Author’s notes : Happy birthday to me and Ran-kun. *snorts* not that my birthday is happy at all.

 

Weiss Kreuz is not owned by me. So don’t sue. I’ll whack you. The white text is Alanis’ lyrics. NOT owned by me.

 

Pride That Won’t Fall (Movement 1 : Mercy)

Song By Alanis

Weiss Fic By Jericah Helios

 

I could say that there is nothing else that can touch me. Emotion, or my enemies or even my friends. I’ve shut myself up so far away that sometimes the people in the world called reality seem like pinpricks in the distance. Little black spots against a blinding white horizon.

 

I could say that, but that would be lying.  And I hate lying. Especially if I’m lying to myself.

 

We have slaughtered

In the garden of beauty

 

Blood gathers outside the wound on my hand and I watch it, momentarily mesmerized by the seeping of the blood from the inside of me into the outside with such silent intensity.

 

Even if I’ve given up saving myself, my internal, my infernal internal system seems intent on saving me, whether I like it or not.

 

No, I don’t like it one bit.

 

“Aw shit Aya, that’s disgusting” I had forgotten about Kudou. We were working on an arrangement when I cut my hand. Now he’s traveled the width of the table and kept on making ‘tsk-ing’ sounds. If I could, I would have laughed out loud.  Tactics like that would’ve worked on Omi, or even Ken. Not Fujimiya Ran.

 

Just as he was reaching for my hand, I turn away and make for the sink. He stood there, with an arm outstretched for a while. I guess it finally registered in his brain that he looked like a jackass, he straightened up while I was cleaning the wound. “That cut outta be cleaned with something other than water Aya. I swear that’s not healthy at all.”

 

Digging graves instead of planting

 

Nothing's healthy anymore. Nothing makes sense anymore. You just live each day as if there is no tomorrow, no yesterday. Only now now now now now and you watch, helpless, as your life slips through your fingers and the more you try to hold on, the more your fragile sanity breaks apart…

 

“What breaks apart?” came Kudoh’s voice. I couldn’t stop the surprise that registered as a jolt. I must have said the last part of my thoughts out loud.  Hunh? Aya?”

 

I turn back to the arrangement and continue what I was doing. I don’t have to explain myself, much less to Kudou who cared for nothing more than getting laid every other night.

 

A hand shot out and I suddenly found both my hands held still by the aforementioned heartbreaker. Fathomless emerald eyes held my gaze for a moment. “Will you stop being such a prick and bandage that up at least?”

 

I pull away. How dare he touch me…?

 

God he is so full of himself. I pull away roughly and give him my worst glare. It doesn’t work on him, not anymore. He’s been the recipient of it for so long I think he’s immune.

 

“Stay away from me.” He raises an eyebrow.

 

“You’re overreacting Aya” he responds with a small smile. He’s amused. He got a reaction from me. How shallow can this man get?

 

“NEVER” I snort, “and I mean NEVER touch me” and I stalk off.

 

These are times I wish I could deny everything, my life, my past, my future, my present. And most importantly, my emotions and my humanity. It is my humanity that is telling me as I enter my room and close the door behind me that I wanted him to touch me.

 

For the sake of affirming that I am still alive. That I am still a living breathing creature, a creature of the night, but breathing nonetheless. For the sake of telling me that my hands can feel something other than the rough handle of my sword or the warm, sticky metallic blood of the guilty.

 

I lie on my bed, and if I just turn my head slightly to the side I could see my katana where I had placed it the night before, after polishing and cleaning it. My sword, my talent, my salvation; a bitter smile crosses my features, my occupation,  my shovel.

 

I am digging my own grave and there is nothing else I can do about it. Because it is the only thing I can do.

 

Mercy for the crucified

A bitter justice

 

The mission from last week comes back with a vengeance and I cannot help but remember and wince.  The prostitution ring that ‘recruited’ direct from the high schools nearby. When we had moved in, one of the girls tried to escape, and got killed in the process. She jumped from their small room, whether she didn’t know she was in the 10th floor or didn’t care, she had died in my arms. Her eyes opened for a second and locked with mine, questioning. Nothing bitter in those deep blue eyes.

 

I looked away first.

 

When I looked back at her, she had died already.

 

Right now, I feel like that girl. I want to jump, out of Weiss, out of my life, out of my skin. I don’t care if the fall would kill me. I need to escape, jump of the window and just….

 

Fly away.

 

Then again, all of us want to jump. Who would want to spend their lifetime killing all these filth. Even if they were guilty, even if they died instantly, we’re still stained.

 

Forever stained.

 

Begging eternity for love

 

Should Aya awake, will she be able to recognize me, as her brother? Would she still love me, if, she found out that to save her life…I took others? Will I be able to face her again…?

 

She is the only one who could love me. Driven by blood ties, she would love me again only because I was her brother, Ran. Once. 

 

But I am not Ran anymore.

 

I am Abyssinian. Creature of the night, branded with flame and blood.  Waiting an eternity to wake an angel…only to slink back into the shadows once she does.

 

How can an angel love a murderer like me?

 

We're nothing

We're everything

 

Balinese. Bombay. Siberian. Are we now a different species all together? How can we kill? How can we kill for the ones we love? How can we find affirmation of our life in the death of others? How can we avenge evil when we ourselves perpetuate the necessary evil? How can we find ourselves when we cannot even save the others, far more lost than us?

 

In the end, we would only be instruments. Of death, of justice, of history.  And in the end, we will be the only ones who can look at each other and know that there is nothing judgmental in the gaze of the other.

 

I am nothing

Yet I am everybody

 

I am a murderer. I am an angel in black. I am a demon of the night. I am a sinner. I am a saint.

 

I have no idea as to who the hell I am.

 

We're nothing

And yet we are

 

Aya-kun!” Omi’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I can hear him come up to my door and repeat. Aya-kun!”

 

I grunt in reply and the boy, who’s used to it by now, continues, “The orders are here! I need you to sign it!”

 

“Get Kudou” I reply.

 

“He won’t sign it.” He sighed. Obviously, the blond has been shirking his duties again and Omi hasn’t the heart to tell me.

 

Wisdom lights up life's road

 

I clamber down and take the order slip from the nameless delivery man. Omi and Ken are busy going back and forth from the storage to the truck and I notice with displeasure that Yohji is nowhere around.

 

Or so I think for he suddenly appears, smiling as if we never had the earlier argument. “Ei bishonen” he calls out to Omi who was trying to haul a bunch of Morning Glories into the storage. “Need help?”

 

Omi rolled his eyes. “Oh duh Sherlock. Maybe no?”

 

I know you

 

Yohji’s laughter echoes in the storage room and Ken comes to Omi’s rescue and hits the heartbreaker’s head. Watching them from the corner of my eye as I watch the shop, I let their voices blend into a sort of unintelligible harmony at the back of my mind.

 

I know that perhaps, there are things that can still touch me, despite the coldness I feel inside and show outside. They, Weiss, are one of them.

 

And perhaps, for now, they are the only ones I will allow to do so.

 

**OWARI**

 

 

Author’s notes : This  is actually not supposed to be that hopeful. But when I fused in the song, it sorta went that way. Oh well. Send all C & C to [email protected] or to my new email [email protected]

 

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