Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ A New Dawn Arises ❯ Chapter 2

Title: A New Dawn Arises

Author: JadeHeart

Located/Archived: Fanfiction.net. and MediaMiner.org. If anyone else would like it, please ask me first

Fandom: Knight Hunters:/Weiss Kreuz

Rating: T

Timeline: Picks up immediately from the ending of Knight Hunters: Eternity.

Warnings: violence

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this, they belong to the creators, nor am I making any profits from this story.

Chapter 2

 

The darkness receded from his mind, surprising him in its absence. He had given himself up to it willingly enough, yet it seemed it did not desire to take him yet. He felt almost sad to have been rejected so.

 

His thoughts raced for a moment as recent memories bubbled back to the surface. Cold - it had been cold. Snow - falling around him, his breath steaming in the air. He had been walking, just thinking.

 

He remembered the impact of the small body running hard up against his. The sudden stabbing pain through his stomach as he looked down to see the hilt of the knife embedded there, then the flush of warmth as his blood seeped forth around the blade, warm against his cold flesh.

 

He remembered trying to continue on his way, blindly stumbling along, not even thinking about where he was going or why, just knowing that he had to keep moving. To stop was to die - he knew that. Finally he could go no further, reaching out a hand to try and steady himself, supporting his weakening body until his knees gave way beneath him. He remembered that sudden surge of longing he had felt, like nothing he had ever felt before in all his years. A yearning for his friends; for his four lost comrades and the others who had fallen by the wayside, either lost or dead. There were too many ghosts but he had so wanted at least those four to be with him at that moment.

 

Ken, Omi, Youji…., he had thought as his eyes had closed, feeling the coldness of the snowflakes on his cheeks. He wished he could have seen them once more.

 

He remembered the cold creeping through his body, stealing the warmth from his very soul like a thief in the night. Or an assassin, he had softly thought, feeling his control over his body slip further away. So, he thought, this is truly the end. He had felt sad, and yet, he had finally felt at peace also. It had been a hard battle this life he had led; every day had meant facing another challenge, another fight, another nightmare. Another sin to be placed on his soul that he could never atone for.

 

However, he also then felt a desire to live, for one reason alone. To see his friends. He had never stopped thinking of them, they had never been forgotten. He truly wanted to know that they were alive and well, that they had succeeded in making something of their lives, unlike him. He wanted to believe they were finally happy. Even if it was his destiny to burn in the deepest fires of hell, he would gladly face that alone if he knew they were all right. That he didn't know made him the saddest of all.

 

He knew that he was dying. He could not be responsible for dishing out death for all this time to not know intimately the signs of impending death. Admittedly he was not overly familiar with this slow insidious creeping demise, he was much more adept at the swift strike and clean kill. Yet, he recognized it all the same. He was dying. What a place to die, he thought absently, no longer able to feel his body in any way, only the coldness that encompassed him. Here on the street, in a strange town, without anyone to know he was gone. Although no doubt the sister at the orphanage would wonder where he had gone but he had been very careful to tell her nothing of himself or where he could be found. She would have no way of finding out what had happened to him. That was probably for the best.

 

Time seemed to tick by so slowly. If was dying it seemed that it should be happening quicker. He didn't want to see his life flash before his eyes. There were too many horrors there, too many regrets, too many losses and he had no desire to live them all over again. Once had been more than enough. A face swam before his eyes, a face from the past, a face full of caring - a face that he remembered so well. Another part of the past, his past. Then it was gone, swallowed by the darkness that stole his sight. That must have been nothing more than a dream, he thought, brought on by blood loss and shock. That would have been the only reason he had suddenly thought he had seen Youji standing there before him.

 

Youji, he thought, drifting on the waves of darkness that swept him along. Youji…

 

************

 

After that last battle with Esset, he remembered going back into the blackened ruins of the destroyed Temple. The flames were still burning fiercely in more than one place, the heat strong enough to melt the metal girders like plastic, molten liquid dripping downwards in a deadly rain. Everywhere he looked there was complete destruction, rubble piled high and reaching up towards the night sky.

 

Ken and Persia had left on the helicopter as soon as they had exited, disappearing into the night before the authorities had arrived, like ghosts in the night. He knew perfectly well that to the rest of the world this disaster would forever remain a mystery. Few would truly know what had occurred, and many of them were now dead.

 

He had refused to leave, despite Omi's insistent demands. Instead he had returned to that burning inferno to keep a promise - his promise to get Youji out as the Temple had crumbled around their ears, sending them fleeing for safety. Only Youji hadn't been able to escape with them. He was still in there - somewhere.

 

Aya had had no way of knowing if he had still been alive in there amongst all that destruction. The silent look that Omi had given him had said that he hadn't thought that Youji had survived, but Aya still had to go and find out for certain. He had promised after all.

