More crackfic
Feb. 3rd, 2006 10:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sakon76 It was quite simple. Nanaka knew she was going to die.
Her gloved hand slipped a few more inches down the burning broom as it slowly sunk down to the fiery sea that was the floor of this hell-begotten warehouse where she was going to be engulfed in flames and die and no one would know, not even Sae, and Aburatsubo might've, maybe, but he was gone and didn't care anyway....
"May I offer you a ride?" he said, and Nanaka found herself staring into purple eyes that should've been green as he skillfully maneouvered a broom up and beneath her so that she perched effortlessly on it. Unconsciously her fingers curled around the good, solid wood of the broomstick. The minute she did so, magic stopped working on her own broom and it fell down, disappearing into the fire. She barely noticed, staring into those eyes.
He looked away.
"Siberian, pull out," he said, and she noticed for the first time that he was wearing a head mike. "We're done here. Bombay, I have something to take care of. I'll meet you back at base. No, I will /not/ explain. Abyssinian out." He pulled the mike off and stowed it in a pocket as the broom rose higher. His eyes met Nanaka's again.
"You owe me an explanation," she said, the words braver than she felt.
He held out a hand, demanding.
She paused, then handed her wand to him.
He closed his eyes and whispered the words. She closed hers and joined in the familiar chant. The broom picked up speed, darted forward, hot air blowing around their faces, went through a window frame, and came out somewhere else entirely.
*
There really was only one way to explain, and so Aya took her to the one person whose presence made explanations unnecessary.
They left the broom on the roof, along with his coat and sword and Nanaka's tabard and hat. If one ignored the smell of smoke and the faint tang of blood about them, they could have passed for two trendy people out on a date. Fortunately the smells were lost in the antiseptic maw of the hospital.
He led the way unerringly to his sister's room. It was past visiting hours, but the staff knew him and didn't raise a fuss at his presence.
"Who is she?" Nanaka asked as they stood on opposite sides of Aya-chan's bed.
"My sister." He held his sister's hand in his as he stood looking down at her.
"I didn't know you had a sister."
"My family was murdered," he said, and listened to the silence the words created. "I saw it. Only she survived. And she's been in a coma ever since."
"That's why you disappeared?" she asked quietly. Aya couldn't look up. "Is that why you do that?"
"It costs a lot of money to care for a coma patient," he answered. "More than you could ever imagine."
"Sempai--" she said, and he could hear her swallow before asking, "Why didn't you ask us for help?"
"I tried magic, in the beginning," he said. "It didn't help. Whatever keeps her in this coma, keeps her from aging like anyone else should... it's impervious to magic. And don't say you could have helped financially. It was too much money."
Nanaka's half-laugh was bitter. "So you just left. Without even saying good-bye, or letting us know."
He did look up now, met her eyes with a hard gaze. "Don't," he warned. "I became a murderer to keep her alive. There was no way I would ever have let any of you know. I didn't want you involved with what I've become."
"Become?!" she demanded, and he could hear the hysteria beginning to bubble up in her voice. "What, a florist who--"
"Who kills at night, yes." He caught one of her wrists, didn't let her eyes go. "Do you really want me this way, Nakatomi-kun? Weren't you much happier three weeks ago, with just the memory of who I was?" She didn't answer. "Go up to the roof," he instructed. "Take that broom, and your wand, and go home. Forget tonight, and forget that Aburatsubo Ayanojou ever existed, because he doesn't anymore."
She stared at him for a minute longer, then pulled her wrist from his grasp, and turned away. She paused at the door, but didn't say anything. And then she was gone.
Aya looked down at his sister, and tried to remember what happiness felt like.
*
Nanaka entered her apartment through a closed door and sank to the floor, ratty janitorial broom still in one hand, sliding down to rest against one shoulder. She took her hat off, holding it in one hand as her arms crossed on her knees and she buried her face.
She couldn't stop crying.
*
They were waiting in the Underworld when Aya got back. He'd expected no less. Ken leaned against a wall, arms crossed, trying badly to cover his interest. Youji lounged on the couch, sunglasses eternally at half-mast, intrigued but cool. Omi was the only one actually working, typing a mission report or some such at the computer. He saved, though, or sent, or whatever arcane thing it was he did, and turned around as Aya walked down the stairs.
Aya cooly crossed the room and leaned on the opposite wall from Ken, waiting for someone to speak. He'd be damned if he'd crack first. Let /them/ ask.
Ken, predictably, gave way before Aya did. "So, you're a magician, huh?" he asked, using the tones of someone who was trying to be mature and adult about the entire thing but had just found out that Santa Claus was real.
"I was in the Magic Club in high school," Aya admitted.
