“Aya! There’s a letter for you!” Yohji called up the stairs of the latest place that Omi always insisted on referring to as ‘home’. This time there was no flower shop and he actually missed it. It was all too easy to get bored between missions. "I've put it on the hall table!"
He left the letter on the hall table and wandered into the kitchen to put the coffee-maker on.
Aya looked up from the book he was reading, slipped his reading glasses off and put the book aside. Just as well, he’d been sitting still for too long, trying to fight the boredom of being stuck with nothing to occupy his time.
It was getting so bad he’d begun to think about finding a part time job somewhere just to keep himself from dying of boredom.
He went down the stairs and found the letter exactly where Yohji said it would be. A slight smile broke out on his face when he saw that it was from Aya-chan. They still kept in contact, exchanging the occasional letter, and birthday cards.
He tore the letter open carefully and started to read.
Dear Ran,
I know Sakura told me how you’d paid for my hospital bills, took my name, and avenged our parents and, although I don’t know how you could bring yourself to do such things, I can forgive all of that.
What I can’t forgive is knowing that you still do these terrible things. That the money you send is blood money. I want no more of it ever.
Unless you stop killing people and come home I want no more contact between us. My brother will be dead. I believe he may already be dead inside.
I am giving you one week to decide. After that I shall be shutting the Koneko and moving away from Tokyo, possibly even Japan. I will not give you a forwarding address and I will accept no more of your ill-gotten gains.
I’m not entirely certain why you kept one of these earrings but I’ve enclosed the other for you. If you wish to return both to me, it will need to be in person and as a florist not a killer.
Your sister Fujimiya Aya
Aya carefully folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope, each motion slow and precise, the earring going back inside the envelope. He turned, walked slowly up the steps, entered his room and shut the door.
He went back to his chair by the window, the letter still clutched in his hand. He sat down, pulled it out and read it a second time, some of the numb disbelief falling away, his mind wrapping around the words.
Unless you stop killing people and come home I want no more contact between us. My brother will be dead. I believe he may already be dead inside.
One week to decide.
But he knew what his decision would be already. He reached up and took off the mate to the earring in the envelope and dropped it inside before he put the whole thing into a box in his closet that held the few things he’d kept, a picture of his family before the end of his world. A picture of Aya-chan smiling.
The last tiny glimmering of life died in his eyes as he closed the box and said a silent farewell to the last fragment of humanity, of love he’d retained.
So much death and blood. And this his final reward.
Foolish of him to think he deserved more than this, a murderer with bloody hands.
He deserved nothing.
And nothing was now all he had.
Shaking slightly in reaction he went back to his chair by the window, sat down, picked up his book, put his reading glasses on and tried to pretend it didn’t matter.
But it did.
A tear slid down his pale cheek, fell into the book and slipped down the page while he sat there staring at nothing remembering a little girl he’d taken to fly kites in a lifetime he could hardly accept as his own anymore.
* * *
Yohji turned on the coffee pot and waited for it to do its thing. While he waited he heard Aya come downstairs and retrieve his letter. He half expected him to come into the kitchen, wanting to share the latest bit of news from his beloved sister but he didn’t, he went back upstairs.
Yohji frowned. Not bad news, he hoped. He dug out the tin that contained Aya’s favourite blend of green tea and made a pot of the beverage.
By this time the coffee maker had finished rumbling and gurgling and he poured himself a mug. Placing mug, pot and tea bowl on a tray he headed upstairs and knocked on Aya’s door. “I come bearing tea,” he called through the door.
“Go away.”
“Well, that’s gratitude for you! I go to all the trouble of making you a pot of tea and you tell me to go away!”
His words were light, teasing but he was frowning. Aya’s voice had been colder than it had been for a long time.
Abyssinian’s eyes narrowed and he rose from the chair, putting the book he’d been holding aside he stalked to the door.
The door opened, hard violet eyes regarding Yohji, “I have asked for nothing from you, Kudoh. I want nothing from you. Expect nothing from me.” The door started to swing shut in Yohji’s face. “And from now on you can either address me as Fujimiya or Abyssinian. Not Aya. Not Ran.”
“Well fuck you too, Abyssinian!” He deliberately emphasised the codename as the door shut in his face.
Muttering about uptight, neurotic ice bitches he marched back down the stairs and dumped the tray on the kitchen table with a clatter that made Omi, busily rummaging through the fridge, nearly jump out of his skin.
“Yohji-kun! You nearly made me drop the eggs!”
“Sorry, bishonen, that wasn’t directed at you. There’s some tea here if you want it. His Royal Bitchiness doesn’t seem very thirsty.”
Ken looked up from his bowl of cereal. “What’s got you so pissed at Aya this time?”
“Not Aya, Kenken. From now on we’re to address him as Abyssinian or Fujimiya!”
Omi looked round at that, blue eyes wide. “Yohji-kun if this is one of your jokes…”
“No joke.” He sat at the table cradling his coffee and frowning into the distance.
Ken frowned. “What got up his ass this time I wonder?”
“I don’t know. All I know is he got a letter from his sister and then went all ice…” He stared. “He’s taken his earring out.”
Omi sighed. “You don’t think she’s died, do you?”
Yohji shook his head. “No, it was her writing on the envelope.”
“I’ve never seen him without the earring,” Ken remarked. “Well, on a couple of missions, but,” the brunette shook his head and stared down into his cereal his appetite suddenly gone in the face of something being wrong with their friend.
“Not Aya, not Ran… I think we need to find out what was in that letter,” Yohji said.
“Yohji-kun! That’s private correspondence!”
“Yeah? Well if you want a half-crazed ice bitch at your back next mission, that’s your decision. Personally I don’t.”
“He’s right Omi-kun. We need to find out what happened. It might have put us in danger.”
Omi looked very unhappy but finally he nodded. “How are we going to get him out of his room?” he asked.
Ken looked at Yohji, “Any suggestions?”
“The way he is at the moment? None at all. I’ve stayed alive this long and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Right,” Ken said. “Well short of cold-cocking him and searching while he’s out, we’ll just have to wait until he goes out on his own.”
Omi joined them at the table and sat down rather abruptly. “Suddenly I’m not hungry,” he said.
“Me either,” Ken agreed getting up to discard the cereal he no longer had the stomach for, watching it go into the trash disposal with a glum expression. “We need to find out what that letter said.”
