Fanfic Archive: Godzilla
May. 28th, 2009 06:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: August, 2006)
Writing Challenge For: Aya / Temper Tantrum
Warnings: Bad Language.
Summary: When Omi's world crumbles, Aya has to figure out how to deal with the chibi hacker's resulting temper tantrum.
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.
Godzilla
(a wk writing challenge response by tex-chan)
Aya took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs for a moment or two, and then letting it out slowly, on a long sigh. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the rise and fall of his shoulders, the feeling of his lungs expanding as they filled with air, the way they deflated as he breathed it back out again. He blocked out everything else, feeling nothing but the small movements of his body, hearing nothing but the beat of his own heart, the sound of his own breathing.
Again. And again. And again. Until, ever so slowly, he felt his restless spirit begin to calm and center within him.
Having achieved this small measure of peace, he expanded his consciousness just a little. He didn't open his eyes, but, instead, focused his hearing on the small sounds around him: the rustle of the wind through the trees surrounding this park-like clearing; the softness of the grass beneath his bare feet; the sound of birdsong floating through the air around him; the tiny scuffling noises of the little animals that lived in the dense undergrowth.
There is nothing else. Nothing but the here. Nothing but the now. Be one with this place, with this wind, with this life force.
He tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the worn metal and leather of the hilt beneath the calluses on his palms and fingers. It was comfortable. A perfect fit. Part of him. An extension of his body.
After a morning spent in turmoil, Aya relished the feeling of peace and calm that settled over him. Finally, his soul was centered. Finally, he was in that special place where he could fully concentrate on the motions of his body as he ran through one complicated practice routine after another. Finally, he could become one with his weapon, with the world around him, until he ceased to exist … until there was nothing but the sound of his own breathing, the feeling of the life force around him, his body and sword moving as one.
He moved into the correct stance, shifting his weight ever so slightly, and brought the sword around in a curving sweep behind his back, loosening his muscles for the beginning of his practice run. The sunlight danced off the blade, cutting a graceful arc through the still, quiet afternoon.
"You stupid, fucking son-of-a-bitch!"
Omi's voice cut through the silence like a harpy's shriek, startling Aya and causing him to lose his grip on the sword. The blade, instead of completing its graceful movement, slipped from his hand, not enough to fall to the ground -- Aya was too disciplined to allow that to happen -- but just enough that the sharp metal dipped down and inflicted a nasty cut on his upper arm.
Aya glared across the clearing, at the RV parked on the other side, and debated over whether or not he should intervene. It wasn't like this was anything new. Their current living situation was stressful for all of them. They were all pretty high-strung, and living in such close quarters was not easy. The RV was small, and it seemed to get smaller every day. Being forced into such close confines 24/7 was beginning to wear on all of them. He could sense the friendships and bonds among them stretching thin, and, more than once since they had started living out of the newly mobile Koneko, Aya wondered if Weiss could possibly survive this change in lifestyle.
He knew the others looked to him for some sort of leadership, that they expected him to hold the team together, no matter what. Hell if he knew why. He had certainly never asked for that responsibility. He hadn't ever wanted anyone to depend upon him, not after what had happened to his family and to Aya. Walking through this world alone, no one to depend on and no one counting on you, was the best way. It was easier, because you couldn't get hurt. And, yet, somehow, he had become involved with the rest of them. Involved to the point where he couldn't extract himself from their lives, to the point where he didn't want to do that.
"I can't fucking believe what a stupid moron you are! You always do shit like this, but this is it! I've had it this time. I swear!"
Omi's voice echoed through the clearing again, bringing Aya's attention away from his wandering thoughts and back to the present. To the here and now, where it seemed as if their ever-cheerful, peace-maker hacker was in the midst of a full-blown temper tantrum.
