Disclaimer: The settings and characters of Weiss Kreuz belongs to Koyasu-san and Project Weiss © I do not know these fine gents from Japan, nor do I claim these characters are mine at all. There will be no need for international lawsuits, since I am a flat broke otaku that just like to torture these characters.
Feedback: I’m so glad that this fic is reaching 60 reviews!!!!! -mega heart- Thanks to ALL of you who reviewed my fic!!! I cannot say how many times your reviews are the only motivation I have in completing this insanely long fic. -lol- I’m glad you guys liked my character protrayal, and if you have any suggestion as to how I could improve my writing, please let me know!! -heart-
Kicking off my shoes, I set the two large bags of groceries down on the counter as Aya glares at me, putting my shoes in order along with his. Seriously, for something that we use more than once everyday, and the fact that nobody visits us anyway, I don’t understand why he bothers to straighten up everytime we come home. Meh, his parents taught him too well.
He comes into the kitchen after being satisfied with how the den looked, and starts helping me unload the various food items we have just purchased. I take out several bottled teas, from lemon to black to milk tea, and sigh exasperatedly for dramatic effect. “Honestly, my love, with all this sugar you’re inhaling, why are you not having any sugar high problems?”
He shrugs as he takes the bottles from me, and puts them into a designated organizing bin in our fridge. I snicker as I put my beer next to his teas, and grin at him, “I would like to see you having a sugar high one of these days…. Maybe when the other bastards visit. It’ll be hilarious.”
He looks at me blankly, before straightening himself to unpack more of those sweetened teas and sodas into the fridge as I hold the door open for him. “Not going to happen.”
He smirks triumphantly at me, the smirk too much like my own for my own comfort. “I’m extremely tolerant to sugar.”
As we continue to unpack, the phone rings alongside with the door chime, which surprises both of us. We look at each other for a brief second, and he easily wins the commanding war as I sigh, going to the door myself. Why does the boy have the ability to fucking order people around without saying a word? Then again, that’s why I love him so much….
Wait, does that make me a masochist? Hm… I thought for certain I’m a sadist if it ever comes to that, not that I would dare hurt his beautiful body intentionally… No, the past doesn’t count. He was trying to fucking off my head at the time. Besides, I barely fought him, I got myself an armful of Balinese, so I really didn’t have time to think about him, except the fact that I knew Brad was taking care of him. Literally. I’ve told the man repeatedly how I don’t want Aya hurt, and the bastard surprisingly obeyed my wishes. Aya never really got much of a wound, just close calls, which were often inflicted by Nagi when the little boy thought the American was in danger. Honestly, Nagi, you could’ve tossed him just a bit lighter… I think he enjoyed torturing me like that just because I tease him way too much. I wonder if Crawford ever foresaw our relationship though… and he just fucking conveniently forget to tell me? If he did, I am so strangling him.
I smile softly to myself as I hear his soft, tentative voice answering the phone. It’s nearly a year and a half now since we’ve been living together, and he’s still not used to telephones. We got both of us cellphones in Akihabara the other day when we went to visit several universities, and he hated the idea but went along with it. I told him that he could refuse to share his number… all right, so I insisted he not give his number out. I doubt I could withhold myself if I’m in the middle of sucking his dick and his cellphone rang, since being him, he would stop me and answer it. And if it turned out to be someone trying to get into his pants… I think I’d break the damn thing.
Then again, phones in Japan are so ridiculously cheap that breaking a few wouldn’t hurt. I’ll just pick up a dozen if that happens.
We also saw couple places for living quarters. Brad had suggested we move back in with them if Aya got accepted to Tokyo University, but I vetoed the idea faster than Aya could even process the thought. There is no way I am allowing them to teased twenty-four/seven, especially when I can foresee Brad or Nagi, or even Farfie, walking in during our snuggling or sex, and laugh at us. I’m no precog, but I know. Don’t ask why.
Yes, sex with Aya is more important to me than anything else. Who the fuck cares about family or friends?
Sex with Aya and snuggling close to him.
He’s really fluffy and warm, especially when he’s just out of the shower. I feel like squealing holding him close to me.
No, I don’t squeal.
…..Maybe just a little.
Oh, shut the fuck up.
I open the door, and arch an eyebrow when I see a brown cardboard box with legs. And a hat. What the hell….?
