Author’s Note: Even as I write this, I’m not positive I’ve gotten Schuldig correct, even more by the fact that most of this chapter is written from his point of view, and in the first person (something I almost never do because it’s excruciatingly difficult). Again, events are put into random order, though it makes sense if one takes the time to put the various situations in their logical order. Feedback would be greatly appreciated but as always, enjoy.
[Written on January 17th of 2003 to August 1st of 2005]
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz, other numerous people hold the rights to it; I just borrow the characters, put them through various incidents, throw some angst their way and then return them as they were, usually.
------------------------------
“Shattered Sunlight”
Chapter Two: Domestic Interval
The man sat comfortably in the executive chair of the deeply shadowed office, a thick Cuban cigar pressed tight in between his lips. His mouth was set in a flat line as he turned over various topics and subjects in his mind, occasionally a hand rose and stroked a thick black mustache, his brow narrowed and wrinkles formed on his high forehead as a result. Among the shadows, it was hard to discern the exact color of his skin and therefore, a guess on his nationality was anyone’s guess, his clothes were simple; a dark blue business suit, though he had abandoned the jacket long ago, he stifled a growl when the door to the office vibrated and rattled verifying the presence of someone outside who desired a word with him.
Without having to look, as his fingers had had years of practice at this particular action, the middle-aged man compressed the small gray button to open the door underneath his desk, turning around abruptly with a severe glare grounded in his dark green eyes, he was not happy that his reverie had been interrupted by those who he considered beneath him, and not worth the notice he had to view them with.
“What is it now? I’ve told you before those files can wait until tomorrow morning, now let me be.”
“But, sir, it’s not about the clients’ files, it’s about Fujimiya Ran.”
“Report now!”
“Right, thank you, sir. Eye witness testimony affirms the fact his talent-“
Impatience for the usual polite babbling his assistant was prone to, made the man slam his fist to the desk surface, sending a few items situated on it spiraling to the floor beneath them. “To the point, lad, to the point! Has his talent manifested itself yet or not?”
“Yes, sir, it has been confirmed that there is a chance, that under the right circumstances, it will fully manifest, however th-“
“Spit it out!”
As if folding into himself, his assistant spoke hurriedly, dread evident in his voice even though it was apparent he tried to suppress it, considering the information he revealed, the man was a little grateful, though he would never reveal this out loud. “In the reports sent as of late, our contacts place a strange German, who speaks particularly good English and Japanese at Fujimiya’s side.”
The older man was motionless for so long, Sakamoto Koji was afraid he hadn’t heard him speak at all, the assistant started when his employer sat up abruptly, and cursed in a variety of foreign languages colorfully. “Schuldig, that damned telepath! Sinking his claws in the man already!”
It took a collection of moments for the man’s shoulders to unhitch and his breathing to return to its normal rhythm, Koji spent this time wondering just how his employer had gotten to the position he had today, with the little supply of sanity he had at his disposal. “Well, no matter, we’ll have him in our possession in due time; Sakamoto, send out a recovery team at once.”
Koji bowed deeply before heading towards the door, he’d always been extremely agreeable around the man, not out of fear but of caution, he’d seen some people who had entered this office come out dead or worse, he forcibly turned his mind away from the matter, he didn’t want to wake up from yet another nightmare tonight. “Oh, and Sakamoto?”
The assistant turned slowly, expecting his employer to hit him or reprimand him for not reporting this news earlier, but the man still sat firmly in her chair, his face screwed into a most unpleasant expression, as if he’d hit upon the correct torture method for his moral enemy, nonetheless, Koji swallowed and continued to play the role he had been granted (unfairly) by fate. “Yes, sir?”
His voice came out coldly, perhaps too coldly for the matter he was discussing, however beyond it, Koji could sense a kind of repressed glee, as if this truly appeased him. “His sister, the girl Aya, is expendable, make a note of this and make sure each team member is aware of this fact.”
Koji couldn’t stop himself from displaying his reaction, his very being was aware of the fact it was wrong, deeply wrong for someone, even his employer, to view people as mere playthings to be put into their place, whether they liked it or not. “But-Sir, she’s an innocent. My God, she’s only-“
The man’s response was immediately, his usually deep and gravelly voice near booming now, clearly lecturing, displeased his words had been dismissed so swiftly, never did the thought he had suggested something mortally wrong cross his mind. “Sakamoto, allow me to enlighten you on a fact of life, if one wants to get ahead, sacrifices have to made, it’s an inevitable part of living; if you ever hope to make it past your current position, you’d do well to abandon your sentimentality before it becomes a weakness others can exploit, am I understood?”
