WeiB Kruez and its characters don't belong to either of us. ^-^ The storyline,
however, does. =p If you are adverse to shonen-ai, I advise you to ditch RIGHT
NOW. ^-^;; In case you do not know what shonen-ai is, it's two boys getting it
together as a couple. ^.- I can be reached at wraithlike_solace@yahoo.com and
Molly-san can be sought after at madisonk@swbell.net. Please enjoy the fic!
Touched by Light: Part One
Blood splayed suddenly-violently-through the air, falling down in a crimson
haze that was slowly absorbed into the cold, icy ground.
The woman stared at him with a look of total shock paralyzed in her eyes as she
silently folded to the floor... amidst a rain of her own blood. Long violet hair
streamed lifelessly behind her, the locks snaking in a tangle of intricacy upon the
dark ground.
With a shock that hit Aya in the pit of his stomach, he realized...
::She was innocent. This target... didn't know what she did was wrong..:: Horror
dawned in his mind and he felt his hands tremble, causing the katana held within
them to quiver slightly.
"Oi! Aya! Let's get outta here, NOW" Ken yelled from the darkened street
outside, distracting Aya's thoughts. "The mission's finished!" He beckoned to the
red-haired man through the room's only glass window.
"AYA!" Ken shouted again as his companion failed to respond. He frowned
worriedly at the figure standing stock-still within the deserted complex.
"A- aa..." Aya murmured, slowly sheathing his sword.
Satisfied with the movement, Ken quickly moved away from the window's view.
He failed to see the minuscule shaking of Aya's hands.
Desperately freezing his thoughts, Aya shakily got himself to run away from the
building... and the haunting guilt that threaded through his forlorn despair.
That woman... the way she looked at him...
He could see his sister looking at him with those eyes.
* * *
Undetermined time, in the basement of the florist shop...
"This is Bombay," Omi's voice murmured into the headphone. "Mission
completed. Report as follows..."
The tenor voice faded into a soothing drone. Light from the monitor of Omi's
laptop threw a greenish-blue cast over the darkened room, dyeing everything with
an eerie tone.
Ken had already left the basement of the florist shop, finding little to do there.
Yohji had taken off, smugly announcing he had a date with some young lady he
meet earlier in the afternoon. Aya was the only one with Omi, although he was so
silent he might as well have not been there.
Omi vaguely noted Aya's disturbing silence, but thought nothing of it. Aya was
always silent and moody...
He couldn't stop thinking about the way that woman looked at him as her limp
body hit the floor...
...wide, stunned eyes starting into his...
Innocent. Staring into the eyes of a murderer. A killer. An *assassin*.
Aya's heart clenched tightly, like a physical pain, and he clamped an unsteady
hand to his chest.
He was suddenly engulfed in a sea of self-hatred. He was no better than
Takatori. He had killed an innocent. Unforgivable. Even if it was a mission.
::Unforgivable...::
His hands were shaking again.
* * *
Several days later...
Yohji frowned, unconsciously biting his lower lip. Aya was acting stranger than
usual.
Stirring his cooling coffee absently as he reclined in the chair of a café, Yohji
pondered.
Ever since that mission involving the execution of a young woman, Aya had
retreated into his room and practically barricaded himself in. Ken and Omi didn't
think of Aya's solitary behavior as unusual, but Yohji felt that something was
wrong.
Yohji knew Aya liked isolating himself. But...
This was odd, even for him.
Yohji sighed, taking a long sip. And that incident a few days ago... He had
walked into Aya's bedroom to ask for a pair of spare gardening gloves. Aya had
been buried in the blankets on his bed, but through the dimness seeped in his room,
Yohji swore he caught a look of sorrowful despair festering in his friend's normally
emotionless eyes before it was quickly hidden away. That look in the clear,
amethyst eyes... it disturbed him.
::Just what the Hell is going on through your mind Aya?:: Yohji frowned.
::Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to let you sulk like that forever...:: Abruptly
thumping his mug of coffee onto the glass table, he waved for his tab.
...eyes... staring blankly at him...
Desperately trying to distract himself, Aya stared outside the bedroom window.
Silver flakes of glittering snow floated gently in the air. White. Beautiful. ::Pure...::
Just like that woman...
Slowly he ran shaking fingers through his wine colored hair. ::I... I...::
The guilt was unbearable... as was the encompassing sorrow devouring his
guilt-riddled heart.
::This is driving me insane...:: Aya thought dazedly, sinking to his knees as his
legs buckled. With a sick feeling of disgust at himself, he felt his eyes start to sting.
As tears started running silently down his cheeks, his mind reacted with horror.
::I never cry... when was the last time I cried?::
When the world had shattered around him. When his normal life ended. When
his sister had been nearly killed. An innocent victim...
::Like that woman was... God... why do her eyes haunt me so much?!:: he
screamed soundlessly. His self-confidence slowly shattered. ::Because...
because...::
His sister was looking at him with those eyes.
The silence in the apartment subdued even Yohji.
Eyeing the deserted common room uneasily, he locked the door behind him.
::Hmm... I think Ken went out to a soccer practice; Omi went to the florist shop...
Aya *should* be here...:: He glanced sideways at the flight of stairs stretching
emptily before him.
