Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.
Thanks again, reviewers!! To those of you who've supported me since Culmination, and especially Uzumaki and Shetan for their long and thoughtful reviews, I really appreciate it! I'm in the process of moving so the next chapter might not show up for a little longer than usual. Sorry! But I hope you enjoy this chapter. .
Thunder Falling
Chapter 3
By the time Ky returned to his small house in the downtown of Paris, the hour had progressed past two in the morning. He was exhausted, perspiring within the thick folds of his full uniform, and already growing stiff from all the tension that day entailed. When he finally stepped through his front door his shoulders sagged with a long, weary sigh. "Finally," he murmured, closing the door with a decisive thud behind him.
Ky Kiske's home, despite belonging to a prestigious world hero, was not in itself very remarkable. From the front door was a short, thin hall lined with closets, preceded on the left by a staircase to the upper level and a small foyer for visiting guests on the right. The hall opened into a modestly decorated living room with a pair of small sofas and a glass sliding door which led to a stone patio and tiny garden. Attached to the living room were the kitchen and dining room, and to the left a bathroom, and another stairway leading into the basement where his two housekeepers would do the laundry. The bedroom and study took up the upper floor.
It was simple—it was just what it needed to be, and it suited Ky's purposes. His housekeepers saw more of it than he ever did, as he spent nearly all of his time on duty, or else working in the study. He had given them time off for the holidays, and the house was quiet and dark without the extra light on that was usually left for him. Ky moved slowly down the hall, pausing at an intricate display case on his right to store his Thunderseal. His cape followed suit in a separate closet, and his uniform top should have as well if not for the sudden disinterest he had in fumbling with all the straps and buckles. Instead he wandered down the short hall and sank into a soft chair near the glass patio window. At some point it had started to snow, and the faint white powder stuck to the dead earth that would, come spring, bear vibrant flowers again.
He should have been celebrating. This entire season was supposed to one of thanksgiving and jubilation, and even now he could still hear the cheerful songs echoing from distant streets. But as was always the case, year after year, he merely felt cold. With the memories of the war so close to his surface there was scarcely room in him for merriment. It helped very little that the praises lifted to him, to his order, were all but meaningless. It had been no strength of his that brought salvation to the world. As a captain, all he had ever done was watch casualties increase.
"Ky."
The voice came softly in the stillness of the darkened room, and Ky jerked to his feet with a start. His hand brushed at the space Thunderseal should have occupied at his hip as he scanned for the intruder. "Who's there?"
The shadows on his left rippled, peeling away from the form of a man as he stepped out of the thin hall. Even in the dark Testament's face was pale. "It's me," he greeted quietly.
Ky stared at him for a long time, as if unable to make himself realize that what he was seeing was real. It had only been three months and yet he felt dimly surprised that the Gear had not changed in anything but his attire—he was draped in a long black coat that reached from neck to ankle, and with his face the only part of him bearing color he could have very well been rendered invisible against the dark even without his magic aiding him. Ky's fingers curled. "Testament…?"
Testament shifted his weight uncertainly. "You…told me to visit," he explained somewhat nervously.
"I did." Ky stepped around the sofa, too swiftly, and paused awkwardly just in front of him. Though his chest was swelling with elation he himself was suddenly unsure. He didn't even know how to properly great him: formally, casually, intimately…? He managed a shaky smile. "Though when I did, I meant sooner than three months later."
Testament shrugged slightly. "We came mostly by foot. Bridget wanted the time to train—so he could surprise you." He hesitated, and then offered, "Sorry."
"No, it's…it's fine." Ky took a deep breath. "I'm glad you came. You…look well."
"You…." Testament paused, his brow furrowing as if he were about to say something and then changed his mind. He frowned. "You look awful."
Ky chuckled and lowered his eyes. "It's been a long day for me," he explained. "With everything…."
He trailed off when a gloved hand touched his cheek, urging his gaze back up. He met Testament's eyes tentatively. His insides quivered a little with the close proximity as his mind filled with familiar remembrances. The hand slid to his shoulder, then behind his neck, and before Ky could wonder how to react to the touch he found himself against Testament's chest, warm arms enveloping him. The feeling of having a strong body supporting him abruptly stole the rest of his strength, and without a sound Ky sagged wearily against that solid frame.
