Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The authors claim no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
It just figures, Cye thought, watching the rain sheeting down the attic window. In the weeks (months?) since they'd been here the weather had been unchanging, balmy summer days with nights just cool enough to sleep comfortably. Oddly enough, or maybe not, the plants didn't seem concerned in the slightest with the lack of rain. Everything except the garden grew and thrived without a bit of care.
This morning however, they were jolted out of bed by a massive crack of thunder and soon involved in a mad dash to shut all the windows in the house. Not the most pleasant way to be woken and for the first time since arrival, both were confined to the house for the day. Even Aya, as stubborn as he was, wasn't foolish enough to try and tend plants in a thunderstorm. He pretended indifference but Cye knew that he was worried about his precious roses.
And strangely, had dressed entirely in black again.
He sorted through another trunk, this one filled with Rowan's old clubbing gear, thinking. After that disastrous morning when Cye had tried to reach the other Ronins, Aya had seemed a bit warmer. Nothing that Cye could point to in particular, just a little more willing to talk, a little more willing to try new things. And the long-sleeved shirts had stayed in the closet. This morning though... it had been an effort to pull even the usual amount of conversation out of him, and when Cye'd suggested going through the attic again out of boredom, AyaÕs reaction was indifference at best.
So they'd passed the morning there, finding photos, clothing, all the usual attic debris. Cye even found a trunk of his own clothes from a few years ago, and had hastily slammed the lid shut with a flush. The last thing he needed Aya to see was the horrid things, especially after all the grief he'd given the redhead for that hideous orange sweater. Aya hadn't noticed though, he was too busy leafing through a small box that held photo after photo of attractive young women. And, of course, Cye received no answer as to who they were, any more than he'd gotten an answer about the bins full of old computer equipment, or the box of soccer jerseys sized for children.
Bored with rifling through Rowan's tacky clothing, Cye shoved the box aside and got up. There was one thing he was dying to see. Aya had shoved a small trunk around all morning, pushing it deeper into the pile every time he pulled a box out. Cye had almost missed the deception, since Aya had only touched the thing when he thought Cye wasn't looking. As it was, it had taken almost two hours for him to notice what the swordsman was doing. Sage would be terribly disappointed in his lack of observation. Now though... Aya had volunteered to get lunch. Well, he'd got up at approximately lunchtime and gone downstairs, so that's what Cye had assumed he was doing. Now he had a chance to find out what the hell that thing was.
With another glance at the open attic entrance, Cye knelt and flipped the trunk lid open. Inside was a soft heap of violet fabric, quite pretty actually. He lifted it out of the box carefully, when unfolded it turned out to be a girl's kimono, and the owner was apparently a fair bit shorter than either Aya or himself. Frowning, he folded it carefully and set it on top of another box. In the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, completely unmarked. With a fleeting thought concerning curiosity and cats he broke the seal and slid the contents out onto the floor.
The first item was a photo, probably a family portrait, of a dark-haired couple and two children. The boy looked all of fourteen, and a gawky fourteen at that. The blazing red hair and serious expression left him with no doubt as to whom it was. The other child was a girl, a few years younger with braided dark purple hair. Interesting...
A few more photos of the family showing them getting older, letterhead that proclaimed Fujimiya-san worked for a bank, an address he recognized as a fairly well to do residential district, letters of application for a few colleges for a Ran Fujimiya, whoever that was. Nothing really of interest showed up, until he hit the newspaper clipping.
The picture was of a house burned to the foundation, the copy proclaiming that the Fujimiya couple had been found dead on the scene, burned to death in possible arson. The daughter was listed as being in a coma after a hit and run accident and the son, missing and presumed dead. There was suspicion that the father had a hand in the house fire, that he was a step away from being caught for serious embezzlement.
Cye stared at the clipping, nothing in his wildest imaginings came even close to the reality. The boy was obviously Aya... Ran? Whichever, the matter of the name seemed so unimportant. The girl, the real Aya, was his sister. That must have been her kimono...