“Yeah we do,” Yohji agreed. “But whatever it was it made him take out his earring and drop her name like a ton of hot bricks…and his own.”
“I don’t like this. It almost sounds like she’s dead, yet...” the brunet was trying to get his mind around something, an answer to what might have occurred that remained just out of reach.
“There’s no point in us sitting here speculating,” Omi said. “We won’t know until we get a look at that letter.”
The sound of the redhead coming down the stairs made Ken shoot a warning glance at his team mates. “Well I was thinking of going to a movie later. Do either of you two want to go?” he asked, artfully changing the subject.
“Depends what’s on Kenken. If it’s got Tom Cruise pretending to be a samurai in it I don’t want to know,” Yohji said. He took a sip of his coffee carefully studying Aya from over his cup. The man looked, well gorgeous as usual, but there was something else. He looked like he had when Schrient had kidnapped his sister.
Aya was dressed to go out, boots on his feet, a long dark red coat wrapped around his slender body. They could just make out the black leather cuffs of his pants. He said nothing to the other three killers, just scooping his keys off the hook in the hallway.
The eyes that swept them were frozen, like the petals of a violet encased in a layer of ice.
Omi shivered as that gaze swept over him but being Omi he had to try. “Good morning, Aya-kun.”
“Don’t. Call. Me. Aya. Fujimiya, yes. Abyssinian, yes. Nothing else.” His eyes narrowed, “And don’t talk to me at all unless it’s about a mission.” He stepped into the kitchen, paused and then spun on the ball of his foot, his coat flaring behind him.
Behind him Omi looked ready to burst into tears.
“There was no need for any of that you bastard,” Yohji snarled.
The door slamming closed was the man’s only reply.
“Shit...” Ken muttered as he put an arm around Omi, “don’t cry, Omi-kun. He’s... just not himself.”
“When is he?” Yohji asked rhetorically. “Now’s our chance to find that letter.” He winced at the sound of Aya’s car being driven away at speed, engine revving. “While he fucks up his gear box.”
“Man, something is seriously wrong with him,” Ken stated as they heard the squeal of tires. “Yeah, the sooner we find that letter the better.”
Omi sighed but nodded his agreement and lead the way upstairs.
Yohji was surprised when the door opened easily. He’d half expected it to be locked. They all trooped in and looked around. There was no sign of the letter.
Omi crossed the room and opened the closet while Yohji and Ken started on the drawers. They searched silently for a few minutes until Omi cursed softly.
The fact that Omi rarely cursed made Yohji look round. The youngest Weiss was reading a letter, hand to his mouth. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he kept repeating.
Ken walked over to Omi, “You found it? What does it say?” he asked as he peered over the younger man’s shoulder trying to see what Omi was holding.
Wordlessly Omi held the paper out to them so they could read it.
“Oh fuck,” Yohji said, “bitchiness sure seems to run in that family!”
“After all he did for her,” Omi whispered.
Ken stared at it for the longest time, quiet, of them all he understood what it was like to be betrayed, to be spurned by someone you loved. “This is... awful. What the hell can we do about this?’ he asked the other two.
“Make sure he’s back at the Koneko being a florist by the end of the week,” Yohji said seriously. “He’s got something to go back to unlike the rest of us.”
Ken’s dark gaze met Yohji’s in a hard stare. “Does he? Think about it Yohji. We’re all bloody handed killers. I seem to remember you telling me that the one time I had a chance to get out and break away from this.”
“Stop it both of you,” Omi said. “Ken-kun, you never had a chance to get out. Yohji-kun, you know Aya-kun won’t be allowed to leave either.”
“Perhaps someone should tell his sweet little sister that! When I think of what he went through for that bitch!”
“I know,” Omi said quietly. “I think someone needs to go to the Koneko and explain the facts of life to Aya-chan.” He folded the letter, put it back in the envelope and closed the box before putting it back where he’d found it.
* * *
The man who had no name but that of his dead family, or the name the killer was known by stared at the lock on the door and tried to fit the key in, but stubbornly it wouldn’t go.
The man frowned and tried again, his whole body swaying unsteadily as he leaned even closer to the door. This time the top of his head bumped the hard wood and he stood there, bent over at the waist vainly trying to fit the key to his car into the door of their safe house, too trashed to understand why it wasn’t working.
Yohji heard the car and then the unmistakable sounds of a drunken person trying to get into the house. Aya had been drinking? No not Aya, he reminded himself. Yet another part of the redhead had died today.
Sighing slightly, he put aside the book he’d been reading and went to open the door. What he saw on the other side was one very drunk Abyssinian.
With the sudden departure of the door his head had been resting against, Abyssinian lost his already precarious balance and stumbled forward his skull bumping into something softer than a door.
Violet eyes tried to focus on the barrier, realizing he was looking at a pair of feet that led to legs which ended at a tightly jean clad crotch.
He took a deep breath, taking in the unmistakable scent of cigarettes, and enticing musky spice that was Kudoh Yohji.
“You okay…Abyssinian?” Yohji’s voice was warm, husky almost.
The killer managed to right himself, but he was swaying dangerously, “Yes,” he growled, the word badly slurred. He tried to take a step and teetered before stumbling into Yohji, his arms going around the blond, their faces very close.
Aya smelled of peaches.
Yohji took a deep breath full of Aya’s shampoo, booze and the smoke from whatever bar he’d been in. It was a heady concoction and it made him instantly hard. He blinked. Where the hell had that come from? He liked women, damn it, not this red-haired, bitchy ice queen.
The violet eyes were half lidded, Abyssinian’s head tipped back slightly to expose his throat. “I lost my soul in a sea of blood that’s washed everything away, even my name...” the drunken red-head said quite clearly.
Yohji wanted to cry when he heard that but he’d cried out all his tears a long time ago. “Come in out of the cold,” he said, deliberately avoiding giving the redhead any name at all. “I’ll make you some coffee.”
The red-haired man didn’t resist as Yohji led him into the house. He did make a soft sound, somewhere between a grunt and a moan, stumbling and almost pulling both of them to the floor.
“Easy there, Ay…Abyssinian,” Yohji said and parked him on a chair in the kitchen. He went back to shut the door before coming back and reaching into a cabinet for the coffee.
Violet eyes watched the blonde moving around the kitchen, taking in Yohji’s grace, the beauty of his form as if seeing the man for the first time.
