Mada Mada
by Utopian Trunks
"Each time, I give it a chance."
What if this... was the last time?
What if this time... fate chose to take him up on it?
"Youji!"
Aya was across the rooftop in a breath, his blade felling the man who stood at the edge in one stroke.
Black-gloved fingers slipped.
Aya's arm shot over the edge, grasping at nothing.
He only caught a glimpse of the face framed in up-flowing waves of oak. He was smiling.
"YOUJI!!"
"Mattaku," the childish voice drew Aya's attention from across the room. "Youji-kun--again?"
"Itté," the dark-haired man hissed softly at the antiseptic sting of the iodine, then grinned at the teenager scowling at him. "Daijoubu, Kaasan," he teased, laughing. "Are you going to send me to my room?"
Omi glared, planting his hands on his hips. "If you're going to make fun, next time you can patch yourself up!" He yanked the bandage circling his teammate's arm from elbow to wrist shut, then grabbed the first-aid kit and stalked upstairs to the flower-shop.
"Yaré-yaré," Youji sighed, his smile fading but still lingering over his lips. He glanced at his left arm and flexed his fingers pensively. "No sense of humour."
Aya's violet eyes strayed critically along the gauze-wrapped arm, noting silently the way its oak-haired owner was holding it. As he'd guessed when he'd seen the wound inflicted earlier, it was more serious than the elder Weiß member let on. His first thought was that Kudou was lucky it'd been his left, but, he corrected himself, Balinese was a double-handed fighter. It was going to tell in his work.
"Shit, Youji," his thoughts were interrupted by the dark-haired figure sprawled on the couch, glaring over his shoulder. Brown eyes fixed on the former detective, brows drawn angrily. "This's the third time in a row. The fuck's going on with you?"
Youji's face lifted, green eyes neutral. His smile stretched slightly wider. "Are you worried about me, 'Ken-kun'?"
The boy snorted. "Worried about your carelessness getting the rest of us killed."
A scarlet eyebrow lifted minutely. So Ken had noticed, too. Unlike the soccer-player, Aya wasn't upset. He was confident enough in his own abilities; no amount of sloppiness on the part of any of his teammates was going to endanger him. No, he was simply curious. From the shadows, unobtrusively polishing his katana, he listened.
Forest-green eyes stayed fixed on the brown-eyed youth, expression stamped with the carelessness he'd been accused of. "I'll keep up my end of the rope, Ken," Youji said evenly.
"Yeah?" Ken was around the couch and in front of the table Youji perched on. "You've already dropped it as far as I'm concerned. You know how much time we wasted coming back for you today? What'd you think you were doing?!"
Aya's eyes narrowed. Youji's expression hadn't changed, his eyes hadn't dropped from Ken's face, now inches from his own. His smile hadn't even faltered, but there was something in his body language--something extra to his usual graceful slump as Ken leaned over him--
"Ken," Youji replied in the same, steady voice. "The rules say that if the mission is in jeopardy, you are to abandon your teammates." Long limbs slid off the edge of the table as Ken struggled for a response. Youji's slender body almost brushed Ken's as he stood, eyes never leaving the shorter man's. "I never asked you to break them for me."
Hidaka finally stepped back, muttering some curse under his breath. Youji turned and made his way up the spiral staircase. Aya's eyes lingered on the older man's profile as he emerged from the gloom of their basement meeting-room into the light of the shop above.
"Damn it!" Ken snarled, slamming his hand on the table. "Why didn't you say something, Aya?"
Abyssinian glanced away from Ken to the stairs, noting with some small annoyance that Youji had disappeared. His voice floated down the stairwell, jovial as ever, "Oi, Omi, what will your fanclub do to me if I let you throw your back out carrying that? Let me!" Some flustered reply from Bombay and a peal of laughter from Balinese. Aya's gaze travelled back to Ken.
"What would you have had me say?"
The boy's face twisted in frustration, his fist clenching and un-clenching at his side. "That you agree, that he'd better shape up? That he's not doing his job if he's putting all the rest of us in danger?"
