TITLE: Song of the Gentle Wind

CHAPTER: Ten

BY: Simply Kim

GENRE: Yaoi (Angst/Humor)

CAST: The guys from Weiß and Schwarz… who else? ^_^ (And, Ehehe... yeah, I forgot to mention in the preceding parts... the Crashers too. ^_^;

DISCLAIMERS: The series I'm referring to do not belong to me… ^_^

NOTES: This part has Farf-Schu and Youji-Ken moments. The latter part's a bit Crawford-centric, but has some Brad-Aya moments for your enjoyment! Oh, yeah, btw, this thing: (~*~), heralds Crawford's visions and recollections! Enjoy!

* * *

CHAPTER 10: Recollections of the Past... Visions of the future

"AAAAAARGH!"

The lone frustrated cry was enough to lure Farfarello from the depths of his sleep. He immediately got up, opened the door and ran towards the bathroom. What he saw sent him in fits of...

"Ahahahaha!"

Laughter.

"Schu, what the heck are you doing?"

Schuldig looked tearfully up at him, his eyes watery and his lips set in a painful pout. He was shivering and his hands were shaking as he tried to squeeze out the last of his toothpaste from the tube. Unfortunately, he ended up with his butt on the floor and the tube of toothpaste flat in his hands with a millimeter of cream just spouting from its ravaged rim.

"I'm trying to get the last of the toothpaste out..." Schuldig griped, sighing, obviously defeated. "I was about to brush my teeth..."

Farfarello grinned as he leant him a hand. His arms went under the German's clothes-less arms, pulling him up and settling him on his feet. "And you wanted to dive into the bathroom floor for us to find you unconscious and pity you."

"Oi, you're not being fair! I DID slide in - accidentally!" Schuldig protested, his cheeks turning crimson, as Farfarello got too close for comfort, his breath hot on the side of his face, and hands clamping almost tenderly on his sides.

"Yeah, yeah, I believe you mavourneen." The blonde whispered almost inaudibly. "If I didn't I wouldn't help you now, would I?"

The words had their effect, and sure enough, his skin was tinted a deep red from embarrassment and, well... he did not want to analyze everything now, it's better that he did not know what the queasy feeling in his stomach meant. He just nodded, not entirely trusting his ability to speak, and looked up at his best friend.

Golden irises gazed at him, emanating something he could not grasp fully.

"I..." He started, unable to look away.

Farfarello raised an expectant eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Uh... nein, nein." Schuldig finally escaped from the golden depths when the Irishman blinked. He steadied himself and broke away from his hold; fiddling with the empty tube of toothpaste he had unknowingly been clutching the whole disorienting exchange.

With a chuckle, Farfarello stepped closer, and with his pale knuckles, brushed away the spot of toothpaste on his blushing cheek. Then, as condescending as the gesture may seem, he laid his other hand on the mass of unruly auburn hair, pressing down slightly. "C'mon, stranger, let's go get breakfast." With that, he was out, leaving the German gazing after him with utter loss in his Jade eyes.

* * *

"Ran..."

Placing a pillow on his face, Ran groaned, immediately turning away from the direction where the voice came from. "Five minutes more, Aya-chan."

The mention of the familiar name ensured momentary silence... then, the call was repeated, slightly louder this time.

"Ran..."

The redhead gripped the pillow tighter as he felt someone tugging the soft intoxicating mass from him. "Aya-chan, don't be so stubborn, just go downstairs and leave me alone..." He moaned, obviously irritated. "Let me get back to sleep..."

"Ran, get up... Ran..."

He let out a wail of frustration, and threw his precious pillow at the persistent person trying to get him out of bed. "Go away..."

"Ra - mmmpft!" Then came a crashing noise as the projectile connected. "Ouch!" Came the deep exclamation.

Half asleep, Ran let out a chuckle of triumph, finally subduing the deep tones of his sister...

Deep tones of his sister?