Yohji made two mugs of coffee and placed one in front of Aya. “Drink that,” he said. “You’ll still feel like shit in the morning, of course, but that’s entirely your own fault, isn’t it?”
The man with no name stared into the darkness of the coffee, “I feel like shit all the time,” he whispered.
“And you really think the rest of us don’t?” Yohji asked suddenly angry. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. “How do you think Omi felt this morning? How do you think Ken felt when he had to kill Kase? What makes you think you’ve cornered the fucking market on suffering?”
The violet eyes narrowed and a cup of coffee sailed for Yohji’s head, “FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!” he screamed and surged to his feet, realizing his error.
Never show weakness to anyone, because they will only throw it back into your face. He’d learned that with his first team. Learned the lesson a second time with Crashers.
He’d managed to hold his distance for so long, and he’d just slipped. For a tiny instant he’d slipped and there it was, back in his face like bitter poison.
Yohji ducked and the cup sailed across the kitchen, it’s contents like a comet’s tail, to smash against the fridge.
“What the fuck?” Yohji also rose to his feet and grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders. “You push us away for fucking YEARS and then you start to behave like a human being and now this!” he roared.
But that heady aroma of shampoo, booze and something undeniably Aya was back in his nostrils and all he could see was the fine curve of the redhead’s mouth.
The red-haired man struggled, too drunk to make much of a fight of it. He wound up falling against Yohji, their bodies touching and he could feel the blonde’s warmth, painfully aware of being touched.
How long had it been since he’d felt a lover’s touch? Something that wasn’t artificial? Part of a mission?
He’d long ago forgotten what it felt like to surrender control, to just submit to pleasure.
He leaned into Yohji, closed his eyes, stealing a moment, letting himself be weak for that fleeting instant. But he’d been the cold killer, the unfeeling bastard for so long, he couldn’t even derive any enjoyment out of it.
And Yohji, beautiful green eyed Yohji was straight.
He inhaled the man’s scent, one he’d always remembered since the day he’d woken up in Yohji’d bed. Since he’d let the man give him the name he’d carried for so long.
A name no longer his to use.
Yohji went mission still as he felt Aya lean into him. He was hard again and wondered what the hell was going on with him.
Ah but you know, don’t you, Kudoh, a wicked inner voice whispered, you’ve wanted him ever since you found him in your bed all those years ago.
He swallowed hard and did perhaps the most stupid thing he’d ever done in his life. He let go of Aya’s shoulders with one hand, lifted his chin and kissed him.
Abyssinian froze, not sure he was really feeling a mouth on his, lips touching his, a tongue slipping between lips he didn’t remember parting.
The shock of the kiss hit him. Yohji. It was Yohji kissing him. Or had he kissed the blonde? He didn’t know that either.
Wild-eyed he pulled away, stumbled and found himself going down hard to his knees at Yohji’s feet, the impact jolting him.
But it didn’t jolt his body nearly as much as the sight of the firm line of a cock in too tight jeans right at eye-level.
Yohji should have known what the reaction would be. Aya pushed himself away so hard that he fell to his knees. He sighed slightly, hoping that the redhead wouldn’t remember come morning. If he did then all his future would consist of was a painful and messy death.
Violet eyes stared at the erection straining at Yohji’s jeans. “Why are you hard?” the red head asked, his tone puzzled, too drunk to be more than totally blunt.
Now he really was going to die! But then again Aya was very, very drunk. “I’m hard, because I just kissed you and enjoyed it,” he said. “Do you have a problem with that too?”
Abyssinian fumbled with the buckles of his red duster trying to get them open, “Nope. No problem. Gotta get these clothes off.”
Yohji’s eyes widened in shock. Was he hearing things? Intrigued by just how far the redhead would take things he helped him with the buckles that were causing him such difficulty.
The assassin raised his head from what he was trying to do, saw a pair of very kissable lips and leaned forward just enough to get his mouth where he wanted it, pressed to that sexy mouth.
Yohji moaned. If he’d known all his Christmases were going to come at once, he’d have given the uptight prick kissing him a lot of drink long before now. His arms went round that pliant body and he returned the kiss with interest.
The moan from the blonde in his arms sent a flash of heat through the assassin and he pulled at the man’s clothes, his cock hard as the katana he owned. “Wanna fuck,” he growled. “Now.”
“Easy, baby,” Yohji said. “Let’s get this coat off you first.” He finally got all the buckles undone and the coat open revealing leather pants and a black t-shirt.
Abyssinian pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside before he reached for Yohji’s shirt. “Too slow.”
Yohji stared at the creamy chest now exposed to him and removed his own shirt like a man in a dream. Gods but Aya was beautiful. His hands moved to the redhead’s waist and started unfastening his pants.
Wrapped in a drunken haze, the red-haired man found himself staring at a sleek chest that melded into a narrow waist and a flat, nicely defined stomach which led down to the thing he wanted. He scrabbled at the button of Yohji’s jeans, managing to pop it open. He licked his lips and yanked at the zipper. “I want some cock.”
“You’ll get it, baby,” Yohji whispered and there was no doubt about it now. Things had gone too far between them for either of them to back out. He hauled down the redhead’s pants to find him just as hard.
Well, damn! Aya was gay and had been holding out on them all this time.
“Oh...” Abyssinian was staring at a beautifully proportioned cock that made his mouth water. He dropped to his knees and turned his head to take a taste, groaning as the flavour of pre-cum hit his tongue. “Tastes as good as it looks.”
The entirety of Yohji’s not inconsiderable cock vanished into the red-head’s mouth, the man’s nose hitting the golden curls of Yohji’s groin.
Yohji groaned aloud at both the feel of wet warmth surrounding him and the sight of Aya’s mouth engulfing him. He’d had too many wet dreams of this very act with this very man.
He pulled away before he lost all control and lifted the redhead to his feet. “Upstairs,” he said, “right now.”
The red-head actually looked disappointed, like a child that had lost a treat, or a special toy. “Wanted cock in my mouth. Tastes good.”
“Yeah, I know, baby. But let’s take this somewhere more comfortable… and private shall we?” He hauled the redhead to his unsteady feet, got one shoulder under an armpit and led him towards the stairs.