“Fujimiya-san?” the box asks.
“Here,” the box then moves into my hand, where it finally reveals a young boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, wearing a delivery uniform. He breathes a heavy sigh of relief at unloading the heavy burden, and grins childishly at me. He looks shorter than Nagi, and this is probably his part-time job to get a gift for his girlfriend or something. Just to make sure, since I don’t like receiving packages with the threat of Weiss still lingering somewhere in the back of my mind, I check the boy’s thoughts quickly. His eyes dull for a second or two as I run through his entire memory, and find my guess correct. He’s kind of in a hurry now to meet his girl in the park within the next fifteen minutes. He blinks when I release his mind from my hold, and shakes his head to clear himself as he hands me a pen and a clipboard with some paper on. “Please sign here.”
I read the paper, and frown as I read the sender’s name. Nintaku Publishing Co.? What? “What’s this?”
“You won some sort of contest, I believe,” the boy replies, tapping his foot impatiently as he curses mentally at how I’m taking up his precious time, but he shows none of that externally. I smile as I think to myself how here is another fine example of Japanese home education. I sign the paper, deciding to give the boy a break as I smile. “Here. Thank you very much.”
The boy smiles, and taps his hat once for a quick bow before hurring down the stairs. I close the door and move the heavy box in, shaking it slightly to see what it is. A contest? When did we enter a contest?
“Who was it?” Aya asks, looking up from the kitchen counter where he had resumed putting the last bit of groceries into the cabinet.
I shrug, putting the box onto the kodatsu, and open the drawer of the television cabinet to get a pair of scissors. “I don’t know. Nintaku Publishing Co…. Something about a contest.”
“Is it the book contest?” he asks, coming into the living room curiously.
“Oh yeah….” then it dawns on me where I heard about the publishing company. It’s one of the three publishing companies that specialize in translating and publishing foreign novels. We entered that Arsene Lupin’s contest couple months ago. “It doesn’t feel like books though. The whole set is, what, thirty books? It’d be way heavier than this.”
Aya sits down next to me, snuggling close as he shrugs, urging me to open it quickly by nudging me with his shoulder. I grin as I finally get the box to open. Aya’s eyes widen slightly at the bottles stacked neatly on top of each other, with a typed letter on top of all the bottles. He takes a bottle as I pick up the letter. I scan the simple page, reading it out loud.
“‘Thank you for joining our annual book drawing contest. Although you have not won our grand price, we are glad to inform you that you have won our Sixth Award – six months supply of Captain Michael’s Vanilla Root Beer. We will be mailing you thirty bottles at the beginning of each month.’ Blah blah blah…. ‘We hold the book drawing contest every year, and we hope to see you again next year! Sincerely, Nintaku Publishing Co.'”
Aya was already opening one of the root beers before I finished reading, and I watched him take a sip first, his eyes widening and sparkling with delight no matter how hard he tries to hide. I know he has wanted to buy this brand of root beer for a while, but the price is three times higher than regular sugary drinks since it’s imported, so he never really dares, saying the money should be saved for the college fund even when I keep telling him that Brad will be taking care of that. I smile softly at his childish behavior, licking his lips to capture a drop that escapes his mouth. Shit, this thing could turn into a dangerously erotic game….
“Want some?” he asks, realizing I’m staring, though misinterprets the need in my eyes. I shake my head furiously. I hate these sugar drinks. They always make my head hurt.
“Nah, you keep it. I know how much you love this.”
He smiles brightly as he continues to drink the thing that gives me a headache just thinking about it. I don’t mind some of the Japanese drinks, but I know for a fact how sweet American and British drinks can be. They can be deadly. I’m just glad Aya keeps up with his exercise and limits himself enough so he won’t have diabetes when he’s older. But… Argh. I wrinkle my nose in distaste as I get up and head for the kitchen to start preparing for dinner, casting one last look at the delighted youth who somehow has forgotten about me already. I feel myself pouting as I take out some vegetables, trying to vie for his attention. “Who called?”
“Hm?” he asks, his voice echoing within the glass bottle, creating a weird, thunder-type muffled sound. With a pop, he releases the lucky bottle. “Oh, it was Brad. He said that he’s coming over Sunday after next.”
