Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ It's All Relative ❯ Chapter 16 ( Chapter 16 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: LilyMoonsAlias 
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Psychological / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.18.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 694 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Psychological / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.18.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 694 | Status: Work In Progress
Yohji sat in numb silence in the basement mud room that served as Schwarz's infirmary as Schuldig and Crawford cleaned and examined the gash in Aya's neck. The blood from their target had dried into a foul smelling, crackling coating that fell in flakes from his skin and clothes. Although he said nothing to draw attention to himself, Yohji could feel Aya's eyes watching him. He shook with the urge to hide from the scrutiny. He was afraid someone would see behind his eyes and discover the huge amount of satisfaction he had gained from killing Jager.
Yohji had reveled in the final gurgle and whistle of escaping air as the wire sliced through neck muscle and the trachea to the crunching of the vertebrae that had transmitted down the wire to his hands. He lifted one blood stiffened glove to his mouth and tugged it off with his teeth. With fingers that no longer shook he scratched the kanji for Asuka in the red brown stain on his cheek and turned his head to hide the tears that washed through the mess. Yes, he had exulted in the kill and even welcomed the accompanying shower of blood that rained down on him. It had been, coincidentally on the day of his birth, like a baptism from hell to consecrate his rebirth as a killer.
"Yohji?" Schuldig stood before him. "It's your turn."
"'I'm not injured," Yohji mumbled, facing away.
Schuldig gently but firmly grasped him by the elbow and guided him to sit on a low table. He removed the remaining glove taking note of the slashes in the leather. Schu hissed softly when he saw the matching cuts on Yohji's fingers and palms. Yohji's last jerk had been vicious enough that the razor sharp wire had cut through the heavy leather and bitten into the vulnerable flesh it was supposed to protect.
"Damn Yohji," Schuldig berated him as he filled a basin with soapy water. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't feel anything," Yohji replied. In fact, he was still numb. He stared dispassionately at damaged hands that could have belonged to anyone, but they didn't. They were the hands of a killer and they belonged to him.
"They still need to be cleaned and bandaged."
If Schuldig was hearing any of Yohji's internal monologue, he gave so sign of it to Crawford and Aya. He merely efficiently cleaned the gore from Yohji's hands and used a wet cloth to wash away blood, the kanji and the evidence of tears from Yohji's face while blocking view of Yohji from his teammates with his own body. The telepath tilted Yohji's chin and the look in his eyes was surprisingly gentle and understanding as he rubbed the cloth over Yohji's cheekbones. Yohji fancied he saw pity in the blue depths of Schuldig's eyes and he closed his own tightly, his thoughts tinged with shame. Schuldig squeezed his chin and gave it a small shake so Yohji would open his eyes.
/No shame, Yohji. Don't be ashamed at being glad that fucker is dead. The only shameful thing is that Jager could only die once for the things he has done./
/I shouldn't have enjoyed it, Schu. It was still murder./ Yohji answered, pathetically grateful that he didn't have to speak aloud.
Schuldig smiled ironically and stroked his thumbs down Yohij's cheeks.
/You Weiss kitties, always needing the moral high ground to stand on. That Hunter was responsible for taking so many children from their mothers at the command of Esset. The ones that weren't strong enough died. The ones that survived lived only to be enslaved to Esset after their humanity was abandoned in favor of cultivating their gifts. If getting revenge for your wife's death is not enough for you, Yohji, then think of it as justice for all those children./
Yohji reached up with both hands to clasp Schuldig's wrists and hold his hands to his face. He finally made eye contact and found his anchor in pools of purest blue.
/Was what Crawford said true, Schuldig? Were you one of those children? Was he the Hunter that gave you to Rosenkruz?/
Schuldig's eyes dimmed briefly and he freed his wrists with an easy twist to begin pulling the cuts together with skin glue. Yohji thought he may have pushed too hard.
/Yes, Yohji,/ Schuldig said eventually. /Yes, to all of it./
/Then why do you stay with him?/
/Because he's also the same man who freed us from them. Now, shut up, so I can finish you hands and quit dwelling on tonight./
Crawford finished the work on Aya's neck and covered it with Nu-skin to make it watertight for bathing. He took Aya's coat and shirt and dumped them in a special bin until they could be sent to their personal cleaners, men highly paid to do good work with no questions asked. Schuldig put Yohji's shirt in the same bin after easing it from his shoulders but tossed the ruined gloves into a small incinerator.
Yohji could hear Crawford speaking softly to Aya, asking him to stay the rest of the night in his room. His suit didn't look so pristine any more, stained with Aya's blood in places. Huh, maybe the ass did care for Aya. Yohji remembered the look of absolute rage that had contorted Crawford's normally composed face as he pumped the target full of lead. One well placed bullet would have been sufficient, but both Crawford and Schuldig had emptied their clips into Jager. Yohji snorted wryly. What could he say? He had been the one to decapitate a man who was already thoroughly ventilated.