Aya sighed. It was just the latest in a long string of fights and temper fits. He had certainly had his fair share of tantrum moments since they had moved into the RV, just as everyone else had. All of those had worked out okay, so far. They got their frustrations out into the open, they dealt with them, and everyone moved on -- until the next tantrum hit. So, Aya's gut told him he should leave things alone. If he butted in, the combatants wouldn't have a chance to work out their differences on their own terms. Besides, he wasn't sure he could keep things running on an even keel any more, and that made him feel inadequate and weak. If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling powerless like that.
Aya had spent most of the morning getting in the middle of one fight after another, to the point where he had totally lost it himself. He had flown into a rage over Ken failing to put the milk back into the refrigerator, a rather spectacular show of almost-purple-faced anger that had ended with Ken sprinting from the RV under the pretense of being late for soccer practice. Yeah, right. Aya figured the idiot jock wouldn't be back until early evening, if then. He felt a little bit guilty over the whole thing, which was why he had been outside in the first place, trying to clear his head through a bit of strenuous sword practice. After all, he was the one who was supposed to keep everything in check. He was the de facto leader, even if he hadn't ever wanted that position. But, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but feel like Ken had deserved it -- just a little. Nothing was worse than sour milk.
Still, a tantrum from Omi was a little unsettling. Omi was the most even-tempered of all of them, and it wasn't like him to fly into a snit over just anything. For Omi to be mad -- this mad -- it would have to be something pretty major. Something along the lines of life and death.
That settled it, then. He should intervene.
With a sigh of resignation and a shake of his head, Aya started across the clearing. By the time he had come within ten steps of the RV, his cut had started to burn and sting, reminding him that, sometimes, discretion was the better part of valor -- especially if you were already in a bad mood, yourself.
Okay. He wouldn't get involved. He would just let things play out. This was better, anyhow, right? At the very least, it would save him the energy of having to throw another fit. He wasn't sure he had it in himself to manage more than one of those today. And, based on the sounds of the argument coming from within the RV, Aya was pretty sure he didn't want to go in there.
Aya leaned against the RV, settling in to wait out the fight that was raging on within. It sounded pretty one-sided, really. Lots of Omi yelling, but not much response from Yohji, the only other team member present inside the vehicle. As Omi's tirade continued, Aya couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Yohji. Sure, he figured the blond playboy deserved whatever Omi was dishing out, but, even so … Well, an angry Omi could be a pretty scary thing.
The RV was parked under a stand of trees, and, although it had been warm and sunny out in the clearing, the vehicle's metal felt cold beneath Aya's sweat-slick skin. He shivered, wishing he had brought a shirt outside with him. If he had known Omi was going to go all berserker on them, he would have. Aya frowned and swiped at the blood dripping down his arm. He wiped the palm of his hand on his sweatpants, irritated at the thought that the stain would never wash out, and squinted down at the cut. It was bleeding a lot more than he would have liked, but it wasn't deep. No need for stitches, luckily.
It took a couple of moments for Aya to realize Omi had stopped yelling. Not that it was quiet inside the RV. Aya heard the sounds of Omi and Yohji moving about. It sounded like one of them -- probably Omi -- was throwing things, while Yohji followed him around. Yohji's voice was too low for Aya to discern what he was saying, but the tone left little doubt the chain-smoking playboy was doing his level best to convince Omi to drop this on-the-spot vendetta.
The RV's door banged open with enough force to slam it off of the wall, near where Aya stood. It sounded like the crack of doom, and was so sudden that Aya felt his heart skip a beat or two.
A small object sailed out of the doorway -- a little book with a black cover. It was on fire, but, even so, Aya could see that Yohji's surprisingly neat handwriting covered the pages, which flapped in the breeze as the burning book fell to the ground. Immediately after, two half-full bottles of liquor flew out of the door. They sailed through the air in graceful arcs and smashed against a nearby tree, scenting the air with the booze's heavy odor. Next, came Yohji's favorite pair of boots. Luckily, the footwear was unscathed, but it also flew through the air, hit the nearby tree, and came to rest among the bottle shards with the tinkling crunch of broken glass. A carton of cigarettes flew out next. These were on fire, and burning rapidly, from the looks of it.