“Fuck, they just visited last week!” I curse, chopping the carrots harder than necessary.
He shrugs as he shifts in his seat, turning on the television to watch the news with Captain Michaels, tossing me from his thoughts again.
Damn. I want to smash those bottles, no matter how much I know they make him happy.
And here I am, fighting for attention with sugar drinks.
I was right all along that some man would come and steals him from my grasp. I just didn’t expect it to be a pirate.
An ugly-looking, weird-hat wearing, stupid parrot standing on his shoulder, grinning and winking fucking pirate.
What the fuck is he wearing? And I swear he’s laughing at me triumphantly from the label.
I hate pirates.
I open my eyes slowly, feeling extremely depressed and tired. It’s nothing new, really, even though I’ve hidden it well from Schuldich for the last week or two. I try to turn away from the warm arms wrapped around my waist, and close my eyes exasperatedly as I find myself having trouble moving. Again. Resigned, I close my eyes, fighting back the panic I feel rising within.
The last week has been Hell. It started quite normally, but I find myself getting mad at people for no apparant reason. Maybe it’s just full moon. Maybe it’s the date. I often get restless when it’s this time of year, full moon of the fall, near the Moon Festival. It’s the time when Aya went into coma, and I lost my family and my parents within three minutes. I’ve never told anybody how the moon has always bothered me. How things never go right when it’s full moon. I met Weiss when it’s full moon, and missed the chance of getting Takatori’s head in a full moon.
Schuldich took Aya from me to lure me back into the battle with Estet when it’s full moon, and Sakura nearly killed me under his control when it’s full moon. We fell into the sea and nearly drowned, along with Estet, when it’s full moon. And Ken parted after giving us the warning of Weiss’ plans of attack in a full moon.
So, no, full moon is not my best friend. I don’t care how beautiful people say it is. I don’t care how much poetry, music, art, literature was created with its inspiration. To me, the full moon is an omen. Something that tells me that no matter how happy I am with life, Fate will always take away any happiness I’m feeling and throw me into a pit filled with death and despair. Schuldich noticed this the first full moon we had together, though nobody ever even realized or cared when I was in Weiss. Which is one of the reasons why I eventually started to accept this idiot’s love for me. The years I spent in Weiss, whether we had missions or not, nobody found my behavior strange during the couple days when the moon was large, round and eerily beautiful in the sky. Youji would get pissed-off when I snap at him for something trivial, and we would often engage in a fight until either Ken or Omi broke it off. Or I would with Ken. It would be better when we were on missions during the time, where I could take the chance to vent out my frustration with my blade, ending many innocent lives that got in the way.
Youji once dubbed it as my PMS. I never bothered correcting him.
But I remember the first full moon I had with Schuldich, after he moved in and I was still mad at him and cautious about his motives. I was being extremely jumpy that day and snapped at him about every chance I got, even when he simply asked me if I would like another bowl of miso soup at dinner. He was surprised, I knew, and I half-expected him to move out the next day. Instead, he looked thoughtful, and gave me personal space when it was apparent that I wanted it, but stayed close so I wouldn’t feel alone. I don’t know when he figured it out why I hate the full moon, but he gave me the first small present the following day, a book that somehow he knew I would like, and made an extremely delicious meal that night. He started showering me with gifts every month around the same time, when the moon glowed bright and hatefully round in the sky, and would always make something special that couple of nights. When I finally realized when he was doing it, and why, I was, to say the least, touched. It was the first time somebody did something for me because they knew my mood, and the first time where somebody comforted me during the time I felt the most pain.
I guess…. I fell for him then.
So I wasn’t that worried about my depression. I think it’s just that time anyway. But just the past couple of days I’ve started to feel numb, physically, that is. I skipped work for the past several days, which not only worried Schuldich, but my co-workers as well. I just told them I’m coming down with some flu, that’s all, and I’m thankful that Schuldich didn’t ask anything or probe into my mind. Not that he would, anyway… The trust that I have for him is… well… scary, I guess. Eighteen months ago I couldn’t stand the sight of him, and now I not only live with him, have sex with him, and… trust him with my life. I know that he would never, ever let any harm come my way, and he wouldn’t betray me either.
He told me that he would stay with me until the end of time, and I believe him.
I must be sicker than I thought. I’m turning into a romance novel character.