“S.. been a long time for me, Yohji. I wanna... suck dick and fuck too... you like to fuck..” Aya shook his head, “Haven’t had a cock since... Shion... Not a good cock... Yuushi was okay... but he wasn’t that great... Do you like to fuck men Yohji? Never saw you out with one... wanted to ask you... but...” Aya shrugged and almost slipped out of the blonde’s grip. It was becoming very evident that the booze was really starting to get hold of him, his speech becoming more slurred.
“Yeah, babe, I want to fuck you. Have done for years, in fact. Never thought I’d get the chance though.” He managed to get them both to his room and after a stumble and several curses onto the bed.
“Good. Suck then fuck,” Aya mumbled as he went for Yohji’s cock the way a baby went for a bottle, latching on and sucking with evident pleasure.
“You don’t waste any time do you, babe?” Yohji asked before he stopped thinking at all. The sensations Aya was sending through his body were causing his brain to go into meltdown.
Aya moaned as he licked and sucked the cock in his mouth. He'd wanted to do this for so long, wanted to make Yohji his, wanted to alternately fuck or have his brains fucked out by the blond for so long, but he'd repressed everything. His sexuality. His humanity until they'd all but died.
And if it weren't for the entire bottle of peach schnapps, he'd have never found a way to break out of the chains he'd worn for so long.
But, like sunrise, those chains would come back as soon as he was sober.
And if he remembered what he'd done tonight, he'd never talk about it. Even trashed he knew that and it saddened him because he would have liked to be human again. Would have liked to be Ran again.
But Ran was dead forever.
And the killer would only have one last night to pretend he was human.
Tonight. With Yohji.
Yohji gently eased away, his hand groping for the drawer in the nightstand. He pulled Aya close as his hand found what he was looking for and he triumphantly produced a tube of lube.
“Come here,” he whispered and kissed Aya deeply. If he was going to be gutted in the morning he might as well make the most of the here and now.
Oh, Aya, you poor fucked-up bastard, why did you wait so long for a bit of comfort?
He slowly moved down Aya’s body, kissing and nipping as he went.
Aya moaned, the kisses and touches adding to his already intense arousal until he just couldn't take it anymore. He pulled away from Yohji and got to his knees, "Fuck me. Wanna be fucked now!"
“So impatient, beautiful…” Yohji ran a reverent hand over Aya’s perfect ass, letting one finger trail over his puckered entrance. He drew the hand away and quickly spread lube over his fingers before returning the hand and gently inserting one finger.
Aya grunted softly at the intrusion and then turned to glare at Yohji, "Cock, Kudoh. Not fingers... don't want fingers. Wanna remember this in the morning. Wanna be sore from getting fucked good and hard." Aya actually laughed, and twisted his body to grab for Yohji's cock. "You got such a big dick, Yohji. No wonder you're so fucking popular."
“Yeah and if I try to ram it into you with no preparation you’re going to be more than fucking sore, you’re going to be torn you stupid prick. Now we do this my way or we don’t do it at all!”
"An' I'm not a stupid prick. I know what I like...like it rough..." Aya argued and looked at Yohji from hooded violet eyes that were bright with lust. "Like it when it hurts..."
Yohji added a third finger, ignoring the babble until Aya turned that violet gaze on him and told him he liked being hurt. For some reason the combination of the two went straight to his cock and he knew he couldn’t wait much longer.
He withdrew his fingers and pressed the head of his cock against the tight heat that was Aya. With one long thrust he was in and he had to stop for a moment in order to keep control.
It felt so good, so right, like coming home and he knew he’d just found what he’d been unwittingly searching out for years.
A low groan of pleasure rumbled through Aya's parted lips, "Good boy.... ahh... yes... so good..."
Yohji caught his breath then growled low in his throat before he began thrusting into that wonderful tight… home. His hands went to Aya’s hips and he pulled him back until he was virtually sitting on his lap. “Oh, baby, so perfect, so fucking right.”
"Talk too much... shut up and fuck..." Aya snarled as he rocked his own hips, trying to get that wonderful cock moving.
And then Yohji was thrusting in earnest, unable to resist temptation for even a second longer. He adjusted until a low groan told him he’d hit Aya’s pleasure spot, then took up a slow but steady rhythm.
Aya leaned into Yohji's embrace, crying out softly as every thrust struck home, took him into pleasure's bright mist, his whole body arching into the strokes, head falling back his hair against the blonde's cheek.
"Good... fucking good..." he moaned, his hands finding Yohji's and pulling them around him. "So good... Yohji..."
“Now…who…talk…ing?” Yohji asked in time to his thrusts. He didn’t really mind. Aya’s deep voice, especially in the throes of passion, was as sexy as the rest of that perfect body. A body that could have been made especially for him.
"Hn.." Aya's typical response came out as an impassioned groan as he moved with the blonde. Needing more he reached between his own thighs and grabbed hold of his cock, stroking himself roughly, wanting to cum.
With a snarl Yohji slapped his hand away, replacing it with his own. “Mine.”
The red-haired assassin shuddered at the commanding tone, "Yours.... Yohji.... yours..." but whether he meant his cock, or something more even he didn't know.
Having settled that little argument to his satisfaction, Yohji stroked Aya in time to his own thrusts until he felt the smaller man’s cock twitch. He leaned forward to whisper huskily in the redhead’s ear. “Come for me, baby.”
"Okay... Yooohjiii..." Aya groaned as he did just that, his body shuddering in the grip of an orgasm so powerful he came close to blacking out, though the booze in his system had a lot to do with that.
Aya’s orgasm sent Yohji over the edge and he fell into the abyss with a cry that sounded somewhere between joy and pain and was vocalised in the name he’d once given the man in his arms. “Ayaaaa!!!!”
The pain that flashed across the red-head's face at the use of the name wasn't visible to the blonde, but the stiffening of the other man in his grip was.
Voice gone hard and cold he said, "Let me go, Kudoh."
“What? Oh for fucks sake! What’s got into you this time! Jeez, you’re one uptight sonofabitch!” And having finally got him in his bed there was no way he was letting the man go now.
The killer pulled himself free of Yohji's grasp and threw a badly aimed punch for the blonde's face.
“Cut it out, you bastard,” Yohji snapped as he grabbed Aya’s fist and wrestled him back onto the bed, pinning his hands each side of his head. “You’re staying here if I have to tie you down.”
There was a peculiar expression on Aya's face, as it he were daring Yohji to try.