Aya frowned as the box landed on the ground near the burning black book. He wondered if he should try to put out the flames before they got out of control. He didn't want to burn down the whole park, but, at the same time, he had resolved not to get involved.
All the while, Omi continued yelling. "So, what about that? How do you like that? Let's see how you feel about your shit getting fucked up, huh?! I can't fucking believe you! Months of work, and it's gone! All gone!"
Aya decided he should at least put out the fires. There were other people in this park, after all, and he couldn't take a chance on someone calling the police or fire department -- especially since there was a definite domestic dispute ongoing in their place of residence … their heavily-fortified, armed-to-the-teeth place of residence.
With a weary sigh, Aya moved forward, stopping a few feet in front of the open doorway. He felt his insides cringe at the thought of it, but he knew he had to use his sheath to bat out the flames. He didn't have anything else. For a moment, he debated putting them out with his bare feet, but decided against it. Using any part of his weapon like this was sacrilege, but at least it wouldn't result in blistered skin.
It only took a second or two to put out the flames, but it looked like both the black book and the carton of cigs were almost total losses. He squatted down and shuffled through the debris, pulling out a few salvageable pages from the book.
At least Omi had stopped yelling, and nothing else seemed about to fly out of the RV. Perhaps the dispute was winding down.
Just as he rose to a standing position, Yohji stumbled out of the open door. He was so intent on reaching his stuff that he didn't notice Aya standing there. Aya grunted as Yohji smacked into him at full speed. Only the tall blond's quick reflexes saved him from a nasty fall. Cat-quick, Yohji's hand snaked out to lock onto Aya's arm.
"Uh, sorry," Yohji muttered, pulling Aya into a more stable standing position. "I … uh … didn't see you standing there," he continued, risking a nervous glance back toward the RV's open door.
Aya chuckled -- an odd noise caught between a genuine laugh and a snort of derision -- and shook his head. "Yeah. You were kind of … busy."
Yohji laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, further mussing the already-tangled strands. He shrugged. "Yeah. You could say that," he replied, with a sheepish grin.
"Here. I'm guessing this is your little black book," Aya said. He couldn't quite keep the amused tone out of his voice as he handed Yohji the pages he had salvaged from the fire.
Yohji sighed. "Yeah. Shit. I can't believe he set it on fire. Lucky thing I have another copy. But the cigs and booze. That hurts."
"I'll bet," Aya agreed, with a nod.
Yohji didn't say anything. He stared back at the open door, as if debating over whether or not it was safe to go back inside. After a moment or two, he seemed to decide against such foolhardy action, and he turned back toward Aya, a goofy-looking, crooked grin pasted on his handsome face.
"Well, guess I'm out of the house for the day. So, what're you up to? Want to hang?" Yohji asked.
Aya stared at him. Yohji's ability to blow off pretty much any sort of conflict never ceased to amaze him.
"Oh, shit, Aya! You're bleeding!"
Yohji's sudden exclamation startled Aya away from his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the cut on his arm, which, indeed, was still bleeding. He had almost forgotten about it.
Yohji stared at the open RV door for a long couple of moments. He looked at Aya's bleeding arm. Then, back to the door. Finally, with a sigh, he stepped up into the doorway, looking like a man heading to his own funeral. With good reason, too, considering Omi's current foul mood.
"Hey, Omi," Yohji called.
A dart flew through the doorway, cutting the air with a malevolent hiss. Yohji just managed to duck out of the way in time to avoid getting pegged between the eyes. The dart continued on, coming to a stop when it embedded itself in the bark of the poor, abused tree that had already suffered the insult of Yohji's liquor bottles and, then, his boots.
Aya frowned. This was getting a little out of hand. He was grateful to see Omi hadn't used one of his poisoned weapons, at least, and he was confident that Omi hadn't really wanted to hit Yohji. If he had, Yohji would be dead right now. Omi just didn't miss. He was that good. Still …
"You little shit!" Yohji yelled, sticking his head in through the open door. "You could've put my eye out with that! Just fucking time out for a minute, OK? I know you're pissed, but Aya's bleeding out here. I need some bandages. And a shirt for him, too." He glanced down at Aya's bare feet. "And shoes," he added.