I just feel really tired these days, that is all. I have had trouble moving, and there were several instances when Schuldich wasn’t home that seemed almost alarming. Two days ago when he went to work, which I insisted he go since the two of us couldn’t both be absent, and he is the second cook. If he wasn’t there, Kiyoshi-san would be overwhelmed; reluctantly, he went. I slept until around noon, and woke up feeling dizzy and more tired than I was before I went to sleep. I smiled softly when I saw lunch on the table, with a note saying that the restaurant was extremely busy that day, and that he would be home late. With a little crying face. Every time he leaves a note, he would always put these small drawings he called ‘smilies’ that just make me smile. I think he knows how cute these smilies are and how much I like them, that’s why he draws them everytime. He told me to take it easy, and he promised he wouldn’t be jealous of Captain Michaels, and that I can have a date with him. It’s hilarious how he can be jealous of all the little things in the world, from actual people to root beer. I think half the time when we went out, he found someone to be jealous of and pout over. It’s adorable, really.
I had relocated some of the cooled plates to the microwave, and was reading while I waited. When it was done, I stood up to go to the kitchen, only to trip on my own feet for some reason. I fell, gracelessly, and was going to get up while cursing at my clumsiness, when I found that I couldn’t move. My eyes widened as I lay there, immobile, trembling, and I tried again. I tried really hard, willing any part of my body to move, and even when, back in the old days, Nagi was holding me down with his full powers, I somehow always managed to break free. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move a muscle, and I felt that the only thing I could move was my eyes. I couldn’t scream since I couldn’t open my mouth. It was horrifying, not being able to control your own body. I breathed heavily as tears started to gather in my eyes, but I fought them back and continued to struggle.
Somehow, during my battle with my own body, I passed out from exhaustion. When I woke up, it was nearly five in the afternoon, and the sun was setting. I got up shakily, and tossed away the lunch, pretended that I ate and crawled back to bed. I thought about the plausibility of something like that, and I just couldn’t find any. What could’ve befallen me to where I just couldn’t move?
And I found the first worry that popped into my mind wasn’t Aya. I was worried if this was contagious and if Schuldich had caught it.
When he came home, I feigned sleep so expertly that he bought it. He normally would tell me that he knew I was faking sleep, but I guess my exhaustion aided my act as he went about the house, tip-toeing and making dinner, and came to wake me up an hour later. I asked him if he felt ill at all, and was relieved when he said he was fine.
It happened again yesterday, more frequently, and this time I blacked out longer than the day before. I woke up and I couldn’t move, and I struggled against my trapped body until I was exhausted. I fell again when I was getting a glass of water, and once more when I laid down on the bed.
I wonder what’s happening to me?
Is this another cruel joke that Fate is making of me?
Am I going to die?
I shouldn’t be scared at the thought, since I’ve lived days and years where death lingered just around the corner, waiting patiently for one small mishap every night.
But I am. I’m scared shitless.
I’m scared of not seeing him again.
Not able to feel him; see how his eyes warm when I smile, filled with unspoken passion that only idiots cannot see; not able to feel his calloused hands caressing my body; not able to see him busy himself in the kitchen making food that I like.
Not able to feel his love, and love him back again.
I’m scared. Eighteen months is just too short.
I inhale deeply, slowly, drawing in the scent of the vanilla body wash mixed with the scent that is him. I feel tears gather in my eyes, and fight them back again. The knowledge of death doesn’t scare me. I know Aya will be well-taken care of. Not only will Schuldich take care of her, Brad and the others will too. Last time they were here they insisted in paying a visit to Aya with us, and Brad had complained slightly about how she deserves better care than this. Nagi said that he would help search for the best neurosurgeon, and Farfarello…. He just stared. It didn’t bother me that much, since Schuldich said all of his knives were confiscated and he had been on some anti-psychotic drugs or something. I don’t know, but I know he seemed much more logical and sane than in the past, and he looked at Aya quite fondly. I just don’t feel that threatening aura that used to surround him, and while he wasn’t social, he was… polite. I’m sure if I’m… gone, he would help take good care of Aya as well.
I would just miss this big idiot. Terribly miss him.
