Fic Archive: Betrayal, 1
May. 28th, 2009 01:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: 2004)
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence
Summary: Aya slowly begins to rediscover his humanity, only to face betrayal at the hands of someone he trusted. Decisions he's made with regard to Kritiker come back to haunt him, as the organization decides to retire him, leaving Aya cornered, badly injured, and, along with Yohji, on the run with nowhere to turn for help except the very man who betrayed him. Events start to tumble at breakneck speed toward a conclusion, following the twisted course Fate seems to have decreed. Can Aya stay alive long enough to untangle the sticky web in which he, Yohji, and his friend-turned-betrayer find themselves ensnared?
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 #2 in the "Nowhere Man" Trilogy. Story #1: Nowhere Man. Story #3: Redemption
Betrayal
Chapter 1
The early morning sun flowed into the kitchen, bouncing off of pale yellow walls and engulfing the room in bright, cheerful, golden light that eliminated the need for incandescent lighting. Omi paused in the doorway and quietly watched Aya. The older man was sitting at the kitchen table, his back to the door, reading the morning edition of the local newspaper. The young blonde smiled slightly as Aya rattled the paper irritably, and mumbled under his breath about one of the stories he'd just read, while slowly, almost absently, stirring his coffee. The spoon made a soft clinking sound as it struck the sides of the cup. Omi shook his head and chuckled under his breath. Aya drank his coffee black, and, for the life of him, Omi couldn't figure exactly why he always insisted on having a spoon in the cup. As far as the younger boy could tell, the spoon was completely unnecessary, but, yet, it was always there. Omi suppressed another giggle as Aya brought the cup to his lips and, without bothering to remove the spoon, took a noisy slurp. He didn't know exactly why, but the idea of Aya, who always seemed so perfect and controlled, slurping coffee like a "normal" person struck him as exceedingly funny.
Omi shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, careful to avoid the squeaky spots in the floorboards near the doorway, as he debated over entering the kitchen for his usual morning cup of coffee and muffin before heading off to school. He had been surprised to even find the redhead here, and Aya looked so peaceful and content that Omi was reluctant to disturb him.
Just as he had almost decided to skip breakfast, Omi saw Aya pick up the coffee cup for another sip. This time, though, his hand slipped, and he wasn't able to hold onto the mug. He lifted it slightly off of the table, but it fell back down again with a fairly loud thunk, spilling hot liquid over his hand in the process. The boy frowned as he watched Aya put his hand in his mouth to suck at the burned spot, all the while glaring at the traitorous cup and mumbling curses under his breath. Omi mentally added up the days since Aya's last mission. As closely as he could figure, it had been almost two months since Yohji's unexpected no-show had forced that solo mission on the Weiss leader, which also meant that Aya had been sick for that long. Although the redhead insisted that he was fine and fully recovered, Omi knew he was lying. It was true that Aya was healing, but much more slowly than any of them had expected. Only in the past week had Aya insisted on doing his share in the shop. He had begun to work his normal shifts, but Omi suspected the redhead's actions were motivated more by guilt than by any recovery he might have made. Aya had never been a talkative person, so he always worked without complaint. But, by the time each shift was through, it was obvious that he was exhausted and drained, mentally and physically. Omi couldn't even count the number of times in the past week that Yohji had taken dinner to the redhead's room, only to return with an almost-full plate, stating that Aya had fallen asleep without finishing his meal. And, now, watching him with the coffee cup, it seemed that he hadn't really regained as much strength as they had believed. As ridiculous as he knew it was, Omi had always thought of Aya as some kind of invincible superman, and it worried the boy to see him struggling like this. He knew Yohji and Ken were worried too, but no one had broached the subject with Aya. It was almost as if the four assassins had reached a tacit agreement to never discuss it, but, as Omi watched Aya once again drop the mug onto the table, he decided they couldn't continue avoiding the topic.
Before Omi could step into the kitchen and make his presence known, a low, threatening growl from under the table brought Aya's attention toward the door. The redhead twisted around in his chair to frown slightly at Omi and ask, "How long have you been standing there?"
"Not long," Omi lied as he entered the room. He was careful to keep a fairly decent distance between himself and the dog, which was still growling.
The dog had been lying at Aya's feet under the table, and Omi hadn't noticed it upon stopping in the doorway. Now, though, as the boy inched quietly into the room, the large beast unfolded itself and stiffly stalked to stand between Aya's chair and Omi. It actually seemed to materialize right out of the shadows under the table, and, once it had come to a stop between them, it glared at the boy with baleful, hate-filled, yellow eyes and bared its teeth. The hair on the back of its neck was raised, and it looked menacing enough to stop the boy in his tracks, just inside the kitchen door.
"I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you," Omi muttered as he stared at the dog.
Despite the mantra, the boy couldn't keep from shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, which elicited a new series of low growls from the animal. Omi sighed and glared at the dog as he thought about how much he hated it. It was a fairly new addition to their little family. Hank had shown up with it a couple of weeks ago, explaining that it was his gift to them, to thank them for all they had done for him. Omi could still remember how Yohji had adamantly refused Hank's generosity. The tall blonde had argued that none of them had the room or the time to properly care for a pet, but Hank had stood his ground and countered all of Yohji's arguments by explaining that dogs weren't that difficult to care for, and that it would be good to have around the shop, for protection. When Yohji hadn't been convinced, Hank had ducked his head and quietly explained that they had to take the dog. In response to Yohji's questioning, he had finally confessed that he had gotten it from a man he had "done some work for" when he lived on the streets. This man bred fighting dogs, and had decided to destroy this particular animal because it was too friendly and gentle-natured to ever succeed as a fighter. Just as Yohji was about to refuse, Aya had appeared from the back room. He had heard most of Hank's story, and he had cut off Yohji's protests by quietly commenting that the dog appeared to have nowhere else to go, and that it was rude to refuse a gift given in gratitude. At that, Yohji had shrugged and thrown up his hands, silently conceding defeat, and the four Weiss assassins had acquired a new pet.
