Fanfic Archive: Redemption, 5
May. 28th, 2009 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: 2004)
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence. Shounen-ai (implied)
Summary: Yohji and a critically injured Aya find themselves drummed out of Weiss and on the run from Kritiker. Against this backdrop, they must locate and retrieve something very precious to the man who betrayed Aya ... a man Aya still calls his friend, despite all that has passed between them. When their options run out, the boys have no choice but to undertake a foolhardy mission that will end up putting Aya at Schuldich's mercy. Will our kittens be able to extract themselves from this mess and return to Weiss? Or will Schuldich get his revenge, after all?
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.
Author's Note: Story #3 in the "Nowhere Man" trilogy. Story #1: Nowhere Man. Story #2: Betrayal
Redemption
Chapter 5
Yohji reached the park, which was in the middle of a small, newly-redeveloped neighborhood, slightly before the sun set. He quickly scanned the area, but, finding no sign of Ken or Omi, he sank down onto a bench that, although hidden in deep shadow, offered an unobstructed view of the entrance, and waited. Although you could usually find people in the park at all hours of the day or night --- lovers strolling arm-in-arm, mothers with children, groups of kids playing various sports, or people sitting and enjoying the air --- the grounds were almost deserted this evening, probably because of the cold weather and the snow. He sighed and removed his sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and then ran his hand through his hair, which was matted and tangled, thanks to almost an entire day spent in the wind and snow. He hadn't realized how long his hair had become during the past two weeks, and he felt a little twinge of surprise to realize his fingers now traveled well past his shoulders before running out of hair. Changing his appearance had seemed like a good idea, and he had, briefly, thought about cutting his hair, but he hadn't had the heart to do it. He had always looked so stupid with short hair, anyhow, so he had decided to just leave it as it was and take a chance on someone from Kritiker recognizing him on the street. So far, though, it hadn't proved to be a problem, probably because he had one of those faces that sort of "blended in", despite his unusual hair and eye coloring. Now, Aya … well, that was a different story. That guy stood out like a sore thumb, with his porcelain-white skin, fine-boned facial features, and bluish-violet eyes … not to mention the red hair. Yohji sighed as he thought, for a moment, it was probably a good thing he was the one doing all this surveillance work in the city, instead of Aya.
Yohji quickly broke away from that train of thought before images of his injured friend flashed through his memory. He needed to think clearly and carefully now that he was in the city, so close to Kritiker's watchful eyes, and he couldn't do that if he started thinking about Aya being injured, or, worse, possibly dying. He leaned back and stared at the quickly-darkening sky, watching as the first few stars winked into view. Drawing on a childhood memory, he stared at the first star he saw and silently wished for Aya's safety. He felt foolish doing such a childish thing, but, at this point, he figured it couldn't hurt. Hey, who knew? Maybe it would even help.
Yohji leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and surveyed the neighborhood around the park. The flower shop hadn't ever been in the greatest district in the city, a fact that never seemed to bother any of them. After all, if you're an assassin and you want to hide out in plain view, it's best to do so in places where people know better than to ask a lot of questions. The park, where Ken always took his soccer kids to play, had long been a small oasis of green, albeit littered with trash, amidst what were, mainly, run-down, slummy, high-rise apartment buildings. Within the past couple of years, though, there had been a huge push by the city government to encourage urban renovation … or, as the politicos called it, "urban reclamation". As far as Yohji could tell, that was just a fancy term for sprucing things up and driving decent, hard-working people from their homes by raising rents to an unaffordable level. Now, the high-rise buildings that surrounded and towered over the park had, for the most part, all been renovated into "luxury condominiums", "luxury town homes", and "luxury apartments", and young, upwardly-mobile people, mostly couples with small children, had, largely, replaced the poorer folks --- single parents, or single-income, blue-collar families --- who used to live in the low-rent buildings. The crime rate in the district had dropped drastically, which Yohji attributed more to the increased police presence in the area than to the district's newer demographics, and the change had proven to be fairly good for the Koneko. Most months now, it actually almost broke even, despite the fact that none of them knew or cared anything about running the business or even kept the store open for what passed as "regular" business hours. Somehow, Yohji found it oddly ironic that they would probably be able to make the shop into a profitable, going concern just at the time the demographic shift and corresponding heightened police presence in the neighborhood made the likelihood of their "real" jobs being exposed to the public a near certainty. He knew Kritiker had, more than once in the past year, thought of moving them to a new, "safer" location.