He set the clipping aside and picked up the next item, almost dropping it when he saw what he held. It was a neat, bland government form, proclaiming in discreet letters to be a death certificate for one Fujimiya Ran, cause of death - massive injuries and hemorrhaging due to bodily trauma. Age 18.
Dead... he... was dead... Cye shook his head hard. Paperwork, it was just paperwork and part of the answer.
Further down in the pile of papers, he came across an employment record from a noted florists' school, and another report that he thought was from a sword instructor. There was also a thick stack of hospital invoices, an identical total on each one. A very large total on each one. He leafed though the stack, from the dates there were about two years worth adding up to an epic total. And all marked paid without any mention of an insurance company.
And last, underneath all of that, was a photo of people Cye couldnÕt recognize, with Aya lurking in the background, trying not to be noticed. He lingered over that picture a bit. It was probably a year or two old and Aya looked quite a bit different. It wasn't completely the longer hair, or the still slightly awkward body. It was the eyes, he finally decided, they were closed off, guarded, but without that last bit of ice. They didn't have that last layer of pain and loathing that Aya's did from time to time.
He was so absorbed in what he'd found that he missed the near silent footsteps on the pull-down stairs, the footsteps moving towards him. It wasn't until he felt the prickle of feelings and heard the splash of some liquid that he looked up. Looked up into blazing, furious, iced-violet eyes.
There was lemonade all over the floor from where Aya had dropped the two plastic tumblers heÕd been carrying. Those fury-cold eyes hopped from the violet kimono Ð Cye had left it out and completely forgotten about it! Ð to his face. Accusation, anger, betrayal flew across AyaÕs expression before it snapped back into cold neutrality. Without saying a word, he turned and thundered down the stairs and out of CyeÕs vision.
~*~*~*~
Betrayed. Betrayed! Either by this blasted house that had never liked him, or by the sweet boy that he had almost started to trust. How in the hell had Cye found that trunk? And how in the hell had all of that gotten in there?
Aya had seen his forged death certificate often enough to recognize it from across the room. He knew the photo of the others from Crashers with just the barest glance. That meant... that meant... that everything else he kept in that envelope in his room above the flower shop was in the envelope in CyeÕs hands as well.
Which meant that he knew. Aya had seen the pity and sorrow in CyeÕs eyes, even underneath the guilt of being caught. He knew the secret that Aya guarded jealously from everyone, even his own teammates. He knew the secret of AyaÕs name, the secret of AyaÕs past, and worst of all, the secret of Aya's sister.
He didn't realize where he was going until he was out in the misty noontime outdoors, damp and grey still with the recently ended rain. It suited. It would have to be today, the first time it had ever rained here. It had been such a sharp contrast to the beautiful summer-like days they'd experienced so far, that Aya had been quickly put in mind of That Day.
That Day he had been trapped under the rubble of his former home, watching in horror as headlights cut through the rain coming down in torrents... torrents. Like Cye's armor.
Despairing, Aya sank down onto the stone bench in the center of the garden. The polished stone was wet, but he didn't care. He wanted to be cold and uncomfortable, with rainwater soaking his jeans and making them stick to his skin. He wanted the wetness and the cool breeze to chill his skin until he shivered. He couldn't do anything but pull his knees up to his chest and wish that he were anywhere but here.
That Day, he hadn't cried, either. He had pulled himself out of the wreckage of his home with barely a scratch on his face, and tried desperately to wake her. When she wouldn't open her eyes, he screamed at the skies for someone, anyone, to come and help him. He begged God to make it go away.
God didn't. The sirens came, and the man that he would later call Persia came, and after that everything was numb. Everything was numb, every day that had passed between That Day, and the day that a red thread had circled his finger and led him to the ready smile that had shocked his heart back into beating again.