Omi appeared in the doorway within seconds, a shirt, and the first aid kit tucked under one arm, a pair of Aya's shoes in hand, and an expression of concern on his face. Aya couldn't help but think of the youngest Weiss as almost angelic-looking, even though the descriptive made him want to laugh. Some "angel", considering that Omi had just tried to kill Yohji.
Without a word, Omi cleaned the cut on Aya's arm, applied antiseptic, and bandaged the wound. He handed Aya the shirt, dropped the shoes on the ground at the swordsman's feet, and, with a parting glare in Yohji's direction, stormed back into the RV, slamming the door behind him.
"What the hell did you do, anyhow?" Aya asked.
He couldn't think of anything, short of losing the mission files off of their computer, that would make Omi this mad.
Yohji shrugged. "Ah, he was playing some kind of SIMS game. City … or … something. I don't remember the name of it. I didn't know hitting escape reset the game. It was an accident, I swear. Still, it's not like I destroyed the whole world or anything."
"Uh … but, really, you kind of did, didn't you?" Aya asked.
Yohji thought about this for a second or two. He snickered. "Yeah. I guess, really, I did. That's kind of cool, in a way. Kind of like I'm the ultimate evil or something."
"Oh, yeah," Aya replied, sarcasm seeming to drip from every word, "That's you all right. Godzilla to Omi's Tokyo."
Yohji shrugged. "I guess he'll get over it. Eventually." He kicked aside the burned cigarette carton and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets, staring up at the sky. "Looks like it's a really nice day, doesn't it? So, anyhow, I've gotta go buy some more cigs. Wanna come?"
"Yeah, sure," Aya said. He paused long enough to sheath his sword, open the RV's door and stash the weapon safely inside. He slipped on the shoes and shirt Omi had given him, and then followed Yohji across the clearing and toward town.
It really was a beautiful day.
~End
Writing Challenge For: Aya / Temper Tantrum
Warnings: Bad Language.
Summary: When Omi's world crumbles, Aya has to figure out how to deal with the chibi hacker's resulting temper tantrum.
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.
Aya took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs for a moment or two, and then letting it out slowly, on a long sigh. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the rise and fall of his shoulders, the feeling of his lungs expanding as they filled with air, the way they deflated as he breathed it back out again. He blocked out everything else, feeling nothing but the small movements of his body, hearing nothing but the beat of his own heart, the sound of his own breathing.
Again. And again. And again. Until, ever so slowly, he felt his restless spirit begin to calm and center within him.
Having achieved this small measure of peace, he expanded his consciousness just a little. He didn't open his eyes, but, instead, focused his hearing on the small sounds around him: the rustle of the wind through the trees surrounding this park-like clearing; the softness of the grass beneath his bare feet; the sound of birdsong floating through the air around him; the tiny scuffling noises of the little animals that lived in the dense undergrowth.
There is nothing else. Nothing but the here. Nothing but the now. Be one with this place, with this wind, with this life force.
He tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the worn metal and leather of the hilt beneath the calluses on his palms and fingers. It was comfortable. A perfect fit. Part of him. An extension of his body.
After a morning spent in turmoil, Aya relished the feeling of peace and calm that settled over him. Finally, his soul was centered. Finally, he was in that special place where he could fully concentrate on the motions of his body as he ran through one complicated practice routine after another. Finally, he could become one with his weapon, with the world around him, until he ceased to exist … until there was nothing but the sound of his own breathing, the feeling of the life force around him, his body and sword moving as one.
He moved into the correct stance, shifting his weight ever so slightly, and brought the sword around in a curving sweep behind his back, loosening his muscles for the beginning of his practice run. The sunlight danced off the blade, cutting a graceful arc through the still, quiet afternoon.
"You stupid, fucking son-of-a-bitch!"
