[disclaimer stuff: The characters of Ruroni Kenshin and Weiss Kreuz are © and TM their rightful and respective owners. Michihiro is mine… No copyright infringement is meant under any circumstances, just a way to try and bring two of my favorite things together. Notes follow at the end of the fic]
PART III
~~~~~~~~~ The day wore on, and Michihiro appeared to be getting steadily drunker. He was a charming, sardonic drunk, though, and Aya found himself forgetting why he was there, even though he himself were still sober. The pager at his belt still lay silent, but he forced the concern out of his mind. Omi was a professional, and Ken and Youji were not far away at all. Michihiro was still in the process of introducing Aya to a seemingly unending stream of people, many of whom Aya was certain he'd be "dealing with" during the course of the rest of his career with the white cross. The blurred together in a haze of haughty faces and expensive perfume. If possible, this spacious house and it's milling guests was becoming even more claustrophobic then the warehouse club had been. Aya would have slugged someone or just run out of the house if his companion hadn't suggested it first. Outside, the day was already growing golden with late afternoon, and a cool breeze ruffled across the lawn. Aya took a deep breath and absently realized that Ken and Youji would most likely be bored out of their minds - and probably were going to share that with him in unending detail after this was over. "….I needed to get out of there… you looked like it too.." Michihiro's soft voice was slurring, and Aya nearly jumped when he was struck with the realization that he'd been holding him up. The silky black hair cascaded across his shoulder, and the Kurasu's breath was warm on the side of his throat. That elusive scent was there again, and in the heavy light, Aya noted it was the faint scent of irises and peaches, so pale as to be nearly a ghost in his senses. "Maybe you should go.. lie down?" Aya heard himself say. It was better this way, he thought. Michihiro would be well on his way to being passed out… he wouldn't have to know what happened until he awoke tomorrow with a throbbing hangover, and Aya long gone. He could almost smell Aoshi's madness over the dusty books and shadows in the library…sweet and faint. I promised I'd bring you home.. (no. I'm not you, old man.. I'm not.. he's not..) "Hai… I don't feel too… steady" Michihiro murmured drowsily, muzzily guiding Aya to his room.. seemingly as big as the entire apartment Aya shared with his teammates. The bed was huge, western-style, and for a long moment, Aya wanted to feel it's softness under him, curled up and buried in the Kurasu's sweet scent. But he deposited him on the bed as gently as he could, the green eyes catching his. "Can I convince you.. to stay the night?" He murmured, one arm tucking, almost childlike, under his head. Aya nodded, brushing back a silken strand of hair. "Of course.. let me just go get my duffel bag out of the car, alright?" He was appalled at the near-tenderness in his voice, when things were going..just..according to plan.. He let his hand fall. "I'll be right back, Mii-kun." Aya closed the door behind him with a soft click, not looking back. Shoulders stiff with purpose, Aya strode down the sweeping staircase, the house slowly emptying as the guests moved outside for music and dancing, uncaring that the guest of honor was conspicuously absent. He froze as he reached the front door. One of the massive, dark-suited men that had been circulating through the party, the Kurasu's security, stood by the heavy doors. Aya's duffel bag sat at his feet. Aya tensed, prepared to have to fight his way out, as his mouth went dry. The huge man simply picked up the bag and handed it to him. "Michihiro-sama indicated earlier you might be staying the night, Kenichi-san. I took the liberty of getting your things." Aya stared at him, aghast for a moment, before his mask reasserted itself. Youji's mocking tone of the previous night suddenly crept down his spine, but when he took the bag, the katana's weight was an immediate relief. And an immediate concern. The security man's face was no help, more expressionless than Aya could ever remember his own being. "I apologize for the rudeness, Kenichi-san" the man rumbled at him. "….this was not Michihiro-sama's order.. I acted on my own." The big man bowed, and Aya inclined his head in return, feeling deeply uncomfortable. "It's alright.. ah.." "Kyo, sir." "Kyo.. it's alright… but .. could you tell me where Tetsuya-san might be? I'd like to thank him for his hospitality." Aya squirmed internally as he heard himself, but the big man was directing him to the library. "Shall I bring your bag up, sir?" "..N. No.. thank you, I can manage it myself." The big man bowed again, dark eyes unreadable. "And sir.. don't worry. We are.. by our nature… discreet." Aya turned on his heel