The pair was still for some time, and Ky was grateful for Testament's unquestioning support. Finally he felt steady again and started to ease back. "I'm sorry," he said quietly in embarrassment. He glanced toward the kitchen. "I should offer you something—you've come a long way, and you probably didn't get a chance to visit the festivals, did you? You must be hungry."
"It's all right," Testament assured, keeping a hand on his shoulder. He seemed to be able to easily tell how close Ky felt to simply collapsing. "I did eat."
"Oh, good." Ky turned back, and in meeting Testament's eyes found himself again at a loss for words. He simply wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to the Gear. Three months ago they had been enemies, companions, and eventually lovers, all in the span of a few short days. He couldn't help but wonder if such a brief time meant anything now, thousands of miles away, practically in another world.
"You look exhausted," Testament observed.
"It's just this time of year," Ky confessed. He wasn't sure if it was much of a help, to find himself wearing down the evening with a Gear. "I'm sorry. I want to hear how you've been—what you and Bridget have been doing—but…."
Testament regarded him silently a moment; there was no interpreting the calm expression he wore. "Come on," he said abruptly, giving his arm a tug. "I'll take you to bed."
Ky blinked in surprise, but by then Testament was turning way, leading him back towards the hall. He smiled faintly as he followed along. "I can find my way in my own house."
"Then I'm making sure you don't pass out on the way," Testament replied. There was a note of teasing in his voice that made Ky's smile deepen.
They climbed the stairs together, and Ky was suddenly grateful that Testament had decided to lead him after all; having been on his feet all day even a short flight to the second story made his knees ache. The sight of his bed, the sheets thoughtfully turned down and awaiting him, nearly pulled him in without shedding any of his uniform. Before he could move to it, Testament's hands fell over him to begin undoing the fastenings on his thick attire. He sighed. "Thank you."
Testament paused to take his gloves off before returning to his work. "I hear you've been very busy lately," he remarked as he eased the outer layer of Ky's top off his shoulders and tossed it aside. Ky was too tired to protest his rough treatment of the material as his gloves followed. "Taking on the Assassin's Guild."
Ky smiled grimly, and when he reached to help Testament with the buckle across his chest his hands were pushed away. He relaxed and allowed the Gear to do as he pleased. "Yes. We've made tremendous progress—they've all earned the holiday."
"And you?"
Ky chuckled quietly. "I suppose I've earned it, too."
Testament's fingers brushed against Ky's bare shoulders as he finished removing the thin belts that crossed his undershirt, and Ky couldn't help a tiny shiver. Despite being exhausted he could feel the underlying tension between them, the way they shifted and watched each other as if testing. Neither knew what to say or how to act.
"Bridget wouldn't talk about anything else," Testament told him as he tugged at Ky's shirt. "Wondering how you're doing, wanting to see you…."
"I did see him earlier." It didn't seem appropriate to mention the circumstances, in case Testament didn't already know about Bridget's family situation. He lifted his arms. "He's seems to have done well by your training."
"It's not training so much as playing around, I think…."
Testament pulled the other's shirt off, in the process his hands skating up Ky's ribs and arms. Ky's fingers curled slightly. He didn't want to admit that the past several months had been…lonely. After the time he had spent with the pirates he had become somewhat accustomed to the sound of breath echoing back to him in the dark. And for one night, he had remembered what it was like to have another pressed against him, warm and accepting. He had missed it. With the memories of such intimacy always close in his mind, returning every night to a dark, empty room had worn at him; having Testament here now only made him recognize that loneliness for what it was even more so.
As soon as Ky was free of his shirt he leaned abruptly forward; his fingers twisted in the front of Testament's jacket as he pulled him into a firm, long-awaited kiss. The Gear stiffened in surprise. It lasted only a moment, and then Ky was bound again in strong arms, Testament's mouth hot and insistent against his own. He murmured between them in quiet relief. Testament's lips were just as full, his hands just as broad as he remembered, and he could not have been more pleased to know he wasn't the only one who had been waiting for this moment.