But, as I take another cleansing breath to finally push the tears back into me, I vow to myself to never cry or tell him. I will smile for him, pretend I’m just sick because of the flu. He’s worried enough as it is, and I just want to see his smile. See how he tries to make fun of himself and be a big klutz just to make me smile. I don’t need him doing anything else for me.
And I will hang onto each minute dearly. I know my time is slipping away.
I turn slightly to look at the sleeping form of my kitten worriedly, before getting a nice burn from the popping oil from the pan. Cursing softly, I put the heavy wok down as I grab an ice cube from the fridge and put it over the spot. I sigh heavily.
To say I’m worried is, well, a fucking huge understatement. I keep telling him that his days of wasting away will get back to him, but does he listen? Noooo! He just waves it off and keeps protesting that he’s eating now. Yeah, but he wouldn’t take the vitamins that I bought for him! Claiming they are too large and hard to swallow and he hates the smell of it, yada, yada, yada. I heard from Brad of a new kind of powdered vitamins in America that taste pretty good. Maybe I should buy those and mix them in his food. See? Now he’s all sick and lying on the bed sleeping, which makes me frown even deeper. I swear, by the time he gets better, I will have seriously deep frown lines between my brows.
Tossing the ice cube away into the sink, I return to the last dish I’m making, and portion it out evenly onto the plates that sit waiting in the living room. Stupid people that insist on coming today, even when I called and said Aya was ill. Seeing the sick kitten for a change and the crowd would do him well? My ass.
I scrape the food from the wok using the spatula hatefully, wishing it is Bradley’s ass I’m frying in here. Fucking bastard.
Putting the utensils into the sink for later wash, I walk over to Aya, and try to shake him awake. “Aya?”
No answer. I sigh, and shrug, deciding to let him sleep. He looks extremely tired lately, and that flu medicine makes one drowsy. They even have a big face with half-asleep eyes on the package to emphasize the fact. What, we can’t read or something?
No, I’m not in the best mood, ever. I’m worried, I’m pissed off, and I’m getting a really bad feeling.
Like something bad is going to happen. Or is happening.
I shake my head, pushing the ominous feeling away. He looked fine this morning, despite being exhausted, even though he’d just woken up. I fed him some broth and porridge in bed for breakfast, of which he ate only a little. He had been trembling furiously, and when I offered to take him to a hospital, he said it was just cold. It has been chilly the past several days, we have even moved the kodatsu out in preparation of winter, so I gave him a couple jackets and wrapped him up like the adorable little kitten he is, though he glared half-heartedly at the description and chuckled. I was out only for an hour to buy some ingredients for tonight’s get-together, and oddly, Aya had been quite insistent on me staying with him and reading to him. He asked for another bottle of that disgustingly sweet drink, and sipped while I read him nearly an entire book of Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkaban. We had started only several days ago, and he wouldn’t let me go cook for him during lunch and in the afternoon, just lay there and smiled softly and pleaded me to read him more. How could I refuse?
But he was never selfish, no matter how much I begged him to be. The behavior scared me, and if he’s not better tomorrow, I’m taking him to the hospital even if he kicks and screams the entire way.
I read until he fell asleep peacefully, and I nearly froze when he whispered those magical, three little words to me before he drifted off to sleep. By all means, I should have been so ecstatic that I was jumping up and down and singing at the top of my lungs, but I wasn’t. I know he loves me, without him even telling me that, and he knows that I know that. Why would he suddenly say that to me? And he looks so pale and content and peaceful as if the world can end today and he would be happy when it did. That only alarms me more and I really want to just forget the whole dinner date with the others and take him to a hospital right now.
Maybe I’m just paranoid.
Maybe I’m just so happy that I’m scared it can’t last.
Maybe, having those idiots over isn’t so bad now.
Nagi knows just about everything in the world except how to actually have a life, so he should be able to help me examine Aya and see what’s going on. That stupid old hag calling herself a doctor in town must be like, two hundred years old, and she just waved it off and said he was just having a flu. You don’t really have a week-long flu, do you? I don’t trust her even though Aya does. I don’t know. She looked more like a witch from the story books than a doctor.
I bend down, and place a gentle kiss on his lips, “Ne… Wake up already… I’m starting to talk in my head to myself and I really, really don’t like this, you know? I need my kitten to cuddle with….”
He still sleeps soundly, so I pout and stand up when the door bell rings. Sighing again, I walk over, and open the door.