Before going upstairs Aya gripped Yohji's shoulder and peered into his face.
"You okay, Yohji?"
"I will be," Yohji answered honestly.
"Tomorrow Crawford will work on getting what he can from that computer. I'd like to talk to you then if you will give me the time."
"So formal, Aya?" Yohji chuckled a bit. "I'm still just Kudou Yohji, immature playboy assassin. Sure we'll talk tomorrow."
Aya walked to where Crawford waited for him and they headed upstairs together, Crawford's arm around Aya's shoulders. Yohji watched them disappear before dropping his half smile. There was no point in pretending around a telepath.
"Nope, no point at all," Schuldig answered. "It's time to get you upstairs, too. You still have blood in your hair and will need my help to shampoo."
"So your Nurse Betty routine is all just a plot to get me naked and wet?"
"Baby, I don't need to plot to get that," Schuldig smirked. "We'll use my room. When we moved here I insisted that I get a huge whirlpool tub."
"Hedonist."
"You know it."
Yohji shortly found himself naked indeed, sitting in warm swirling water with his bandaged hands dangling over the edge. An equally naked telepath sat behind him and used a hand held sprayer to wet Yohji's hair before massaging in some exotic smelling shampoo. Yohji all but purred as those slender talented fingers stroked through his scalp and lulled him. For some reason, he mused, all of his lovers had enjoyed washing his hair. Even Asuka had loved to play with the wavy locks.
Yohji sat forward from his relaxed position and gasped for breath as a hot, burning ball of pure grief lodged in his chest. Schuldig made no comment, just gathered the blond assassin to his chest and held him as Yohji buried his face in the telepath's neck and howled all the pain he had never given voice to since his wife had been killed. Drowning in Yohji's grief, he stroked the other man's back and never noticed the tears that spilled from his own eyes.
In Crawford's room the precognitive lay awake with his arms around his sleeping lover, trying to force visions of the future to better plan their next moves. He caught faint glimpses, but could catch nothing concrete due to the distracting thoughts he kept having about nearly losing tonight the man he held so tightly. Hadn't it been drilled into his head that distractions and attachments could ruin him or get him killed? But that was Rosenkruz's fucked up training and Esset's damned rules. He was a free man now. Schwarz was free to be whatever they wanted. Hadn't Nagi realized it first, leaving to pursue his own career?
"And a child shall lead them," Crawford murmured to the darkness.
Aya shifted against him, disturbed by Crawford's restlessness despite the pain medication in his system. Crawford smoothed his hand down his lover's body and pressed his lips into red hair, telling himself that it was worth it, that somehow, someway he would have everything he wanted and Schwarz would continue to prosper.
Just on the edge of sleep a vision flashed through his consciousness and Crawford smiled wickedly.
"You go, Schu," He snickered aloud.
Yohji had reveled in the final gurgle and whistle of escaping air as the wire sliced through neck muscle and the trachea to the crunching of the vertebrae that had transmitted down the wire to his hands. He lifted one blood stiffened glove to his mouth and tugged it off with his teeth. With fingers that no longer shook he scratched the kanji for Asuka in the red brown stain on his cheek and turned his head to hide the tears that washed through the mess. Yes, he had exulted in the kill and even welcomed the accompanying shower of blood that rained down on him. It had been, coincidentally on the day of his birth, like a baptism from hell to consecrate his rebirth as a killer.
"Yohji?" Schuldig stood before him. "It's your turn."
"'I'm not injured," Yohji mumbled, facing away.
Schuldig gently but firmly grasped him by the elbow and guided him to sit on a low table. He removed the remaining glove taking note of the slashes in the leather. Schu hissed softly when he saw the matching cuts on Yohji's fingers and palms. Yohji's last jerk had been vicious enough that the razor sharp wire had cut through the heavy leather and bitten into the vulnerable flesh it was supposed to protect.
"Damn Yohji," Schuldig berated him as he filled a basin with soapy water. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't feel anything," Yohji replied. In fact, he was still numb. He stared dispassionately at damaged hands that could have belonged to anyone, but they didn't. They were the hands of a killer and they belonged to him.
"They still need to be cleaned and bandaged."
If Schuldig was hearing any of Yohji's internal monologue, he gave so sign of it to Crawford and Aya. He merely efficiently cleaned the gore from Yohji's hands and used a wet cloth to wash away blood, the kanji and the evidence of tears from Yohji's face while blocking view of Yohji from his teammates with his own body. The telepath tilted Yohji's chin and the look in his eyes was surprisingly gentle and understanding as he rubbed the cloth over Yohji's cheekbones. Yohji fancied he saw pity in the blue depths of Schuldig's eyes and he closed his own tightly, his thoughts tinged with shame. Schuldig squeezed his chin and gave it a small shake so Yohji would open his eyes.