When that soft hand, the one that had been tied in scarlet threads to his, fell on his shoulder it was almost laughably inevitable. Cye always came after him, didn't he? Cye never left well enough alone.
"A... Aya?" Cye almost sounded as if he wasn't sure he should use that name any more. No response to the sound of that adopted name, even though Aya knew better than to think Cye would just go away if he were silent long enough.
Cye never went away. He always bothered and persisted, and usually there were good things at the end of all his insistence. This time it would be different, Aya knew. Cye had just enough pieces of Aya's puzzle to put the last piece into place. The greatest, largest, darkest secret that no one knew... that Fujimiya Ran had kept bottled up tight since the day he'd knelt in the street in the rain and held his sister's silent body close to keep her warm.
Quietly, Cye let go of his shoulder, moving around in front of him. He knelt on the wet grass, laying his hands on Aya's knees and looked up into his eyes. Ignoring that he was getting slowly soaked, ignoring the drops splattering them as the wind stirred the trees, Cye met eyes that screamed pain, no matter how impassive the face was. "Please," he said softly. "Something in you hurts so much. Please let me help." He curled his fingers around Aya's, worried that they were already so cold. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. I never, ever would want to hurt you..."
Such sweet words, Aya almost wanted to believe them. So heartfelt was Cye's quiet voice that Aya ached to believe that everything would be all right. But it never rained when things were going to be all right, did it? For years the rain had heralded only heartbreak and sorrow for him. Today could not be any different. Even in this strange place where nothing ever seemed to go wrong, surely fate would not step out of its pattern and let Aya win.
"Don't," he whispered, his own voice coming out harsher than he'd intended, as he jerked away from Cye's hands. The boy's grip was tight, though, and Aya was reminded that Cye was a good deal stronger than he was. All Aya could do was turn his face and upper body away, but Cye held his hands fast.
"Let go," Aya demanded in that same dull whisper. "Let go, do not pity me. Do not try to comfort me. Don't feel sorry for me. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve any of it, I... I'm a monster." Horrify him. The silken-smooth purr of self-destruction slid into his mind, encouraging the very worst in his self-hating desires. Make him hate you. Show him the truth about yourself and he'll stop pitying you. Push him away... push him away.
"Aya! Aya, you're not! You mustn't say that, you can't believe that!" Cye's protests and the squeeze of his fingers were dim and dull, behind the mad, sinister laughter in Aya's mind. Tell him the truth. Tell him what you really are.
The words came stinging out before Aya could stop them or even try to soften them a bit. They came out hard and cold and unfeeling, as slicing and sharp as the sword he used to make the words true, time and time again. "I kill people. I kill people for money. Not because I think they are evil, but because someone else tells me they are. Someone tells me to kill, and I do it, and they pay me for it. And I've been doing it for more than a year. I'm a murderer... an assassin... a monster."
"You're not. You're not!" Cye was insisting, trying to touch him, trying to reach his face. Aya marveled at how easy the words were to say, how cleanly they came out, how cold they sounded. As cold as the wetness on his face, not hot enough to be tears. As cold as the stone on which he sat, and the cold that seeped into his skin and into his bones. He was so cold...
Aya's voice sounded dull and distant to his ears, and he spoke the words only in the vague hope that Cye would stop and not say anything more. "Convince me."
Cye quieted at that, looking at him as though searching for an answer. After a long moment, after Aya could almost see the resolve being gathered, he spoke. "Aya," he said, quietly, warningly, "If I do this, I'm going to do this. I'll be heard out till the end. And I won't stop until I've had my say, no matter what you say or do."
The poisoned, treacherous voice inside laughed at that. What could the boy possibly say that deserved warning? It was all words, just empty words, like the ones that promised she would wake. Words that promised justice. Words that labeled Weiss as hunters and not murderers... They killed those that deserved death. That didn't change the color of the blood on their hands.