“Y-Yes, sir, have a good evening.” Bowing upon again, Koji retreated as calmly he could manage, though a torrent of rage coiled inside him, and he wished for nothing more than the means to wipe his employer’s existence from the world itself, however things being as they currently were, Koji contented himself with the fact, all those in power even fell, mostly by their own doing.
When the door had firmly closed, the man stood before the glass windows, looking out upon the city of Tokyo, which seemed to shine all the more brightly once he had gazed upon it, after a few moments, the ends of his mouth shifted, and a broad smile overtook his features.
If all were as planned, there would yet another addition to the growing force of his organization, and as powerful as Fujimiya’s talent was rumored, there was much the man could accomplish with it, but for the moment however, he would have to bid his time, and if the imbeciles serving underneath him did not acquire Fujimiya, there was always such a thing as doing the work himself.
------------------------------------
A single strand of sunlight, unpleasantly shining and cheerful, falls through the dark curtains of the window, slowly making its way towards the large King size bed in the corner of the room, consisting of white silk sheets, I being of the two grown men tangled within their depths. Another strand joins its kin, and I am standing in within a moment, treading across the white-carpeted floor to draw the curtain, knowledgeable of the late hours of the morning I kept, and how emotionally exhausted the man who shared my bed last night is. He will surely sleep out the morning, and part of the afternoon, given the extent of our past activities.
Before my tan fingers grasp the dark blue material of the curtain, I look aside, in the direction of the pale man resting comfortably on the bed, his bare upper chest slowly rising and falling steadily, so deep in slumber, I doubt even the rising of the sun could rouse him. He is facing the wall, body strewn in such a fashion it would seem uncomfortable but he has not moved from this position in more than two hours.
One of his arms is tucked underneath his person, the other resting on the white cotton pillow beneath his head; the fingers of the hand are tangled in one of the ear tails that has fallen over his shoulder. Though his lower torso is buried amongst sheets, I can discern the vague form of his legs, bent so the left knee is pressing against the underside of his right leg. For all his protests, he fits the very description of a katze [cat], possessing the same flexibility and temperament of said creature.
His crimson hair, a red so bright, at first glance it would seem blood, is messed and tangled, single strands of the mane betraying the short and orderly manner in which the man lives his life. Set in that face rests a pair of dark violet eyes, so outlandish, it seems absurd to state that he is indeed of Japanese descent, and finally yet importantly, is the flesh of that handsome body, of pale sheen, a white that nearly matches the pallid sheets which upon he rests. Whenever my gaze rests on him for a lengthy period of time, I am reminded of those ancient marble statues in Europe, the continent where I spent my childhood, that seemed so impossibly beautiful, you’d never think of actually touching the statue for fear it would shatter at first contact.
As I draw the curtains over the expense of window, I feel a smile broaden over my mouth, overtaking the smug expression in which my face is usually set. That dark beautiful creature is mine, these fingers having traced and memorized every curve of that body, my mind having absorbed the wide array of his emotions and the bulk of his past, and still, I feel there is yet more to lay claim to, after all, Fujimiya Ran, is a very complex man, indeed.
I pad softly across the carpet, coming to rest before the frame of the bed, taking a moment to gaze at his profile before reaching over and pulling the covers up to his shoulders, the goose bumps I spied from my place at the window, immediately dissipating upon contact with the silky material, shortly after, I leave the darkness of the room, to enter the short hallway that connects to the bedroom, slowly weaving my way into the living room of the rented apartment.
The medium sized space we will inhabit for the next two weeks is barely furnished, consisting of the bare necessities, and little else, the five rooms that make up the apartment (the two bedrooms, the kitchen, the living room and a bathroom); predictably so, the kitchen is the largest, most of the appliances taking said space, leaving a small strip of linoleum to tread across and a wide countertop that extends into the living room, where two high chairs sit underneath the tip of the thick surface.
I reach out and grasp the refrigerator handle, raising my left hand to block some of the light, and then scan the contents, scoffing when I realize the appliance is nearly empty. It looks as if taking a leave of absence from the apartment is unavoidable, however, I will have to be very careful, for the two organizations that were, and still are, pursuing us are relentless, harboring dangerous agents and very willing to use every resource and connection to find a certain telepath and a somewhat novice pyrokinetic. I still find myself taken back when I recall that the swordsman does indeed possess such a talent, however latent it has become over the years of burying itself into Ran's consciousness.
