door, his heart thumping in his chest as though it might burst.
He took the blood bag out of his pocket and looked at it, not letting his eyes trail down to the needle at the end of the long tube. He hooked the top of the bag over the coat hook on the back of the door. He unlaced one of his boots and tied a slipknot in one end. Youji pushed the other end through it, and put his arm through the loop. He held it secure with his right hand, and jerked the other end away, creating a block in his veins. He transferred the loose end to his mouth where he held it tight, his vein beginning to swell up. He fished in his pockets to find his lighter, and lit it as he re-sterilised the needle. He laid the blood bag on top of his coat, on the toilet seat. He let the string drop from in-between his teeth, and pushed the sharp needle into his arm. He hissed between his teeth and shut his eyes tight, painful memories invading his body, just like the needle.
Suddenly, he was a five year old again, sitting in a doctor's chair waiting to receive his first injection. His mother sat beside him, her hands neatly folded in her lap. The doctor, fat and sweating leaned over a metal tray, preparing the needle. As he turned round, the doctor leered at him. Youji suddenly went cold with fear. This evil man, later to be one of Weiss' targets, was about to force an unknown substance into him...it could be anything...water...air...poison. He threw himself out of the chair, and ran out of the clinic. He got halfway down the road before his mother caught up with him. He was sobbing, yearning for his mother to wrap him in her arms, and protect him from the doctor and the shiny silver needle. Youji never forgave her for what she did next. She roughly grabbed his hand in an iron grip, and dragged him back into the doctor's surgery, where two nurses held him down as he received the vaccine.
the blood bag was half-full
His life suddenly speeded up, working as a private detective for a woman who wanted to know if her husband was visiting a nearby brothel. Youji posed as a customer, and found out that not only did the man visit, he owned the place. After he had obtained the necessary evidence of his visits, he returned to the housewife. She was naturally upset, but she paid for his services, and he left the house, just in time to see a non-descript black car pull up in the driveway. He carried on walking, although he was slightly suspicious, the suit in the car didn't look like her husband. He got into his own car, and pretended to read a map, while he watched the man get out of the car, and knock on the house door. The woman answered, and he forced his way in, despite her obvious protests. The door was shut behind him. Less than a minute later, he saw the wife again through the window, her mouth open in a voiceless scream, blood pouring from her hairline... He'd rushed in, and throttled the assailant from behind. He released him, and stared stunned as he slide to the floor, as crumpled as a rag doll. That was the first man he'd ever killed. He left the house and drove back to his flat. Two days later he had received a phone call, which requested his presence at the same brothel. He knew what requested meant.
He wound his way through the whores clinging to him and headed for the door marked 'Manager'. However two security guards stepped in front of him, and took him to 'the manager'. As soon as they were through the doorway and alone, one grabbed his right arm and pushed up the sleeve of the jacket he had been wearing. Youji had screamed when the other guard had produced a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and struggled even harder. No use, they were stronger than him, and were practised at this. He let out a keening cry as the needle pierced his skin, and everything went dark. He couldn't move or speak, just watch passively as he was beat up. After hours of abuse, he was dumped in an alley, blood flowing from every part of his body, flowing down the gutter drains.
His eyes flew open, and he withdrew the needle from his arm, shaking. He had to try to put the clip on the full bag several times before he managed it, feeling as helpless as he had been when he was drugged. He slid down the wall, crying gently to himself.
After a few minutes, he stood up, and awkwardly handling the plastic container of blood, scared by its warmth, slid it into the newsagents bag. He carefully pushed his arm through the sleeve of his jacket, and swung the other arm in. He left the cubicle, and inspected himself in the mirror. He had deep black circles beneath his eyes thrown into sharp prominence by the pallor under his light tan. He left the toilets, searching for the cupboard he had taken the plastic bag from.
Youji eventually found it again, his pace slower than before. He found a pen, and wrote a hasty note stating the blood type and that it was for recovery room 6. He came out of the storage area, and made his way back to the waiting area slowly, each step away from Ran a huge effort of both body and mind.
Several hours later, Ken, Omi and Youji went to visit Ran again. He had shifted position slightly, his face now turned towards the door. The three of them stepped in, trying to be as quiet as possible. Youji pulled up 3 chairs, stiff backed and uncomfortable, wincing slightly when he twisted his left arm. He took the chair closest to the head of the bed. He couldn't keep his viridian eyes off Ran, the pure peace on his face replacing the usual frown.