“Yo,” Brad grins, and brushes past me as if this is his home, starting to remove his shoes and wave the plastic bag in his hand. “Imported Merlot, 1978. Worship me.”
“Fuck you,” I growl, and close the door as Nagi and Farfarello follow, each carrying some food item with them. Nagi is balancing a tray of something that’s covered with a lid, while Farfarello is carrying a box of German sausages, the ones that I especially like. I lift my eyebrow as I follow them into the kitchen, where they drop the stuff unceremoniously onto the floor. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s your one-year anniversary, stupid,” Nagi chuckles, “You left us a year ago and moved in with Abyssinian one year ago today. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? Where is he?”
“Aya,” I correct with a wince, and jerk my thumb behind me to the bed against the window.”He’s sick, and he’s sleeping. I guess I was just too absorbed in my worry to even think about some lame-ass anniversary.” I pause, before grinning ruefully myself, “Besides, getting into his pants should be the true annivesary that I should celebrate.”
“Pervert,” Farfarello comments with a roll of his one good eye, for which I kick him immediately.
“You have no say, lunatic. I’ve seen you drooling after Aya-chan.”
The Irish merely shrugs, and walks over to sit down before the table, waiting for dinner. It’s quite amusing how Farfarello has developed an eye, literally, for Aya’s sister, one that no one is sure can wake up at all. He finds her beauty fascinating, especially as she grows older yet her face is forever serene and innocent. He commented that she looked like an angel, which got Aya extremely nervous once. But he smiled, which shocked not only my kitten, but me as well, and said that he would love to make an angel his, and his love would taint her and make God hurt. Aya had mixed feelings about that. I… laughed my ass off until Aya glared at me.
It took me an entire week to make that one up, so the bastard should be glad I didn’t poison his food.
Nagi kneels before the sleeping beauty, and childishly pokes his cheek, before frowning and tilts his head to the side, “Weird, he doesn’t wake up….”
“It’s probably the flu medicine,” I shrug as I go in the kitchen and get the rice. “Nagi, would you mind taking a look later? Just because I don’t trust the doc at all.”
Brad busies himself in the kitchen until he finds three wine glasses and the cork opener, “Yeah, Nagi. Or else Schuldich might decide to add something weird to our food for fun since he doesn’t have a kitten to play with anymore.”
“Ha. Ha.” I glare.
It takes a moment for us to get situated, with my back against the bed Aya rests on, and Nagi sitting with Brad adjacent from me while Farfarello sits across me, as we say the quick polite acknowledgement to the meal. Brad pours the wine in the glasses and hands one to me, one for himself and one for Farfarello. Nagi never liked alcohol, and Aya is intolerant to it. I can see how my friends notice my worry and depression, and they try really hard to lighten my mood, making just about every sexual joke one can find on the Internet, and maybe more. Even Farfarello said one involving God, which took us almost a minute to decipher before cracking up. It’s only times like this that I really appreciate that I have a better family than Aya had, surrogate or not. Perhaps it’s the training we have all gone under, where Brad and I learned to trust each other with our lives and never poke into one another’s mind, where Farfarello learned that being insane is quite all right, and Nagi learned he was needed and loved… All right, so the loved part was taught privately by Brad, but whatever.
The topic drifts to the college fund, and Brad asks curiously what Aya wants to study in college. I tell them what Aya had thought about: music, which surprised them greatly. We have all seen just about every single file on Weiss’ kits — Balinese’s detective tapes and photos to some camera footage of him at work (stupidly, since you’re not suppose to get caught), Siberian’s soccer game and practice sessions, and Bombay’s school life and play and every festival he had attended. And, of course, Aya’s school life and piano recitals, and Aya-chan’s as well. To say we know them thoroughly cannot do us justice.
“Ne,” Nagi pokes me with his foot under the table, interrupting my status report for the latest work I did for Brad, “Sorry, but you got anything to drink?”
I shrug, and stand up as I walk over to the kitchen, continuing my report while Brad asks some question for him to analyze. I pause as I look at the last several bottles of vanilla root beer. Well, next month’s shipment will be here, what, Tuesday? Aya wouldn’t get mad at me for letting Nagi have one, would he? …Nah, probably not.