"Let me go..."
Oddly, the drunken slur was also gone from the killer's voice.
“So what happened to ‘yours, Yohji?’ huh? And no I’m not letting you go. I’m getting really tired of your hissy fits. We all are. Now I have no idea what bought this one on but I’m not fucking playing any more.”
The man didn't say anything at first, but the ice was returning, the mask settling into place.
"Just forget this happened," he told Yohji quietly.
“No! I won’t forget this at all. You have no idea do you? No idea of the years I’ve wanted this. And now you’re telling me to forget it happened. Shit!” He glared down at the beautiful redhead, his eyes thoughtful, wary and somewhere underneath that, hurt.
"Does it matter? Do I care?"
Aya twisted his body, trying to throw Yohji off of him.
Something inside of Yohji snapped at that point. “You fucking bastard.” The words were whispered not shouted a sure sign that Yohji was now beyond pissed and had become dangerous. The hurt exploded and he backhanded Aya across the face.
Blood filled his mouth and Aya lay there under the blond, watching bright pinpoints of light dancing in his vision. The last time he'd seen so many of them it had been Crawford's fist that had created them.
Crawford. Total bastard. Sometimes he regretted they were enemies.
He stared up into Yohji's jade eyes, saw the fury there, saw the pain. Pain he'd caused, deliberately twisting the knife to get what he wanted.
"Done?" he asked quietly, letting the blood run out of the corner of his mouth.
Yohji’s eyes narrowed. “You’re suddenly very sober. You using people again Abyssinian? Well I’m not prepared to be used anymore.”
But gods Aya was beautiful and he couldn’t help himself when he leaned down and licked the blood from his mouth before kissing him passionately.
He met with no resistance, but when the kiss ended Aya's eyes were closed, the man more pale than usual.
"Not really sober," the red head replied. "Let me up." Sex had felt good, being slapped had been okay too, but his head was starting to pound and his stomach was rolling dangerously.
Luckily Yohji knew the signs and was well equipped to deal with them. He got off Aya and wordlessly passed him a bucket before dropping a liver tablet into a glass of water.
As if on cue, Aya got totally, thoroughly and miserably sick. When it was all over he sat there on the floor of Yohji's room looking totally dazed and numb.
"Sorry..." he whispered his voice raw.
“What are you sorry about?” All the fight had gone out of Yohji now and he sat opposite Aya like a puppet with cut strings.
It had been everything he’d ever wanted, dreamed it would be and now it was over, gone and there was nothing he could do to keep it. He felt like crying.
"I've wanted that for a long time Yohji," Aya replied. "I wanted to know.... I didn't realize I'd hurt you in the process. I never thought you'd want that.. but I thought.. well if it was offered you'd take it.... no attachments... like the girls..." Aya fell silent.
The room stank of vomit, and he couldn't take it anymore so he got unsteadily to his feet and picked up the bucket intending to go dump it and clean himself up.
“Fuck, Ay…Abyssinian, how could I become attached to any girls being what I am. As for what just happened, I never thought I stood a chance in the first place. But for you to give me just that one taste of heaven and then snatch it away again… Well, I knew you were cold but I never realised just how cruel till now.”
The red-haired man sighed, "This shouldn't have happened. I made a mistake. I'm sorry Yohji. Sorry for hurting you, sorry for what I've done." He walked out.
Yohji stayed where he was for a long time. There were no tears. If he started to cry he would never stop. Eventually he crawled onto the bed and curled up round sheets and covers that smelt of Aya and stared out into the darkness.
It was close to dawn when there was a knock on Yohji's door.
He climbed off the bed and crossed the room like an old man with ague to open the door and stare out, his eyes dead.
Ken was standing there looking unhappy, "Manx is here. She says Aya... Abyssinian is being transferred to the European team. He's packing to leave now."
Yohji closed his eyes but not before Ken caught a glimpse of the pain in them. “Is he in his room?”
"Yeah. He... asked to go," there was hurt in Ken's voice too.
Yohji brushed past Ken and crossed the hallway to Aya’s room. He didn’t bother knocking, just opened the door, entered the room and closed it behind him.
“Cruel and a coward?” he asked mildly.
The smell of blood was almost overpowering. Aya sat in a spreading pool of gore, his katana sunk hilt deep into his belly, the violet eyes dull, a streamer of blood running down his chin.
“Ken! Get a fucking ambulance! NOW!”
Yohji ran to Aya’s side and felt for a pulse. It was there but weak and getting weaker by the second.
Ken stuck his head in the door, "Oh shit! Aya!" the ex-soccer player bolted for the nearest phone, "OMI! CALL 110! AYA'S TRIED TO KILL HIMSELF!"
The glassy violet eyes blinked, focused on Yohji, "Tell... Aya-chan... I won't kill... anymore..."
“I’m not telling that bitch a single goddamn thing,” Yohji said, tears streaming unheeded down his face. “I know her letter did this to you. Oh Aya, why couldn’t you see? The ones who love you are right here.”
The red-head lifted his hand to touch Yohji's cheek, wipe away the tears, "I... can't love.. too much... death... I'm sorry... so... sorry."
The hand fell to splash in the bloody pool as if the simple act of caressing Yohji's face had drained the last spark of life him.
He was still breathing, the sound harsh, laboured, the man dying slowly right before Yohji's eyes.
“Don’t you dare die on me you little shit!” Yohji said. He might have said more but the paramedics arrived just then and gently urged him out of the room so they could do their job.
Yohji waited until Aya was carried out of the house on a stretcher and attached to a drip before he went back into his own room and grabbed a coat. Seconds later he was out of the house and climbing into Seven.
He hadn't gotten out of the driveway before Ken was there, jumping into the seat beside the blond. "We going to the hospital? Or did you have other plans?"
“Get out, Ken, unless you want a trip to Tokyo. Those bitches don’t even know what they’ve done!” Yohji’s voice was cold, hard.
“Nothin’ doing Yohji. You think killing them will do any good? You’re wrong. Totally wrong.”
Yohji’s hands gripped the wheel till the knuckles showed white. “I don’t know what else to do, Ken. He’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. We don’t even have the same fucking blood type!”
Ken reached over and touched Yohji’s arm, “Yohji I...” He looked away, “What happened between the two of you? When I saw Aya after Manx came he was...” he shook his head, “I don’t know, he just seemed sad. And his face is bruised. Did you two fight?”