Aya returned his attention to his sword. "Are you so incompetent that his slip-ups will get you killed? If so--"
"Che!" Ken spat. "We're supposed to be a team! If--"
"Then why are you trying to stir my ill-will against him? It's not my place to throw him off Weiß. If he continues this way, he'll eventually get himself killed and you won't have to worry about him anymore."
"You--!" Reflected in his blade Aya could see the other boy's mouth working in voiceless rage. The now-closed fist shook. "Fine!" he snarled at last, kicking the table leg petulantly for lack of a better way to vent. "Both of you do whatever the hell you want!" Ken turned, his hand on the stair-railing.
"Youji-kun, we just got an order for three of your specialty!"
"Coming up!"
Ken flinched as though he'd been slapped, spun and made for the side-door leading up into the alley. He nearly took off its hinges behind him.
Aya added more wax.
"Maa, here we are again, Aya," Youji grinned, balancing between knee and hand at the edge of the abandoned sewage pipe. "I'm thinking you must be in love with me or something."
A raised eyebrow was his only answer from the trench-coated figure who joined him at the mouth. Aya looked his partner over quickly before turning his gaze to the swampy terrain ahead. Assuring himself they were unobserved, he swung out. An unsavory squelch greeted him as his thankfully high boots sank into the mire, followed by a second as Youji appeared next to him.
"Na, Aya admit it." The older man's perfect teeth flashed in the brief illumination of headlights from the highway far above them. Lavendar eyes appraised him, alternately shadowed or luminous as the traffic overhead dictated. Aya snorted and allowed the corner of his lips to drag upwards slightly.
"We've got work to do," he intoned flatly, jerking his head towards the sandstone highrise that held their target. He set off, hearing Youji follow.
"You're no fun, Aya."
"Aa." There was a resigned grumble behind him.
"And after all the trouble you've gone to lately to have me to yourself..." This last was muttered mostly for the benefit of the speaker, but Aya's brows drew together.
So Balinese wasn't oblivious after all. The past four missions he'd been sure to pair himself with the lanky brunet, and leave reconnaissance to Bombay and Siberian. It was an intuitive division anyhow--he and Youji were the most effective pitted against multiple adversaries, after all. Ken and Omi's talents were best put to work gathering information and killing from the shadows.
Further, Aya was not as nonchalant about Youji's recent behaviour as he'd suggested--mostly to bait Ken--and if the eldest Weiß member was going to be dropping slack, he trusted himself best to pick it up. The whole team, not to mention their mission, was more secure this way.
"Over here," Aya commanded under his breath, leading his partner further under the shadow of the overpass, near the edge of the sludge-moat they waded through.
"There's no need to whisper," Youji complained, his voice equally low nonetheless. "I really doubt they've got security out this far."
"All the same," Aya replied in a monotone. He glanced back covertly at the other man, a frown creasing his features. He was off again.
It was curiosity, too that had made him stick to Youji for the last few missions. Since the week before when Balinese had injured his arm, Aya had been watching him carefully. On the two jobs immediately following, Kudou had been, despite working with a handicap, just as professional and deadly as ever.
Their third mission, however, the brunet's mind had seemed elsewhere. And on the fourth, Abyssinian himself--though he'd hidden it from Bombay and Siberian later--had garnered a not-inconsequential wound to the back saving Balinese. The situation had involved an ambush, guns, a very well-trained squad of body-guards, and didn't bear thinking about. They had completed the mission and escaped with their lives and secret identities intact, that was the important part. But Ken had been right, Youji was becoming a liability.
While the crux of Youji's change remained hidden from him, one thing Aya had learned from his observations: On the nights when Youji was going to be a problem, he talked too much. And this was the first silence that had fallen between them since they'd left home.
"How's your arm?" Aya asked suddenly, before he realized his mouth was open. He heard Youji's stride flag and matched it. Youji came abreast of him but didn't look directly at him.
"Fine. How's your back?"
"Heal in a day or two," the redhead replied. They were silent for several paces. "I thought it might have gotten infected--your arm, I mean."
"Why?" Youji wondered, tone neutral.
"The last couple days..."