The cell phone in his pocket jangled to life, making him jump and drawing him away from his thoughts, and Yohji looked up to see Omi and Ken enter the park. The two of them stopped at the entrance, briefly scanning the area for some sign of him, but Yohji knew they couldn't see him. He was too well-hidden in the shadows. Omi was holding the phone, evidently making him the one who had dialed in the number to Yohji's cell, but both young assassins were able to listen in to the conversation, thanks to a splitter, which Omi had attached to the phone, enabling them to use two headphones and microphones at one time.
By the third ring, Yohji managed to pull the phone out of his inner coat pocket. He punched the talk button, and, after a brief pause, said, in a soft voice, "Yeah?"
He heard Omi's sigh of relief before the boy's shaky voice emanated from the phone, sounding tinny due to the cell's poor auditory quality, "Yo … Yohji? Is it really you? Where are you?"
"Yeah, it's me," Yohji replied. "I'm close by, but don't try to find me. Just pick a bench and sit. These phones aren't traceable, but I don't want to take any chances on Kritiker homing in on the signal. So, we're gonna have to talk fast."
There was a pause, accompanied by Ken and Omi's muffled voices as the two discussed the best place to sit.
'Shit,' Yohji thought, irritably, 'they're just park benches. One's just like another; just pick a fucking place and sit the hell down.'
He saw his teammates finally land in a spot --- a bench almost directly across from him, which made him wonder if, perhaps, they had seen him, after all.
Within a second or two, Ken's voice came over the phone, "What the fuck is going on?"
Yohji couldn't suppress a chuckle, and he laughed harder in response to the exasperated sighs he heard from his two younger teammates. "Always the direct one, aren't you, Ken?" he asked, still laughing.
"This is not funny," Omi's scared voice cut in, and the fear Yohji heard completely dried up his laughter.
"Yeah, you're right. It's not funny," he replied.
"We've been so worried about you … about both of you," Omi continued. "What happened? We woke up to find both of you gone … nothing but a pool of blood on the floor in Aya's room. No note, no explanation … nothing. Then, that same day, a Kritiker agent we've never met shows up and starts asking all kinds of questions --- have we heard from you or Aya; where do we think Aya would go to hide; why were you gone, too; did we think it was because Aya had killed you; did Aya threaten us --- stuff like that. Manx and Persia wouldn't even return our calls. Then, two days after that, Manx shows up, says we're off active until they can locate replacements for you and Aya, and then places these two Kritiker agents with us in the shop. She said it was to ensure our safety, but … it seemed more like spying to us. And, "ensure our safety" from whom? Aya? You? From the way she said they were looking for replacements …" Omi's voice trailed off as he stifled a small, almost inaudible sob.
"We thought you guys were dead," Ken cut in, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. "So, what the fuck is going on?"
Yohji would have chuckled at Omi's impeccably precise, yet completely subconscious, use of the word "whom" instead of "who", if it hadn't been for the small sob he had heard at the end of the kid's statement. He took a deep breath and debated on the best way to explain things to his friends. Finally, he concluded there wasn't really a good, concise way to explain everything; he'd just have to fumble ahead as best as he could.
"A lot of shit's hit the fan," Yohji replied.
"Yeah," Ken stated, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm, "We gathered as much. Now, would you like to explain just what kind of shit we're talking about?"
