Fic Archive: Nowhere Man, 2
May. 28th, 2009 12:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: 2004)
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence
Summary: A simple, in-and-out mission goes bad for Aya when Yohji fails to back him up. Now our favorite playboy is forced to go hunting for a missing teammate, and, in the process, help Aya find something he had thought lost forever -- friendship and a place to belong.
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 #1 in a trilogy. Story #2: Betrayal. Story #3: Redemption
Nowhere Man
Chapter 2
Yohji cursed as he stepped out of his car into the cold, pouring rain and approached Aya's Porsche. It hadn't been difficult for him to locate his teammate's car. He knew Aya well enough to know that he'd park fairly far away and walk to the kill site to prevent his car from being seen, and the tracking equipment installed on the automobile saw to the rest. But, still, as he stepped out of his vehicle, Yohji couldn't help but think that ten blocks seemed a bit excessive, even for someone as anal-retentive and compulsive as their leader. The tall blonde knew he'd have to go the rest of the way on foot, in order to retrace Aya's steps and investigate any potential hiding places, and the thought of walking that far, especially in the pouring rain and harsh, whipping wind, made him cringe. Yohji was a dyed-in-the-wool comfort whore. It wasn't something he tried to deny or hide from the rest of the world, and, in fact, he took a perverse sort of pride in it. Walking around in a rainstorm was definitely not something a comfort whore would do. He swore under his breath and thought about how much he hated Aya for subjecting him to this horrible, inhuman state of affairs as he deftly popped the locks on the redhead's car. A quick look inside told him that Aya hadn't been there for a while, but the light glinted off of something just under the passenger-side seat, catching his eye. Yohji leaned half in and half out of the car to drape his tall form over the seat in order to look underneath. Grunting, he retrieved Aya's cell phone and regarded it with an air of disdain.
"Well," he muttered, "That explains why Omi couldn't get him on the cell."
He felt a brief wave of anger wash over him because Aya had left the phone behind, but his common sense quickly dispelled it. Of course, he wouldn't have taken the phone with him on the mission; none of them would have done something like that, for fear it would ring at an inopportune moment, or that it would be lost in the heat of a fight, allowing someone to trace it back to Weiss and Kritiker. But, finding the cell phone still didn't tell him why the boy hadn't been able to contact Aya on the communicator.
The tall blonde sighed and stuffed the phone into the pocket of his leather trench. Since he had been on his way to join Aya for the mission when he suddenly detoured to the bar where Omi had finally found him, Yohji was wearing what he normally, laughingly, referred to as his "killing clothes" --- black leather pants, black sleeveless half-shirt, heavy black leather boots, the long black leather trench coat with the white crosses on each arm, and, of course, his always-present dark sunglasses. He pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears, seeking what little shelter he could gain from the blowing rain, and set off in the direction of the target's office building. Within less than five minutes, he could feel water seeping through his coat to soak his skin, and the wind seemed to cut right through him, chilling him to the bone. He shivered and pulled his coat closer to his body, silently cursing Aya for forcing him out into this foul weather.
"When I find that selfish little prick," he muttered, "I'm gonna beat the shit out of him for dragging me out into this storm." Almost as soon as the words escaped his mouth, Yohji felt guilt wash over him as he recalled that, had it not been for his unexpected no-show tonight, neither he nor their leader would be out in the weather. Guilt was an unfamiliar emotion, and it made him distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't know exactly how, but he was sure that this was Aya's fault, too. He continued to grumble under his breath as he retraced what seemed like Aya's most likely path.
It took several minutes longer to reach the office building than he expected, thanks to the blowing rain. Yohji approached the building from the side, sticking to the shadows at the edge of the streetlights. When he was two blocks away, he could already see the flashing strobe lights from the police cars surrounding the structure. It was obvious that something had gone horribly wrong with the mission. He stood in the shadows for a while, watching the activity going on around the high-rise. Cops were swarming over it like ants, and, judging from the frantic way they continually entered and exited the building, as well as the lights he could see going on and off on various floors, it appeared that they hadn't located Aya. Yohji decided that it had to mean the redhead had managed to get safely out of the kill zone. He didn't really have any other choice but to believe in Aya's almost innate ability to get in and out of tight places. If he was still in the building, he was already beyond Yohji's help. The tall blonde knew he'd never be able to avoid the police long enough to enter and search the office building.