Youji knew that he was responsible for all this, he had saved Ran from certain death, then cast him straight back into its freezing clutches. Death... lying down and succumbing to the forceful current that not only pulled at the flesh, but the mind as well. Youji had been terrified of death ever since his father had died, a shipping accident, his rowing boat dashed against rocks. (Author's Note: I have no idea if that happened or not, so forgive me if I'm wrong) Whenever on a mission, he wore water-resistant clothes that created a barrier between him and the red fountains of his victims. And he always took care to ensure that any injuries never left a scar that could remind him of any particular target. Yet he had insisted that his hands healed on their own, so that he would always recall when he had saved and sentenced with one stroke.
Omi stood up and left the room, unable to watch his friend lie unconscious and not do anything. Ken, unwilling to leave the distraught 17 years old on his own, swiftly followed him. Youji didn't register his companion's departure until a nurse came past him to replace the empty bag of blood with his hasty donation. He smiled briefly to himself, and carried on watching. He was now inside Ran, his iron-rich blood sweeping through the veins, creating a blood-bond he intended never to break.
The nurse went back a few hours later to remove the handsome visitor, as visiting hours were over, but she let him stay, he was so immersed in a peace deeper then sleep. The next day came, and the brunette left the bedside, only to return a few hours later, fully clothed and clean-shaven to continue his vigil. She continued tending the patient, wondering why this man showed so much love.
This ritual continued every day, for two weeks, regular as clockwork. However, as soon as Youji left, another man came in to watch Fujimiya Ran, a man with a shock of ginger hair, and emerald eyes that gleamed like a snake's.
"Hey! Crawly-Chan!" Schuldich beamed in amusement at the annoyance in Brad Crawford's face, the flickering light from his laptop reflecting off his glasses. "Aw, come on! You know I'm just being me! Whatcha doing? Checking more weather reports?"
"Wrong. Volcano eruption patterns. I've decided to set one off near where you were spawned." (Author's Note: Yes, I know this is a direct quote from the manga, but it's just too Crawford-y not to put in!)
"Whatever. Listen; you know Fujimiya Junior?" He saw the completely disinterested look that meant that Crawford was interested. Of course, it helped if you could read his mind. Schuldich continued: " He's getting better, and the damn playboy won't leave his side. What's his name?"
"Kudou Youji."
"Ah yes. Well, he's hung up on it, could be useful, na?"
"Maybe. Depends on what it is though. You need to find out, Schuldich. Quickly please." Having gained his superior's approval, Schuldich grinned.
"Your wish is my command, oh Crawly one!" He exited before Brad could reply. Right, Schuldich thought, time to buy some flowers.
Youji had returned to his apartments above the shop, to change and shave. He didn't think he could really take more time sitting next to the hospital bedside, even though he made it a penance for himself, a penance that could never be enough. He pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, and screwed up his eyes. It felt like something was squatting in his mind, pressurising his head. It was probably just a mixture of too little sleep and too much hospital coffee, and no cigarettes. Taking his hand away from his forehead, he trawled through his pockets for something to curb his craving. All he found was his wallet, a simple black leather affair with a simple metal clasp. He flipped it over, and gazed dolefully at the photo pushed under the clear plastic flap. It showed all four of Weiss, crammed into a photo booth, all grinning. Omi was at the bottom of the shot, his nose crinkled up as he laughed. Ken was to his left, his chestnut hair falling over his eyes. Youji was at the very top, his hair slicked back into a ponytail, his arm stretched out to the wall to stop him falling over. Aya was on Omi's right, smiling away with the rest of them. It was the only time Youji'd ever got him drunk, and that was only because he'd told the barman to put absinthe in Aya's cocktails. Aya hadn't spoken to for two weeks when he found out. Aya...
He sighed, and walked out into the sunlight on the small balcony. He rolled the name around in his mind, Aya...Aya... not Aya anymore, that was someone different, it was Ran now. He looked at the photo again before putting it back in his pocket. Maybe that's why he'd gone funny on the roof... he hadn't heard his name...Ran...Ran...Youji's mind replayed the fateful sequence, the arguing, the fall, the catch, that terrifying look in those pure violet eyes as Ran fell. He blinked, the pressure in his head suddenly gone. Now he was just too tired... He staggered back inside, his own weight making his knees weaken, and fell fully dressed onto his bed, asleep before he hit the sheets.
Finally! I wrote a long okay, longish chapter! Now, just continue following on to chapter 5! (When I write it!)
What will the angsty Youji do? Will he remain e'erwatchful over Ran? What shall the sneaky serpent Schuldich do? What will he do with the 'lucky boy'?
Read on to find out!
Please RR!!!