Hank christened the dog "Bubba", despite Aya's strenuous objections. Bubba had a stocky, muscular build and a large, squared head. He had big, drooping ears, a cropped tail, and incredibly huge feet, which, Hank explained, indicated that he still had a lot of growing to do. The dog was completely black, except for deep-set, yellow eyes. None of the assassins had ever seen an animal quite like him, and Hank had explained that Bubba was a mixture of Rottweiler and Pit Bull. Although he was still really just a puppy, barely nine months old, Bubba was already fairly large, weighing in at almost 80 pounds.
The dog seemed to take an almost immediate liking to Aya. Bubba followed the redhead everywhere, never straying more than a few feet away from him. The dog even waited outside the bathroom when Aya was in there, nose pressed up against the crack under the closed door, as if he could pull his favorite person out through that small opening if he just snuffled hard enough. At first, Aya hadn't wanted anything to do with the animal. Eventually, though, it seemed that Bubba either wore him down or, somehow, managed to break through Aya's icy façade, and the two of them settled down into a comfortable pattern. Omi could still remember the day that Yohji had come into the kitchen to announce, in a surprised voice, that he had checked in on Aya only to find both him and the dog sleeping in the redhead's bed.
Although Bubba worshiped the ground Aya walked on, that adoration definitely didn't extend to the rest of the household. The dog was extremely protective of the redhead, and it menaced and threatened anyone who, in its opinion, got too close to Aya, including his housemates. Bubba's yellow eyes seemed to glow whenever he was angry, which, as far as Omi had seen, seemed to be pretty much all of the time. After creeping around Bubba for the past two weeks as if they were walking on eggshells, all Aya's teammates had concluded that there was no way anyone could have ever pegged this particular dog as "sweet" and "gentle-natured". He and Ken had both complained to Yohji about the dog on several occasions, but the tall blonde, after explaining that he didn't like it either, had shrugged and told them to just bear with things and try to stay out of Bubba's way. When they had continued to complain, Yohji had cut them off by saying that Aya liked the dog, and he thought having Bubba around was good for the quiet man. Omi had noticed subtle changes in Aya since Bubba started living with them. The redhead seemed less guarded and icy, and more relaxed than Omi could ever remember seeing him. Still, the boy was tired of sneaking around in his own home. He fervently wished that Bubba would just figure out that the rest of them lived here, and that they weren't a threat to Aya.
Another low growl brought Omi's attention away from his thoughts and back to Bubba. The boy shifted nervously from one foot to the other and cleared his throat as he said, "Um … Aya?"
"Yeah?" Aya asked. He had turned his back on Omi once again and resumed reading his paper, seemingly oblivious to the dog's threatening behavior, but, at the sound of Omi's voice, he twisted back around in his chair to give the boy a questioning look.
"Um … the dog?" Omi asked, inclining his head ever so slightly to indicate Bubba, who was still growling threateningly.
In response, Aya snapped his fingers. Bubba whined and moved back under the table to sit in front of Aya. He placed his head in the redhead's lap and gazed up at him with adoring eyes. Aya, who had immediately turned back to the paper, reached down and absently scratched behind the dog's ears, eliciting another pleasure-filled whine from the animal. Omi shook his head as he watched Aya pet the dog. Despite the subtle changes he had noticed, he was still surprised to see the stoic man openly showing affection for another living creature. The boy moved freely into the kitchen, no longer paying any attention to the dog, which had completely forgotten him. Once Aya indicated to Bubba that a person was acceptable, the dog dismissed them completely --- until the next time he saw them. Hank kept assuring all of them that Bubba was very clever and that he would eventually get used to them all. For his part, Omi had his doubts. From what he had seen, Bubba had the attention span of a gnat.
Omi silently dropped his book bag near the door leading to the outside, and moved to take another mug down from the cupboard near the stove. He quickly poured his coffee, mixing in liberal amounts of sugar and milk, retrieved a muffin from the breadbox, and then moved to sit at the table, across from Aya. The redhead's face was hidden by the newspaper, and Omi, who had already decided to talk to Aya about the state of his health, silently began to pick his muffin into little pieces as he debated on the best way of bringing up what he guessed would be an uncomfortable and, possibly, volatile subject. He had always had trouble talking to Aya. It wasn't really that he was afraid of the swordsman --- well, not exactly. It was just that Aya always seemed so unapproachable and closed off to the rest of them. Omi sighed and looked up at the ceiling, fervently wishing Yohji were here. The tall blonde was the only person who really seemed at ease around Aya.
At the sound of Omi's loud sigh, Aya flipped down one corner of his paper and peered over it at the boy. He frowned as he watched Omi stare at the table top and silently shred the muffin in front of him. The boy looked as if he wasn't even aware of what his fingers were doing.