"I was wondering when you would say something," Youji laughed. "Don't be so generous. It started before that, didn't it?"
Aya faltered. "If not that, then what?"
"Betsu ni." Youji looked off. Aya frowned.
"Look, I'm not attacking you," He recalled the other man's reaction to Ken's demand with something akin to a shudder. "I'm not worried about you endangering me--"
"You're too good for that, I suppose. And Ken was being unprofessional?"
Scarlet brows quirked. "If Ken or I question you, it's because you're a valuable member of our team. If we jeopardize a mission for you, it's because Weiß wouldn't be as effective without you."
"Yeah...?" Green eyes flicked over him. One black-leather-sheathed finger stroked the dial of his watch. "I'll try not to disappoint you today," he said, pausing as they reached the rear of the building. He reached for the bottom rung of a rusty, neglected fire-escape and swung up with cat-like grace. "But you'd do well to remember what I said to Ken."
Sneakers hit sandstone with a muffled thump. The blond boy glanced up towards the roof of the building he was rappelling down. He tugged the rope twice and hopped down gradually as more slack was fed him from above. "OK," Omi hissed, tugging again as he reached a window, one foot on either side. He produced a compass-like instrument from a pocket and placed one of its feet at the centre of the pane. A low scratching sound followed the diamond needle of the second foot as he turned it, drawing a clean line through the glass. A grin appeared on the youthful features; he'd designed this glass-cutter himself.
"Oi," Ken's tousled brown head appeared over the ledge above. "Got it?"
"Just a sec... Ah--" A click, then a heavy grating sound as he eased out the circle of glass. He twisted on the rope and stretched to deposit it on a small ledge to his right.
"Omi?"
"Ken-kun, I know I'm a genius, but have a little patience--" He slid a jacketed arm through the breach in security, three different lock-picks clenched in his fist. His soft features pursed in concentration. The first didn't fit, the second... Click. Omi's face lit up as he withdrew his hand and easily pushed up the window.
Another tug on the line brought a small packet sailing along it. The blond unhooked it and ducked head and shoulders into the room. Fine dust from the packet revealed three lasers directly under the window. Swinging himself fully inside, he unclasped the hook on his belt and tugged three times. It snaked back up towards the roof and Omi slid down from the windowsill, easily sidestepping the initial motion detectors to search for more.
"How many?" Ken appeared through the window a moment later.
"Take one large pace straight towards me, then step left..."
They took the hallway outside without misadventure, two well-aimed darts dispatching the posted sentries.
"Found it," Ken whispered, gesturing to a door. "According to our map, this oughta be it."
Omi hurried over, hand-held computer already alight in one hand, connectors in the other. A few key-punches later he flashed his partner a thumbs-up.
"High-tech security, huh? No match for our Omi!"
"Naturally." The high-schooler cracked the door open, sprinkling the last of the dust inside the room, but strangely enough there were no lasers here. "Guess they figured the access-code was enough," the boy shrugged.
Ken closed the door behind him and bolted it for good measure. A low electric hum surrounded them, the gloom broken only by the various black-and-white screens and panels of luminous buttons that populated the room. "There they are," Ken said, pointing to a monitor. Omi glanced up to see the familiar dark-coated figures of their two teammates under the label B-5.
"Hokay," he stretched his arms out in front of him and cracked his knuckles. "Then we disable B-5's alarms first.." He cast around, spotted the desired panel and flipped a few switches. "Now..."
"Hey, uh..." Ken began.
"Hm?"
"Isn't it kinda weird there's no one in here watching?"
"Huh? Oh, no," Omi answered, occupying himself with a switchboard. "This isn't a surveillance room, it's the control room for the other ones in the building. Which is why..." Out went the red, yellow and white plugs, in went the blue, green, and purple. "I'm switching cameras on them. Now whoever thinks they're looking at B-5 is actually watching B7, which looks about the same, but on the other end of the building. When they move, I'll switch it again. Lucky for us, the only place you can see the whole picture is right here."
"So, um... that's all we're here for?"
"Yep."
Ken groaned, flopping to the floor. "You really didn't need me, then."