Yohji brought Seven to a halt and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. “We didn’t fight exactly…” Then he blurted out all the happenings of the previous night to Ken ending by saying, “I don’t know, it’s almost as if he wanted me to hit him or punish him or something.”
“Yohji, he denies himself every human comfort, never shows us any emotion never indulges in any pleasures. Hell, I bet he doesn’t even masturbate, and then you wonder why he wanted you to hurt him? Of course he wanted to be punished. He’s got his emotions all twisted into knots,” Ken said. “We’re all fucked up, but Aya.. he’s on a level of mentally screwed up far beyond us.”
“Then why did he want me at all? I’ve… wanted him for years. Then he finally wants me too and now he tries to kill himself.” A thought struck him. “Ken, you don’t think my fucking him was what made him do that do you?”
Ken thought about it, “Well...” he scratched his head and thought about the answer a little longer. “He’s so fucked up... anything is possible.”
Yohji started banging his head on the wheel. “Oh shit, oh fuck, oh God.”
Ken grabbed Yohji’s head and made him stop what he was doing, “Stop, it Yohji. Calm down. You asked, so I told you. None of us has ever understood him, so... yeah it might have set this off, I won’t lie to you, but it could just as easily be that letter from his idiot sister that brought all this on.”
He wrapped his arms around the blond, “Just calm down. It doesn’t matter why he did it. All that matters now is that he recovers and comes back to us, right?”
Yohji shut his eyes and snorted mirthlessly. “He stuck that damned katana right through himself, Ken. You really think he’s going to survive that?” He would have said more but Omi came running out of the house just then.
“Glad I caught you guys. Manx has set up everything at the hospital and she’s going to wait here and co-ordinate everything so I can come with you to the hospital.”
He glanced from Ken’s glum face to Yohji’s desperate one and drew his own conclusions. “You are going to the hospital, aren’t you, Yohji-kun?”
Yohji took a deep breath. “Yeah. Get in, chibi.”
“What did the paramedics say?” Ken asked Omi, hoping the younger man had overheard something.
“That it’s a clean wound and missed most vital organs although Aya-kun might lose his spleen. They were more concerned about the blood loss.”
“So they think he’s going to live?” Yohji demanded.
“Well it’ll be touch and go, Yohji-kun, but they seemed hopeful.”
Yohji turned the ignition back on and started driving.
“He’s strong, Yohji. Like you,’ Ken remarked softly.
“I don’t feel very strong right now, Ken,” Yohji said bitterly. “Plus I feel like the world’s biggest idiot…or something.”
“It’s not your fault, Yohji-kun.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. Aya does what he wants. He always has, Yohji. You know that.
“He even walked out on us, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. I just… He’s my rock, Ken. Without him I’m not sure that I can go on. He’s the strong one and he keeps me from going insane just by being so strong and silent. Maybe I’ve expected too much from him.”
“Maybe we all have,” Omi said softly. “We’ve all leant on him and without him the whole house of cards would come tumbling down, just like it did in that landfill.”
“What will we do now? He asked to be transferred so even if he lives will he even be with us anymore?”
Yohji frowned. “You know, I can’t get my fucking head round that one. If he was going to try suicide why ask for the fucking transfer at all?”
“It’s a real poser, isn’t it.” Ken’s brow rumpled in thought, “Unless...”
“Unless…?” both Yohji and Omi chorused.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to really leave us, or... Maybe they didn’t give him a choice.”
Omi’s eyes became almost impossibly wider. “Ken-kun! I think you may just have come up with the answer.”
“What’s on your mind, chibi?”
“If it were the letter, he would have done it yesterday,” Omi said, “and he didn’t. If they told him this morning that he was being transferred and he didn’t want to go…”
Yohji thought about that and about all that he knew of Aya. Suddenly his heart lightened considerably. If it had been his fault he would have found a dead body this morning. “I think you’re right, Omitchi,” he said. “He did that when they sent him to pack.”
“I hope he lives, because when he’s better I’m going to kick his ass for scaring all of us.”
Especially for scaring Yohji.
“No, Ken, you’re not,” Yohji said flatly. “If anyone kicks his ass it’s going to be me.” He frowned again. “But, if they’ve got their minds set on transferring him…”
“I did tell Manx that we weren’t happy with that idea and she said it was being done because Kritiker thought he might want to be nearer his sister,” Omi offered. “Apparently she’s going to study at the Sorbonne in Paris.”
“Did Manx tell Aya that?” Yohji asked.
Omi thought about it. “Yes, I think she did.”
“Kami-sama! Talk about bad fucking timing!” But at least now things made sense.
* * *
He felt old. Weak, and old. Sitting there on the edge of his hospital bed, sunlight pouring in he felt older than four times his actual age. And weaker than he’d ever been in his whole pathetic life.
What he should have been was dead.
It would have been so much easier for him, for them.
She could have forgotten he’d ever existed and.... he could have stopped killing and had whatever kind of peace murderers were entitled to have.
Instead he was still in the same hell with the other killers.
But at least she could forget him. Say goodbye to his memory.
And he would live with the pain like he had since his parent’s death.
Maybe he’d get lucky some night, take a bullet or a blade and go into the dark where he belonged.
What was it they said? There is no rest for the wicked... Yes that was it.
No rest for him. No peace for a killer.
And the rest of the killers were coming to take him home. Whatever that meant.
Omi was the first in the door, beaming all over his face. “Aya-kun! You look much better! Are you ready to go home?”
The face was as blank of feeling as the violet stare. He got to his feet, picked up the small bag of his things and walked for the door with a slow and measured step.
Omi’s face fell as if someone had switched off a light and he followed Aya with none of his usual bounce and nothing to say for himself.
“Don’t call me Aya anymore,” he told the younger man quietly. “From now on just call me Syn.”
“Okay, Syn-kun. I’ll try to remember.” It wouldn’t be easy after so many years but he would try.
Walking was hard, it took all his not inconsiderable will-power to make it to the waiting room where he thought the other pair of killers would be waiting.
“Straight into the elevator, A..Syn-kun,” Omi said brightly. “Yohji-kun couldn’t find anywhere to park so he’s gone round the block.”