“Hey, kid,” I call as I open the freezer for some ice cubes, “Vanilla root beer sound okay to you?”
“Yeah, sure!” Nagi nods as he asks Farfarello to fill another bowl of rice for him, since Farfarello is closest to the bucket anyway. I grab a glass and toss some ice cubes into it, before opening the root beer and bring it back to the dining table.
“Here,” I say, retaking my seat, my attention shifting back to Brad as he asks a series of questions that I frown deeply of to recall the event. The job I had to do wasn’t that hard, just me and Aya went down to his Kyushu branch and terrorized several accountants and financial officers and the branch manager there for a weekend, and read about four dictionaries’ (think Oxford English Dictionary, argh) thick of reports before coming back home, dazed and exhausted. Both Aya and I agreed that we could live the rest of our lives without seeing another quarterly financial report.
A sputter sound interrupts us as Nagi spits out the soda the moment he drinks it, and runs to the kitchen, grabbing another glass and starts rinsing his mouth. I lift my eye brow with a smirk, “Too sweet, Nagi?”
“Sweet?!” Nagi screams, which in itself is enough to alert me as I frown, sitting up straight. “Fuck, Schuldich! This thing is fucking poisoned!!!!”
“What?!” I cry, standing so abruptly that had it not been for Farfarello, who is probably the only one that looks still indifferent about this, the table might have been knocked over. “What are you talking about!?”
Nagi retches to get the last several drops of the soda out of his system, using his powers internally, before glaring at me. He thrusts the bottle to me as I storm into the kitchen, and growl, “Taste it, idiot.”
I grab the bottle, and tentatively take a sip. Aside from the overpowering sweetness of artificial vanilla extract and the soda and the mountains of sugar it must have piled in, a distinctive taste that we once were forced to ingest until we were able to differentiate which poison was which back in Estet stood out from underneath the facade. My eyes widen at the name that pops into my mind all-too-instinctively. The years and years of training under Estet that make us able to name the poison, along with the cure, with a sniff, a taste, and sight, no matter how excruciatingly painful it was, blessedly helped here.
“MPTP…..” I utter the name with disdain. A fucking failed science lab experiment, and Aya was taking this orally without his knowledge?! Who the fuck wants to torture him like this?!
“…..Weiss,” Brad mutters as his eyes narrow, anger boils underneath his seemingly calm dark blue eyes. “How did I not foresee this?!”
Farfarello wanders over curiously, and takes the bottle from my hand and starts drinking the poison, quite happily if I may add. He never feared of any poison, and aside from being a master and a freak about weapons, his other specialty, more than any of us, is toxic substances. Licking his lips, he grins as he wanders into the kitchen for more. “At least two or three grams of these pure lovelies in a bottle. Quite tasty, too.”
Nagi shoots Farfarello a warning look, while I clench my fists tightly, the blood seeping out from my palms as I feel like I’m seeing red. I want to take a train right now to Tokyo, hunt down those fucking kittens, and tear them up. Shred by shred, muscle by muscle, bone by bone. Their screams will be the most delightful sound I could ever hear, their blood the most intoxicating drink, and their flesh the most delicious meat. I want to rip their heads off, grabbing their lovely hair and pull them apart, tie them up and scrape off their flesh with a knife, inch by inch, and pile them in front of me.
“Schu!” someone shakes me violently as I look up, my vision blurs as I stare into a nearly panicked Brad. “Calm yourself down. You’re doing no good to Aya if you let your anger take over.”
Nagi nods, and he rushes to the den, where his backpack rests casually. “I’ll start ordering Aldopa. Don’t worry, Schu. We’ll get him to wake up soon.”
Farfarello grins as he finishes the last bottle, “And we don’t need to attack them physically, Mastermind. We can poison them.”
“Blood for blood, poison for poison….” I hiss, and I can hear, distinctively, screams of pain from our neighborhood. If Aldopa ends up not working on him, I swear, I will personally take down every single human being I see in sight. I will kill until there are no more to kill, then I’ll take those fucking bastards’ heads on a stick, dangling so lovely with horror forever imprinted on their faces, to Hell to meet my love.