"You'd rather leave me all alone and unprotected?" Omi pouted playfully.
"Well, no, but... I feel kinda useless. I coulda been helping take out the guards downstairs."
"Maa, looks like they're doing all right," Omi said, watching two screens swap their images as he crossed another set of wires. "Besides, Aya-kun was right, three is a bit conspicuous. A hit team of two is easier."
Ken fretted with his claw. "Na, when did he become our leader, anyway?"
"Hmmmmm?" Omi turned halfway from the controls to lift an eyebrow at him. "Someone sounds a bit bitter."
"I'm not bitter," Ken muttered. "But for all he only joined Weiß six months ago..."
"You have to admit he's a good strategist, and he takes charge well."
"A natural born leader, huh?"
"Well..."
"Bah, I guess." Siberian polished a small spot off his claw onto the ubiquitous orange sweatshirt. "But... how come he's with Youji all the time lately?" He blinked large brown eyes into the silence that followed.
"Ahaaa," Omi said finally.
"'Aha' what?" The brunet shifted uncomfortably.
"You're jealous."
"WHAT?!" Ken nearly fell over.
"No, I understand," Omi said, not turning from his work. "Youji-kun's been kinda our mentor since he joined, right? And before, I always thought he was the leader. It was a bit weird when Aya-kun just showed up and took over, ne?"
"A-aa," Ken agreed, regaining his equilibrium.
"So for him to stick so close to Youji-kun, too, I can see why you'd feel jealous. It's almost like sibling rivalry," he added thoughtfully.
"I don't know if I'd put it that way--" Ken blinked up at the boy standing over him.
"Poor Ken-chan," Omi grinned, patting him on the head. "Youji-kun's been neglecting you and you feel lonely, don't you?"
"Don't 'chan' me," Ken growled, swatting his hand away. Omi giggled and moved back to the switchboard.
"Ah--!" Omi gasped. "Shimatta!"
"What?" Ken was on his feet next to him in a second.
"They ran into a patrol, look!" Omi ran across the room to another set of controls and began punching commands frantically. Ken looked up at the screen to see Youji and Aya struggling with seven guards--not the grunts they had taken out in the hallway, either, these guys were higher rank.
"Mazui," Omi breathed. "If they radio anyone else, our cover's blown."
"Can you shut down communications?" Ken demanded, unable to wrest his eyes from the scene above him. With just those seven there really wasn't anything to worry about, but--
"I'm trying..."
Sudden movement on an adjacent monitor caught Ken's eye. "Crap, the patrol in B-4 must've heard them, they're headed over!"
"Done!" Omi declared. "Radio's down, they won't be able to call anyone else, but..."
"There's more than ten of them. If Youji and Aya can't take them out immediately, they won't need radio; they'll send someone, or just be loud enough."
"Go!" Omi commanded, rushing back to the first panel and giving his teammate a shove towards the door. "Go help, I'll cover you as best I can from here and meet you back at the shop, OK?"
He didn't have to tell Ken twice.
"Ah, hell," Youji muttered, yanking his wire taught, disarming two guards and garotting a third. "Here comes another batch."
Aya pulled his katana free of a new corpse, whirled and sent it through another. "K'so." was the only comment he had. How they'd been stupid enough to run into these guys was beyond him. Bombay had most likely neutralized the alarms, but vocal was just as good as electronic, now.
A thunder of boot-heels sounded the arrival of thirteen more guards, armed as the first seven with knives, nightsticks and guns. They were a low-speed model, designed so as not to ricochet indoors, but just as deadly at this range.
Aya narrowly dodged the first volley of shots--then he was among them, at quarters too close for fire-arms. Knives weren't much of a threat to a katana-wielding assassin, but the guards weren't half bad with the batons. One fell, then two...
Several more shots rang out.
"Shiiit! Kinda makes you wonder why Weiß doesn't use guns, huh?" a familiar voice quipped.
"Ken?"
A couple gurgling yells and two more bodies hit the floor. A certain measure of relief hit Aya as Ken appeared beside him--not that it showed on his face.
"Yo, thought you could use a hand."