“Hn.” But inwardly he was wondering how he’d make it around the block to where Yohji probably had Seven parked. All four of them in the sports car wasn’t a thrilling idea either, but maybe if he was lucky they’d left Ken back at the house.
He made it to the elevator and pushed the button, leaving his hand against the wall a bit longer than was needed to call for the car.
“Syn-kun, would you like a wheel chair?” Omi ventured seeing the obvious effort everything was for the redhead.
“No.”
The doors opened and the man who’d once been called Aya stepped in, going immediately to the back where he stood gripping the rail, casually leaning on it to hide his weakness.
They rode the elevator down, the red haired man silent the entire time.
Omi sighed but knew better than to argue. Luckily Yohji had found a space close to the main door and Seven’s top was up so he knew… Syn would be warm enough on the journey. Yohji could tell him where they were going on the way.
The man who was now calling himself Syn, walked out into the cool morning air and looked at the car he knew too well.
His mouth twitched slightly, but what it meant was anyone’s guess. He walked to the car and reached for the low handle on the door, placing one hand on the fabric top to steady himself, feeling the pull of the healing wounds in his belly and back along with a twinge of pain.
Omi took a step forward as if to help but a glare made him back off again. Yohji stayed in the driving seat, knowing better than to even try helping.
Syn just stood there, breathing slowly, forcing his body to obey his will. It was a close thing, but he managed to get into the car without passing out, though he had paled to an ashen colour by the time he came to rest on the seat.
Relieved that he could leave him with Yohji, Omi waved and made his way over to where Ken waited on his bike. They would pick his up on the way.
“Feel better now you’ve upset the chibi?” Yohji asked, his voice pleasant. He took a glance at Aya’s face and flipped open the glove. “Painkillers and a bottle of water.”
Syn put the small bag of his things on the floor, closed the glove compartment, put on his seatbelt and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes to show he wasn’t interested in conversation.
Yohji opened the glove and pulled out the tablets. “You’ll take some of these even if I have to force them down your fucking throat myself! We’ve got a long drive ahead of us and I don’t want to spend it worrying about you being in fucking pain!”
“It’s my choice, not yours, Kudoh.”
Yohji sighed. “It’s a long fucking way to Tokyo, Aya, so just take the fucking tablets.”
“Call me Syn now. Aya is.... a girl I once knew,” he told Yohji quietly. He looked at the pills, opened the bottle and took out two of them which he quickly swallowed knowing that the result of the heavy dose would put him under for the duration of the trip.... if he was lucky.
He opened the bottle of water and drank a little to get the pills down, then he turned his face to the window and tried not to think of a girl named Aya or the too acute memories of being in the arms of the man driving the car.
“Syn? What kind of fucking name is that?” Yohji asked. Then it clicked. “Ah. Shortened form of Abyssinian by any chance? How long are you gonna sulk for this time?”
“Yes. Shortened. It’s the only name that’s mine.” Syn turned his head to regard the blond, his eyes dulled from exhaustion and some trace of pain, “You should have let me die.”
“Yeah, no doubt that would have solved all your fucking problems. Fuck the rest of us. Shit, Aya! You worried us sick! And then you glare at the chibi when he tries to help you!” Yohji’s hands gripped the wheel as he tried to keep his temper under control.
Syn didn’t reply, all he did was turn his head away from the furious blond, his violet gaze on the passing buildings beyond the glass.
There was nothing for him to say. He’d become a killer to save his sister from dying and his reward had been for her to say she wouldn’t be the sister of a killer.
If he stopped he was as good as dead.
So he’d taken the only route he could to please her. He’d tried to end it.
And failed.
The only thing he’d ever done right was keeping her alive when the doctors said she would never awaken.
But she had.
And then she’d turned on him. Walked away from him.
“And don’t turn away from me when I’m talking to you! Did it even cross your mind how we felt? I thought I’d made you do that to yourself.” Yohji went silent as he wondered again if Ken had been wrong and it had been his fault. “Did I? I… need to know, Aya.”
“No.”
The man crossed his arms over his stomach and huddled down into the seat. But he was still looking out the window.
“No it didn’t cross your mind how we felt or no I didn’t make you do it? Fuck! It always has to be a fucking drama with you, doesn’t it?”
Syn did turn, violet eyes meeting Yohji’s in a icy stare. “Asuka. Neu. Your drama.”
“Yeah, I know. We all have our drama’s. Its just that you’re the only one who’s been so hell bent on leaving us so often in the past and now so fucking permanently. Do you really hate us that much?”
“You became a killer for revenge. Because the woman you loved was already dead. I learned to kill for revenge and to keep my sister alive.
“Alive, Yohji. I never thought beyond killing Takatori Reiji, or beyond her waking up. And then he was dead and she was awake and... I was still killing because Kritiker wouldn’t let me leave.”
“Yeah we were all fucked up kids basically and none of us really thought it through. Poor Omi didn’t even get the choice. We walked in with our eyes closed.
“You know, Kritiker must be shitting themselves because, apart from the threat of death, they have nothing to hold over us anymore. I can even see why you found it an attractive proposition.”
He relented and put on some soothing music. “You may as well get some sleep. We’ll stop overnight in Sendai to give you a break.”
“Sure, Yohji. Whatever you want,” he replied quietly. The drug was starting to dull the edges of everything, all his fears and worries, all his pain slipping away.
* * *
By the time they pulled into the motel at Sendai Yohji was exhausted. Aya appeared to have slept for most of the journey but then you never could tell with him. Asleep or no, it was time to get him awake and into a room with a bed. And if he wanted to sleep in the car that was fine too. But he wanted a meal, a shower and a bed.
Syn opened his eyes as soon as the car came to a stop. He felt stiff and sore, his back and shoulders aching. He undid the seatbelt and hissed as his back tried to cramp from being motionless for so long.
“Take it easy,” Yohji said. “I’ll come round and give you a hand.”
The redhead waited for Yohji to come and lend him a hand to get out of the low riding vehicle.
Yohji got him to swing his legs round to the ground when his back spasms had eased up and gently helped him to gain his feet. He rested him against the side while he reached in for their bags and the painkillers.
“You able to get from here to one of the rooms?” he asked.
The red-haired man just stood there, leaning against the car for a moment. He closed his eyes, “I honestly don’t know.”
“Okay. Stay here while I check us in then I’ll help you.” Yohji left the bags on the ground, just taking his wallet with his credit card into the registration area.