and fled before the discomfort that had started to gnaw through his stomach made it's way to his face. (this is too easy. I'm being set up. I'm overreacting. I'm… not sure of my mission anymore.) Each step on the broad stairs that brought him closer to the big library doors felt like it rang in his ears, even though his footfall was nearly silent out of habit. (I haven't gotten an all clear from Omi. I haven't heard a check-in from Ken or Youji. Am I just cut off here.. has something happened?) He was thinking too much. The realization settled on Aya, prickly and unpleasant, that he was scared. His hand tightened on the webbing strap of the duffel, the dull jab of the edge helping him focus. (Get in. Get out. Don't look back.) No guards patrolled the second floor, and Aya slipped the bag open, the katana accessible now. A brief knock on the door, and he entered, Tetsuya Kurasuhime's broad face looking up from the desk as twilight purpled the sky outside the towering window. "You. I saw you with Michihiro earlier…." He got up ponderously, an undisguised moment of disgust passing over his face. "What do you want, boy?" Aya wanted to laugh at the man. (I want this assignment to be over. Forgotten.) "You supply Reji Takatori.. with information. Data.. ne?" His voice was as cold as his violet eyes. "That can't be allowed to continue." The katana was in his hand, and he was already thumbing it out of its black lacquer sheath. "You think you're going to… kill me?" Tetsuya's hand slipped under the edge of the desk. "or blackmail me? Please. Just because you were able to manipulate my idiot son…" He laughed, but the harsh sound faded quickly, eyes widening in faint alarm. "I suppose, then, that your protectors aren't coming?" Aya took a measured step forward, letting the bag fall to the carpet with a soft sound. Tetsuya Kurasuhime's face resettled itself into a blunt mask. "I don't know whether you're very brave or very stupid…. But I can appreciate your determination, boy. Whatever you're really looking for, I can give it to you, without any messiness or fuss." "You can't give me back my life." The bigger man was staring, dumbfounded, at the red that gouted from his throat, even as Aya finished his sentence. He fell to his knees in slow motion, the dark green plush soaking up the blood as if it were the hungry earth. Aya flicked the blood from the katana, feeling unsatisfied as he resheathed it. At least now he could leave. "Bravo." The soft voice and a brief round of applause froze Aya in place, the golden-purple light spreading across the floor, across the dead man's back, like a bruise. "Michihiro-kun." Aya's jaw twitched as he turned slowly. The dark-haired young man was leaning in the doorway, crisp dark suit traded away for something that clung to the lean muscles. "How long…" "Have I been here? I just caught the coup de'grace.. you don't waste any movement." He pushed away from the doorframe, padding over to his father. "He's dead…." The black hair curtained around his face as he knelt, and Aya caught a glimpse of a sheath on Michihiro's back. It was too long to be a katana.. …. Aoshi carried both kodachi in a single saya…. "Michihiro.. I…" Aya stopped. What could he say? How could he explain? Any further musings were cut off by the sudden peal of childlike laughter that erupted from the kneeling figure in black. "I knew it.. I knew you'd be the one I was waiting for…hitokiri.." When the green eyes met Aya's again, there was a mad light in them Aya had not seen before. "You set me up…. You..set me up…." Aya's hand tightened on the hilt of the katana. "you used me..." Any softness that had crept up on Aya retreated as Michihiro gracefully unfolded to standing. "to kill your own father?" "I set you up, white hunter?" He lifted his chin, the same haughty expression that he'd worn looking down at Schuldich earlier settling on his face. "I set YOU up?" Aya took a step back from the intensity that sparked behind the emerald eyes. "You had no other intention but to use me to get to this pig.. to kill him for your employers, ne?" He reached behind him, the sheath releasing. "Why… did you want me to kill your father?" Aya frowned, backing up. This was not supposed to have happened. "That pig? He wasn't my father." There was a blur of motion and Aya leapt backwards, but only a picture jutted from the pile of the carpeting. "Take it. Look at it." Michihiro sat back against the desk, slowly running his cheek along the smooth finish of the long sheath, not unlike he'd done with Aya's throat. It was a photograph of a woman, Michihiro's face, but softened enough to give it a delicate feminine grace and beauty. She was smiling, her arms around a little boy… Aya looked back up at him, grown now, and watching him with predatory eyes. "He killed her. He couldn't control her so he killed her." The green eyes studied him. "What, you look surprised, Weiss? Didn't your information