"You're not wrong..." Abyssinian's sword skewered a guard from under Siberian's arm.
"Heh--thanks--" Ken ducked a knife-jab from another and rose, burying his claw in the man's stomach and lifting him clean over his shoulder to crash to the floor, lifeless. "Oi, where's Youji?"
Lavendar eyes jerked to their left. "He was on the other side of the--" The two Weiß members tore their way to the edge of the mob encircling them.
Only two figures were upright across the room, surrounded by fallen bodies.
Ken's eyes widened. "Kill him!" he yelled.
BANG
The lock clicked open and the shutter-door slid up. Omi ducked under and into the Koneko Sumu-Ie, a wide grin on his face. They must be downstairs, he surmised, finding the first floor empty. He pulled the shutter to and relocked it, pocketing the key.
"Minna doko~?" he called brightly. "I'm sure you want to hear about my stunning solo performance..." He started down the stairs to the basement, then froze on the second step, a frisson of alarm running from shoulder to shoulder. His hand slipped automatically into his sleeve for a dart. "Guys...?" The smell of blood hit him full in the face. Here? It couldn't be! Every muscle in his body tensed for battle.
"Come down, Omi, you may as well."
"Aya-kun!" Omi gasped in relief, barrelling down the remaining stairs. The leader of Weiß met him at the bottom, his trenchcoat gone. The boy looked him over anxiously. "You're all right, so what--" he glanced around Aya and blanched. "Oh, no..."
Ken looked up from beside the couch, equally pale. "Maybe you'd better stay over there, Omi."
"No!" The boy pushed past Aya, running to Ken's side. He caught his breath violently and fell to his knees beside him. "Y-Youji-kun..."
The eldest Weiß member was stretched out on the sofa, stripped to the waist, looking as though he'd bathed in his own blood. He was breathing, Omi assured himself, but shallowly. His face was drained, blood-damp hair plastered to it. A thick bandage ran around his body from mid-torso to just below the open waistband of his pants. The white gauze had turned a deep silt-colour all across his abdomen, but the bleeding must have stopped. Bombay swallowed a surge of nausea. The couch cushions were saturated with blood, running down to seep into the wool carpet. Youji hadn't had much blood to lose by the time the bandage had been finished.
"What... happened?"
"There's no need for either of you to look like that." Aya appeared behind the sofa, his face a mask of disdainful anger. "It was point-blank with a reduced-speed. The bullet went straight through, nothing vital was touched."
"But he's lost so much blood..."
"Our biggest problem right now is how to get rid of a couch and a rug that look like this." Aya grimaced in disgust and turned away.
"Aya-kun!" Omi's blue eyes were huge. "How can you--"
"He's not in any danger, and he blew our mission!" Aya growled.
Omi bit his lip, shaking his head as he took his feet. "No, he didn't... I hit the target myself. He moved during the panic and I got him..."
Aya didn't turn around. "One less thing on his head, then."
"Aya-kun..." Omi's fists clenched at his sides, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.
"Omi," the boy turned at the hand on his elbow. "He really will be alright. We contacted Manx. He's going to need a transfusion, I think, but it'll be OK."
"But-!" he glanced at Aya, then turned his gaze back to Ken.
The brunet's eyes fell. "He... kinda has good reason to be mad." The boy stared at him and he shook his head, his mouth tightening. "Go upstairs and wait to let Manx in, ne?" When he hesitated, "Please."
Omi's face twisted in a mixture of fury, frustration and anxiety. He looked again at the prone figure of their teammate, his teeth digging into his lower lip. Then he dragged an arm quickly across moist eyes and bolted for the stairs.
As the rickety staircase ceased vibrating, Youji's laboured breathing filled the room.
"I..." Aya began softly. Ken looked up to see the other man with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Gloved fingers dug into his sides, leaving bloody prints on his white shirt. "I should have listened to you earlier, Ken."
The brunet opened his mouth but couldn't find anything to say. His eyes fell to the older man unconscious beside him. He was as helpless and frustratedly in the dark as Omi. Why?