Biting back a curse, I exit the kitchen and head to the bathroom where I take a moment to examine the face that reflects from the glassy surface of the mirror, unlike Ran, I do not own such exotic looks, but still consider myself attractive enough to catch the gaze of both men and women, of which I find myself drawn to on a regular basis. I run a hand through the long reddish orange locks that fall just to the edge of my collar bone irritably, idly reaching for the small bag that lies on the corner of the counter, instead of grabbing a bandana, I draw out a hair tie instead, partly because Ran and I are striving to keep a low profile, and because it is unlike the usual manner I keep.
Low profile or not, there are few telepathic foreigners that can speak near perfect Japanese, with a slight German accent that often comes out nasally. While I may joke about with Ran for imitating a cat, I possess the eyes of that domesticated creature, the dark green irises occasionally glowing in the dark, even more so when I am very excited or anticipating a certain physical activity.
As I dress, it vaguely occurs to me that even if we’d had an adequate amount of food, an outdoor extrusion would have still been needed since Ran had not the time to pack correctly, merely grabbing a few of the basic necessities before the Kritiker agents returned, but until I am certain he is indeed emotionally stable, given the circumstances that have led to this point, we can make do with what little we have for a few days.
I find myself abandoning my usual attire and opting instead for a long sleeved gray shirt, and a black pair of jeans that ride low on the hips, as I’m heading to the living room, I pause briefly then turn around, walking quietly across the floor of bedroom not a moment later, as not to disturb Ran, but his slumber is like that of the dead, long and ever lasting, and not easily awakened without great effort.
I brush aside a crimson ear tail, the fingers of my hand faintly compressing on the wide expense of his neck, noting a few bruises around the area of the collarbone, before I have the chance to feel self-satisfied, the body I’m leaning over stirs, one violet eye opening, and notching me with a stare.
Ran says nothing, but then that’s not a surprise because I don’t expect him to, as he is a man of action rather than words, he blinks at me for a few moments; perhaps wondering what I’m doing dressed and nearly draped over his bareback. I lay a hand on his forearm, and lay a light kiss on his cheek, the strands of his bangs briefly tickling my face, as I draw back, I speak low and hushed, unsure of how the man is feeling about my presence or the recent developments in our relationship.
“I’m going out for a while, I didn’t think to check the fridge for food last night, and I’m pretty sure we’re going to need some in the next few days.”
He nods, a movement barely perceivable to the untrained eye, but I’ve spent more than enough time in his company to begin mastering the various emotions he displays through movement rather than words. Ran is clearly not pleased with the thought of exiting this sanctuary even for a little while, though it is clearly necessary, and cannot be postponed.
The temperature of Ran’s skin vaults, shifting from moderately warm to burning hot and I start, pulling my hand away from his forearm in surprise and for the consideration of my flesh. “Your talent is still unstable, it’s playing havoc with your damn body temperature again. I may have to pick up some ice as well while I’m out, are you going to be able to repress it while I’m gone?”
Ran begins to speak then stops for a moment to clear his throat.
“I’ll be fine, Schu. I have enough control now that I won’t overheat, I won’t let it. Just go, and be back soon,” He says softly then lays his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes, I watch him for a few minutes, making sure he’s not letting his pride overwhelm common sense, and suffers for it later.
As I turn away, an hand jerks my elbow back, and before I can sense Ran’s intention, his mouth is pressed against mine is a searing kiss, forceful and gentle simultaneously, just before he can extract himself, I nip his bottom lip, asking agreement to delve deeper, the high body temperature just enhancing the pleasure, lining it with a thread of pain.
The wet cavity opens wider, and I eagerly plunge into it, pressing closer to Ran all the while, ever careful to avoid direct contact with his flesh; he is anything but disagreeable, as his hands are clutching tightly at the material of my arms, the tips of said fingers nearly ashen. I pull back, considering the ever-rising need to breathe, and Ran’s low tolerance for external body heat at the moment, we remain as we are for a full minute, the sound of both our breaths ringing uneven, unable to shatter the impassioned air we’ve wrought around us.
It is I who dare break this idyllic peace by leaning forward and pushing a hand through the crimson strands, knowledgeable of the smug and contended smirk that is spread broad on my mouth, out of all the drugs I have stumbled upon and experimented with, Ran is the most addictive.
With great effort, I pull myself away from the man, fingers slipping through a long silken strand of his hair, a bit bedraggled but no less eye-catching, I have but a moment to glimpse the swift flash of regret on his face and then he abruptly resumes his position on the bed, the muscles in his bare back notably tensed by the havoc his talent is playing upon his body. Had I not a few more moments to spare, I would offer to massage the newly formed knot out, but as it is usually is; circumstances such as that, usually lead us into a time-consuming activity.