Ky pulled back reluctantly when his breath ran out. "I'm glad," he whispered, knowing Testament would understand. Whatever had taken place between them, it might not have been a mistake.
"You're exhausted," Testament returned lightly. His uncertainty seemed to have vanished; he drew his hands up to Ky's shoulders, massaging the tight muscles. It was blissful, and when Ky sagged against him with a grateful murmur he chuckled softly in his ear. "See? We can…reminisce in the morning."
Ky smiled boyishly into Testament's shoulder. "Will you stay?" he asked, inexplicably embarrassed. "It's not a large bed, but…."
"We've made do with worse," Testament reminded him with a smirk. He eased Ky back. "Go ahead. I'll be right there."
"All right." All too pleased that he wouldn't be spending the night alone, Ky slipped out of his boots, socks, and—with a blush—his pants. As he slid beneath the blankets he snuck a peek at Testament, who had stripped out of his coat and was removing the familiar bands of black leather. When he'd finished Ky was a bit surprised to see Testament's choice of undergarments was little more than a black thong. When Testament caught him watching he made a face and dropped onto the bed with him. "Something wrong?"
"You're bolder than I am," Ky chuckled, relaxing into his pillow. Testament crawling over him, his eyes flashing in the dark, made Ky's insides tighten.
Testament rolled his eyes, giving Ky's shoulder a tap. "Turn over."
Ky did so somewhat reluctantly, but when Testament's hands returned to massaging his stiff shoulders and back, he quickly surrendered. "You don't have to do this," he murmured as his eyelids fluttered shut. He stretched and settled himself. "But…thank you."
"Just got to sleep,"
Testament's low voice floated down to him.
"We can talk in the morning."
Ky smiled. He would have liked to remain
awake a while longer, to feel more of Testament's hands, but he was already
taking the Gear's advice. With a quiet
sigh he relaxed against his pillow and was soon deeply asleep.
"Uh…what time is it?"
"Sometime…after four, I think."
"Bugger that."
Venom frowned, and he was just thinking of how irritating drunkards were when he stumbled, barely catching himself on the inn wall as his long travel case bumped against his knee. He had certainly had his fair share of alcohol that evening. Or morning, as it now seemed to be. When he looked to his unlikely companion he found Axl leaning against the opposite wall, eyes closed and smile lazy. With a sigh he tugged the man's coat sleeve and urged him on. "The room," he said firmly. "What number was it?"
"115," Axl mumbled. He allowed Venom to lead them down the narrow hall to the room he had reserved earlier. They had parted with the second Axl not long ago when they could no longer find cheap alcohol, and with the promise of a room for the night—without having to offer an innkeeper his name—Venom couldn't refuse the remaining blonde. Looking rather ridiculous in the process they had somehow managed to find the correct inn after three tries, and were now making a journey of discovering the right room.
Venom was surprised with himself. It was absurdly unlike him to act with such little caution.
The pair reached room 115 at the end of the hall and, being the slightly less intoxicated of the two, Venom fitted the key into the door and allowed them to enter. He was surprised, but relieved, to see a pair of beds awaiting them. "You reserved a double?" he asked as they stumbled inside.
"I knew you were comin', remember?" Axl chuckled. He fell, face first, onto the closest bed.
Venom closed the door behind him, removing only his shoes as he spilled onto what seemed to be his sleeping space. His luggage he took slightly better care of in placing on the floor in easy reach. "I still don't understand," he confessed as he stretched out against an uncommonly soft mattress; he hadn't felt anything like it in perhaps years, and he nearly fell asleep right there. Axl's reply caught his attention before he had the chance.
"Understand what? I 'splained the time travel."
"That, I understand," Venom was able to say, amazing himself. "But I still don't understand…why me?" Neither had bothered to turn on a light when they'd entered, and so when he glanced over at Axl was only barely able to make out his features in the dark. "There are so many people here…why did you…?"