Surprise wreaking havoc inside his semi-functioning brain, he abruptly sat up and cast a glance around him. This isn't my bed... He thought in absolute horror. I remember falling asleep in Schuldig-san's bed... and then, the umm... DREAM, which I have a feeling isn't exactly one, and then, someone lifting me up and -

A muffled groan erupted from the floor beside the bed he was on. Seconds later, he almost fell off in shock as ten slender fingers came out of nowhere and gripped the edge of the mattress. Then, to his dismay, a familiar face showed appeared.

"KYA! CRAWFORD-SAN! GOMEN NASAI!"

* * *

Ken was a cruel, cruel man.

That, Youji was sure of as he scrubbed off the last mud spot he could find. It was already morning, and he was robbed of sleep, crediting it to his heroic tendencies, which resurfaced when he let Nagi and Omi up to their rooms to get a night's rest.

He's going to be fine, he said.

Fine, my foot.

He thought of ways on how to get back at Ken - after wringing Crawford and Fujimiya's neck. He sighed. Who was he kidding? He couldn't even kill a cockroach to save his life, what more people?

He was so goddamned sleepy... he knew he couldn't make it up to his room without falling asleep in the middle of the hallway. He must make a makeshift bed... he sighed in gratitude to the big guy above as he spied a couple of crates lining the side of the garage. They were dirty, he knew, but at least he'll get some rest, right?

He set the soiled bucket down and threw the even more soiled rag at the far end of the garage, careful not to let it land on someone else's possession. He quickly bounded over towards the crates and pushed them that they were side by side, rubbing his hands in anticipation of a well-deserved rest. With a grateful moan, he plopped down, his shin connecting with the jutting edge of the larger crate. He did not pay the instantaneous pain any heed. All he cared for was that he's going to have his precious beauty sleep - and that's that.

As soon as his head fell in contact with the rough wooden surface, he fell into deep slumber.

* * *

Ken was worried.

Where the heck is that baka? He thought anxiously. Baka, Youji no baka!

Last night, he had sneaked into both Nagi's room and Omi's to check on them if they're already asleep. They were there, as he knew they would. He had not expected them to be up all night just to clean and oil his motorcycle. He told himself that he should just finish up whatever it is they had left off.

As he gazed at them, feeling guilt seep into his senses as he walked from one to the other, feeling even more remorseful as he remembered the unwashed dirt on their faces while they slept in their own respective rooms.

He remembered making his way to Youji's place, the poor victim of circumstance, peeping in carefully, only to realize that no one was signed in. He had credited it to the older man's penchant of going to downtown bars far from the Conservatorio.

It was only when he woke up in the morning that he realized that he has the keys to Youji's Seven, so he must not have been out partying. So, where was he?

He quickly slipped on his jacket, minding the cold that was brewing outside. His resolve was clear. He had to find Youji, no matter what the cost!

Without even a backward glance, he grabbed his keys and his wallet, and headed determinedly towards the dormitory's garage.

* * *

"Crawford-san... I'm really sorry... please, don't be mad at me..."

If in other circumstances, Crawford would have walloped the poor guy the moment he had straightened himself after the hard blow. However, with Ran making those apologetic faces at him... he doubted that he would do so.

The guy was simply too cute to bear a grudge with.

He sighed, rubbing his aching temple. He had managed to collapse and take his precious table lamp with him - it hit him on the temples - hard. "I'm not mad, Ran." He murmured finally, as he drove to a stop in front of the Sakura Dormitories.

It was a rather long walk from his own dorm, and he isn't exactly stable, so he opted to drive the redhead home. He sighed again for the umpteenth time as the other gave him a small sheepish smile.

Crawford found himself smiling back.

He opened the door and was about to get out of the driver's seat when something blocked his sight. It wasn't anything opaque, it was more like a recollection... however, he was sure that he had not been in the particular situation before... or had he?

(~*~)

"Don't stop until I tell you to!"

"I cannot hold on anymore!"