Aya rattled the paper loudly, bringing Omi's attention away from the table, and asked, "You gonna eat that or pick it to death?"
Omi looked down at the muffin and laughed absently, "Sorry. I was just … thinking." He looked back to the table almost immediately.
Aya frowned and watched Omi for a couple of additional minutes. Finally, he sighed quietly, folded his paper, and placed it carefully on the table in front of him. He pulled off his reading glasses and placed them neatly on top of the paper. "Everything OK?" he asked, once again catching Omi's attention.
"Uh … yeah," Omi stammered. He took a bite of the muffin and a sip of coffee before continuing, "I was just surprised to find you down here. Lately, it's just been me in the mornings. I thought that Yohji had you under house arrest or something like that until you got well … or, until he decided you were well."
Aya surprised Omi by chuckling softly at the boy's little joke. He picked up his coffee cup, using two hands this time, and took a sip before replying, "The stalker is sleeping, so I thought I'd make a small break for freedom. Besides, it's been a while since I've actually gotten to read the paper before Ken gets to it. That idiot always gets it all out of order." He frowned in distaste as he thought about the crumpled, disordered mess in which the ex-goalie normally left the paper.
Omi couldn't help but laugh at the look on Aya's face. You would have thought someone had murdered his best friend or something, instead of just messing up a newspaper.
"You feeling all right, Omi?" Aya asked. His voice broke into Omi's train of thought and dragged the boy's attention back to the redhead's face. Aya frowned at the vacant, exhausted stare in Omi's eyes as he said, "You don't look too good."
"Yeah," Omi said quietly. He ducked his head and blushed in embarrassment at the unexpected inquiry. "I'm just a little tired, I guess. Between researching for missions and exams coming up at school, I haven't been sleeping very much lately. Do you know how Yohji and Ken did last night?"
Aya frowned and rested his elbows on the table, placing his chin in the open palm of one hand. He hated being weak, and he hated not being able to pull his own weight in Weiss' night-time activities. He wasn't supposed to know, but he had discovered that Yohji had covertly told Manx he was to be considered off duty until he was fully recovered. Well, "discovered" wasn't exactly the right word for it; Manx had called him at least once a day for the past two months, hinting that Persia, and, worse, Kritiker, believed he was shirking his duty because he was losing his edge, and, consequently, his usefulness. Aya couldn't count the number of times during the past two months that he had silently wished for Yohji to stop being so overprotective, and to stop doing favors for him. Manx and Persia had, of course, refused to let Weiss stand down until Aya was sufficiently recovered to work, which meant that everyone else had been pulling double duty to make up for his absence. Aya had noticed that the rest of his team was exhausted. He knew it was his fault, and he couldn't shake the guilt he felt over it.
The sound of Omi clearing his throat brought Aya's attention back to the boy, who was watching him worriedly. In response to the question he saw in Omi's eyes, he said, "Oh, … uh, fine. The mission went off like clockwork. No injuries. They both got home pretty late, so I think they'll sleep in today. They're both exhausted. The rest will do them good. Yohji looks like he's been on a several day bender, and I know he hasn't even been out drinking or on a date one time in the past two months."
"What about their shifts in the shop?" Omi asked.
"I'll work the shop today with Hank," Aya replied, drumming his fingers softly on the table top.
Omi laughed and almost choked on the bite of muffin he'd just stuffed into his mouth. "Yohji's not gonna like that," he explained as Aya arched one eyebrow in a questioning look.
Aya shrugged. "Yohji's so tired, he'll probably sleep all day. What the stalker doesn't know won't hurt him … or me." He paused and watched as Omi drained his coffee and finished off the muffin. "They're going out tonight for Ken's birthday. Yohji told me to let you know, in case you wanted to go."
Omi groaned softly. "Ugh … I can't believe I forgot Ken's birthday. I didn't even get him a gift."
Aya waved his hand in front of his face in a dismissive gesture and replied, "Don't worry about it. It's already taken care of. We got him some new soccer cleats, a new ball, and season tickets for his favorite team. Hank picked them up for me yesterday."
"Wow!" Omi exclaimed. "That's a great gift. I can't believe that you remembered to get anything."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Aya asked, his voice involuntarily taking on a hurt, defensive tone.
Omi's eyes widened slightly at the hurt he heard in Aya's voice, and he quickly stammered, "No … nothing. It's … it's just … well, not really … like you."
Aya frowned as he considered Omi's statement. "Yeah," he finally replied, his voice an embarrassed mumble, "I guess that's true."
He felt distinctly uncomfortable, and he stared at the table slightly in front of the folded paper as he tried to talk his body out of doing what his mind so desperately wanted to do, which was bolt from the kitchen and retreat back upstairs to the solitude of his room. Yohji's efforts during his illness had finally made him realize that the other team members really did care about him, that he wasn't alone, and that he had a place to belong. Consequently, he had decided to make a stab at opening up to them more, to "rejoin the land of the living", as Yohji put it, but he was finding it a lot harder than he would have expected. It seemed that he had closed himself off emotionally for so long that he was out of practice in dealing with other people, and he was beginning to wonder if it was even worth the bother. Things had seemed a lot easier when everyone just steered clear of him.
Finally, he continued, "Well, don't give me too much credit. The season tickets are the real gift. The ball and cleats … well, I kind of owed him for those." He glanced up at Omi, and, in response to the question in the boy's eyes, he shrugged and said, "Bubba." He curled his mouth distastefully as he said the dog's name. "He sort of … ate … Ken's old pair of shoes … and the ball, along with Yohji's favorite leather jacket and my favorite sweater. You'd better just pray he doesn't get into your room."
