Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Take good care of my baby... ❯ Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't make money. WK belongs to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss

 

A/N: Oops this was finished weeks ago...(yes, it's short, so sue me! Don't actually as I have no money). Sorry for my grammar again. I do try, but punctuation escapes me.

 

P.s. I like reviews and cookies and anime!

 

 

 

Reviews: glinwulf: I'm glad you enjoyed, although I have to admit I planned to kill her off...

Dv: I can't wait till Aya finds out myself, it's taking so long to get there *sigh*

Snapy_pants: *fixes jaw* I know! Silly Yohji, silly Naoko, silly author!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

Three days. Three, long, exhaustive, super-tiring days and Yohji had made it to this village, in the middle of nowhere. He had lost track of the number of times he had changed cars, changed directions, changed pampers, changed clothing (especially after not changing diapers properly) and mixed bottles.

 

There had been several times when he had cursed Naoko-chan for being a coward, and deserting him, and other times when he had thanked her for giving him his precious Emi.

 

And now, he was in another nameless village; he hadn't even known so many villages existed.

 

Yohji had stopped because he needed gas, but looking around he liked the village, it wasn't picturesque, but it was cute. Definitely not quite quaint as he saw a cyber cafe, but then again it wasn't the heart of technological interfacing either, after all when was the last time one saw a cyber cafe?

 

It wasn't big, by any standards, and it was a fishing village, which meant a boat would be an easy escape route, and also the area would be somewhat defensible. It was big enough, that not everyone would know your business, but small enough that they would defend you from outsiders.

 

It was perfect.

 

With three days of driving and sleeping in cars, and feeding Emi and changing Emi, and trying to drive while Emi slept, and trying to be inconspicuous or at least as inconspicuous as one could be with a baby, he had finally found what he hadn't known he was searching for.

 

But he knew about these places, he had to be accepted first. So, with a big breath, Yohji opened the door, and closed it, leaving Emi alone in the car. It was a risk, someone could steal her, someone else could call child protective services, someone could steal the car and not know she was in there, there were a multiple of things that raced through his brain every time he had stopped but it was a greater risk to have her seen by cameras; he would be even more conspicuous.

 

One step, two steps, three, and then he was in the gas station store, but his heart was in the car.

 

“Can I help you, sir?” The attendant was fairly old, at least fifty, and seemed most disinterested in helping Yohji. In fact, he never glanced up from the paper he was reading, only showing Yohji the top of his balding head. Some things never changed, no matter where you were.

 

“Are there any places for rent or sale here?”

 

“Son, do you even know where you are? You took the wrong exit off the highway, fill your tank and continue on your way.”

 

“You're right, I don't know where I am, but that's even better.” It was a risk, a calculated risk, making the man look up, because then he would be able to recognise him later if asked.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Sir, please.”

 

The man finally looked up, and looked Yohji in the eye. And with a gasp Yohji recognised him. Well, that wasn't quite true, but Yohji recognised the breed, his breed, he was running from something.

 

The man ran a weathered, tanned hand through his almost non-existent hair. “Hmm, seems you might fit in better than I thought. You've passed this test. But, there's more.”

 

Yohji nodded, expecting, now, nothing less.

 

“Go that way,” the man waved a hand in the general direction, “then three streets down make a left, then a right, continue for about six blocks and make another left. The road then bends, follow it all the way until you come to a white house with a red roof, number 9.”

 

Yohji nodded and gave the man money for gas, cash. With a wry grin, the man waved the cash away. “Smart one I see, using cash. You might make it here after all. But the gas is on me, either as a going away gift, or a welcome gift. Take it as you please.”

 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

 

Yohji filled up his tank, relieved that the car with Emi was still there. He hopped in and followed the convoluted directions to the house that the man described. He recognised the need for the turnabout village, and as he drove for the adequate spacing between houses.

 

This was a runaway town, a town filled with people who were running from something either the law, or those who controlled the law - ex-yakuza.

 

Houses were spread apart, so that each was defensible, so that your neighbours didn't know, and didn't care to know.

 

It was perfect.