Omi's voice cut through the silence like a harpy's shriek, startling Aya and causing him to lose his grip on the sword. The blade, instead of completing its graceful movement, slipped from his hand, not enough to fall to the ground -- Aya was too disciplined to allow that to happen -- but just enough that the sharp metal dipped down and inflicted a nasty cut on his upper arm.
Aya glared across the clearing, at the RV parked on the other side, and debated over whether or not he should intervene. It wasn't like this was anything new. Their current living situation was stressful for all of them. They were all pretty high-strung, and living in such close quarters was not easy. The RV was small, and it seemed to get smaller every day. Being forced into such close confines 24/7 was beginning to wear on all of them. He could sense the friendships and bonds among them stretching thin, and, more than once since they had started living out of the newly mobile Koneko, Aya wondered if Weiss could possibly survive this change in lifestyle.
He knew the others looked to him for some sort of leadership, that they expected him to hold the team together, no matter what. Hell if he knew why. He had certainly never asked for that responsibility. He hadn't ever wanted anyone to depend upon him, not after what had happened to his family and to Aya. Walking through this world alone, no one to depend on and no one counting on you, was the best way. It was easier, because you couldn't get hurt. And, yet, somehow, he had become involved with the rest of them. Involved to the point where he couldn't extract himself from their lives, to the point where he didn't want to do that.
"I can't fucking believe what a stupid moron you are! You always do shit like this, but this is it! I've had it this time. I swear!"
Omi's voice echoed through the clearing again, bringing Aya's attention away from his wandering thoughts and back to the present. To the here and now, where it seemed as if their ever-cheerful, peace-maker hacker was in the midst of a full-blown temper tantrum.
Aya sighed. It was just the latest in a long string of fights and temper fits. He had certainly had his fair share of tantrum moments since they had moved into the RV, just as everyone else had. All of those had worked out okay, so far. They got their frustrations out into the open, they dealt with them, and everyone moved on -- until the next tantrum hit. So, Aya's gut told him he should leave things alone. If he butted in, the combatants wouldn't have a chance to work out their differences on their own terms. Besides, he wasn't sure he could keep things running on an even keel any more, and that made him feel inadequate and weak. If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling powerless like that.
Aya had spent most of the morning getting in the middle of one fight after another, to the point where he had totally lost it himself. He had flown into a rage over Ken failing to put the milk back into the refrigerator, a rather spectacular show of almost-purple-faced anger that had ended with Ken sprinting from the RV under the pretense of being late for soccer practice. Yeah, right. Aya figured the idiot jock wouldn't be back until early evening, if then. He felt a little bit guilty over the whole thing, which was why he had been outside in the first place, trying to clear his head through a bit of strenuous sword practice. After all, he was the one who was supposed to keep everything in check. He was the de facto leader, even if he hadn't ever wanted that position. But, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but feel like Ken had deserved it -- just a little. Nothing was worse than sour milk.
Still, a tantrum from Omi was a little unsettling. Omi was the most even-tempered of all of them, and it wasn't like him to fly into a snit over just anything. For Omi to be mad -- this mad -- it would have to be something pretty major. Something along the lines of life and death.
That settled it, then. He should intervene.
With a sigh of resignation and a shake of his head, Aya started across the clearing. By the time he had come within ten steps of the RV, his cut had started to burn and sting, reminding him that, sometimes, discretion was the better part of valor -- especially if you were already in a bad mood, yourself.
Okay. He wouldn't get involved. He would just let things play out. This was better, anyhow, right? At the very least, it would save him the energy of having to throw another fit. He wasn't sure he had it in himself to manage more than one of those today. And, based on the sounds of the argument coming from within the RV, Aya was pretty sure he didn't want to go in there.
Aya leaned against the RV, settling in to wait out the fight that was raging on within. It sounded pretty one-sided, really. Lots of Omi yelling, but not much response from Yohji, the only other team member present inside the vehicle. As Omi's tirade continued, Aya couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Yohji. Sure, he figured the blond playboy deserved whatever Omi was dishing out, but, even so … Well, an angry Omi could be a pretty scary thing.