He skirted through the shadows around the back of the high rise. He knew Aya well enough to know that he would do anything possible to keep the police from tying him to the rest of Weiss, which meant that, if he was on the run, the swordsman would head away from his car. Once he was a block away from the building, Yohji had an easier time avoiding the police, although they seemed to be out in full force, canvassing the alleyways within a several block radius of the kill zone.
Yohji ducked into the nearest alley as a police car slowly cruised by and an officer used a large flashlight to partially penetrate the murky darkness. He pulled Aya's phone from his pocket and punched in the number for the flower shop, hoping against hope that their leader had somehow, miraculously, shown up there during the time that had elapsed since his earlier conversation with Omi.
The phone only rang twice before he heard Omi's breathless voice on the other end.
"Aya?" the boy asked. The poor kid sounded frantic, which only increased the guilt that had been plaguing Yohji all night.
"No, it's me," the tall blonde replied. He paused for a moment, and then continued, "So, I guess he hasn't come home?"
"No," Omi replied shortly. The boy was still furious. After a few moments, Omi stated, flatly, "You didn't find him."
"No … not yet," Yohji responded. "It's like all hell's broken loose down here. Something must've gone wrong. There are cops all over the damn place. They're crawling all over the building like ants, searching floor to floor, and they're out in full force, canvassing the alleys around here. I'm having a hard time avoiding them."
"You think … you think he's still in the building?" Omi asked uncertainly. Yohji could hear a slight quaver in the boy's voice.
The tall blonde paused for a few moments, mulling over Omi's question. "No," he finally answered, "I don't think so. The cops are too frantic. If he was cornered in the building, they wouldn't be rushing around like crazy people. They'd be closing in on his location in a more systematic way. Plus, they wouldn't be searching the surrounding streets and alleys. I'm pretty sure he got out. He's like a cat that way, you know … always able to get in and out of tight spots."
The only answer he received was Omi's stony silence.
"Try not to worry," Yohji said quietly. "I'll find him."
He hung up the phone and paused in the alley's shadows, waiting for yet another police car, the fifth to pass by in just the last few minutes, to clear the area. As soon as it was far enough up the street to assure that he wouldn't be seen, Yohji left the alley and continued down the street, slinking carefully from shadow to shadow. He ducked into every alley he passed, softly calling Aya's name, but, each time, silence was the only answer he received. He quickly searched each doorway and behind each stack of garbage cans, but there was no sign of the redhead. The rain, which was still pouring down in sheets, was both a blessing and a curse. He knew that the foul weather was helping to conceal his presence, and probably, Aya's, from the police. But, it was also making his search for the swordsman next to impossible. After a quick but thorough search of each alley, he moved on to the next one, and the next, and the next.
Yohji wasn't certain how long he had been looking for Aya when the sound of shouting drew his attention to an alley almost a block away. The raised, angry voice was loud enough to carry to him even over the storm's noise, and the tall blonde broke into a run, forgetting all about hiding from the prying eyes of the police. He had to reach the alley before the sound drew their attention, as well. If they had been searching on foot instead of in cars, they probably would have already heard it, and he thanked his lucky stars that the weather seemed to be discouraging the officers from their usual diligence.
Yohji skidded to a stop, panting, in the alley's mouth within a few seconds. The voice was louder now, and he could tell that there was only one person shouting. He strained his eyes against the darkness and blowing rain obscuring his vision. Finally, he could discern the fuzzy outlines of a man about a third of the way down the alley. It looked like he was bending over something, and he was shouting and waving his arms angrily over his head. Yohji shrugged and jogged the short distance down the alley.
As he neared the hunched-over figure, the scene came into sharper view. A homeless man, dirty, ragged, soaking wet, and clothed only in a filthy t-shirt and pants, was bending down, holding another person up off of the ground by the front of a ragged, canvas jacket.
The man shook the limp figure roughly and yelled, "You stupid asshole! That's my fucking coat! You stole my coat!"
Yohji could see that the other person didn't fight back or respond to the homeless man's accusations. As he approached from behind, the man shook the limp body angrily, causing its cap to fall off and revealing a glimpse of red hair. The tall blonde felt his stomach tie up in knots, and he leaped forward to grab the homeless man just as he was about to bring a half-full liquor bottle down on Aya's head.