Normally, the ex-goalie's tone would have made Yohji furious, but the older blonde knew it was just a product of the stress Ken and Omi had been under for the past several days. Yohji decided to ignore the obvious challenge in his dark-haired teammate's words. Sighing tiredly, he said, "Kritiker is after Aya. And, I guess, they're probably after me, too. That night … you know, after the day he disappeared with those agents all day? He came back to the shop … late. He only wanted to stay long enough to gather up a few things and then leave without telling anyone. He didn't want any of us to know, didn't want us involved, I guess. But, I heard him in his room, and, then, I left with him. I'm sorry about not leaving some kind of explanation, but we couldn't take the chance of Kritiker knowing for sure that he'd been there. They might have thought you guys were involved, too, and Aya didn't want to drag you into this mess."
"What … kind … of … mess?" Ken asked, his tone suspicious and wary, as if he knew he had to ask, but really didn't want to know the answer.
"Kritiker wants to "retire" Aya," Yohji replied, as calmly as he could. "They tried to that day, but he managed to get away from them. I'm not going to let that happen to him, not if I can help it, that is, so that's about it for us, as far as the organization is concerned. I don't want to involve you guys, but, we're all family here. I couldn't stand to just disappear without giving you some explanation. I figure you guys deserve better than that, and I know Aya would agree with me."
"Why does Kritiker want to "retire" Aya?" Ken asked. "Is it because of the Schuldich thing?"
'Always a little slow on the uptake, aren't you, Ken?' Yohji thought irritably. He sighed, and patiently replied, "Yeah. Because of the Schuldich thing. And, because they found out about Hank working there. They don't know who Hank is, but they found out someone was working there. They managed to put two and two together and come up with four."
"Meaning?" Ken asked.
Yohji sighed irritably. "Look, I'm trying to be nice because this is probably the last time I'll ever talk to you guys, but, geez, Ken! Get a fucking clue! Kritiker figured out whoever was working for us in the shop was the one who either let Schu in or gave him the security codes. They wanted Aya to tell them who Hank was, promised to let him off if he did, but Aya refused." Yohji sighed again, choking down a sob he felt building in his throat, before quietly continuing, "So, they decided to go through with their initial plan to "retire" him."
"Initial plan?" Ken asked. "Sorry for being dense, but …,"
"Apparently," Yohji said, cutting Ken off in mid-sentence, "Kritiker has been threatening Aya with retirement for some time now. Manx had been calling him daily for at least two months, but he never told any of us."
"That's not true," Omi's voice cut in, "He told me … about her calling. Sorry I never mentioned it, but Aya told me not to. He said, then, that he thought Kritiker was going to retire him … but, I just couldn't believe it. Aya hasn't done anything. Why? Why would they do that?"
"Because," Yohji said, this time unable to control the shake in his voice, "Aya's been taking the blame for our screw-ups for a really long time. Kritiker finally decided that his fuck-up potential outweighed his usefulness as an assassin, especially when compounded with Schu-Schu's breach of our security."
As he had expected, both Omi and Ken were silent for several minutes as they allowed the weight and meaning of Yohji's words to sink in. Obviously, they hadn't had any idea of what Aya had been doing to protect them.
"Wait a minute," Omi said, as something Yohji had said earlier finally triggered a response in his brain, "You said you knew Aya would feel the same way about owing us an explanation. Isn't he with you?"
"Yeah, Aya's with me," Yohji replied, hedging a bit in an attempt to avoid telling them Aya was fighting for his life.
Omi didn't fall for it, though. Yohji had hoped he would, but he wasn't surprised his attempt at a half-truth didn't work. The kid was far more perceptive than he should have been for his age, probably because he'd been raised as an assassin. Killing people for a living necessarily made you perceptive about the things others hid from you.
"Fine," Omi snapped. "Put him on the phone. I want to talk to him."
Yohji hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough to allow Omi to conclude something was wrong.
"Where is he?" Omi asked, fear once again edging into his voice. "Did he leave you? Did you lose him?"
Yohji was surprised to hear a small, strangled sob escape his throat. He hadn't realized he was crying. He wiped the tears roughly away as he said, "Aya … Aya's not doing too good right now." He took a deep breath, and then plunged ahead with the rest of what he had to say. "He … he didn't get away clean … from Kritiker. Those agents shot him."