Features smooth and peaceful with oblivion, even blood-smeared, Youji was strikingly beautiful. Which only made it harder to see him like this, to relive how it had happened as he knew Aya, too, must be, even now.
Because although the veritable sea of blood--on their hands, clothes, all over the room--made it look like the end of the world, it wasn't. They had each suffered such wounds before.
What held the two assassins in deadly thrall was the fact that it should have been worse.
No, not should have been.
Youji had wanted it to be.
BANG
God, would he ever get to sleep?
Aya's eyes ran the length of a crack in the plaster of his bedroom ceiling for the thousandth time.
"Kill him!"
He shut his eyes tightly, raking his fingers through disshevelled crimson locks. I don't want to see it again.
Abandon. It was no stranger to him, was it? He who walked the path of a killer wearing his sister's name? Ken, or Omi, weren't they, too, simply resigned to their fates? Ken's career ruined, Omi's memories stolen...
He shook his head. Despite that, they were still striving for something. Omi wanted to regain his past. Ken wanted to ensure that the same fate never befell anyone else. And Aya? He worked for her whose name he bore, in hopes that, maybe during his next hospital visit, she would open her eyes...
What did Youji have? A dead partner he still saw out of the corner of his eye, in a woman's profile or even a quick glance at Omi. The crumbling remains of a religion, perhaps, as his tattoo hinted.
What did he hope for?
Why did he--?
Against his will his mind's eye re-summoned that room.
When the mass of guards had parted, what he'd seen had been the end of a struggle. Youji, his wire clasped in both hands, straightened from the man still spewing blood from the jugular as he fell. He heard the last guard behind him, whirled to face him. His opponent drew his weapon.
Deadlock.
The two man stared at each other, Youji's razor-sharp wire taught against the guard's throat, the taller, broader man's weapon cocked, barrel pressed to Youji's abdomen.
"Kill him!" Aya heard Ken scream. One flick of his wrist could have done it.
A strange expression moved acros their teammate's face.
Youji dropped the wire and opened his arms.
BANG
They would have to get the couch out of there tomorrow night. The rug, too. Bring them somewhere and burn them. The shop would be closed tomorrow--the smell was too strong. Standing down there was making Ken nauseous, but he couldn't bring himself to move.
Manx had arrived with a small team of paramedics over an hour before. Thank god for Kritiker. Youji would be properly taken care of. Persia had hospitals and doctors he could send his subordinates to, no questions asked, no risk to their safety while convalescent.
Now all that remained of the eldest Weiß member were the stains on the couch... and everywhere else.
A slump of black leather caught his eye and he moved at last from his post by the sofa. Aya's trenchcoat. They'd have to burn it, too, it was ruined.
"Leave me."
Ken shuddered as Youji's face appeared behind his closed eyelids. The slender figure stood before him, doubled over. He'd dragged himself upright after Ken had dispatched the guard who'd shot him. His gloved hand clasped his abdomen, a ludicrous gesture as blood cascaded from the exit-wound, pooling on the marble floor behind him.
"Just go."
How was he keeping his feet? Ken stared into narrowed leaf-green eyes. They pinned him like searchlights glaring out of a face bone-white from blood-loss.
"I can't--!" Ken started
"Go, finish the mission!"
"Idiot!" Aya shouted, joining them as the last of their adversaries hit the ground behind him. "We're not leaving you!" He started forward. Youji jerked back, slipping in his own blood and nearly falling.
"Who wants your help?! Go!"
Ken looked desperately to Aya, but the redhead was faster. He darted forward as Youji fell, catching the taller man and lifting him onto his back in one motion.
"Aya--" Violet eyes burned into him.
"This mission is over!"
Ken followed as Aya made for the nearest escape route.
Youji's eyes met his, quietly reproachful. A hoarse whisper, "I never asked you..."
Ken took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"God, Youji, why?" We all have our reasons to be depressed. But why now? He was so used to Youji's carefree, cheerful persona that this--he wasn't ready for it. He didn't want it. He didn't know what to do about it.