Omi started to laugh, but the serious look on Aya's face stopped him. He paused for a few moments, picking at the empty paper that had previously held the muffin. Finally, he asked, in a soft voice, "Are you really OK, Aya?"
"Yeah," Aya replied. He studied the table in front of him as he continued, "I'm going to tell Manx to take me off the injured list." As Omi started to protest, Aya waved his hand at the boy, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "I don't like the rest of you covering for me. Everyone is exhausted, and it's just a matter of time before someone slips up during a mission. I don't want that on my head. It's been two months. There's no reason for me to be lazing around while the rest of you are beating yourselves up trying to keep up with Persia's demands. Besides, Manx has told me, more than once, that Persia thinks I'm a burnout. They're thinking about retiring me. They haven't come right out and said it yet, but the writing's on the wall … for anyone who knows how to read it."
Omi's eyes widened at Aya's last statement. He wouldn't have ever guessed that Persia would actually threaten Aya, his favorite assassin. Finally, he said, "That can't be right, Aya. I can't believe Persia would retire you … any of the rest of us, maybe, but not you. Does Yohji know?"
"Hell, no," Aya replied. "And, you'd best not tell him, either. It's just supposition on my part at this point, and, if I go back on active status, hopefully, it'll remain nothing more than supposition. Plus, that idiot is way too overprotective. If he found out what I think, he'd go off half-cocked and do something stupid, like get himself killed. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." He glanced down at his watch, and effectively ended their conversation by saying, "Aren't you late?"
Omi followed Aya's lead and looked at his own watch. "Shit! Yeah. I'd better go. I'm never gonna make it in time, as it is." The boy hurriedly moved toward the sink and dumped the empty coffee cup into it, sighing in frustration. "That means another morning of sitting in the damn principal's office for being late. I swear … I already missed so much school while you were sick that they're probably gonna declare me a juvenile delinquent or something."
Aya shook his head and laughed softly, "If they want to consider you a delinquent, I think they have much better reasons than being late for class and skipping school."
Just as he finished speaking, the door creaked open, and Hank stepped into the kitchen from the outside. He shivered and stamped his feet as he removed his shoes and waved at Aya.
"Mornin', Ran … Omi. It's colder 'n a witch's tit out there this mornin'," he said, with a smile.
Bubba shot out from under the table with a throaty growl at the sudden intrusion, which prompted Hank to glare at the dog and drawl, "Listen here, mister. You'd best not go forgettin' who saved yer sorry ass."
Bubba stopped as if he had been hit between the eyes with a baseball bat. He stood stiffly in front of Hank for a long few moments, as if he was trying to decide whether the man would taste like chicken. Finally, the dog moved forward and poked his nose into Hank's open hand with a whine of greeting. Hank dropped to his knees to pet Bubba, scratching behind his ears and thumping his sides.
"Great timing," Aya said, rising from his chair and draining his coffee cup. "There's fresh coffee, if you want some. Can you go ahead and open the shop for me? I'm going to drive Omi to school. I'll be back in about thirty minutes or so."
"Sure," Hank replied. He gave Aya a questioning look and said, "I thought Yohji said you couldn't work the morning shift. Isn't he working for you this morning?"
Aya frowned and shrugged. "The stalker's sleeping. He had kind of a hard night last night, so I wouldn't expect him to be down today. Ken, either. So, it's just you and me … unless you've got a problem with that?"
Hank laughed and moved to the cupboard to retrieve a coffee mug. "No, no," he replied, waving his hands in the air in front of him. "I've hardly seen you in the past two months, so it'll be good to spend some time with you."
Aya stared in horror as the other man proceeded to pour coffee into the mug and retrieve a muffin from the bread box. When Hank turned around and saw the look on Aya's face, he nervously placed the muffin on the counter, and asked, "What's wrong? Isn't it OK for me to have a muffin?" He looked from Aya to Omi and then said, defensively, "Omi always lets me have one."
"You just petted the dog," Aya said in a tone of utter horror. "Shouldn't you wash your hands?"
Hank shook his head and rolled his eyes at the ceiling as he leaned back against the sink and took a large bite out of the muffin. "You need to loosen up, Ran," he said, laughing, "You sound just like a little, old granny."
Aya glared at Omi when the boy was unable to stifle a giggle at Hank's statement. As he moved toward the door and started to shrug into his coat, Omi protested, "Aya … you really don't have to take me. I mean … I can walk. It's no problem."
"Don't be stupid," Aya replied as he finished pulling on the coat. "It's cold, and you already look like shit. Besides, you're late, right?" He picked up Omi's book bag and held it out to the boy, clearly putting an end to any argument on Omi's part. As Omi pushed past him to exit their apartment, Aya looked back at Hank, who was still contentedly munching on the muffin. "I'm never eating anything that comes out of that bread box again," he muttered under his breath, exiting the kitchen and pulling the door closed behind him.Bubba sat in the middle of the now-silent kitchen, staring forlornly at the door. The dog whined mournfully and looked as if he had lost his best friend. After a few seconds, the door opened again, and Aya's head popped into the kitchen.
"Well, come on, then," he snapped at the dog.
Hank laughed and reached for another muffin as Bubba happily trotted out of the kitchen after Aya.