"Bad?" Omi squeaked.
Ken didn't say anything, but Yohji could hear his breathing quicken as he awaited an answer.
Finally, conceding defeat, Yohji allowed his head to drop into the palm of his free hand. He managed to choke out, in a muffled voice, "Yeah. The bullet was still in him when he got back to the shop that night. I … I didn't even know how badly he was hurt until he collapsed after we left. I don't know how he even managed to get away, considering." Yohji took another deep breath, managing to calm his voice, and continued, "I … I got the bullet out, but I couldn't do anything more than a patch job. And, he'd already lost so much blood. Plus, the wound and the injuries on his back got infected, and there was such a high fever…" Yohji's voice trailed off into a broken, little sob.
After a moment, Omi asked, his voice breaking, "Is … is he dead?"
"Not yet," Yohji replied. He heard two sighs of relief on the other end of the phone, and then continued, "But, I still don't know if he's gonna make it. He hasn't woken up, and it's been almost two weeks. He's back at our hideout, safe for now. Look, even if he does make it, I can't really see a way out of this … except letting him turn himself over to Kritiker, which, of course, I'm not going to allow."
"No!" Ken hissed. "There has to be a way. There has to be some way to change Kritiker's mind, to get them to leave Aya alone, to get him back into Weiss."
Yohji sighed, "I'm … I'm sorry. Bye." Before either of his teammates could protest, he clicked the "end" button, severing their connection.
He waited there for another thirty minutes, watching as Omi and Ken sat, dumfounded, on the park bench, neither of them saying anything, both of them staring blankly into space. It eventually seemed to be too much for Omi to handle. Always the most emotional of the group, the young blonde buried his head in his cupped hands. Even without the phone, Yohji could hear him sobbing. Finally, Ken stood, pulling Omi up behind him, and led the crying boy out of the park. Yohji waited for an additional ten minutes, to make sure they were really gone from the area, before leaving his bench to cross the pathway and exit the park. On his way out, he paused by a trash can and dropped the cell phone into it, severing his last tie to half of what he had come to think of as his family.
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence. Shounen-ai (implied)
Summary: Yohji and a critically injured Aya find themselves drummed out of Weiss and on the run from Kritiker. Against this backdrop, they must locate and retrieve something very precious to the man who betrayed Aya ... a man Aya still calls his friend, despite all that has passed between them. When their options run out, the boys have no choice but to undertake a foolhardy mission that will end up putting Aya at Schuldich's mercy. Will our kittens be able to extract themselves from this mess and return to Weiss? Or will Schuldich get his revenge, after all?
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.
Author's Note: Story #3 in the "Nowhere Man" trilogy. Story #1: Nowhere Man. Story #2: Betrayal
Chapter 5
Yohji reached the park, which was in the middle of a small, newly-redeveloped neighborhood, slightly before the sun set. He quickly scanned the area, but, finding no sign of Ken or Omi, he sank down onto a bench that, although hidden in deep shadow, offered an unobstructed view of the entrance, and waited. Although you could usually find people in the park at all hours of the day or night --- lovers strolling arm-in-arm, mothers with children, groups of kids playing various sports, or people sitting and enjoying the air --- the grounds were almost deserted this evening, probably because of the cold weather and the snow. He sighed and removed his sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and then ran his hand through his hair, which was matted and tangled, thanks to almost an entire day spent in the wind and snow. He hadn't realized how long his hair had become during the past two weeks, and he felt a little twinge of surprise to realize his fingers now traveled well past his shoulders before running out of hair. Changing his appearance had seemed like a good idea, and he had, briefly, thought about cutting his hair, but he hadn't had the heart to do it. He had always looked so stupid with short hair, anyhow, so he had decided to just leave it as it was and take a chance on someone from Kritiker recognizing him on the street. So far, though, it hadn't proved to be a problem, probably because he had one of those faces that sort of "blended in", despite his unusual hair and eye coloring. Now, Aya … well, that was a different story. That guy stood out like a sore thumb, with his porcelain-white skin, fine-boned facial features, and bluish-violet eyes … not to mention the red hair. Yohji sighed as he thought, for a moment, it was probably a good thing he was the one doing all this surveillance work in the city, instead of Aya.