Syn tried to stay on his feet, but his body had other ideas. By the time Yohji got back the red-haired man was on the ground, legs sprawled out in front of him, his face pale and damp with sweat.
When he saw Yohji approaching he tried to get to his feet but couldn’t.
“Stubborn,” Yohji muttered to himself. He reached the redhead and got him back on his feet. “Not far,” he said, “Nearest door. I’ll come back for the bags.”
He helped the staggering redhead into their room and onto one of the beds before going back for their bags. Omi had packed medical supplies in his, just in case, and he wondered if he was going to need them after all.
Syn had his arms around Yohji, and the man’s arms were around him and it felt good.. so very good.
He held onto Yohji a little longer than he needed to, looking into the man’s beautiful jade green eyes. He remembered a cock, remembered it in his mouth, remembered it thrusting deeply into him, how good if felt.
He suddenly blushed and looked away.
Yohji saw the blush and drew his own conclusions. He gruffly told Aya to stay put and went back outside to collect their bags with a much lighter heart than he’d had all day. He picked up their bags, locked Seven and strode back to the room, half expecting to see Aya doing something stupid like trying to stand.
Instead Aya was seated on the bed taking off his shirt, the bandages around his middle were evidence that he still wasn’t fully healed.
When Yohji came in he looked up, and staring the blond in the eyes he reached for the button of his pants.
Yohji stood motionless, trying to get rid of the visions from his one night with the beautiful man on the bed.
“You need those wounds looking at,” he said. “The dressings will need to be changed.”
“You’ll have to help me,” Syn told him as he toed his shoes off and unzipped his pants.
Under the black jeans Aya was wearing he had on not a damned thing because the chibi had forgotten to bring his underwear the last time they’d come and brought him the clothes he was wearing.
Yohji dug in the bag that held the medical supplies and pulled out the first aid box in there. Putting the box on the bed he knelt behind Aya and started unwrapping the bandages from round his torso.
Syn closed his eyes, trying to will his body not to feel anything. Not the pain of his self inflicted injuries. Not the warm heat that melted into his flesh from Yohji’s touch.
The first part was easy.
It was the second part that he had the most trouble with, his cock going semi-hard.
Yohji tried to ignore the twitching of his own cock as he revealed the semi-healed scars of Aya’s self-inflicted wounds. He hissed slightly in sympathy as he realised just how lucky…or unlucky Aya actually was to be alive at all.
He smeared antibiotic cream on the wound in Aya’s back before realising that he would have to reach round the man to touch the wound on his belly. He couldn’t do that without losing control so he handed the tube to the redhead.
“You’ll need to do the front.”
Syn didn’t accept the tube, instead he lay back on the bed, knowing that Yohji would have a perfect view of exactly what his touch had done to him, his cock fully hard, a bead of pre-cum glistening on the head.
He knew he had no right to expect anything but the other killer’s contempt. His scorn.
But he couldn’t help reaching for the last glimmer of hope that remained in his midnight existence. Like a seed kept too long from the sun, he was running out of the ability to reach for the light that would keep him alive.
Yohji swallowed hard but applied the cream to the wound in Aya’s belly without comment. He put the lid back on the tube and grabbed one of the rolls of bandage. “Sit up again,” he said, voice full of suppressed passion.
Syn did just that. He sat up, tossing his pants aside and going to his knees, spreading them slightly so that his erection was blatantly visible.
Yohji began to wind the bandage round Aya’s torso.
“You know, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were tying to seduce me,” he commented.
“Hn.” Syn grunted softly. He tipped his head and met the jade eyes, “Should I paint the invitation on my body in katakana or kanji?”
Yohji continued with what he was doing while he said, “I don’t know, babe. I seem to have a strange effect on you. Last time we tried you threw up then did this to yourself.”
“That wasn’t you, Yohji. I was the fool that got drunk,” he murmured softly in reply.
He touched his wounded belly, “I thought this was the way out. But... there isn’t any way out of this life. I am resigned to... being nothing but a killer. That’s all I am, all I have left unless...”
Syn went silent shook his head and reached for the gauze, “I’ll do it.”
“Let me finish the job,” Yohji snapped as he held the bandage out of Aya‘s reach. He finished winding it and pinned it in place.
Settling back on his heels he said, “It’s all any of us have, babe. We have to find what happiness we can where we can. Omi and Ken manage because they have each other while I search in bars, clubs, bottles and nameless flesh. I’m getting tired of all that. I want more.”
“I had a sister,” Syn’s voice was a raw whisper. “Now... all I have is...” he wanted to say ‘you’ but instead he said, “a katana.”
“Is it? What about us? Don’t we count for anything in your life?” He frowned, trying to get through the ice.
“When you told Omi that he wasn’t Takatori Mamoru it was like you made him live again. You cared enough about Ken to follow him when he met with Kase. You’ve tended our wounds countless times yet we’re not enough for you, are we?”
“That’s not it, Yohji. I...” he sighed. “The three of you have never needed me for anything but my ability to kill.”
“Really? Can you really not see beyond that? I’ve loved you for fucking years! Omi spent three solid days crying until he heard you were out of danger. And Ken prevented me from killing your beloved sister!”
Syn looked at Yohji in shock. “You...” He shook his head, “Its not her fault, Yohji. She just wants her brother back. She doesn’t understand that the boy who was her brother died with her mother and father.”
Yohji shrugged as he gathered up the used bandage and threw it in the general direction of the waste bin. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But I was hurting and angry.” He looked Aya in the eye, then. “We read her letter. It hurt us all and made us very angry with her. I’m sorry.”
“None of that really matters anymore,” Syn replied. “She no longer has a brother. I told Kritiker to send her a note saying I’d died in a car crash. She can get on with her life now and forget about her brother the murderer.”
Inwardly Yohji was rather pleased with the request to Kritiker and hoped the little bitch would feel quite a lot of guilt over her last, almost fatal, letter.
“You’re more than that, babe, much more and… well if you’re looking for sex with no attachments you’re looking at the wrong man. You could never be just another one night stand to me.”
“I don’t know what I want, Yohji.” He thought about it for a minute then shook his head. “That’s a lie. I do know what I want.” He looked up at the blond, “I want you.”
Yohji finally took the stubborn redhead in his arms and held him close without putting pressure on his wounds. “You’ve got me, babe, for as long as we survive.”