Warnings: Bad Language. Violence
Summary: Aya slowly begins to rediscover his humanity, only to face betrayal at the hands of someone he trusted. Decisions he's made with regard to Kritiker come back to haunt him, as the organization decides to retire him, leaving Aya cornered, badly injured, and, along with Yohji, on the run with nowhere to turn for help except the very man who betrayed him. Events start to tumble at breakneck speed toward a conclusion, following the twisted course Fate seems to have decreed. Can Aya stay alive long enough to untangle the sticky web in which he, Yohji, and his friend-turned-betrayer find themselves ensnared?
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 #2 in the "Nowhere Man" Trilogy. Story #1: Nowhere Man. Story #3: Redemption
Chapter 1
The early morning sun flowed into the kitchen, bouncing off of pale yellow walls and engulfing the room in bright, cheerful, golden light that eliminated the need for incandescent lighting. Omi paused in the doorway and quietly watched Aya. The older man was sitting at the kitchen table, his back to the door, reading the morning edition of the local newspaper. The young blonde smiled slightly as Aya rattled the paper irritably, and mumbled under his breath about one of the stories he'd just read, while slowly, almost absently, stirring his coffee. The spoon made a soft clinking sound as it struck the sides of the cup. Omi shook his head and chuckled under his breath. Aya drank his coffee black, and, for the life of him, Omi couldn't figure exactly why he always insisted on having a spoon in the cup. As far as the younger boy could tell, the spoon was completely unnecessary, but, yet, it was always there. Omi suppressed another giggle as Aya brought the cup to his lips and, without bothering to remove the spoon, took a noisy slurp. He didn't know exactly why, but the idea of Aya, who always seemed so perfect and controlled, slurping coffee like a "normal" person struck him as exceedingly funny.
Omi shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, careful to avoid the squeaky spots in the floorboards near the doorway, as he debated over entering the kitchen for his usual morning cup of coffee and muffin before heading off to school. He had been surprised to even find the redhead here, and Aya looked so peaceful and content that Omi was reluctant to disturb him.
Just as he had almost decided to skip breakfast, Omi saw Aya pick up the coffee cup for another sip. This time, though, his hand slipped, and he wasn't able to hold onto the mug. He lifted it slightly off of the table, but it fell back down again with a fairly loud thunk, spilling hot liquid over his hand in the process. The boy frowned as he watched Aya put his hand in his mouth to suck at the burned spot, all the while glaring at the traitorous cup and mumbling curses under his breath. Omi mentally added up the days since Aya's last mission. As closely as he could figure, it had been almost two months since Yohji's unexpected no-show had forced that solo mission on the Weiss leader, which also meant that Aya had been sick for that long. Although the redhead insisted that he was fine and fully recovered, Omi knew he was lying. It was true that Aya was healing, but much more slowly than any of them had expected. Only in the past week had Aya insisted on doing his share in the shop. He had begun to work his normal shifts, but Omi suspected the redhead's actions were motivated more by guilt than by any recovery he might have made. Aya had never been a talkative person, so he always worked without complaint. But, by the time each shift was through, it was obvious that he was exhausted and drained, mentally and physically. Omi couldn't even count the number of times in the past week that Yohji had taken dinner to the redhead's room, only to return with an almost-full plate, stating that Aya had fallen asleep without finishing his meal. And, now, watching him with the coffee cup, it seemed that he hadn't really regained as much strength as they had believed. As ridiculous as he knew it was, Omi had always thought of Aya as some kind of invincible superman, and it worried the boy to see him struggling like this. He knew Yohji and Ken were worried too, but no one had broached the subject with Aya. It was almost as if the four assassins had reached a tacit agreement to never discuss it, but, as Omi watched Aya once again drop the mug onto the table, he decided they couldn't continue avoiding the topic.
Before Omi could step into the kitchen and make his presence known, a low, threatening growl from under the table brought Aya's attention toward the door. The redhead twisted around in his chair to frown slightly at Omi and ask, "How long have you been standing there?"
"Not long," Omi lied as he entered the room. He was careful to keep a fairly decent distance between himself and the dog, which was still growling.
The dog had been lying at Aya's feet under the table, and Omi hadn't noticed it upon stopping in the doorway. Now, though, as the boy inched quietly into the room, the large beast unfolded itself and stiffly stalked to stand between Aya's chair and Omi. It actually seemed to materialize right out of the shadows under the table, and, once it had come to a stop between them, it glared at the boy with baleful, hate-filled, yellow eyes and bared its teeth. The hair on the back of its neck was raised, and it looked menacing enough to stop the boy in his tracks, just inside the kitchen door.
"I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you," Omi muttered as he stared at the dog.
Despite the mantra, the boy couldn't keep from shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, which elicited a new series of low growls from the animal. Omi sighed and glared at the dog as he thought about how much he hated it. It was a fairly new addition to their little family. Hank had shown up with it a couple of weeks ago, explaining that it was his gift to them, to thank them for all they had done for him. Omi could still remember how Yohji had adamantly refused Hank's generosity. The tall blonde had argued that none of them had the room or the time to properly care for a pet, but Hank had stood his ground and countered all of Yohji's arguments by explaining that dogs weren't that difficult to care for, and that it would be good to have around the shop, for protection. When Yohji hadn't been convinced, Hank had ducked his head and quietly explained that they had to take the dog. In response to Yohji's questioning, he had finally confessed that he had gotten it from a man he had "done some work for" when he lived on the streets. This man bred fighting dogs, and had decided to destroy this particular animal because it was too friendly and gentle-natured to ever succeed as a fighter. Just as Yohji was about to refuse, Aya had appeared from the back room. He had heard most of Hank's story, and he had cut off Yohji's protests by quietly commenting that the dog appeared to have nowhere else to go, and that it was rude to refuse a gift given in gratitude. At that, Yohji had shrugged and thrown up his hands, silently conceding defeat, and the four Weiss assassins had acquired a new pet.
