Warnings etc in Part 1

Youji dropped himself into a chair at the kitchen table while Omi started pulling things out of the fridge to make the older blonde something to eat. Ken put together a bag of ice and gently set it over Youji’s bandaged, swollen ankle. He’d stepped badly when he’d tried to back away from Aya’s last punch that had knocked the wind out of him for a few minutes. For all that they were “ruthless” assassins, they all had their klutzy moments. Though it was Ken who displayed that trait most often.

“Do you need anything else? There’s a game on,” Ken nodded towards the common/mission room where the TV still sounded.

“I’m good, thanks. Go on,” Youji waved Ken out of the room. Omi was going to want to know what happened and Ken had been angry enough at Aya when he found Youji gasping on the floor, he didn’t need to hear details. Youji had had to talk fast to keep Ken from going after the redhead with his bugnucks.

It wasn’t that Youji wasn’t angry with Aya; his last black eye had just finally healed and now he was going to be sporting a new one. But at the moment it had happened, Youji knew that Aya needed some kind of outlet, and he’d rather it be taken out on him than Omi or Ken, especially Ken who wasn’t always aware of what he was saying.

No, Youji was more frightened and worried than angry. There had been no expression in the violet eyes that stared at him while Aya yelled, and Youji had seen enough of the redhead’s righteous anger in the past to know that they usually lit up when his lover got worked up to that state. That dull nothingness had scared Youji; he’d seen it once before. The combination of Aya’s words and blank look had dredged up memories Youji hadn’t thought of in a long time.

It would be better if I’d never lived.

Aya’s voice rang in his ears, a memory flashing across his vision. Aya, in the empty tub, bare from the waist up, a thin line of blood on the inside of one forearm, knife poised at a wrist, pressing into the flesh but not drawing blood.

The clatter of a plate being set in front of him brought Youji back to the present. Omi had taken the chair across from and was looking on expectantly.

“What happened, Youji-kun?” Omi asked softly.

Youji picked at the bread, peeling small bits of crust off the edges of the sandwich. “He’s not taking this well,” he answered, though it seemed quite obvious that Aya was not handling the situation with his normal stoicism. “He reacted badly when I tried to talk to him,” he said softly. “I called him Aya, and he said not to. Then when I asked if I should call him Ran, he told me Ran was dead.”

Omi nodded. “He’s been wearing his sister’s name for so long, and now that she’s gone,” he trailed off.

“He’s lost,” Youji finished the sentence with a murmur. He looked up into Omi’s patient blue eyes. “I’m worried, Omittchi. He’s been more than his normal cold self today. He’s just been—blank.” His eyes turned back to the sandwich he was slowly shredding. “The last time he was this blank,” Youji trailed off, taking a breath. “I’m afraid he might do something--foolish.”

“Has he before?” Omi asked gently.

“Aa.” Youji thought before continuing. He knew that Omi would wait for him to speak.

“How much do you know about what Aya did before Weiss?”

Omi almost blushed. “I hacked into his file once,” he admitted. “He trained at the center in Sendai, where he learned ikebana. After his team was killed, he temporarily joined a group called Crashers; they did reconnaissance and infiltration, no killing. Went freelance when that was over. We know the rest.”

Youji nodded. He knew all that and more. Aya could be talkative when he wanted to be. “After our first mission,” he said softly, “I found Aya in the bath. He had forgotten to lock the door behind him. I think you were patching Ken up downstairs, or working on a report, or something. I wanted a shower. He was sitting in the tub, a knife in his hand. He was wearing that same blank look I saw tonight. He’d already cut himself once, not deep enough for stitches, but it was bleeding. I talked to him, sort of. Scolded would be a better term.”

The scene replayed itself unbidden for Youji.

What the hell do you think you’re doing? What about your sister? You going to leave her behind to fend for herself? I thought you loved her? You want her to grow up abandoned and alone? What would it be like for her to wake up alone, her family gone? You do this for her, Aya. You kill for her. The demons of the dark are your targets, not yourself. Live for your sister, Aya. Don’t die for her.

It had worked. The knife had fallen from the redhead’s hand, slipping into the tub. Youji had patched up the shallow cut and extracted a promise from the smaller man. Youji would not tell Omi or Ken what he had seen if Aya would at least try to speak with Youji before doing anything stupid like that again. Even in those early days it was apparent that Aya wasn’t a big talker, but Youji had felt some connection between them, and hopefully it was enough for Aya to trust him enough to seek his help.

“You never told us.” Omi wasn’t accusing and there was understanding in the bright eyes.

“Iie.” Youji admitted. “It was a promise of sorts.”

“You didn’t break it,” Omi said hurriedly.

Youji met Omi’s wide blue eyes and nodded. Omi wouldn’t betray his confidence. When had the youngest member of the four been transformed into the group confidant? Youji talked to Aya when he could, but there were times when he needed someone else, someone he wasn’t so intimate with to talk to.

The plate was pulled out of his grasp when Omi stood and walked around the table to take it away from him. “You’re not going to eat, you may as well go to bed,” he gave a small smile of understanding.

“Thanks, Omi.” Youji would have smiled if he’d had the energy.

Omi merely nodded, turning to the sink to dispose of the pile of crumbs Youji had reduced the sandwich to.

The tall blonde limped up the stairs. He paused at Aya’s door, knowing instinctively that the younger man would not have returned to their shared bedroom. Silently, he pushed the door open and peered in.

Aya appeared to be sleeping, but Youji knew better. As quietly as he could, he slipped across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, toeing off his shoes. Aya probably wanted to be alone but Youji just couldn’t trust him, wasn’t totally confident that he wouldn’t try some stunt in the dead of night. So he slipped into the bed beside the slender redhead curled up to one side. Youji lay staring up at the ceiling, arms at his sides.

It didn’t take long for Aya to actually fall asleep, unconsciously moving closer to the warm body beside him. Youji welcomed the man into his arms, holding him close for the night.





Part 5 | Part 7


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