And the warning... it was only a delay, only a way for the boy to buy time so he could think of whatever cheerful platitudes he thought would bring Aya out of his moodiness.
"Convince me."
~*~*~*~
Cye closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his resolve. This was it, the purpose he'd felt so long ago when he'd first seen that blaze of scarlet silk. And he was afraid, desperately afraid of what it would mean. There was a frightful possibility that he would soon loose whatever had built between them. He wanted so badly to use his virtue, to touch Aya's heart with his and just show him the truth and knew just as certainly what a dreadful mistake that would be.
Aya lived in the mortal world, no armor, no magic and would take that touch as just one more piece of strangeness. All Cye had left were words...
He got up off the grass and slid onto the bench, still gripping Aya's hands. When the swordsman still refused to look at him, those hands traveled up the redhead's arms, grasping his shoulders and forcing him to at least face the right direction.
"Aya. You are not a monster. You are a man who has lived a nightmare and survived. You've given everything, your life, your soul, to hunt the creatures that did this to you and others. Those pictures, marked gratitude, are people, innocents who's lives you saved. There are children that will have their full lives ahead of them now.
"You have killed and were paid for it, that's true. You bartered your soul to protect the one thing you have left that is precious." He shook Aya lightly, not convinced that the redhead was really listening. "I understand, Aya. I understand the depths of man's cruelty and evil, I've seen it. And I know there are some things that you have no choice but to destroy."
He leaned closer then, almost touching, "Aya, everything you've done, you've done for her and for other innocents, whether you recognize that or not. That's not the act of an evil man. And more..." A deep breath, and Cye felt his heart clench, "True evil can't love and I couldn't love a true evil, you know that. You saw what I am, that day on the hill...
"I love you, Aya. And I'm in love with you. And I will be until the day I die."
At first, all that lay between them was silence. Cye could hear nothing but the two or three breaths that fell in the quiet. Aya was frozen as still as the stone bench they both perched on. The rain had stopped at some point but they were both damp. He wanted fleetingly to brush the raindrops off of Aya's forehead.
But as soon as he had the thought, it was too late, because Aya had already exploded into a maelstrom of unexpected violence.
"Stop it!" he screamed, his eyes wild and unfocused. "You can't say that! You're not allowed to say that! I won't let you say it, I won't let you feel it!" He tried to pull away, yanking with a strength that Cye hadn't felt before now. A maddened strength, maybe... the kind of adrenalized power that people have when they lose their mind a little bit. Yet even with that added strength he was no match for a Ronin, armored or not.
He held the wild boy tight with both hands, snapping his arms around the redhead to hold him against his chest as he struggled. Aya fought it, screaming curses that barely made any sense. It was nothing like Cye had seen before from the normally stoic swordsman. Aya's anger had always been a focused burn before, but this... this was a blaze out of control. And not the kind of fire that he could use Torrent to subdue.
"LET ME GO!" Aya howled, bucking up and arching his back, desperate to do anything to get out of the grip of Cye's arms. "Let go of me, god damn you! How dare you! You bastard, let me GO!!"
One flailing arm, backed by the strength of a skilled swordsman, jerked back toward his face. Somehow in the struggle, Cye felt Aya's elbow connect with the side of his face. He barely had time to regret that he'd have a black eye in the morning, before Aya was trying to claw his hands away.
"I won't." Cye spoke firmly but quietly, knowing Aya would hear him despite everything. And made sure that he was well pinned again. "Not until you tell me the truth about why you won't hear me. Why you think you don't deserve it. Is it because... because someone loving you, you loving them, would keep you here? You don't want to stay... do you?" His voice dropped almost to a whisper, comforting, coaxing, if he could just get Aya to say it aloud. "Tell me, Aya, please? Just once, just here, I'll never tell another soul, I swear. Tell me what's been festering inside..."
Aya went still just as abruptly and inexplicably as he'd started struggling. His hands still covered Cye's, and he gripped them so hard Cye was almost afraid the bones would break. The redhead hung over his arms, cut strings but still with the energy to scream.