"Hey!" Yohji yelled. He grabbed the homeless man by the collar and pulled him roughly back, away from the redhead.
The man stumbled backward and crashed into the pile of garbage cans across the alley, but he regained his footing with surprising speed and charged angrily back across the narrow open space, brandishing the bottle like a club. Yohji positioned himself between the homeless man and Aya, and easily met the attack. He grabbed the arm holding the bottle and twisted it, while, at the same time, sweeping his foot behind the man's legs to bring him to his knees. Once the guy was on the ground, Yohji moved behind him and twisted the man's arm painfully behind his back.
"Hey! What's the big idea?" the stranger protested. "This is none of your damn business."
Yohji leaned down so that his face was inches away from the man's ear, and whispered in his deadliest voice, "It is my business. That one … he belongs to me."
He winced internally at how jealous and possessive the statement sounded, and he fought back the urge to explain himself to the homeless man kneeling in front of him. He hadn't meant it that way --- not the way it sounded. But, it did feel like Aya was his, in a way. Whenever the redhead disappeared, which he frequently did when he was in one of his "moods", it was normally Yohji who ended up going out to look for him, and, whenever Aya was in "anti-social-I-hate-everyone-especially-you-so-don't-talk-to-me- unless-you-want-to-die" mode, Yohji was typically the only one of the group who could talk him back to what passed for normal. Ken and Omi both cared about him in their own way, but they were too afraid of their leader to approach him or argue with him even on the best of days. So, it usually fell to Yohji to keep the redhead on an even keel. More often than not, the tall blonde truly believed that Aya played the high-strung drama queen just to piss him off and make his life miserable, and, normally, he hated and resented the redhead for the knack he had of making everything so damn difficult. But, without realizing it, Yohji had developed a paternalistic, big brotherly feeling toward their leader, and seeing this guy standing over Aya like that had just about blown the last fuse he had left.
Yohji choked back the words of explanation before they could escape his lips, and fought back the urge to slam his fist into the side of the stranger's head. After all, who the hell did this guy think he was? He didn't even know them; he had no business knowing about the complicated relationships between the members of Weiss. Yohji scowled angrily down at the man at his feet. A small groan of pain and the frightened look in the man's eyes jerked the blonde back from his thoughts. Yohji shrugged off another urge to smack this guy a good one --- this time for making him feel foolish.
'After all,' he thought, as he looked down at the man kneeling painfully before him, 'he really didn't do anything. I mean, he's just here … wrong place, wrong time. Story of my life … of all of our lives.'
Just as his grip on the homeless man began to loosen, the picture of this guy bending over Aya, brandishing the liquor bottle like a club, reasserted itself. The tall blonde snarled in anger, tightening his grip on the man's arm, and smiled when his prey yelped in pain. He reached down to remove a long-bladed knife from his boot and held its jagged edge to the man's throat, slightly cutting into the soft flesh. He felt the homeless man stiffen in fear. "Now, why don't you tell me why I shouldn't just cut your throat right here? But, talk fast, because I hate being out in the rain, and I'm already in a bad mood."
"I … I didn't do nothing to him!" the homeless man stammered. "He … he was already like that when I woke up." He twisted around slightly, careful of the blade pinching the skin of his throat, to look at Yohji's face and managed to catch a glimpse of hard, angry, green eyes glittering behind the dark sunglasses the tall blonde wore. "I … I just wanted my coat back," he whimpered.
Yohji released the man and put the knife back into its sheath in his boot. He regarded the guy for a few seconds, and then reached into his coat and pulled out his wallet. "Look," he said, digging out all the cash he had, "I'll do you one better than the coat, OK?" He tossed the money onto the ground near the stranger and continued, "This should be enough to let you get a hotel room for tonight, so go on and get out of the rain."
The homeless man stared at Yohji for a moment, as if he was afraid the tall blonde would move in to attack him again once he touched the money. Finally, he quickly gathered up the cash and skittered down the alley toward the street, muttering his thanks as he ran, his stolen coat completely forgotten.
Yohji watched him until he was out of sight, and then he turned his attention to Aya, who was still lying on the wet ground, in a puddle, right where the homeless man had dropped him. The redhead was eerily still, and Yohji couldn't help but remember how he hadn't fought back when the homeless man attacked him.
"Aya," Yohji called, kneeling next to the swordsman and shaking him gently. When Aya didn't reply, he shook him again, a little harder. "Aya!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Aya! Open your eyes and look at me!"