 

Even through all the chaos Aya had known where he had wanted to go - directly to the lab where last he had seen Youji. He had felt the heat scorching his face as he struggled on his way, refusing to be baulked by the debris in his way, the leather of his gloves at least protecting his hands in part from the extreme heat but were rapidly cracking and flaking away from the stress of touching almost molten metal constantly which they weren't designed to cope with. Still he had kept on going.

 

The lab area was just as badly damaged as the rest of the place. The upper level had given way when the roof had come down, filling the lower area with debris. He gazed over the piled concrete and twisted girders, looking towards the corner where he had last seen his friend. All was still, only the crackle of flames, the groaning of stressed metal, and the faint clatter of falling rubble broke the silence.

 

Carefully he began to clamber downwards over the collapsed masonry, slipping on the unsteady footing. He knew he didn't have a lot of time. If Youji was still here and alive, he might not remain that way for much longer if he wasn't found soon. He began his meticulous search, looking in all areas to find anything, something.

 

Then, against all hope, he had actually found him. In many ways Aya truly hadn't expected that he would. He was a realist, he didn't believe in miracles or happily ever after. He believed in the cold hard facts that life was cruel and unfair, and justice was bought through the blood of others. He had returned only to fulfill his promise, and if he had then found Youji dead, he would at least have known that he hadn't ignored that promise and abandoned his friend.

 

Yet he had actually found Youji.

 

Aya stood there amongst the rubble, flames and smoke, gazing down on the bloodied and battered body at his feet. He could see the faint rise and fall of the chest with each unsteady breath taken. Broken bones jutted through skin from various limbs, burnt cloth clung in tatters from the long body, skin was blackened and blistered from severe burns. A deep head wound bathed the golden curls on the head in red until it looked to be the same colour as Aya's own. The intense blue eyes were hidden behind closed lids, grime turning the face grey like a death mask.

 

Aya leant down, kicking away the still smoldering fragments that pinned the body where it lay, the burning material still inflicting further harm until it was removed. He knelt and slipped his arms under his friend, lifting him, hearing the moans of pain unconsciously escaping the crushed figure in his arms. It was then he noticed what was gripped in one outstretched hand. The hilt of his sword was clasped in one bloodied hand, fingers wrapped tightly around it. He pulled it closer and tried to pry the weapon away from that grip but to no avail.

 

It didn't matter, he thought, looking at the flames flickering on the dark brown stained blade. He never wanted to wield it again. Let Youji keep it.

 

He had left then, carrying his friend as best he could, sometimes unavoidably causing further pain as he was forced to sling him over his shoulder to free up his hands to try and clamber over and through the ruins. He finally made his way to open air, escaping the building's remains, and easily avoided the gathering crowd of people who inevitable arrived at such scenes.

 

He had taken Youji to the nearest large hospital that he knew of, driving at high speeds in a stolen car, keeping one eye fixed to the rear view mirror to see if he was attracting unwanted attention from any roving police in the night. The drive remained uneventful and he reached his destination but a short time later.

 

He had carried Youji inside, cradling the tall man in his arms like a child, feeling as though he weighed nothing. As soon as he entered the Emergency area, he had been surrounded by a bustling crowd of nurses and doctors who all descended on them. He had laid Youji down on a bed as he was instructed, stepping back and answering the question of his name, giving it to them, and then leaving unseen as soon as he was released from his burden. There had been no point staying. Either Youji would live - or he would die. Nothing more - nothing less. Nothing Aya did could change that.

 

So he had left then, slipping back into the night and leaving Youji in the hands of the professionals. It was now up to them to help him. Aya had done all he could. He had kept his promise.

 

He hadn't tried to keep in touch with Youji, never once returning or contacting the hospital to check on how he was doing, or even if he had survived that dreadful night. He saw no point in making such an effort to follow up on him. Youji had seemed to have decided to live as himself, with all the bad memories and pain that may be there as well. But if he had changed his mind whilst lying there bleeding to death in that destruction, then nothing Aya did would make him live. Aya didn't need to see someone else die and he was better off not knowing, keeping his illusions to himself. If Youji was alive, the further Aya stayed away from him, the better. He could only bring sorrow to him, as a constant reminder of his past.

 

So he would leave his friend alone.

 

*************

The darkness faded away and light seemed to penetrate his eye lids, irritating his eyes.

 

Aya frowned, feeling his body once more, sensing his limbs lying heavily in the bed. He was back, or so it seemed.

 

He cracked his eyes open carefully, his mind still fuzzy, his thoughts still centred on the past and struggling to make sense of what his vision was seeing before him at this moment. Where was he? His eyes tracked across the ceiling - white, completely white. Like snow, he thought, though not as beautiful.

 

His eyes dropped closed again and the darkness crowded in, only this time it seemed like a warm soothing blanket drawing around him and chasing away the harshness of the light. A deep healing darkness that promised oblivion of a different sort, if only for a short time.