Hank christened the dog "Bubba", despite Aya's strenuous objections. Bubba had a stocky, muscular build and a large, squared head. He had big, drooping ears, a cropped tail, and incredibly huge feet, which, Hank explained, indicated that he still had a lot of growing to do. The dog was completely black, except for deep-set, yellow eyes. None of the assassins had ever seen an animal quite like him, and Hank had explained that Bubba was a mixture of Rottweiler and Pit Bull. Although he was still really just a puppy, barely nine months old, Bubba was already fairly large, weighing in at almost 80 pounds.
The dog seemed to take an almost immediate liking to Aya. Bubba followed the redhead everywhere, never straying more than a few feet away from him. The dog even waited outside the bathroom when Aya was in there, nose pressed up against the crack under the closed door, as if he could pull his favorite person out through that small opening if he just snuffled hard enough. At first, Aya hadn't wanted anything to do with the animal. Eventually, though, it seemed that Bubba either wore him down or, somehow, managed to break through Aya's icy façade, and the two of them settled down into a comfortable pattern. Omi could still remember the day that Yohji had come into the kitchen to announce, in a surprised voice, that he had checked in on Aya only to find both him and the dog sleeping in the redhead's bed.
Although Bubba worshiped the ground Aya walked on, that adoration definitely didn't extend to the rest of the household. The dog was extremely protective of the redhead, and it menaced and threatened anyone who, in its opinion, got too close to Aya, including his housemates. Bubba's yellow eyes seemed to glow whenever he was angry, which, as far as Omi had seen, seemed to be pretty much all of the time. After creeping around Bubba for the past two weeks as if they were walking on eggshells, all Aya's teammates had concluded that there was no way anyone could have ever pegged this particular dog as "sweet" and "gentle-natured". He and Ken had both complained to Yohji about the dog on several occasions, but the tall blonde, after explaining that he didn't like it either, had shrugged and told them to just bear with things and try to stay out of Bubba's way. When they had continued to complain, Yohji had cut them off by saying that Aya liked the dog, and he thought having Bubba around was good for the quiet man. Omi had noticed subtle changes in Aya since Bubba started living with them. The redhead seemed less guarded and icy, and more relaxed than Omi could ever remember seeing him. Still, the boy was tired of sneaking around in his own home. He fervently wished that Bubba would just figure out that the rest of them lived here, and that they weren't a threat to Aya.
Another low growl brought Omi's attention away from his thoughts and back to Bubba. The boy shifted nervously from one foot to the other and cleared his throat as he said, "Um … Aya?"
"Yeah?" Aya asked. He had turned his back on Omi once again and resumed reading his paper, seemingly oblivious to the dog's threatening behavior, but, at the sound of Omi's voice, he twisted back around in his chair to give the boy a questioning look.
"Um … the dog?" Omi asked, inclining his head ever so slightly to indicate Bubba, who was still growling threateningly.
In response, Aya snapped his fingers. Bubba whined and moved back under the table to sit in front of Aya. He placed his head in the redhead's lap and gazed up at him with adoring eyes. Aya, who had immediately turned back to the paper, reached down and absently scratched behind the dog's ears, eliciting another pleasure-filled whine from the animal. Omi shook his head as he watched Aya pet the dog. Despite the subtle changes he had noticed, he was still surprised to see the stoic man openly showing affection for another living creature. The boy moved freely into the kitchen, no longer paying any attention to the dog, which had completely forgotten him. Once Aya indicated to Bubba that a person was acceptable, the dog dismissed them completely --- until the next time he saw them. Hank kept assuring all of them that Bubba was very clever and that he would eventually get used to them all. For his part, Omi had his doubts. From what he had seen, Bubba had the attention span of a gnat.
Omi silently dropped his book bag near the door leading to the outside, and moved to take another mug down from the cupboard near the stove. He quickly poured his coffee, mixing in liberal amounts of sugar and milk, retrieved a muffin from the breadbox, and then moved to sit at the table, across from Aya. The redhead's face was hidden by the newspaper, and Omi, who had already decided to talk to Aya about the state of his health, silently began to pick his muffin into little pieces as he debated on the best way of bringing up what he guessed would be an uncomfortable and, possibly, volatile subject. He had always had trouble talking to Aya. It wasn't really that he was afraid of the swordsman --- well, not exactly. It was just that Aya always seemed so unapproachable and closed off to the rest of them. Omi sighed and looked up at the ceiling, fervently wishing Yohji were here. The tall blonde was the only person who really seemed at ease around Aya.
At the sound of Omi's loud sigh, Aya flipped down one corner of his paper and peered over it at the boy. He frowned as he watched Omi stare at the table top and silently shred the muffin in front of him. The boy looked as if he wasn't even aware of what his fingers were doing.