"YES! Yes, I wish I was dead! It should be ME in that grave! It should be ME in that hospital! It should have been ME that died that night instead of them!"
The wet drops falling onto Cye's arms now were too hot to be rain.
"It should have been me... I wish it had been me! I want to be dead... I want to be dead! I hate this... this living... why was it me?"
Aya's voice broke, tired perhaps from the stream of words when it was so unused to so much speech.
"I was given a chance... I was the only one... and I wasted it. I destroyed the chance they gave me, the chance they DIED to give me! They gave me life and all I did with it was kill!"
The rough screams wore out the usually soft voice, making it unusually gravelly.
"Oh, Aya..." Cye said softly. He pulled Aya closer, wrapping his arms around the boy again, not restraining this time, just so he knew there was someone close and warm. "It's alright, love," he murmured, kissing the bright red hair and rocking a bit. "I have you and I won't let go..." The ache in his chest, the one reflected into him from the other boy was changing a little. The dam had broken open, now Aya needed to survive the flood.
"Why wasn't it me..." Oh god, that soft and cracked voice was heartbreaking. Aya was actually sobbing, hanging limp in Cye's arms. "It should have been me... why did I have to be the one left? Why did I have to be the one...
"I should have died," Aya whispered, trembling now. "They could have gone on together. But I'm alone... I'm all alone... they all went away and left me!" His voice croaked again and then there were no more words, just the impossible sound of the unbreakable swordsman sobbing in his arms, brokenhearted and lonely.
"It's alright," Cye murmured, still rocking. "I'm here, I promise. You aren't alone. So much hurt, you've been carrying it for so long. Grief poisons, guilt festers. You need to let it go... I don't know why you lived, love, but you did. They love you, they wouldn't want you to hurt like this. I won't leave, I promise. I'm here as long as you want me..."
He just held Aya for a long time, rocking slowly and murmuring soft words. Now that Aya had voiced it, finally said out loud all those poisoned, hateful thoughts, there was hope that he'd want to rejoin the living again. And at no point did Cye voice his own fear, he knew in his heart that this was why they were together, to bring Aya back from his living death.
Now that Aya was on the right road, was Cye still needed?
~*~*~*~
The flood had been so loud in his ears, he'd had to scream to make himself heard over it. There was a breaking and a cracking and the tide had broken free. He could hardly hear Cye because of it, and he barely understood the words he was screaming. The images, though, those he knew all too well. Flashing through his mind like the lightning that split the sky that night, visions of pain and confusion had flooded his senses.
Now, though, the tide had run out, and all of the anger and hatred that he'd kept dammed up for so long was quite suddenly missing. Aya felt completely adrift in that emptiness, floating in the void left behind. For so long he had been piling pain upon pain, and everything else that had ever been inside him had been crushed down further and further. Right now, though... what was there to hold on to but the gentle boy murmuring soothing nothings to him?
Cye was petting his back, a fact that Aya only slowly became aware of. Cye was holding him up, because Aya couldn't do it himself. Cye had seen the flood, and... Cye had stayed.
Something was burning inside of him. It flared up in the wake of the flood, rushing to fill that space that had been left empty. He felt as if his soul had caught on fire -- whatever soul he had left, at least. He burned inside with something so hot and certain that at first, Aya couldn't put a name to it. So hot it almost hurt... so clear and bright he was nearly blinded by it.
Somewhere far away, he heard Cye speaking to him. "Are you all right?" Something like that. It was so like him to ask such a thing, when everything was so obviously not right that the question was almost laughable.
The burning inside gained focus and direction, bearing down on Cye. It all came together, narrowing into one fueled firebeam, like a sword aimed directly at the boy.
Nothing had ever felt like this... except one thing. Nothing had ever felt so right and certain in a world full of impossibilities and disappointment... except one thing. No one had ever sparked this kind of singleminded determination... except that one man. No feeling had ever demanded such immediate action... except one.