Axl dragged himself more comfortably onto the mattress with a soft groan. "I dunno. That was a different me."
"But…you're still the same person…." Venom relaxed onto his back, frowning to himself. "This is strange."
"Isn't it?" Having twisted onto his stomach, Axl stretched lazily. "But I dunno. You look pretty interesting, I guess." He yawned. "An assassin in Paris. This man you're chasing…must be sumthing."
Venom was about to reply that he wasn't exactly a "man," but it would have been too difficult an explanation given their relative states. "He is," he said instead. As he stared up at the ceiling his view began to blur at the edges, and he sighed softly. "I don't know if I can win."
"Ooh, it's a job. What if y'can't kill him?"
Venom closed his eyes. He suddenly remembered why he didn't usually drink; it was harder to lie. "In that case," he murmured, not caring if Axl was really listening, "I'll make him kill me."
The room was silent, and Venom was sure that Axl had simply fallen asleep when the man shifted slightly. "Bummer."
Venom's lip curled slightly in a bitter smile. "Maybe."
Axl shifted again, and after another quiet moment Venom could hear him snoring quietly. He sighed. It didn't matter what Axl thought, after all. He had been the one that called him over, that invited him here—if he was disappointed with his guest now it was his own fault. Venom hadn't asked for any of this.
He twisted into his side, away from the man, slipping beneath the top blanket as he, too, fell asleep.
The ceiling of his small room at the back of the temple wasn't the most exciting thing Chipp had seen all day. For the moment, though, it seemed a good alternative to sleeping. The buzz from the alcohol he and Anji had shared earlier had long since worn down, leaving him lethargic and bored, but he knew that going to sleep now would only hasten him waking up to a hangover. He usually didn't let himself drink at all anymore let alone to excess, and he always paid for it.
More than that, he could still hear Anji pacing across the mats two rooms away. Baiken hadn't come back yet.
There was a light knock on the panel to his room, and Chipp called for whoever it was to enter; anyone coming to visit him at this early hour should be interesting. He wasn't at all disappointed when the face that peeked inside was that of Murase Sousuke's daughter, Wakami. She was a beautiful young Japanese girl, with long, silk-black hair that reached to her waist and bangs cut straight across her eyebrows. Being the caretaker of her parent's shrine she had been looking after Anji, Baiken, and him during their stay in the colony. He'd never seen her out of her shrine robes, as was the case now as she stepped hesitantly inside. "Can you not sleep, Zanuff-san?" she asked, her voice thickly accented.
Chipp sat up quickly, blushing a little at having been caught by her in only his boxers. "Oh, hi," he greeted with a boyish smile. He suddenly wished his Japanese was good enough for him to speak with, to make it easier on her. "You're up pretty late, aren't you?"
Wakami blushed as well as she took another hesitant step inside. "So are you," she replied. "Can you not sleep? Should I get something for you?"
"Ah, no, I'm fine," Chipp replied with an embarrassed laughed. He always felt a little silly when Wakami was around; the way she fixed her adorable dark eyes on him made him want to grin stupidly. "You shouldn't have to look after me."
"You're our guest," she replied brightly. "My father said to look after you all, and…I would like to help you when I can." She lowered herself gracefully to her knees beside him. "Are you sure there is nothing I can do? Or…." She ducked her head. "Are you worried about Baiken-san?"
"Well…." Chipp shrugged. "Not worried, really. Just…you know…."
The sound of footsteps echoed to them from down the hall, and Chipp cringed a little as he recognized them as their missing companion. "Like I said—not worried."
Even knowing Baiken was coming, Chipp and Wakami both flinched a little when she appeared in the open doorway. She looked just as disheveled as she'd left, though by now was somewhat more sober. She set Wakami a pointed glare and then marched past her into the room. "I'm sleeping in here," she declared as she dropped onto the mats behind Chipp.
Chipp and Wakami exchanged glances. "Um…why?" Chipp asked hesitantly.
"Because." She didn't bother with finding an extra futon, choosing instead to stretch herself out on her side, facing away from them.