Omi had said before that he was lonely because Aya was taking Youji away from him. It was true. He was far more attached to the older man than he liked to admit. Not just as a 'mentor' as Omi had said, though that was a part of it. He depended on Youji. He showed up at the shop every morning to hear him say 'Yo, ohayo.' He made sure he came back alive every night to spend another day watching that lithe figure wander through the flower displays, watching the sunlight play off chestnut waves. Youji's hand on his shoulder, the little quip about his tousled hair or weakness for kids, these things had become necessary to him.
And Youji himself was going to take it all away?
Please, please no.
But what could he do? He'd been angry before when he thought Youji was endangering himself through simple carelessness. But if it was deliberate, if Youji really wanted to die, there was nothing Ken could do to stop him. There were a hundred chances a day to end his life, if he wished to.
The fact that he wanted to hurt more than anything. Over the past three and a half years, Youji had become almost his sole reason for living. But obviously, he did not mean as much to Youji.
Noon-time sun stole in through gauzy curtains, softly lighting the white-washed, white tile-floored room. The occupant of the single bed was a man in his twenties with wavy, shoulder-length hair drawn back by a rubber band. Dressed in a pale blue gown, his arms, bare and frail-looking from just below the shoulder, were arranged in front of him. His back rested against two large pillows.
Youji's eyes fluttered open. They scanned the room out of a motionless face.
A hospital.
He was under Weiß protection then.
He was still alive. He accepted that knowledge with mild disappointment. What shape was he in? He'd been shot, right? In the stomach?
Stiff arms dragged the coverlet slowly down and parted the papery blue fabric. An ugly pucker in the flesh of his abdomen greeted him; the bullet-hole had been stitched. The exit wound, he knew, had to be much larger--he was grateful he didn't feel strong enough to get up and look.
Strangely enough he wasn't in any pain. Some powerful painkiller had to be at work. He tested his legs one by one, twisted his spine experimentally. Apparently nothing major had been damaged.
Just missed it again. Youji sighed and settled back into the pillows. His hand strayed over the wound, fingers dipping into the depression. It would be easy enough to rip out the stitches...
No, that's cheating. His hand fell. He pulled the sheets up again against the chill.
A click drew his eyes to the door. It eased open and a blond head leaned in. The boy's face lit up as he saw him. "Youji-kun, you're awake!"
The man smiled as Omi rushed in, a spray of Casablanca lilies in his arms. "Na, has it been long?"
Bombay shook his head as he arranged the flowers in a vase on the night-table. "Just a day and a half. I'm so glad you're awake, though. How do you feel?"
"No problem," Youji grinned. "I can go back on duty tonight."
"You're kidding, I hope!" Omi sputtered. "The doctor said you can't even come home for another two days, and you won't be fit to work in the shop for at least a week after that."
Balinese made a face. "That's a bit drastic, isn't it? It's nothing."
A shadow crossed the youngest Weiß member's face. "It's not nothing. You didn't see yourself when--"
"A real mess, huh?" Youji ruffled his friend's hair. "Sorry. I must really have put you guys out."
"No," Omi shook his head again, bangs swaying to and fro. "I was just so worried..."
Youji's glance strayed to the closed door of the room. "Ken... and Aya?" he asked hesitantly. "They're not hurt, too, are they? Because of me--"
"They're fine!" Omi assured him. "They're back running the shop. And the mission went through just fine, so don't worry!"
"Thanks." Youji smiled warmly, taking the small hand resting beside him on the coverlet. Omi hadn't been there, hadn't realized. He was glad for that much. But Ken and Aya... he was sure they knew, now. Did they hate him for it? Were they too disgusted with him to come here? Perhaps they just didn't care.
He listened to Omi's cheerful banter with only half his attention. The mission had been completed despite the others having to drag him out unconscious. Weiß didn't really need him now that they had Aya. He didn't have to feel guilty about leaving a hole in the team.
Youji's hand tightened slightly around the small one it clasped. He was glad Omi was here. He enjoyed his company--for moments at a time it would lift him out of the lethargic despair he'd fallen into. It just... wasn't enough. It didn't matter, he was beyond searching for something, or someone that was.
Next time, maybe...