"We're going to make it... if we don't do this, they'll get us for sure!"

"Niichan... *pant* my heart... Itai..."

"Aya!"

There was a flurry of footsteps. The boy dragging his sister knew they had been spotted. He had stopped to tend to the fallen girl, intending to just carry her - even with his injuries.

It was too late.

There was the reverberating scream of a loaded gun matching with an agonized shriek of a person in extreme pain.

The boy's eyes were blank. There was the steady flow of warm blood gushing down his pale arms.

He murmured something unintelligible.

Feeling an instantaneous slide of steel against his forehead, he slowly looked up at the gun pointed smack between his eyes.

A stout man in his prime was saying something... obviously sneering at the boy with newfound interest.

"KISAMA!" The boy growled, dropping the lifeless body of his sister and lunging angrily at the gloating murderer. "... DIE!" A leather belt materialized from nowhere and looped around the boy's neck, choking him as it was pulled back.

The elder man laughed manically, his eyes glinting with pure evil...

(~*~)

"Crawford-san? Crawford-san, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

It took all of Ran's energy to actually shake the older man free of whatever it was that bothered him.

Crawford finally snapped out of his visions when a palm connected solidly against his cheek, rendering the slightly tanned skin an angry crimson. He looked down with startled eyes at the worried amethyst orbs and gave a shaky smile. "Oh, sorry... I just spaced out." He rubbed his nape wearily, moving away from his side toward Ran's opening the door for him absently.

He felt Ran's concerned gaze as the latter got out.

"Crawford-san, are you sure you're alright? You look kind of pale..."

It took all his patience for him to answer the younger boy without blowing up. He couldn't understand it, but there was definitely something that changed in him in the aftermath of his vision. His patience seemed shorter, and his mind unstable. He shook his head slightly and patted Ran almost condescendingly on the shoulder. "I'm fine. Just go home and get some rest, you're too drained out that you're imagining things."

Ran's amethyst eyes narrowed, and on a childish impulse, he stuck out his tongue and started towards the huge oaken doors. Just as he stepped on the welcoming carpet, he turned back, a huge, rare smile painting his features, rendering him almost unearthly in the morning light, that Crawford had to hold his breath as if seeing something worthy of worship.

"I had a great time, Crawford-san... see you on the next planning hours!" At that, he gave a vague wave and entered the dormitory, leaving the American standing immobile, a ghost of a wistful smile on his lips.

* * *

"We have good news sir!" A bespectacled middle-aged man came rushing through the swinging lab doors.

"Eh?"

"The experiment was a success!"

* * *

He could not believe his eyes.

He rubbed them with renewed vigor just to see if whet he was currently staring at was reality.

It was.

Kudou Youji was sleeping like a log on two dirty crates of uneven sizes.

And his motorcycle was as pristine as when he last cleaned it.

There were tears in his eyes as he padded towards the sleeping boy, knowing that the blonde had sacrificed his night's rest to relieve Omi and Nagi, and clean his most prized possession. It was too much.

All the guilt flowed out of him through the stream of involuntary tears that dripped steadily down his cheeks as he knelt beside the crates where Youji was in deep slumber. He reached out and wiped away a trail of mud from the aristocratic forehead, careful not to wake him up.

However, Youji, a buoyant sleeper with a rise in the level of his exhaustion, immediately felt the gentle slide of work-roughened fingers, rousing him from his comforting dreams. His eyes fluttered open and gazed sleepily at watery brown orbs looking down at him in awe and something he couldn't quite put his fingers into.

"Ken." He slurred, yawning widely. "What are you doing here? I thought you have a morning shift in the campus coffee shop?"

Ken could not answer him without giving away what he was feeling. So, instead of voicing out whatever he was thinking, he threw himself into Youji's arms and held onto him tight.

Of course, the blonde was surprised, but that initial shock faded as he felt something tug at his heartstrings. "Oi, Kenken, don't be like that, I already finished cleaning up, see?" He looked at his magnificent handiwork and grinned proudly. "It's the first time I cleaned something aside from my car."