The RV was parked under a stand of trees, and, although it had been warm and sunny out in the clearing, the vehicle's metal felt cold beneath Aya's sweat-slick skin. He shivered, wishing he had brought a shirt outside with him. If he had known Omi was going to go all berserker on them, he would have. Aya frowned and swiped at the blood dripping down his arm. He wiped the palm of his hand on his sweatpants, irritated at the thought that the stain would never wash out, and squinted down at the cut. It was bleeding a lot more than he would have liked, but it wasn't deep. No need for stitches, luckily.
It took a couple of moments for Aya to realize Omi had stopped yelling. Not that it was quiet inside the RV. Aya heard the sounds of Omi and Yohji moving about. It sounded like one of them -- probably Omi -- was throwing things, while Yohji followed him around. Yohji's voice was too low for Aya to discern what he was saying, but the tone left little doubt the chain-smoking playboy was doing his level best to convince Omi to drop this on-the-spot vendetta.
The RV's door banged open with enough force to slam it off of the wall, near where Aya stood. It sounded like the crack of doom, and was so sudden that Aya felt his heart skip a beat or two.
A small object sailed out of the doorway -- a little book with a black cover. It was on fire, but, even so, Aya could see that Yohji's surprisingly neat handwriting covered the pages, which flapped in the breeze as the burning book fell to the ground. Immediately after, two half-full bottles of liquor flew out of the door. They sailed through the air in graceful arcs and smashed against a nearby tree, scenting the air with the booze's heavy odor. Next, came Yohji's favorite pair of boots. Luckily, the footwear was unscathed, but it also flew through the air, hit the nearby tree, and came to rest among the bottle shards with the tinkling crunch of broken glass. A carton of cigarettes flew out next. These were on fire, and burning rapidly, from the looks of it.
Aya frowned as the box landed on the ground near the burning black book. He wondered if he should try to put out the flames before they got out of control. He didn't want to burn down the whole park, but, at the same time, he had resolved not to get involved.
All the while, Omi continued yelling. "So, what about that? How do you like that? Let's see how you feel about your shit getting fucked up, huh?! I can't fucking believe you! Months of work, and it's gone! All gone!"
Aya decided he should at least put out the fires. There were other people in this park, after all, and he couldn't take a chance on someone calling the police or fire department -- especially since there was a definite domestic dispute ongoing in their place of residence … their heavily-fortified, armed-to-the-teeth place of residence.
With a weary sigh, Aya moved forward, stopping a few feet in front of the open doorway. He felt his insides cringe at the thought of it, but he knew he had to use his sheath to bat out the flames. He didn't have anything else. For a moment, he debated putting them out with his bare feet, but decided against it. Using any part of his weapon like this was sacrilege, but at least it wouldn't result in blistered skin.
It only took a second or two to put out the flames, but it looked like both the black book and the carton of cigs were almost total losses. He squatted down and shuffled through the debris, pulling out a few salvageable pages from the book.
At least Omi had stopped yelling, and nothing else seemed about to fly out of the RV. Perhaps the dispute was winding down.
Just as he rose to a standing position, Yohji stumbled out of the open door. He was so intent on reaching his stuff that he didn't notice Aya standing there. Aya grunted as Yohji smacked into him at full speed. Only the tall blond's quick reflexes saved him from a nasty fall. Cat-quick, Yohji's hand snaked out to lock onto Aya's arm.
"Uh, sorry," Yohji muttered, pulling Aya into a more stable standing position. "I … uh … didn't see you standing there," he continued, risking a nervous glance back toward the RV's open door.
Aya chuckled -- an odd noise caught between a genuine laugh and a snort of derision -- and shook his head. "Yeah. You were kind of … busy."
Yohji laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, further mussing the already-tangled strands. He shrugged. "Yeah. You could say that," he replied, with a sheepish grin.