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence
Summary: A simple, in-and-out mission goes bad for Aya when Yohji fails to back him up. Now our favorite playboy is forced to go hunting for a missing teammate, and, in the process, help Aya find something he had thought lost forever -- friendship and a place to belong.
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 #1 in a trilogy. Story #2: Betrayal. Story #3: Redemption
Chapter 2
Yohji cursed as he stepped out of his car into the cold, pouring rain and approached Aya's Porsche. It hadn't been difficult for him to locate his teammate's car. He knew Aya well enough to know that he'd park fairly far away and walk to the kill site to prevent his car from being seen, and the tracking equipment installed on the automobile saw to the rest. But, still, as he stepped out of his vehicle, Yohji couldn't help but think that ten blocks seemed a bit excessive, even for someone as anal-retentive and compulsive as their leader. The tall blonde knew he'd have to go the rest of the way on foot, in order to retrace Aya's steps and investigate any potential hiding places, and the thought of walking that far, especially in the pouring rain and harsh, whipping wind, made him cringe. Yohji was a dyed-in-the-wool comfort whore. It wasn't something he tried to deny or hide from the rest of the world, and, in fact, he took a perverse sort of pride in it. Walking around in a rainstorm was definitely not something a comfort whore would do. He swore under his breath and thought about how much he hated Aya for subjecting him to this horrible, inhuman state of affairs as he deftly popped the locks on the redhead's car. A quick look inside told him that Aya hadn't been there for a while, but the light glinted off of something just under the passenger-side seat, catching his eye. Yohji leaned half in and half out of the car to drape his tall form over the seat in order to look underneath. Grunting, he retrieved Aya's cell phone and regarded it with an air of disdain.
"Well," he muttered, "That explains why Omi couldn't get him on the cell."
He felt a brief wave of anger wash over him because Aya had left the phone behind, but his common sense quickly dispelled it. Of course, he wouldn't have taken the phone with him on the mission; none of them would have done something like that, for fear it would ring at an inopportune moment, or that it would be lost in the heat of a fight, allowing someone to trace it back to Weiss and Kritiker. But, finding the cell phone still didn't tell him why the boy hadn't been able to contact Aya on the communicator.
The tall blonde sighed and stuffed the phone into the pocket of his leather trench. Since he had been on his way to join Aya for the mission when he suddenly detoured to the bar where Omi had finally found him, Yohji was wearing what he normally, laughingly, referred to as his "killing clothes" --- black leather pants, black sleeveless half-shirt, heavy black leather boots, the long black leather trench coat with the white crosses on each arm, and, of course, his always-present dark sunglasses. He pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears, seeking what little shelter he could gain from the blowing rain, and set off in the direction of the target's office building. Within less than five minutes, he could feel water seeping through his coat to soak his skin, and the wind seemed to cut right through him, chilling him to the bone. He shivered and pulled his coat closer to his body, silently cursing Aya for forcing him out into this foul weather.
"When I find that selfish little prick," he muttered, "I'm gonna beat the shit out of him for dragging me out into this storm." Almost as soon as the words escaped his mouth, Yohji felt guilt wash over him as he recalled that, had it not been for his unexpected no-show tonight, neither he nor their leader would be out in the weather. Guilt was an unfamiliar emotion, and it made him distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't know exactly how, but he was sure that this was Aya's fault, too. He continued to grumble under his breath as he retraced what seemed like Aya's most likely path.
It took several minutes longer to reach the office building than he expected, thanks to the blowing rain. Yohji approached the building from the side, sticking to the shadows at the edge of the streetlights. When he was two blocks away, he could already see the flashing strobe lights from the police cars surrounding the structure. It was obvious that something had gone horribly wrong with the mission. He stood in the shadows for a while, watching the activity going on around the high-rise. Cops were swarming over it like ants, and, judging from the frantic way they continually entered and exited the building, as well as the lights he could see going on and off on various floors, it appeared that they hadn't located Aya. Yohji decided that it had to mean the redhead had managed to get safely out of the kill zone. He didn't really have any other choice but to believe in Aya's almost innate ability to get in and out of tight places. If he was still in the building, he was already beyond Yohji's help. The tall blonde knew he'd never be able to avoid the police long enough to enter and search the office building.