Aya rattled the paper loudly, bringing Omi's attention away from the table, and asked, "You gonna eat that or pick it to death?"
Omi looked down at the muffin and laughed absently, "Sorry. I was just … thinking." He looked back to the table almost immediately.
Aya frowned and watched Omi for a couple of additional minutes. Finally, he sighed quietly, folded his paper, and placed it carefully on the table in front of him. He pulled off his reading glasses and placed them neatly on top of the paper. "Everything OK?" he asked, once again catching Omi's attention.
"Uh … yeah," Omi stammered. He took a bite of the muffin and a sip of coffee before continuing, "I was just surprised to find you down here. Lately, it's just been me in the mornings. I thought that Yohji had you under house arrest or something like that until you got well … or, until he decided you were well."
Aya surprised Omi by chuckling softly at the boy's little joke. He picked up his coffee cup, using two hands this time, and took a sip before replying, "The stalker is sleeping, so I thought I'd make a small break for freedom. Besides, it's been a while since I've actually gotten to read the paper before Ken gets to it. That idiot always gets it all out of order." He frowned in distaste as he thought about the crumpled, disordered mess in which the ex-goalie normally left the paper.
Omi couldn't help but laugh at the look on Aya's face. You would have thought someone had murdered his best friend or something, instead of just messing up a newspaper.
"You feeling all right, Omi?" Aya asked. His voice broke into Omi's train of thought and dragged the boy's attention back to the redhead's face. Aya frowned at the vacant, exhausted stare in Omi's eyes as he said, "You don't look too good."
"Yeah," Omi said quietly. He ducked his head and blushed in embarrassment at the unexpected inquiry. "I'm just a little tired, I guess. Between researching for missions and exams coming up at school, I haven't been sleeping very much lately. Do you know how Yohji and Ken did last night?"
Aya frowned and rested his elbows on the table, placing his chin in the open palm of one hand. He hated being weak, and he hated not being able to pull his own weight in Weiss' night-time activities. He wasn't supposed to know, but he had discovered that Yohji had covertly told Manx he was to be considered off duty until he was fully recovered. Well, "discovered" wasn't exactly the right word for it; Manx had called him at least once a day for the past two months, hinting that Persia, and, worse, Kritiker, believed he was shirking his duty because he was losing his edge, and, consequently, his usefulness. Aya couldn't count the number of times during the past two months that he had silently wished for Yohji to stop being so overprotective, and to stop doing favors for him. Manx and Persia had, of course, refused to let Weiss stand down until Aya was sufficiently recovered to work, which meant that everyone else had been pulling double duty to make up for his absence. Aya had noticed that the rest of his team was exhausted. He knew it was his fault, and he couldn't shake the guilt he felt over it.
The sound of Omi clearing his throat brought Aya's attention back to the boy, who was watching him worriedly. In response to the question he saw in Omi's eyes, he said, "Oh, … uh, fine. The mission went off like clockwork. No injuries. They both got home pretty late, so I think they'll sleep in today. They're both exhausted. The rest will do them good. Yohji looks like he's been on a several day bender, and I know he hasn't even been out drinking or on a date one time in the past two months."
"What about their shifts in the shop?" Omi asked.
"I'll work the shop today with Hank," Aya replied, drumming his fingers softly on the table top.
Omi laughed and almost choked on the bite of muffin he'd just stuffed into his mouth. "Yohji's not gonna like that," he explained as Aya arched one eyebrow in a questioning look.
Aya shrugged. "Yohji's so tired, he'll probably sleep all day. What the stalker doesn't know won't hurt him … or me." He paused and watched as Omi drained his coffee and finished off the muffin. "They're going out tonight for Ken's birthday. Yohji told me to let you know, in case you wanted to go."
Omi groaned softly. "Ugh … I can't believe I forgot Ken's birthday. I didn't even get him a gift."
Aya waved his hand in front of his face in a dismissive gesture and replied, "Don't worry about it. It's already taken care of. We got him some new soccer cleats, a new ball, and season tickets for his favorite team. Hank picked them up for me yesterday."
"Wow!" Omi exclaimed. "That's a great gift. I can't believe that you remembered to get anything."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Aya asked, his voice involuntarily taking on a hurt, defensive tone.
Omi's eyes widened slightly at the hurt he heard in Aya's voice, and he quickly stammered, "No … nothing. It's … it's just … well, not really … like you."
Aya frowned as he considered Omi's statement. "Yeah," he finally replied, his voice an embarrassed mumble, "I guess that's true."
He felt distinctly uncomfortable, and he stared at the table slightly in front of the folded paper as he tried to talk his body out of doing what his mind so desperately wanted to do, which was bolt from the kitchen and retreat back upstairs to the solitude of his room. Yohji's efforts during his illness had finally made him realize that the other team members really did care about him, that he wasn't alone, and that he had a place to belong. Consequently, he had decided to make a stab at opening up to them more, to "rejoin the land of the living", as Yohji put it, but he was finding it a lot harder than he would have expected. It seemed that he had closed himself off emotionally for so long that he was out of practice in dealing with other people, and he was beginning to wonder if it was even worth the bother. Things had seemed a lot easier when everyone just steered clear of him.
Finally, he continued, "Well, don't give me too much credit. The season tickets are the real gift. The ball and cleats … well, I kind of owed him for those." He glanced up at Omi, and, in response to the question in the boy's eyes, he shrugged and said, "Bubba." He curled his mouth distastefully as he said the dog's name. "He sort of … ate … Ken's old pair of shoes … and the ball, along with Yohji's favorite leather jacket and my favorite sweater. You'd better just pray he doesn't get into your room."