::I feel like I'm about to walk into the lion's den::
With a self-mocking smirk to himself, Yohji shook his head at his dismal
thoughts. ::Alright Aya... time for me to play the psychiatrist for you. 'This is your
reality check, Mr. Aya':: Trying not to snicker, he climbed silently up the stairs
toward Aya's room.
The silence was even deeper around Aya's bedroom door. For someone used to
laughter, it screamed with wrongness.
Yohji had to grit his teeth, fighting against the utter stillness. This was why he
hated to be around Aya sometimes. The aura of bleakness hanging over him seemed
to leech away all feelings of happiness, humor, and joy. ::Aya, you're always so
damn serious. That's why I can't leave you alone anymore... Life must suck if
you're feeling like that all the time...::
He quickly twisted the doorknob before he lost his nerve and eased the door wide
open. His entrance spilled a path of light through the dark and dreary room.
Cursing his eyes for their slow adjustment to the lack of light, he peered around
the room, looking above his customary sunglasses. ::Shiit... don't tell me I got all
worked up just to find he's not he-ohmigod.::
As he slowly registered the sight, Yohji weakly wondered if he was dreaming. He
was hard pressed not to pass out from sheer surprise.
Aya was wretchedly curled upon the floor, silently weeping uncontrollably.
The tears... they wouldn't stop.
Aya hated himself for the inability to control his body. His emotions. His soul.
He railed silently at his weakness, even as he gave in to it.
As Yohji entered the room, Aya's tenuous control over the circumstances broke
completely. ::...how humiliating... the strong are, in truth, the weakest and the most
fragile... Well, Yohji, go ahead and laugh at me...::
Staring, Yohji practically panicked over the situation, wondering if he should
just get the Hell away from the room and back off. This was something he was not
supposed to see. Something that no one should ever see.
He actually had one hand on the doorframe and a foot out the door before he
noticed that Aya was not reacting to his presence the way he thought Aya would.
Aya had turned away from him, hiding his face in the shadows cast about his
room. Even though Yohji couldn't see him clearly, it was obvious Aya had reached
his last stop of sanity.
Admittedly, Yohji had occasionally longed for Aya to be bought to a mortal
level, to have that flawless mask of indifference and valor shaken and shattered. He
never thought it would happen.
As Yohji watched Aya tremble uncontrollably, he suddenly realized that he had
wanted to abandon his friend. He had wanted to desert his friend, who had never
shown a shred of real emotion, to his grief and despair.
Yohji felt like crap.
::Aw, man...:: He slowly shut the bedroom door and strode over to Aya's
shaking form.
Cautiously placing a hand on Aya's shoulder, Yohji prayed Aya wouldn't lash
out at him. Nothing happened.
That was Yohji's first sign at how very wrong things were.
As he felt the muscles spasm and shiver beneath his hand, Yohji felt a wave of
apprehension. "Oi, Aya... I..."
Aya gave no indication that Yohji's hesitant words had gotten through to him.
His entire frame shook with violent sobs.
Feeling a knot of frustration tie itself in his gut, Yohji sighed. "Aya..." he
whispered, wrapping his arms around his friend in a comforting hug. There was a
dangerous moment as Yohji felt all the muscles in Aya's body tense. Then, like a
puppet with its strings cut, Aya sagged into Yohji's embrace, leaning against his
support.
Tears crept out from beneath Aya's closed eyelids.
As Aya's shuddering gradually subsided, there was another period of silence.
But this time, the hushed silence was warmly comforting. Yohji felt an irrational
surge of tenderness sweep through him as he held Aya in his arms.
"Aya..." Yohji murmured in concern, "...what's wrong?"
Aya quietly basked in the moment of genuine comfort, clinging to it and holding
it close. It had been a long, long time since anyone had let him feel this way.
Cracking open tear-filled eyes, Aya looked up into Yohji's emerald gaze. ::He...
he didn't turn away from me... why...?::
Yohji drew in a sharp breath as Aya looked up at him. ::Are those his real
eyes?:: Yohji wondered, staring deeply into the pure, shimmering violet of Aya's
eyes, which were luminous with tears.
"Yo... Yohji..." Aya whispered in a harsh, yet childlike voice. "I... I'm sorry. I
couldn't stop crying." He weakly raised a trembling hand to his eyes.
Gently wiping away the moisture from Aya's face with one hand, Yohji clasped
Aya's shaking hand with his other.
Limp with shock at Yohji support, Aya recovered and after a moment of
hesitation, impulsively twisted around. Enfolding his arms around Yohji's warm
neck, he burrowed his face in the muscular chest, just wanting someone to hold him
for once.
Yohji couldn't have been more startled if someone dropped the news that Persia
would be modeling for women's lingerie.
Uncertainly, Yohji awkwardly stroked Aya's wild, scarlet hair. The pair sat in
that position for a long time. It seemed like forever.
Giving a mild start as Aya finally let go, Yohji smiled warmly at Aya's wobbly
gaze.
Aya's eyes widened, and a brief smile lit his lips. One could imagine a touch of
paradise integrated within that expression. "Thanks," he whispered, closing his
brilliant eyes. He unsteadily got up and retreated to the restroom.
Yohji stared after him. ::That... *that* is who Aya really is. Why does he...?::
The realization came in a flash of enlightenment. Aya had buried his heart from
the outside world... locking it away from everyone. Even himself.
With mixed emotions, Yohji wondered if he would ever get to see Aya like that
again.
* * *
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