MPTP, formally known as Methyl-Phenyl-Tetrahydropyridine, is a drug that was accidentally discovered from a failed attempt of the attempt to create a designer drug, MPPP, often marketed as new heroin, or synthetic heroin, that has shown to be a potent neurotoxin and has caused irreversible brain damage in several individuals. The damage is manifested in a syndrome resembling a very severe Parkinsonism, which results in increased muscle tone, difficulty in moving and speaking, drooling, and cogwheel rigidity of the upper extremities. MPTP was often injected, which, when it reaches gram level, will directly affect a person’s brain, creating a similar effect to heroin. However, oral ingestion is often more fatal, as the level of absorption is often greater, and far deadlier than injection.
When overdosed on MPTP, the individual will lose all muscle mobility. While containing all senses, the individuals cannot move their body, and they appear to be asleep or in a deep coma. The University of California, Los Angeles medical school has dub a state like this ‘frozen’, where the person is completely conscious but trapped inside a rigid body that he or she has no control of.
After its discovery in 1976, MPTP has now been used as a research chemical compound in Parkinson’s disease. A specific drug named Aldopa was developed, which, during the first several seconds of injection, may instantaneously bring the individual ‘frozen’ due to MPTP out of the coma. This, however, is not a complete cure of such overdose, as there are serious risks of making the individual psychotic, with small possibility of death. If the individual has been discovered using MPTP at an early stage, Sinemet, a stablizer can end the effect of MPTP immediately, but that is before the individual overdoses and goes into the frozen state.
“….Why hasn’t it worked yet?”
A hiss, followed by the pound of the keyboard. “I don’t know! Maybe Estet trained them to be intolerant to drugs, maybe he never drank them, maybe he gave it to someone else. I don’t know!”
“Maybe Aya drank it?”
“Aya hates sweets. No way.”
“So now what?! You came up with this plan, you better fucking follow through!”
“I’ll just increase the dosage. Shut up and just make the swap, useless mongrel.”
—-To Be Continued.
Author’s Mewling: Well, fine, I lied. -LOL- I hated the fact that how I had the fic hang in the last chapter, where it wasn’t progressing as far as I wanted to be. So, being insane (and bored, isn’t that how all writings came about? -wink-) I wrote this chapter quickly. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how the later part of the fic went, where I still feel that Schuldich wasn’t expressing enough anger and I’m very clueless about how you conceive Nagi and Brad (I like Farfie the way he is.) So I might revise this part later on when I have a better feeling in terms of how they react.
As for the drug– No, I did not make it up. I got the idea from an episode of Law & Order: SVU where the exact same thing happened, which triggered the entire fic. It took me forever to finally came up with the plot, and while I was near tears in trying to find the name of the drug, USA network showed the episode again, which I praise them. -LOL- I jot down the info immediately and then begin this fic. I already have an idea before, and now I’m just happy that I finally get to this part. -smile- You can find more information about these drugs online by searching on Google. FF.net is very evil and I can’t link anything, so you’ll just have to either email me or look for it your own. -giggles-
Notice how I’m not using some special symbols like astricks and brackets, or smilies that I normally use, simply because FF.net is evil evil. -sweat drops- But this time, I am definitely not lying when I say that I will not be able to update until after November, ’cause NaNo is starting in two days. -excited- I’m also going out trick or treating tomorrow, which I’m uber excited about. -giggles- I made a costume for my Pikachu and he’s just soooooo cute!!! -giggles insanely- I just have to share this. -heart- I’m gonna take some pictures later on. -squeals-
Anyway, I am probably going to post the very unedited version of NaNo on FictionPress.com. My beta, Hyne bless her, reads very slow and usually takes her a day to edit anything for me. I really don’t want to think about editing when I do NaNo, because when I edit (or have edits waiting for me in the email) it’ll distracts me and slows me, and I need to write at least 2k words a day. So I will send the entire thing to her when NaNo ends, and fly to Taiwan as she sobs and edits the entire 50k work for me. -cackles- Then I’ll come back and…. I don’t know, hire somebody to edit the shit for me? -sweat drops- I hate to think just how many errors there will be. I’d cry, literally. -sniffles-
This rant has been long enough. -LOL- I shall stop here. I will see you all in hopefully December! And if I don’t, Happy Thanksgiving (eat lotta turkey!), Happy Holidays (I won’t be with my mom this year for Xmas…. -sniff-) and definitely Happy New Year! -MEGA heart-