Yohji quickly broke away from that train of thought before images of his injured friend flashed through his memory. He needed to think clearly and carefully now that he was in the city, so close to Kritiker's watchful eyes, and he couldn't do that if he started thinking about Aya being injured, or, worse, possibly dying. He leaned back and stared at the quickly-darkening sky, watching as the first few stars winked into view. Drawing on a childhood memory, he stared at the first star he saw and silently wished for Aya's safety. He felt foolish doing such a childish thing, but, at this point, he figured it couldn't hurt. Hey, who knew? Maybe it would even help.
Yohji leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and surveyed the neighborhood around the park. The flower shop hadn't ever been in the greatest district in the city, a fact that never seemed to bother any of them. After all, if you're an assassin and you want to hide out in plain view, it's best to do so in places where people know better than to ask a lot of questions. The park, where Ken always took his soccer kids to play, had long been a small oasis of green, albeit littered with trash, amidst what were, mainly, run-down, slummy, high-rise apartment buildings. Within the past couple of years, though, there had been a huge push by the city government to encourage urban renovation … or, as the politicos called it, "urban reclamation". As far as Yohji could tell, that was just a fancy term for sprucing things up and driving decent, hard-working people from their homes by raising rents to an unaffordable level. Now, the high-rise buildings that surrounded and towered over the park had, for the most part, all been renovated into "luxury condominiums", "luxury town homes", and "luxury apartments", and young, upwardly-mobile people, mostly couples with small children, had, largely, replaced the poorer folks --- single parents, or single-income, blue-collar families --- who used to live in the low-rent buildings. The crime rate in the district had dropped drastically, which Yohji attributed more to the increased police presence in the area than to the district's newer demographics, and the change had proven to be fairly good for the Koneko. Most months now, it actually almost broke even, despite the fact that none of them knew or cared anything about running the business or even kept the store open for what passed as "regular" business hours. Somehow, Yohji found it oddly ironic that they would probably be able to make the shop into a profitable, going concern just at the time the demographic shift and corresponding heightened police presence in the neighborhood made the likelihood of their "real" jobs being exposed to the public a near certainty. He knew Kritiker had, more than once in the past year, thought of moving them to a new, "safer" location.
The cell phone in his pocket jangled to life, making him jump and drawing him away from his thoughts, and Yohji looked up to see Omi and Ken enter the park. The two of them stopped at the entrance, briefly scanning the area for some sign of him, but Yohji knew they couldn't see him. He was too well-hidden in the shadows. Omi was holding the phone, evidently making him the one who had dialed in the number to Yohji's cell, but both young assassins were able to listen in to the conversation, thanks to a splitter, which Omi had attached to the phone, enabling them to use two headphones and microphones at one time.
By the third ring, Yohji managed to pull the phone out of his inner coat pocket. He punched the talk button, and, after a brief pause, said, in a soft voice, "Yeah?"
He heard Omi's sigh of relief before the boy's shaky voice emanated from the phone, sounding tinny due to the cell's poor auditory quality, "Yo … Yohji? Is it really you? Where are you?"
"Yeah, it's me," Yohji replied. "I'm close by, but don't try to find me. Just pick a bench and sit. These phones aren't traceable, but I don't want to take any chances on Kritiker homing in on the signal. So, we're gonna have to talk fast."
There was a pause, accompanied by Ken and Omi's muffled voices as the two discussed the best place to sit.
'Shit,' Yohji thought, irritably, 'they're just park benches. One's just like another; just pick a fucking place and sit the hell down.'
He saw his teammates finally land in a spot --- a bench almost directly across from him, which made him wonder if, perhaps, they had seen him, after all.
Within a second or two, Ken's voice came over the phone, "What the fuck is going on?"
Yohji couldn't suppress a chuckle, and he laughed harder in response to the exasperated sighs he heard from his two younger teammates. "Always the direct one, aren't you, Ken?" he asked, still laughing.