"Your high school had a /real/ magic club?" Youji asked, straightening up just a little bit.
Aya snorted. "As if the staff and general student body ever thought that. They just thought we were prestidigitators."
"Prestidigi-whats?"
Omi sighed. "Fake magic tricks, Ken-kun." His blue eyes were calm, assessing, as they never let go of Aya. "So, magician, anything we should know?"
"No," Aya said solidly.
"Not even about that pretty witch Ken says you flew off with?"
Aya gazed icily at Youji. "My former classmates shouldn't be a problem anymore, Balinese."
The man was unaffected. "Pity. If that's all?" He glanced at Omi for permission to leave and got it in a nod of a blond head. "I've got a hot date with Michiko-chan. See you later." He sauntered up the stairs like he hadn't a care in the world. Knowing just how much an act that was, Aya snorted internally.
Ken lasted a minute longer before finally deciding that Aya wasn't going to give him any more information. He paused at the first turn of the stairs, though, and looked back down, one hand on the railing. "Aya? Y'know, that was really cool. With the broom and saving her and everything." Then he was gone.
Aya looked at Omi. Omi looked implacably back, then smiled his trademark sunny smile. "If you don't want to tell us, Aya-kun," Omi said seriously, "then you don't have to. I trust you to know what's best."
Aya felt a vague desire to thank the younger man for the sentiment, while at the same time realizing it was perfectly possible (given that this was Omi) that this might be Omi's way of trying to find out more. In the end, he did nothing but give a slight nod and head up the stairs to his apartment, where he stashed his mission clothing in the hamper, cleaned his sword and set it on its stand, showered, and finally went to bed, where he couldn't get the memory of teary golden-brown eyes out of his mind until he finally fell asleep.
Her gloved hand slipped a few more inches down the burning broom as it slowly sunk down to the fiery sea that was the floor of this hell-begotten warehouse where she was going to be engulfed in flames and die and no one would know, not even Sae, and Aburatsubo might've, maybe, but he was gone and didn't care anyway....
"May I offer you a ride?" he said, and Nanaka found herself staring into purple eyes that should've been green as he skillfully maneouvered a broom up and beneath her so that she perched effortlessly on it. Unconsciously her fingers curled around the good, solid wood of the broomstick. The minute she did so, magic stopped working on her own broom and it fell down, disappearing into the fire. She barely noticed, staring into those eyes.
He looked away.
"Siberian, pull out," he said, and she noticed for the first time that he was wearing a head mike. "We're done here. Bombay, I have something to take care of. I'll meet you back at base. No, I will /not/ explain. Abyssinian out." He pulled the mike off and stowed it in a pocket as the broom rose higher. His eyes met Nanaka's again.
"You owe me an explanation," she said, the words braver than she felt.
He held out a hand, demanding.
She paused, then handed her wand to him.
He closed his eyes and whispered the words. She closed hers and joined in the familiar chant. The broom picked up speed, darted forward, hot air blowing around their faces, went through a window frame, and came out somewhere else entirely.
There really was only one way to explain, and so Aya took her to the one person whose presence made explanations unnecessary.
They left the broom on the roof, along with his coat and sword and Nanaka's tabard and hat. If one ignored the smell of smoke and the faint tang of blood about them, they could have passed for two trendy people out on a date. Fortunately the smells were lost in the antiseptic maw of the hospital.
He led the way unerringly to his sister's room. It was past visiting hours, but the staff knew him and didn't raise a fuss at his presence.
"Who is she?" Nanaka asked as they stood on opposite sides of Aya-chan's bed.
"My sister." He held his sister's hand in his as he stood looking down at her.
"I didn't know you had a sister."
"My family was murdered," he said, and listened to the silence the words created. "I saw it. Only she survived. And she's been in a coma ever since."
"That's why you disappeared?" she asked quietly. Aya couldn't look up. "Is that why you do that?"
"It costs a lot of money to care for a coma patient," he answered. "More than you could ever imagine."
"Sempai--" she said, and he could hear her swallow before asking, "Why didn't you ask us for help?"
"I tried magic, in the beginning," he said. "It didn't help. Whatever keeps her in this coma, keeps her from aging like anyone else should... it's impervious to magic. And don't say you could have helped financially. It was too much money."
Nanaka's half-laugh was bitter. "So you just left. Without even saying good-bye, or letting us know."
He did look up now, met her eyes with a hard gaze. "Don't," he warned. "I became a murderer to keep her alive. There was no way I would ever have let any of you know. I didn't want you involved with what I've become."