Tears.

Hidaka Ken was crying.

He was saturating Youji's mud-splattered shirt, and was getting his cheeks dirty in the process, but he did not care. He was thankful... and guilty of submitting his friends - most of all Youji in cleaning torture.

Youji hated work - but he made an exception when he cleaned the motorcycle, knowing that he could easily avoid doing it by simply walking away. He felt... special.

"Oi, why are you crying?" Youji struggled to sit up; pulling Ken into his arms, rubbing his back to somehow alleviate whatever pain the younger boy was feeling. "Yamero, Onegai... crying your lungs out doesn't become you."

Sniffling, he buried his face deeper into the dirty shit of the person he was clinging helplessly to, and finally, after a few moments of complete silence, he sighed and uttered the only word he could conjure in his present disoriented state.

"Arigatou."

And for Youji, all that he had gone through was worth it.

* * *

Crawford couldn't work.

He was staring for the past three hours at his empty music sheet, waiting for some semblance of inspiration to come.

Nothing.

With a frustrated yell, he got up and threw the music sheets in the air, watching is satisfaction as the pale pages fluttered around him like birds in playful flight. With a muttered curse, he shuffled towards his bed and plopped down, snuggling against the downy pillows in an effort to console himself.

He was feeling weird.

It was as if visions plagued his mind after a thousand years of imprisonment. The problem was, even if he could control them most of the time, there were some who managed to disturb him enough for him to temporarily lose his hold on his sanity.

He had retched the afternoon off in his bathroom in the aftermath of a bloody vision.

He had seen the same pudgy man he envisioned earlier when he was with Ran. The man was still holding a gun, and his hands were covered with sticky, dripping blood. That was not the end of it. He saw himself, younger than usual, laughing hysterically with the cruel male... and he too was covered with blood.

Crimson tides crashed around him, and then that recollection again...

The person, who looked exactly like him when he was younger, was with the others, chasing after a boy and his obvious sister. His lips were cracked open with a smile, and enjoying the chase to the fullest, holding a heavy .99 in his able-looking hand. The shadows moved with him, and he had managed to get near the targets when the girl fell, taking her brother with her.

He heard the cruel laughter...

Then the single gunshot...

The scream...

And the person who looked just like him towered over them, his face hidden in the shadows, the carbine of the gun smoking in the darkness.

Crawford couldn't shake the feeling of dread that laced through him. He felt dirty. Nausea threatened to overcome his fragile senses, but he managed to get it in control.

What if he was that person?

What if...

What if he had killed someone before?

He couldn't really remember doing so... he doesn't want to remember.

He was a good boy - he obeyed his elders to the core.

So, who was the person in his vision... the one who looked exactly like him?

What if?

He closed his eyes wearily.

A distinct smell assaulted his senses... something sweet and spicy at the same time. He flipped himself over, that he was lying prone on the majestic bed. He buried his face against the comforting sheets, his arms closing around a familiarly soft pillow.

The soft mattress muffled his chuckle. It was the same pillow Ran had thrown at him this morning. The scent was still there, getting stronger as he pulled himself up, his face settling on the clump of pillows Ran laid his tired head on.

He inhaled deeply.

"Ran..." He murmured softly, closing his eyes as the scent made itself to be known as a mixture of the younger boy's cherry shampoo, yummy Ivory soap, and something uniquely his.

"Ran..."

He suddenly felt drowsy. His eyes fluttered close, fingers gripping the memorable pillow, a wistful smile on his lips, his features finally at peace.

Just before he fell asleep, a detail of the person being chased in his vision flashed in his blurred mind.

The boy had purple eyes.

* * * * * * * *

TBC

* * * * * * * *

A/N: YAY!!! Finally updated! Whew! I'm sorry for the delay... got some holiday frills to take care of... well, it's finally here! Eat up minna! ^____^