Omi started to laugh, but the serious look on Aya's face stopped him. He paused for a few moments, picking at the empty paper that had previously held the muffin. Finally, he asked, in a soft voice, "Are you really OK, Aya?"
"Yeah," Aya replied. He studied the table in front of him as he continued, "I'm going to tell Manx to take me off the injured list." As Omi started to protest, Aya waved his hand at the boy, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "I don't like the rest of you covering for me. Everyone is exhausted, and it's just a matter of time before someone slips up during a mission. I don't want that on my head. It's been two months. There's no reason for me to be lazing around while the rest of you are beating yourselves up trying to keep up with Persia's demands. Besides, Manx has told me, more than once, that Persia thinks I'm a burnout. They're thinking about retiring me. They haven't come right out and said it yet, but the writing's on the wall … for anyone who knows how to read it."
Omi's eyes widened at Aya's last statement. He wouldn't have ever guessed that Persia would actually threaten Aya, his favorite assassin. Finally, he said, "That can't be right, Aya. I can't believe Persia would retire you … any of the rest of us, maybe, but not you. Does Yohji know?"
"Hell, no," Aya replied. "And, you'd best not tell him, either. It's just supposition on my part at this point, and, if I go back on active status, hopefully, it'll remain nothing more than supposition. Plus, that idiot is way too overprotective. If he found out what I think, he'd go off half-cocked and do something stupid, like get himself killed. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." He glanced down at his watch, and effectively ended their conversation by saying, "Aren't you late?"
Omi followed Aya's lead and looked at his own watch. "Shit! Yeah. I'd better go. I'm never gonna make it in time, as it is." The boy hurriedly moved toward the sink and dumped the empty coffee cup into it, sighing in frustration. "That means another morning of sitting in the damn principal's office for being late. I swear … I already missed so much school while you were sick that they're probably gonna declare me a juvenile delinquent or something."
Aya shook his head and laughed softly, "If they want to consider you a delinquent, I think they have much better reasons than being late for class and skipping school."
Just as he finished speaking, the door creaked open, and Hank stepped into the kitchen from the outside. He shivered and stamped his feet as he removed his shoes and waved at Aya.
"Mornin', Ran … Omi. It's colder 'n a witch's tit out there this mornin'," he said, with a smile.
Bubba shot out from under the table with a throaty growl at the sudden intrusion, which prompted Hank to glare at the dog and drawl, "Listen here, mister. You'd best not go forgettin' who saved yer sorry ass."
Bubba stopped as if he had been hit between the eyes with a baseball bat. He stood stiffly in front of Hank for a long few moments, as if he was trying to decide whether the man would taste like chicken. Finally, the dog moved forward and poked his nose into Hank's open hand with a whine of greeting. Hank dropped to his knees to pet Bubba, scratching behind his ears and thumping his sides.
"Great timing," Aya said, rising from his chair and draining his coffee cup. "There's fresh coffee, if you want some. Can you go ahead and open the shop for me? I'm going to drive Omi to school. I'll be back in about thirty minutes or so."
"Sure," Hank replied. He gave Aya a questioning look and said, "I thought Yohji said you couldn't work the morning shift. Isn't he working for you this morning?"
Aya frowned and shrugged. "The stalker's sleeping. He had kind of a hard night last night, so I wouldn't expect him to be down today. Ken, either. So, it's just you and me … unless you've got a problem with that?"
Hank laughed and moved to the cupboard to retrieve a coffee mug. "No, no," he replied, waving his hands in the air in front of him. "I've hardly seen you in the past two months, so it'll be good to spend some time with you."
Aya stared in horror as the other man proceeded to pour coffee into the mug and retrieve a muffin from the bread box. When Hank turned around and saw the look on Aya's face, he nervously placed the muffin on the counter, and asked, "What's wrong? Isn't it OK for me to have a muffin?" He looked from Aya to Omi and then said, defensively, "Omi always lets me have one."
"You just petted the dog," Aya said in a tone of utter horror. "Shouldn't you wash your hands?"
Hank shook his head and rolled his eyes at the ceiling as he leaned back against the sink and took a large bite out of the muffin. "You need to loosen up, Ran," he said, laughing, "You sound just like a little, old granny."
Aya glared at Omi when the boy was unable to stifle a giggle at Hank's statement. As he moved toward the door and started to shrug into his coat, Omi protested, "Aya … you really don't have to take me. I mean … I can walk. It's no problem."
"Don't be stupid," Aya replied as he finished pulling on the coat. "It's cold, and you already look like shit. Besides, you're late, right?" He picked up Omi's book bag and held it out to the boy, clearly putting an end to any argument on Omi's part. As Omi pushed past him to exit their apartment, Aya looked back at Hank, who was still contentedly munching on the muffin. "I'm never eating anything that comes out of that bread box again," he muttered under his breath, exiting the kitchen and pulling the door closed behind him.Bubba sat in the middle of the now-silent kitchen, staring forlornly at the door. The dog whined mournfully and looked as if he had lost his best friend. After a few seconds, the door opened again, and Aya's head popped into the kitchen.
"Well, come on, then," he snapped at the dog.
Hank laughed and reached for another muffin as Bubba happily trotted out of the kitchen after Aya.