"Become?!" she demanded, and he could hear the hysteria beginning to bubble up in her voice. "What, a florist who--"
"Who kills at night, yes." He caught one of her wrists, didn't let her eyes go. "Do you really want me this way, Nakatomi-kun? Weren't you much happier three weeks ago, with just the memory of who I was?" She didn't answer. "Go up to the roof," he instructed. "Take that broom, and your wand, and go home. Forget tonight, and forget that Aburatsubo Ayanojou ever existed, because he doesn't anymore."
She stared at him for a minute longer, then pulled her wrist from his grasp, and turned away. She paused at the door, but didn't say anything. And then she was gone.
Aya looked down at his sister, and tried to remember what happiness felt like.
Nanaka entered her apartment through a closed door and sank to the floor, ratty janitorial broom still in one hand, sliding down to rest against one shoulder. She took her hat off, holding it in one hand as her arms crossed on her knees and she buried her face.
She couldn't stop crying.
They were waiting in the Underworld when Aya got back. He'd expected no less. Ken leaned against a wall, arms crossed, trying badly to cover his interest. Youji lounged on the couch, sunglasses eternally at half-mast, intrigued but cool. Omi was the only one actually working, typing a mission report or some such at the computer. He saved, though, or sent, or whatever arcane thing it was he did, and turned around as Aya walked down the stairs.
Aya cooly crossed the room and leaned on the opposite wall from Ken, waiting for someone to speak. He'd be damned if he'd crack first. Let /them/ ask.
Ken, predictably, gave way before Aya did. "So, you're a magician, huh?" he asked, using the tones of someone who was trying to be mature and adult about the entire thing but had just found out that Santa Claus was real.
"I was in the Magic Club in high school," Aya admitted.
"Your high school had a /real/ magic club?" Youji asked, straightening up just a little bit.
Aya snorted. "As if the staff and general student body ever thought that. They just thought we were prestidigitators."
"Prestidigi-whats?"
Omi sighed. "Fake magic tricks, Ken-kun." His blue eyes were calm, assessing, as they never let go of Aya. "So, magician, anything we should know?"
"No," Aya said solidly.
"Not even about that pretty witch Ken says you flew off with?"
Aya gazed icily at Youji. "My former classmates shouldn't be a problem anymore, Balinese."
The man was unaffected. "Pity. If that's all?" He glanced at Omi for permission to leave and got it in a nod of a blond head. "I've got a hot date with Michiko-chan. See you later." He sauntered up the stairs like he hadn't a care in the world. Knowing just how much an act that was, Aya snorted internally.
Ken lasted a minute longer before finally deciding that Aya wasn't going to give him any more information. He paused at the first turn of the stairs, though, and looked back down, one hand on the railing. "Aya? Y'know, that was really cool. With the broom and saving her and everything." Then he was gone.
Aya looked at Omi. Omi looked implacably back, then smiled his trademark sunny smile. "If you don't want to tell us, Aya-kun," Omi said seriously, "then you don't have to. I trust you to know what's best."
Aya felt a vague desire to thank the younger man for the sentiment, while at the same time realizing it was perfectly possible (given that this was Omi) that this might be Omi's way of trying to find out more. In the end, he did nothing but give a slight nod and head up the stairs to his apartment, where he stashed his mission clothing in the hamper, cleaned his sword and set it on its stand, showered, and finally went to bed, where he couldn't get the memory of teary golden-brown eyes out of his mind until he finally fell asleep.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-02-04 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-04 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-05 12:48 am (UTC)Oh wow... Just want to say I love this fic! Crossovers so often don't work but this... The two series balance perfectly; you don't have one overwhelmed by the other. All the characters (weiss kruex at least - I don't really know the other well enough to comment) seem to be characterised perfectly - their reactions seem very real. 'Sekrit Pasts' can so often be cliched, a chance to up the 'specialness' of a character - but all of Aya's thoughts and reactions seem so very real, and very poigniant... *sniffle* I confess, I have a secret weakness for this type of fic, and it's just wonderful to see a well done one!
On a side note... That's Sakon in your icon isn't it? :DDDD Ayatsuri Sakon love!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-05 01:48 am (UTC)I'm glad you like this story too. So that's how people were finding it! I had wondered... must remember to thank Aishuu.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-05 09:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-05 05:44 pm (UTC)(I'm actually currently considering writing another Sakon fic. Mainly because I want to cross it with Rozen Maiden and see the sparks fly between all the dolls.)
no subject
Date: 2006-02-07 07:55 pm (UTC)However, its made me crave to see the second half of the series even more... unfortunatly that seems fit to happen on the other side of never.
(By the by, Kurama as Ame no Seimei's mother is a type of genius I can't quite wrap my mind around!)
The only other Ayatsuri Sakon fic I've ever read is Dreams by
(Now responding to the first part of that. *grin* Think I may love you.)