"This is not funny," Omi's scared voice cut in, and the fear Yohji heard completely dried up his laughter.
"Yeah, you're right. It's not funny," he replied.
"We've been so worried about you … about both of you," Omi continued. "What happened? We woke up to find both of you gone … nothing but a pool of blood on the floor in Aya's room. No note, no explanation … nothing. Then, that same day, a Kritiker agent we've never met shows up and starts asking all kinds of questions --- have we heard from you or Aya; where do we think Aya would go to hide; why were you gone, too; did we think it was because Aya had killed you; did Aya threaten us --- stuff like that. Manx and Persia wouldn't even return our calls. Then, two days after that, Manx shows up, says we're off active until they can locate replacements for you and Aya, and then places these two Kritiker agents with us in the shop. She said it was to ensure our safety, but … it seemed more like spying to us. And, "ensure our safety" from whom? Aya? You? From the way she said they were looking for replacements …" Omi's voice trailed off as he stifled a small, almost inaudible sob.
"We thought you guys were dead," Ken cut in, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. "So, what the fuck is going on?"
Yohji would have chuckled at Omi's impeccably precise, yet completely subconscious, use of the word "whom" instead of "who", if it hadn't been for the small sob he had heard at the end of the kid's statement. He took a deep breath and debated on the best way to explain things to his friends. Finally, he concluded there wasn't really a good, concise way to explain everything; he'd just have to fumble ahead as best as he could.
"A lot of shit's hit the fan," Yohji replied.
"Yeah," Ken stated, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm, "We gathered as much. Now, would you like to explain just what kind of shit we're talking about?"
Normally, the ex-goalie's tone would have made Yohji furious, but the older blonde knew it was just a product of the stress Ken and Omi had been under for the past several days. Yohji decided to ignore the obvious challenge in his dark-haired teammate's words. Sighing tiredly, he said, "Kritiker is after Aya. And, I guess, they're probably after me, too. That night … you know, after the day he disappeared with those agents all day? He came back to the shop … late. He only wanted to stay long enough to gather up a few things and then leave without telling anyone. He didn't want any of us to know, didn't want us involved, I guess. But, I heard him in his room, and, then, I left with him. I'm sorry about not leaving some kind of explanation, but we couldn't take the chance of Kritiker knowing for sure that he'd been there. They might have thought you guys were involved, too, and Aya didn't want to drag you into this mess."
"What … kind … of … mess?" Ken asked, his tone suspicious and wary, as if he knew he had to ask, but really didn't want to know the answer.
"Kritiker wants to "retire" Aya," Yohji replied, as calmly as he could. "They tried to that day, but he managed to get away from them. I'm not going to let that happen to him, not if I can help it, that is, so that's about it for us, as far as the organization is concerned. I don't want to involve you guys, but, we're all family here. I couldn't stand to just disappear without giving you some explanation. I figure you guys deserve better than that, and I know Aya would agree with me."
"Why does Kritiker want to "retire" Aya?" Ken asked. "Is it because of the Schuldich thing?"
'Always a little slow on the uptake, aren't you, Ken?' Yohji thought irritably. He sighed, and patiently replied, "Yeah. Because of the Schuldich thing. And, because they found out about Hank working there. They don't know who Hank is, but they found out someone was working there. They managed to put two and two together and come up with four."
"Meaning?" Ken asked.
Yohji sighed irritably. "Look, I'm trying to be nice because this is probably the last time I'll ever talk to you guys, but, geez, Ken! Get a fucking clue! Kritiker figured out whoever was working for us in the shop was the one who either let Schu in or gave him the security codes. They wanted Aya to tell them who Hank was, promised to let him off if he did, but Aya refused." Yohji sighed again, choking down a sob he felt building in his throat, before quietly continuing, "So, they decided to go through with their initial plan to "retire" him."
"Initial plan?" Ken asked. "Sorry for being dense, but …,"
"Apparently," Yohji said, cutting Ken off in mid-sentence, "Kritiker has been threatening Aya with retirement for some time now. Manx had been calling him daily for at least two months, but he never told any of us."