include that?" "My mother… the Kurasu heir…" Michihiro slid off the edge of the desk, pausing to kick the still form on the floor. "She got pregnant when she was 16… to one of my grandfather's guards. After he had the man killed… to… prevent any further dishonor to our illustrious name, my grandfather married her off to one of his own trusted associates." He laughed, softer than before. "Tetsuya Nishikawa.. took her family name away from her.. took her place.. swore to bring her in line." He thumbed out the guard of the sword in his hand. "She was a genius… she designed the original security for the mainframe… but she wouldn't be controlled, even after he got her with his own children… and so finally… one night.. he killed her. Right… in… here." Michihiro made a brief, sweeping gesture with the saya for emphasis. (he does his best work in here) Aya felt his heart almost stop as Michihiro slid off the desk and prowled towards him. "I saw him. I saw him do it, Kenichi.. if that's what you want me to call you.. I was eight. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't protect ….. myself from him afterwards…" he lifted his chin. "But I knew you'd come eventually to release me…" "Release you… do your dirty work.. what are you talking about?" Violet eyes narrowed to icy slits. "I dreamed about you.. when I was a child.. the red-haired demon with a sword… my oni…. I couldn't kill him myself.. " The silken black hair shook. "… I couldn't dishonor my family even more.. but I knew you'd come.. people have tried to kill him before.. but you had to be the one.. when I got wind of Weiss's activities.. I didn't think anything of it.. not until.. I saw you." The haughty mask crumbled, something damp and bright threatening at the corners of his eyes. "Now… the only thing left, Ken-kun…" The kodachi slid out of the saya soundlessly, one from each end. The dull black blades some composite material, high-tech in an ancient form. "…. Is for you to finish it… and kill me too.." "We don't have to fight, Michihiro… It's over.. he's dead.. " Aya felt himself dropping into a stance, nonetheless, watching the slim, black clad figure opposite him, holding the two short blades with an almost careless grace. "But it isn't… I'm weak, Kenichi… I can't even kill myself.. hitokiri.." The green eyes narrowed. "…but you will." He lunged in a blur of dark motion, no final flash of sunset light on the black blades, even as Aya's own made a bright arc out of the scabbard, their edges shrieking together as both men disengaged, assessing each other. "Stop calling me that." Aya shoulders shook as he took a sharp breath. "Why? It's what you are…" Another swift shadow, and Aya felt the the rush of air as he barely danced clear. The blade sliced through part of a bookcase, sending shreds of paper and wood raining around them like sharp-edged feathers. "MII! Stop it!!" The blades rang together hollowly, even as the paper blanketed Tetsuya's cooling body like snow, each blossoming with red stains even as another fell. Aya panted, twisting, not watching the black blades dance off his katana, but trying to anticipate where the next one would fall. A misstep on a fallen page sent him stumbling back against the massive wooden desk. The air sliced past his head as a black kodachi splintered the wood on either side, shattering the top of the desk under the impact. As it gave way, Aya brought a leg up, shoving Michihiro back, rolling clear of the collapsing desk. "DAMNIT, MII, STOP! You don't have to die!!" Aya's voice broke in his ears. He couldn't kill him.. and he certainly didn't want to die either… he had to live for her.. it wasn't over yet, it wasn't.... You won't be able to stop him, if you're afraid of dying. (what?) He doesn't care. He's running away. So consumed with guilt.. …Aoshi…. (My destiny. My blood. Hitokiri.) Aya's heartbeat thudded in his own ears. (But I can choose not to kill.. I can choose not to be afraid….) Nothing but your target.. your sword.. they called it a succession technique.. Hands shifted on the hilt, steel rasping on the scabbard as he resheathed it. "Ken….please…" The green eyes were wild. "Mii… you are strong.." Aya's voice was shaking as he let his own broken feelings into it. "You've just lost your way… it's time to wake up now, though.. it's time to take back who you are…" The words stung his own heart, and even as he said it, the position of the katana was shifting in his hand, his body dropping into a stance he could never recall. "I can't. It's over. My brothers can fight over the carcass." Michihiro's body shifted as well. Suddenly Aya recognized the stance. ….Kaiten… Kenbu.. Rokuren.. the same dance.. the same dance they danced over a hundred years ago…(He'll kill me… ) You can't be afraid.
(I AM NOT AFRAID!)
The room ceased to be. Aya's world became only a heartbeat, a target, a single point in empty space.
Ama…
Kakeru….
Ryu…..
No….
HIRAMEKI!!!!