This had to be hatred... didn't it? Had anything but the hatred and desire for revenge against Takatori Reiji ever felt this strong? Had anything in the past years since That Night made him feel like this... except hatred?
Aya had no other word for it. If it went by any other name it was not one that he could say, not one he could allow himself to say. The words spilled out soft and harsh, and then dissipated into silence.
"I hate you."
Cye sat stunned and still for a few moments. To Aya it seemed like the fitting end to the struggle: a declaration of how things would be now. Surely Cye would know what he meant to say, and hear the words that got twisted and flipped and turned into their opposites when he tried to speak them.
What Aya wasn't expecting was the shutters going up behind green eyes. Never in all the time they'd been there had he seen that terribly familiar expression on Cye. The auburn haired boy leaned forward, giving Aya one small kiss on his forehead and drew back slowly.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'll leave you be. I'll start looking for a way home again, I'm sure there must be something else I can try. The place is big enough you don't have to see me if you don't want to." He gave Aya a sad, almost wistful little smile. "I'm glad I could help a little, it'll stop hurting so much if you give it time..."
Cye slid off the bench and turned towards the house. "It's going to be a nice night, I think," he said, facing the path. "I'm going to go swim, I think. I'll be back late and try not to wake you when I get back."
Aya shot up off the bench, lunging forward, grabbing Cye's arm before the boy could get too far away. He had to make him understand what the words didn't say. Cye had to be made to understand what it meant to be hated by Fujimiya Ran.
That initial burst of strength gave out on him, and he crumpled into the arms of a very surprised Cye. Quite naturally he caught Aya, holding him up.
"I hate you," Aya whispered again, looking into tear-pricked, sparkling seafoam eyes. "I hate you with every fiber of my body and every ounce of my soul. I hate you so much, I cannot ever let you out of my sight. Do you understand?" Feverishly, he grasped Cye's upper arms, squeezing hard.
"Do you understand? I hate you so much, I cannot ever let you go. I will pursue you and follow you until the end of my life, Cye. I won't ever let you go... you won't ever escape me. I hate you... I hate you..."
Understanding slowly seemed to grow in Cye's eyes, softening, the tears slipping free and gracing the soft apples of his cheeks. "Oh, Aya..."
"Ran," he corrected in a whisper, dropping forward and resting his head on Cye's soaked shoulder. "My name is Ran."
"Ran..." Cye breathed softly, almost tasting the word. "I like it," he said shyly. "Aya's pretty but I think it suits you better." He hugged Aya tight then, almost like he was afraid he'd escape. "I didn't want to hurt you, I swear. But you needed it so badly..."
Quietly, Aya wound his arms around Cye's waist in a silent promise that he wouldn't run away. He wouldn't let this go, not now, not after all of this. Not now that Cye knew... he couldn't ever let go. Distantly he realized he was shivering, damp and cool now even though the weather was starting to warm up after the rain.
Cye tipped his chin up, brushing a small kiss over Aya's lips. "Let's get you inside, cold might not bother me but you're soaked and freezing. A cup of hot tea, a hot shower and I'll tuck you into bed. Does that sound good?"
Yes, that was the Cye he knew. There was nothing that Cye could not fix with a cup of tea and a cuddle in bed. "Yes," Aya said quietly, very soft and sweet-sounding and nothing like his usual voice. Aya wondered, faintly, if this was what Ran sounded like.
They walked back to the house, Cye's arm snugged tight around Aya's waist. "I do love you terribly, Ran," he said softly. "I just need to tell you sometimes..."
He didn't have to say anything to that, he knew. It was enough that he allowed it. It was enough to hear it... enough to let Cye say it. Aya knew now why he hadn't wanted Cye to say it before; why he hadn't wanted to hear 'Aya, I love you.'
Cye had simply been telling the wrong person.
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