/No shame, Yohji. Don't be ashamed at being glad that fucker is dead. The only shameful thing is that Jager could only die once for the things he has done./
/I shouldn't have enjoyed it, Schu. It was still murder./ Yohji answered, pathetically grateful that he didn't have to speak aloud.
Schuldig smiled ironically and stroked his thumbs down Yohij's cheeks.
/You Weiss kitties, always needing the moral high ground to stand on. That Hunter was responsible for taking so many children from their mothers at the command of Esset. The ones that weren't strong enough died. The ones that survived lived only to be enslaved to Esset after their humanity was abandoned in favor of cultivating their gifts. If getting revenge for your wife's death is not enough for you, Yohji, then think of it as justice for all those children./
Yohji reached up with both hands to clasp Schuldig's wrists and hold his hands to his face. He finally made eye contact and found his anchor in pools of purest blue.
/Was what Crawford said true, Schuldig? Were you one of those children? Was he the Hunter that gave you to Rosenkruz?/
Schuldig's eyes dimmed briefly and he freed his wrists with an easy twist to begin pulling the cuts together with skin glue. Yohji thought he may have pushed too hard.
/Yes, Yohji,/ Schuldig said eventually. /Yes, to all of it./
/Then why do you stay with him?/
/Because he's also the same man who freed us from them. Now, shut up, so I can finish you hands and quit dwelling on tonight./
Crawford finished the work on Aya's neck and covered it with Nu-skin to make it watertight for bathing. He took Aya's coat and shirt and dumped them in a special bin until they could be sent to their personal cleaners, men highly paid to do good work with no questions asked. Schuldig put Yohji's shirt in the same bin after easing it from his shoulders but tossed the ruined gloves into a small incinerator.
Yohji could hear Crawford speaking softly to Aya, asking him to stay the rest of the night in his room. His suit didn't look so pristine any more, stained with Aya's blood in places. Huh, maybe the ass did care for Aya. Yohji remembered the look of absolute rage that had contorted Crawford's normally composed face as he pumped the target full of lead. One well placed bullet would have been sufficient, but both Crawford and Schuldig had emptied their clips into Jager. Yohji snorted wryly. What could he say? He had been the one to decapitate a man who was already thoroughly ventilated.
Before going upstairs Aya gripped Yohji's shoulder and peered into his face.
"You okay, Yohji?"
"I will be," Yohji answered honestly.
"Tomorrow Crawford will work on getting what he can from that computer. I'd like to talk to you then if you will give me the time."
"So formal, Aya?" Yohji chuckled a bit. "I'm still just Kudou Yohji, immature playboy assassin. Sure we'll talk tomorrow."
Aya walked to where Crawford waited for him and they headed upstairs together, Crawford's arm around Aya's shoulders. Yohji watched them disappear before dropping his half smile. There was no point in pretending around a telepath.
"Nope, no point at all," Schuldig answered. "It's time to get you upstairs, too. You still have blood in your hair and will need my help to shampoo."
"So your Nurse Betty routine is all just a plot to get me naked and wet?"
"Baby, I don't need to plot to get that," Schuldig smirked. "We'll use my room. When we moved here I insisted that I get a huge whirlpool tub."
"Hedonist."
"You know it."
Yohji shortly found himself naked indeed, sitting in warm swirling water with his bandaged hands dangling over the edge. An equally naked telepath sat behind him and used a hand held sprayer to wet Yohji's hair before massaging in some exotic smelling shampoo. Yohji all but purred as those slender talented fingers stroked through his scalp and lulled him. For some reason, he mused, all of his lovers had enjoyed washing his hair. Even Asuka had loved to play with the wavy locks.
Yohji sat forward from his relaxed position and gasped for breath as a hot, burning ball of pure grief lodged in his chest. Schuldig made no comment, just gathered the blond assassin to his chest and held him as Yohji buried his face in the telepath's neck and howled all the pain he had never given voice to since his wife had been killed. Drowning in Yohji's grief, he stroked the other man's back and never noticed the tears that spilled from his own eyes.
In Crawford's room the precognitive lay awake with his arms around his sleeping lover, trying to force visions of the future to better plan their next moves. He caught faint glimpses, but could catch nothing concrete due to the distracting thoughts he kept having about nearly losing tonight the man he held so tightly. Hadn't it been drilled into his head that distractions and attachments could ruin him or get him killed? But that was Rosenkruz's fucked up training and Esset's damned rules. He was a free man now. Schwarz was free to be whatever they wanted. Hadn't Nagi realized it first, leaving to pursue his own career?
"And a child shall lead them," Crawford murmured to the darkness.
Aya shifted against him, disturbed by Crawford's restlessness despite the pain medication in his system. Crawford smoothed his hand down his lover's body and pressed his lips into red hair, telling himself that it was worth it, that somehow, someway he would have everything he wanted and Schwarz would continue to prosper.
Just on the edge of sleep a vision flashed through his consciousness and Crawford smiled wickedly.
"You go, Schu," He snickered aloud.