He skirted through the shadows around the back of the high rise. He knew Aya well enough to know that he would do anything possible to keep the police from tying him to the rest of Weiss, which meant that, if he was on the run, the swordsman would head away from his car. Once he was a block away from the building, Yohji had an easier time avoiding the police, although they seemed to be out in full force, canvassing the alleyways within a several block radius of the kill zone.
Yohji ducked into the nearest alley as a police car slowly cruised by and an officer used a large flashlight to partially penetrate the murky darkness. He pulled Aya's phone from his pocket and punched in the number for the flower shop, hoping against hope that their leader had somehow, miraculously, shown up there during the time that had elapsed since his earlier conversation with Omi.
The phone only rang twice before he heard Omi's breathless voice on the other end.
"Aya?" the boy asked. The poor kid sounded frantic, which only increased the guilt that had been plaguing Yohji all night.
"No, it's me," the tall blonde replied. He paused for a moment, and then continued, "So, I guess he hasn't come home?"
"No," Omi replied shortly. The boy was still furious. After a few moments, Omi stated, flatly, "You didn't find him."
"No … not yet," Yohji responded. "It's like all hell's broken loose down here. Something must've gone wrong. There are cops all over the damn place. They're crawling all over the building like ants, searching floor to floor, and they're out in full force, canvassing the alleys around here. I'm having a hard time avoiding them."
"You think … you think he's still in the building?" Omi asked uncertainly. Yohji could hear a slight quaver in the boy's voice.
The tall blonde paused for a few moments, mulling over Omi's question. "No," he finally answered, "I don't think so. The cops are too frantic. If he was cornered in the building, they wouldn't be rushing around like crazy people. They'd be closing in on his location in a more systematic way. Plus, they wouldn't be searching the surrounding streets and alleys. I'm pretty sure he got out. He's like a cat that way, you know … always able to get in and out of tight spots."
The only answer he received was Omi's stony silence.
"Try not to worry," Yohji said quietly. "I'll find him."
He hung up the phone and paused in the alley's shadows, waiting for yet another police car, the fifth to pass by in just the last few minutes, to clear the area. As soon as it was far enough up the street to assure that he wouldn't be seen, Yohji left the alley and continued down the street, slinking carefully from shadow to shadow. He ducked into every alley he passed, softly calling Aya's name, but, each time, silence was the only answer he received. He quickly searched each doorway and behind each stack of garbage cans, but there was no sign of the redhead. The rain, which was still pouring down in sheets, was both a blessing and a curse. He knew that the foul weather was helping to conceal his presence, and probably, Aya's, from the police. But, it was also making his search for the swordsman next to impossible. After a quick but thorough search of each alley, he moved on to the next one, and the next, and the next.
Yohji wasn't certain how long he had been looking for Aya when the sound of shouting drew his attention to an alley almost a block away. The raised, angry voice was loud enough to carry to him even over the storm's noise, and the tall blonde broke into a run, forgetting all about hiding from the prying eyes of the police. He had to reach the alley before the sound drew their attention, as well. If they had been searching on foot instead of in cars, they probably would have already heard it, and he thanked his lucky stars that the weather seemed to be discouraging the officers from their usual diligence.
Yohji skidded to a stop, panting, in the alley's mouth within a few seconds. The voice was louder now, and he could tell that there was only one person shouting. He strained his eyes against the darkness and blowing rain obscuring his vision. Finally, he could discern the fuzzy outlines of a man about a third of the way down the alley. It looked like he was bending over something, and he was shouting and waving his arms angrily over his head. Yohji shrugged and jogged the short distance down the alley.
As he neared the hunched-over figure, the scene came into sharper view. A homeless man, dirty, ragged, soaking wet, and clothed only in a filthy t-shirt and pants, was bending down, holding another person up off of the ground by the front of a ragged, canvas jacket.
The man shook the limp figure roughly and yelled, "You stupid asshole! That's my fucking coat! You stole my coat!"
Yohji could see that the other person didn't fight back or respond to the homeless man's accusations. As he approached from behind, the man shook the limp body angrily, causing its cap to fall off and revealing a glimpse of red hair. The tall blonde felt his stomach tie up in knots, and he leaped forward to grab the homeless man just as he was about to bring a half-full liquor bottle down on Aya's head.
"Hey!" Yohji yelled. He grabbed the homeless man by the collar and pulled him roughly back, away from the redhead.