Retrieving my jacket from the coat rack, I proceed out the door, locking the two deadbolts that are firmly stationed outside the door, though I myself know that if any of the organizations in search of Ran and I were in the right mind, they would send someone who would easily have the capability to overcome the locks, putting this out of my mind however, I walk through the hallway down towards the stairs that will take me down six flights and to the exit of the apartment building.
In our haste during the events of last night, I had taken the first living space that had been available, easily making it seem to the owner of apartment building that I had always lived here, and my rent had been paid in advance for a number of months (of course). The building had been located in a rather classy area, so I will not have to walk far to find the supplies we will need in the next few weeks, most of which is food and other necessities, but I am also considering purchasing clothes for Ran.
His life had been destroyed along with his sister, who the man had barely been living with for a few months, and her method of execution would no doubt cause Ran some drama when he finally faced that revelation, I had not the time needed to inspect what had become of the Fujimiya’s apartment closely but Aya had stood out, as she was most likely supposed to, someone had intentionally desired to break Ran fully and completely.
It is with a bitter smile that I think this; flashing back to the former assassin’s expression as I held him against the alley wall as he stared inwardly as only those who have lost their mind, or are close to, are able to do. Despite being distracted by my thoughts, I keep a keen eye about me, particularly around the people surrounding me, for if one lets their guard down, who is to say what will happen, particularly in the situation I am in?
As I visit the various places needed to acquire what we need, my talent, as always, is particularly versatile as I am able to walk into a location, pick up what is needed and then walk out, having utterly convinced the cashier I have paid for all the items in hand, it is also such that the customers frequenting the shop will never even remember I was present. However, I know that if I overuse my talent, I will pay the price later on but I disregard this, and concentrate on the task I am doing, for Ran’s sake and my own, if anyone does remember I was around, the fault will rest solely on my shoulders.
Only when I have entered a clothing store do I pause, and after a moment of thinking, reach out to contact Ran via telepathy, prodding gently with a metaphysical touch, the former assassin stirs but doesn’t fully awaken, amusingly, I find myself pulled in the current dream he is having, and looking on, I am a bit startled to find Ran lying in bed that feels vaguely familiar, it’s only when another figure shifts from the recesses that I peer closer.
When the man who I know as Balinese throws an arm around his teammate’s waist, I step forward but as I’m only a visitor in this dream, I am transparent, and unable to interact with the current surroundings around me, a bit irritated by this, I watched as Ran turns over and glares at Kudoh lightly before creeping out of the bed quietly, slipping on clothes he pulls from the closet near him; as he exits the room, I follow, my interest in Balinese not extending to watching the man slumber.
The boy known as Bombay waves at Ran from his seat at the kitchen table, a smile spread widely across his face, I grimace, it’s obvious Omi is a morning person, and as one that never gets out of bed before noon unless I absolutely have to, it’s repulsive. The man who is dreaming this, however, is also a morning person but somehow I am able to forgive this, as Ran proceeds to make an exceedingly elaborate breakfast, I begin to feel just a bit jaded, however this feeling is quickly dispelled when the egg Ran breaks begins to bleed heavily into the pan it is positioned above.
As if it were a living thing, the broken egg continues to bleed, quickly filling up the pan and overflowing over the cabinets and onto the floor, Ran jerks away from the approaching liquid and turns to Omi, who has mysteriously disappeared, near panicking, the assassin proceeds to the room where Yohji is still asleep, but Balinese has too vacated the premises, and assuming Siberian was never imagined in the dream, Ran slowly realizes he is alone, and almost resigned, watches the blood approach, his face anything but impassive as shapes begin to make themselves evident in the crimson fluid, fast approaching the man’s waist now.
I shout at him but he doesn’t to seem to hear me, and when bodies raise from the blood, one of which looks decidedly like his deceased sister, something changes in the fabric of the dream, and suddenly, Ran’s head jerks towards me just as voices begin to speak, he clearly doesn’t recognize me but calls for help in a somewhat distorted voice, snatching him from the dream metaphysically, I come to find myself huddled on the floor of the clothing shop, leaning against a display heavily as I struggle to steady my breath.
A nightmare, I hadn’t even expected it, and as I pull myself from the floor, the few people that had stopped to wonder what had been wrong with the weird foreigner suddenly turn away, their interest in their previous activities more important. Groaning lightly, I exit the clothing shop, cursing underneath my breath, for having to pull Ran from such a thing has near exhausted me, and I’m very aware that the man will not remember it when I arrive back at the apartment, he’ll only recall the overall feeling of the dream, not what occurred exactly.
Summoning a taxi, I spend the short drive back to the apartment wondering just how I can explain my irritation at him without forcing him to remember the dream extensively.
To Be Continued…