Chipp frowned, and when he looked again to Wakami she ducked her head again. He sighed. "Wakami, thanks for looking after me, but it's pretty late. I think I'm going to go to bed now."
"All right." Wakami bowed shortly, then pushed to her feet. "Goodnight, Zanuff-san. Baiken-san." With another bow she departed, closing the panel behind her.
Quietly, Chipp arranged his futon and slipped beneath the blankets, attempting to give Baiken the space she seemed to need. She wasn't asleep—he could tell by the strange aura of tension in the room as he tried to find a comfortable sleeping position. At last he spoke up. "Anji's been worried. You should let him know you're back."
Baiken snorted, and when she didn't reply he tried a different tactic. "Did you go into town like that?"
"I needed to talk to him," she muttered, her voice hoarse with fatigue.
"That Murase guy?"
"Yeah."
"Oh."
Chipp fell silent again—that was about the limit of his ability to cope with people in the state she was in. He rolled over, intending to go to sleep and let Anji worry about it in the morning. The sound of Baiken's voice caught his attention before he could do so.
"Something's going to happen."
"Huh?" Chipp twisted to face her once more. "What do you mean?"
"Something's going to happen to this place." Baiken curled in a little on herself. "And I'm not supposed to care, but…it means something to Anji. To Wakami and Miyuki. And I can't stop it if no one will listen…."
Chipp sat up, a little startled to think that Baiken was really trying to tell him something important. It wasn't just her paranoia or anger—she really did know. "What…" He gulped. "Like what?
Before Baiken could answer the sound of many heavy footsteps echoed down the hall to them. "Mito Anji!" a voice was calling, followed by others Chipp couldn't make out. He glanced to Baiken.
"Something like this," Baiken muttered, not looking up.
Chipp frowned at her, but as the footsteps drew nearer he pushed to his feet and investigated. A group of men was coming down the hall with Murase Yuuya at the lead, followed by a flustered and protesting Wakami. Further down Anji finally appeared from his room to meet them. "What's going on?" the Japanese man asked as he wiped his glasses on his T-shirt. "It's—"
"I'm sorry about this, Anji," Yuuya said evenly, resting a hand on the sword at his hip, "but I have to bring you in."
"Bring me in?" Anji replaced his glasses on his nose. "Why?"
"Yeah," Chipp added impetuously, "what for? What's going on?"
Yuuya smirked without humor. "You'll see, all right? Come on." He waved for Anji to come forward, and as the men shifted behind him, it was then that Chipp noticed they were all armed, and a few were carrying lengths of sturdy rope.
Anji stared the men down a moment, when suddenly his face paled a shade. "This is about him, isn't it?" he asked softly. His jaw clenched.
"Afraid so. So if you don't mind…"
Chipp glanced between them, and the realization hit him just after it had Anji. "It was Baiken," he breathed, watching helplessly as Anji stepped closer and allowed Yuuya to begin leading him towards the exit. "She told you about how Anji, and the Gear man…."
They didn't look at him—the men parted to let Yuuya and Anji pass, as if…Anji were just going to let them get away with this. "Wait," Chipp started to protest. "Are you fucking arresting him? He didn't do anything—"
He reached for Yuuya's arm, and was stopped by one of the men he had brought. Chipp cursed and thrust the man aside. "What the hell is this?" he shouted angrily. "Anji, don't—you don't owe these shits—"
"It's all right." Anji met his gaze briefly before turning, starting on his own to the door. "I'll tell them what I know."
The men followed him, and Chipp could only gape, frustrated but helpless, as they disappeared outside. Yuuya was the last to go, and he sent Chipp a lopsided smirk before he, too, was gone. Leaving Chipp and Wakami to gape after them in confusion.
"Baiken…." Chipp whirled, stomping back into his room. "Baiken, aren't you going to do something?" he demanded at her turned back. When she didn't reply he scowled and came further inside, moving around in front of her. "Didn't you hear what just happened—Anji's been arrested! Don't you—"
He crouched down, intending to give her a good shake, but he stopped before he could touch her. Baiken was already sound asleep.