The man stumbled backward and crashed into the pile of garbage cans across the alley, but he regained his footing with surprising speed and charged angrily back across the narrow open space, brandishing the bottle like a club. Yohji positioned himself between the homeless man and Aya, and easily met the attack. He grabbed the arm holding the bottle and twisted it, while, at the same time, sweeping his foot behind the man's legs to bring him to his knees. Once the guy was on the ground, Yohji moved behind him and twisted the man's arm painfully behind his back.
"Hey! What's the big idea?" the stranger protested. "This is none of your damn business."
Yohji leaned down so that his face was inches away from the man's ear, and whispered in his deadliest voice, "It is my business. That one … he belongs to me."
He winced internally at how jealous and possessive the statement sounded, and he fought back the urge to explain himself to the homeless man kneeling in front of him. He hadn't meant it that way --- not the way it sounded. But, it did feel like Aya was his, in a way. Whenever the redhead disappeared, which he frequently did when he was in one of his "moods", it was normally Yohji who ended up going out to look for him, and, whenever Aya was in "anti-social-I-hate-everyone-especially-you-so-don't-talk-to-me- unless-you-want-to-die" mode, Yohji was typically the only one of the group who could talk him back to what passed for normal. Ken and Omi both cared about him in their own way, but they were too afraid of their leader to approach him or argue with him even on the best of days. So, it usually fell to Yohji to keep the redhead on an even keel. More often than not, the tall blonde truly believed that Aya played the high-strung drama queen just to piss him off and make his life miserable, and, normally, he hated and resented the redhead for the knack he had of making everything so damn difficult. But, without realizing it, Yohji had developed a paternalistic, big brotherly feeling toward their leader, and seeing this guy standing over Aya like that had just about blown the last fuse he had left.
Yohji choked back the words of explanation before they could escape his lips, and fought back the urge to slam his fist into the side of the stranger's head. After all, who the hell did this guy think he was? He didn't even know them; he had no business knowing about the complicated relationships between the members of Weiss. Yohji scowled angrily down at the man at his feet. A small groan of pain and the frightened look in the man's eyes jerked the blonde back from his thoughts. Yohji shrugged off another urge to smack this guy a good one --- this time for making him feel foolish.
'After all,' he thought, as he looked down at the man kneeling painfully before him, 'he really didn't do anything. I mean, he's just here … wrong place, wrong time. Story of my life … of all of our lives.'
Just as his grip on the homeless man began to loosen, the picture of this guy bending over Aya, brandishing the liquor bottle like a club, reasserted itself. The tall blonde snarled in anger, tightening his grip on the man's arm, and smiled when his prey yelped in pain. He reached down to remove a long-bladed knife from his boot and held its jagged edge to the man's throat, slightly cutting into the soft flesh. He felt the homeless man stiffen in fear. "Now, why don't you tell me why I shouldn't just cut your throat right here? But, talk fast, because I hate being out in the rain, and I'm already in a bad mood."
"I … I didn't do nothing to him!" the homeless man stammered. "He … he was already like that when I woke up." He twisted around slightly, careful of the blade pinching the skin of his throat, to look at Yohji's face and managed to catch a glimpse of hard, angry, green eyes glittering behind the dark sunglasses the tall blonde wore. "I … I just wanted my coat back," he whimpered.
Yohji released the man and put the knife back into its sheath in his boot. He regarded the guy for a few seconds, and then reached into his coat and pulled out his wallet. "Look," he said, digging out all the cash he had, "I'll do you one better than the coat, OK?" He tossed the money onto the ground near the stranger and continued, "This should be enough to let you get a hotel room for tonight, so go on and get out of the rain."
The homeless man stared at Yohji for a moment, as if he was afraid the tall blonde would move in to attack him again once he touched the money. Finally, he quickly gathered up the cash and skittered down the alley toward the street, muttering his thanks as he ran, his stolen coat completely forgotten.
Yohji watched him until he was out of sight, and then he turned his attention to Aya, who was still lying on the wet ground, in a puddle, right where the homeless man had dropped him. The redhead was eerily still, and Yohji couldn't help but remember how he hadn't fought back when the homeless man attacked him.
"Aya," Yohji called, kneeling next to the swordsman and shaking him gently. When Aya didn't reply, he shook him again, a little harder. "Aya!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Aya! Open your eyes and look at me!"