"Arigatou gozaimashita!" Omi called afer their last customer of the day.
"'Bout time she picked something, it's fifteen minutes past closing!" Ken grumbled, pulling down the shutter.
"Un," Omi agreed. "I'm going to be late for my review session. I have to hurry." He pulled off his apron on his way to the stairs that led up to their apartments. "Ah, I almost forgot!" he added from out of sight near the top. "I won't have time to bring Youji dinner. Can one of you guys do it, please? Thanks!" He was off without waiting for an answer.
The two remaining downstairs were silent for a moment.
Ken looked up to where Aya was closing the register. "So, uh... can you cook anything?"
"A fried egg," Aya answered tightly.
"I think I can manage toast without burning down the kitchen. Let's go."
Aya stopped in front of the door and turned to Ken, holding out his hands for the tray. "You knock."
Ken handed it over, looking hard at his teammate. Aya didn't meet his eyes. For someone habitually so guarded, he looked about as conflicted now as Ken was himself. He knew Aya hadn't been to see Youji in the past six days, either. Since he'd been released from the hospital, Balinese had been closeted in his room, not even coming down for meals, which Omi delivered. Though the youngest Weiß member had urged them repeatedly to visit, neither of them had. Ken suspected Aya's reasons were similar to his. He had no idea what to say or how to act.
"Let's... try to be nice," Ken said.
Aya eyed him strangely, then gave him a half-nod. Ken rapped lightly on the door.
"Yes?" came the familiar voice.
"Youji? We've got your dinner..."
"Ken?!" They heard the lock turn and the door swing open.
He wasn't sure just what he had been expecting that he was struck speechless by the man in the doorway.
"Oi, what're you doing here?" Youji demanded, grinning. He glanced around the brunet and blinked in surprise. "Aya, too? What have I done to deserve this honour?"
"Omi had schoolwork," Aya answered gruffly. "Can we come in, already?"
"Of course," Youji stepped aside, opening the door fully to admit them. Ken's eyes devoured the other man, from the mile-long, jean-sheathed legs to the glossy-clean, neatly brushed fall of oak framing his face. The older man re-shut the door and turned to them. "It's good to see you guys, I've been working on a serious case of cabin fever up here. Omi ordered me not to leave my room on pain of poison dart, so..." He stretched his arms out in front of him, then lifted them over his head, arching his back. "Ahhh... Anyway, tomorrow he has to let me out--according to the doctor, anyway."
This was the Youji he knew, Ken thought, already smiling in response. "Well, I hope you don't mind eggs and toast for dinner," he jabbed a thumb at Aya as he set the tray on Youji's low coffee table. "Between the two of us, it's the best we could come up with."
"You're saving my life, man. Omi gives me nothing but health-food. It's supposed to be easy to digest or something, but it tastes like crap." He made a face. "I keep telling him it's not my stomach that's bothering me. I'm dying for something edible."
"I make no promises," Aya said, straightening. "But try it."
Youji's stride seemed natural as he walked over, but he had trouble sitting down. Aya started forward to help, but was waved back. "It's just stiff, is all."
"You're sure?" Ken asked, joining the other two around the table. "You feel alright? It's really OK for you to come to work tomorrow?"
"Daijoubu, daijoubu," Youji assured him, breaking the yolk of one of the eggs with a slice of toast. "Shit, what're you talking about, Aya, this must be the best thing I've ever eaten!"
Two hours passed in idle talk about the missions and events at the Koneko Youji had missed before Aya suggested they had better let the older man rest. Ken took the empty tray and they excused themselves.
"See you tomorrow," Youji said as he closed the door behind them. The smile faded from his face and he leaned his forehead against the wood, his hand still on the knob. He'd acted as well as he was able. He was sure he'd convinced Ken. Not so Aya. The remembered intensity of those violet eyes boring into him as they talked made him shiver.
Youji drew a breath and held it. I'm past searching. I don't care...
But is he coming back?
The doorknob turned from the other side, setting his heart thundering almost painfully against his chest. He stepped back and the door opened. Aya crossed the threshhold without a sound, sliding it shut behind him.