A single brilliant moment of clarity and Aya understood. He saw the words strobe across his vision, understood the strike. There was nothing else. No Michihiro and his black blades and broken guilt, no library with bloodied corpse… no Ran Fujimiya running away from his own ghosts. There was only the strike. (I can choose not to kill) In that last moment, the blade twisted in Aya's hand, the flat of it connecting with that single target. And the world came rushing back, the details of the library snapping back into existing, the echo of his own cry reverberating painfully in his ears, every fiber in his body screaming with some previously unknown strain. The impact of the blow sent Michihiro off his feet, crashing back into a bookcase that toppled over like an overgrown domino, the kodachi falling to the soft floor without a sound. Aya watched it, transfixed on the too-slow motion of it, before time reasserted itself and Michihiro sagged, unmoving, to the carpet. "Michihiro!?" Aya's own katana fell, unnoticed, from his hand as he knelt by the still figure in black. "Mii.." Breath returned a moment later in a single, ragged, liquid gasp, given counterpoint by the dry twig crackle of shattered ribs. The green eyes slowly opened, the mad light gone from their depths. "K'so… you.." A thin smile played on his lips. "…there goes my….grand exit…" Aya moved to help him sit up, stopped by the shaking of the dark head. "No.. You.. should leave, ne, Kenichi-kun?.. there's thing…s.. I need to.. do.." Dark lashes slid closed over his eyes for a moment, and he coughed, bringing up a crimson thread onto the white skin of his cheek. "Your partner.. the boy.." "Om..Bombay…." Aya chewed the inside of his cheek, brushing back the long black bangs that covered Michihiro's eyes. "Bombay.. my people.. he's ok. " There was a bubbling laugh. "left him a present. Little hacker…" The brilliant eyes refocused on Aya, and the thin smile widened into something pained and beautiful. "Please leave… We're done …here.. Go." Aya nodded curtly, turning away to mask the emotion he felt gathering on his face. "Michihiro.. " he gripped the katana in his hand. "I…" his voice died away, and Aya wheeled, taking the stairs two at a time in his leaving. Kyo stood by the door and Aya froze. The big man simply nodded and opened the door. "Discretion sir." He rumbled, stepping aside. Aya's eyes widened to see Omi, struggling to pick the lock on the cuffs that fastened him to the steering wheel. "You might want to keep a better eye on your friends." Was all that Kyo added, closing the door behind him. "Abyssinian?!?" Omi's blue eyes caught sight of Aya as he finished freeing himself. "This big guy caught me coming out of the mainframe and just locked me up, and then gave me my stuff back.. and.. " His young voice trailed off, seeing the exhaustion in Aya's expression. "We're leaving, Omi. Get Youji and Ken out of here.. My mission's done… they won't bother us.." There was a flash of light as Aya opened the car door, and a thunderous explosion from somewhere deep in the house, shattering windows, scattering the very few people who remained on the grounds. "..things to do.." Aya picked himself up, and threw the car into reverse. ~~~~~~~~ The ride home was mostly in silence, except for the smooth rhythm of the engine. Aya's hands shook on the wheel, the memory of that final strike still echoing in his nerves. If Omi noticed, he didn't say anything, until. "Aya-kun… someone loaded the encryption key for the Kurasu files on here.." Stunned, he closed the lid on his notebook with a tiny click. "They didn't take the files when they had me.. they could have.. why?" In the end.. you had to choose between black and white.. And you chose white… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The dreams still lingered at the corner of Aya's subconscious, trailing behind like ghosts fading in the sunlight, but they mostly centered on that momentary smile. He couldn't help but feel for a moment, the smile had been the one he'd lost when his sister had been struck down. As Aya entered through the rear of Kitten in the House, it felt as though he hadn't been back in a million years, even though it had only been days. It was looking to be just another day, comfortingly familiar, the scent of flowers and green things, even as had been the normal morning banter between his teammates. He couldn't let them know that, though, so he kept his impassive face well in place the days following the mission. "Ohayou, Momoe-san… The others will be along shortly." Aya gave the old woman a typically terse greeting, even as she patted his hand. "Ohayou, Aya… be a dear please and help the customers? I need to look something up in one of the catalogues." Aya groaned, but nodded. Under the best of circumstances he hated dealing with other people. He tied the white apron on, absently rounding the corner, and stopping dead. Raven-black hair spilled down the back of the young man's green jacket, the shoulders too broad to be a woman's. He was kneeling, sorting through the roses in their baskets. "I.. need.. to pick out some flowers." He said softly, without looking up. "I was thinking roses.. but.. I'm not sure if it should be white ones.. or red.." Aya took a cautious step forward. "They.. say.. that different flowers have different meanings." He said conversationally, mouth drying. "For instance… white roses.. are for pure love and the red.. passionate.." One long, pale hand picked a tropicana rose out of a basket, it's lush orange petals almost luminescent in the sunny room. "And this one? I like this one. It reminds me of …the person I wish to send the flowers to.." He got up stiffly and awkwardly, the customer, the green eyes immediately meeting Aya' startled violet ones. "Do you think it's a good choice?" Aya nodded, mute for a moment. "Hai. I.. I think so. Would.. Would you like to include a card… with your flowers?" The dark head nodded. "Please.. It should say…" Ran….. Thank you… and.. I don't love you either." Can you pass that along?" The small smile that played on his lips was brief and faintly wicked. Aya allowed the mask to drop from his own face for a moment. "Yes.. I can..." There was a soft laugh. "What am I doing here?" "Maybe you're looking for something…. And maybe it's here.." Ende. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ German Notes: (Many, Many thanks to Priya (may she live forever) for correcting babelfish's german)