"Here. I'm guessing this is your little black book," Aya said. He couldn't quite keep the amused tone out of his voice as he handed Yohji the pages he had salvaged from the fire.
Yohji sighed. "Yeah. Shit. I can't believe he set it on fire. Lucky thing I have another copy. But the cigs and booze. That hurts."
"I'll bet," Aya agreed, with a nod.
Yohji didn't say anything. He stared back at the open door, as if debating over whether or not it was safe to go back inside. After a moment or two, he seemed to decide against such foolhardy action, and he turned back toward Aya, a goofy-looking, crooked grin pasted on his handsome face.
"Well, guess I'm out of the house for the day. So, what're you up to? Want to hang?" Yohji asked.
Aya stared at him. Yohji's ability to blow off pretty much any sort of conflict never ceased to amaze him.
"Oh, shit, Aya! You're bleeding!"
Yohji's sudden exclamation startled Aya away from his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the cut on his arm, which, indeed, was still bleeding. He had almost forgotten about it.
Yohji stared at the open RV door for a long couple of moments. He looked at Aya's bleeding arm. Then, back to the door. Finally, with a sigh, he stepped up into the doorway, looking like a man heading to his own funeral. With good reason, too, considering Omi's current foul mood.
"Hey, Omi," Yohji called.
A dart flew through the doorway, cutting the air with a malevolent hiss. Yohji just managed to duck out of the way in time to avoid getting pegged between the eyes. The dart continued on, coming to a stop when it embedded itself in the bark of the poor, abused tree that had already suffered the insult of Yohji's liquor bottles and, then, his boots.
Aya frowned. This was getting a little out of hand. He was grateful to see Omi hadn't used one of his poisoned weapons, at least, and he was confident that Omi hadn't really wanted to hit Yohji. If he had, Yohji would be dead right now. Omi just didn't miss. He was that good. Still …
"You little shit!" Yohji yelled, sticking his head in through the open door. "You could've put my eye out with that! Just fucking time out for a minute, OK? I know you're pissed, but Aya's bleeding out here. I need some bandages. And a shirt for him, too." He glanced down at Aya's bare feet. "And shoes," he added.
Omi appeared in the doorway within seconds, a shirt, and the first aid kit tucked under one arm, a pair of Aya's shoes in hand, and an expression of concern on his face. Aya couldn't help but think of the youngest Weiss as almost angelic-looking, even though the descriptive made him want to laugh. Some "angel", considering that Omi had just tried to kill Yohji.
Without a word, Omi cleaned the cut on Aya's arm, applied antiseptic, and bandaged the wound. He handed Aya the shirt, dropped the shoes on the ground at the swordsman's feet, and, with a parting glare in Yohji's direction, stormed back into the RV, slamming the door behind him.
"What the hell did you do, anyhow?" Aya asked.
He couldn't think of anything, short of losing the mission files off of their computer, that would make Omi this mad.
Yohji shrugged. "Ah, he was playing some kind of SIMS game. City … or … something. I don't remember the name of it. I didn't know hitting escape reset the game. It was an accident, I swear. Still, it's not like I destroyed the whole world or anything."
"Uh … but, really, you kind of did, didn't you?" Aya asked.
Yohji thought about this for a second or two. He snickered. "Yeah. I guess, really, I did. That's kind of cool, in a way. Kind of like I'm the ultimate evil or something."
"Oh, yeah," Aya replied, sarcasm seeming to drip from every word, "That's you all right. Godzilla to Omi's Tokyo."
Yohji shrugged. "I guess he'll get over it. Eventually." He kicked aside the burned cigarette carton and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets, staring up at the sky. "Looks like it's a really nice day, doesn't it? So, anyhow, I've gotta go buy some more cigs. Wanna come?"
"Yeah, sure," Aya said. He paused long enough to sheath his sword, open the RV's door and stash the weapon safely inside. He slipped on the shoes and shirt Omi had given him, and then followed Yohji across the clearing and toward town.
It really was a beautiful day.
~End