"That's not true," Omi's voice cut in, "He told me … about her calling. Sorry I never mentioned it, but Aya told me not to. He said, then, that he thought Kritiker was going to retire him … but, I just couldn't believe it. Aya hasn't done anything. Why? Why would they do that?"
"Because," Yohji said, this time unable to control the shake in his voice, "Aya's been taking the blame for our screw-ups for a really long time. Kritiker finally decided that his fuck-up potential outweighed his usefulness as an assassin, especially when compounded with Schu-Schu's breach of our security."
As he had expected, both Omi and Ken were silent for several minutes as they allowed the weight and meaning of Yohji's words to sink in. Obviously, they hadn't had any idea of what Aya had been doing to protect them.
"Wait a minute," Omi said, as something Yohji had said earlier finally triggered a response in his brain, "You said you knew Aya would feel the same way about owing us an explanation. Isn't he with you?"
"Yeah, Aya's with me," Yohji replied, hedging a bit in an attempt to avoid telling them Aya was fighting for his life.
Omi didn't fall for it, though. Yohji had hoped he would, but he wasn't surprised his attempt at a half-truth didn't work. The kid was far more perceptive than he should have been for his age, probably because he'd been raised as an assassin. Killing people for a living necessarily made you perceptive about the things others hid from you.
"Fine," Omi snapped. "Put him on the phone. I want to talk to him."
Yohji hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough to allow Omi to conclude something was wrong.
"Where is he?" Omi asked, fear once again edging into his voice. "Did he leave you? Did you lose him?"
Yohji was surprised to hear a small, strangled sob escape his throat. He hadn't realized he was crying. He wiped the tears roughly away as he said, "Aya … Aya's not doing too good right now." He took a deep breath, and then plunged ahead with the rest of what he had to say. "He … he didn't get away clean … from Kritiker. Those agents shot him."
"Bad?" Omi squeaked.
Ken didn't say anything, but Yohji could hear his breathing quicken as he awaited an answer.
Finally, conceding defeat, Yohji allowed his head to drop into the palm of his free hand. He managed to choke out, in a muffled voice, "Yeah. The bullet was still in him when he got back to the shop that night. I … I didn't even know how badly he was hurt until he collapsed after we left. I don't know how he even managed to get away, considering." Yohji took another deep breath, managing to calm his voice, and continued, "I … I got the bullet out, but I couldn't do anything more than a patch job. And, he'd already lost so much blood. Plus, the wound and the injuries on his back got infected, and there was such a high fever…" Yohji's voice trailed off into a broken, little sob.
After a moment, Omi asked, his voice breaking, "Is … is he dead?"
"Not yet," Yohji replied. He heard two sighs of relief on the other end of the phone, and then continued, "But, I still don't know if he's gonna make it. He hasn't woken up, and it's been almost two weeks. He's back at our hideout, safe for now. Look, even if he does make it, I can't really see a way out of this … except letting him turn himself over to Kritiker, which, of course, I'm not going to allow."
"No!" Ken hissed. "There has to be a way. There has to be some way to change Kritiker's mind, to get them to leave Aya alone, to get him back into Weiss."
Yohji sighed, "I'm … I'm sorry. Bye." Before either of his teammates could protest, he clicked the "end" button, severing their connection.
He waited there for another thirty minutes, watching as Omi and Ken sat, dumfounded, on the park bench, neither of them saying anything, both of them staring blankly into space. It eventually seemed to be too much for Omi to handle. Always the most emotional of the group, the young blonde buried his head in his cupped hands. Even without the phone, Yohji could hear him sobbing. Finally, Ken stood, pulling Omi up behind him, and led the crying boy out of the park. Yohji waited for an additional ten minutes, to make sure they were really gone from the area, before leaving his bench to cross the pathway and exit the park. On his way out, he paused by a trash can and dropped the cell phone into it, severing his last tie to half of what he had come to think of as his family.