damned_institute | DAY 23: BREAKFAST

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DAY 23: BREAKFAST

That hadn't felt like an entire night.

And his goddamn head hurt. Pounded, even. Enough that he wondered if he was going to end up playing another round of "Christen the nurse" this morning.

Maybe it was because he'd spent so much time and energy trying to find Nowe. That could be the reason behind both those problems. Just the thought of it made his stomach turn, made him want to fucking choke something.

Still, there was shit to do. He forced himself out of bed to put away his pens and the other leftovers from the adventures that didn't happen last night. He'd have to try to talk to Sora today, to see if they could just do tonight what they were going to do last night... and to see if the kid was doing alright.

...he just wished his head would stop hurting. That was probably the result of just how badly he'd overreached himself the previous morning.

The nurse that showed up to get him was cheerful. He grunted at her, listening to her with only half an ear until she mentioned all the excitement, about someone pretending to be a patient, all that crap that Landel had mentioned.

Renji gave her a narrow-eyed look. "Dr. Landel is a goddamn lying coward, and he's lying about that, too," he said. Whether it was true or not, there was only so much good cheer he could take on a shitty morning. "I hope he chokes on a cock." No matter how much venom he put in that statement, it wasn't enough.

Then he had to listen to a lecture about language and gratitude for the rest of the walk to the cafeteria, so maybe it wasn't worth it after all. She dragged him through the breakfast line, and he ended up with granola and toast and tea and a cinnamon roll, because not even a shitty fucking night could ruin his sweet tooth. Though that thing was looking a little too sweet.

The cafeteria was pretty much empty; he had his run of the place. He sat himself about as far from the doors as he could get, and proceeded to stare at his breakfast.

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Yohji was practically asking for a fight with insisting about Mamoru, Aya knew all those things too well but it was another matter to converse about them. And Aya, much too loyal to his habits, would take the bait.

"I know, I've been reading," he snapped, stabbing the fork to the cinnamon roll and leaving it standing there. "Why were you working for him if you think this way?" The words listless but in truth, full of acid, a question for himself as well. Perhaps Yohji would provide an answer for Aya too.

Yohji's expression tightened at Aya's outburst, eyes narrowing dangerously. He'd only been stating the truth and Aya knew that. Made him almost itch for the days when they'd just been able to take their frustrations out on each other in training or missions.

And that question... why ask when he already knew the answer? "Because I don't know how to do anything else," he said venomously, bite of anger in his words. "And strangely enough, there don't tend to be 'assassin wanted' ads in the job section of the newspaper."

There is no living sword or a killing sword, Ran-kun. Only a weapon in the hands of a murderer. Kikyo might have been right, just like Yohji was now, but it was a truth that was not easy to accept. Aya bit his lip, now glaring at Yohji through his crimson bangs. He did not want to be Mamoru's weapon - he was Weiss. A murdered but a murdered with a purpose.

Who was he trying to fool? Not himself surely.

Angry as he was, he refused to throw Yohji's own betrayal against his face. That was done and dealt with. "It's not so hard, honest work. You were a florist for years." His words were weak, it all hit too close to home. Both of them were so stained with blood they were good for nothing else. "If you don't believe in Persia, the whole purpose of Weiss is gone." He fell silent for a moment, pausing for his own words and swallowed gingerly. He sounded like a naive fool, yet he felt nothing like one, perhaps he was losing it.

Yohji held Aya's gaze, more out of stubborness than anything else. He may have fucked up more than once, but he was right about this.

He snorted in disbelief at Aya's suggestion. "Yeah, floristry. And spend every second waiting for Manx or Birman to waltz in with another goddamn mission." Or for Kritiker to decide he knew too much and finally decide to get rid of him permanently. "Weiss' purpose was to kill for the Takatori family," he continued bitterly. "Don't try to dress it up as anything more noble."

There could have been poetry waxed out of the nobility of a bloody murder, such a contradiction as it was. Yet Aya ignored the statement completely, his intent attention completely focusing to the words before.

"Takatori?" The name so very familiar to his lips, now muttered bitterly. "I am not killing for Takatori family." The words were grit out between his teeth, fingers balling into tight fists on the table, stubborn. What Yohji said, was probably true and Aya was well aware of that, which was the reason why he had not called for help when he was stabbed. Death seemed like the only way to escape Kritiker anyhow.

Yohji finally looked away from Aya in frustration and not a little annoyance. Aya could be a stubborn bastard when it came to things, but surely he must know this by now.

"We've always been killing for them!" he snapped, clenching his hands on the edge of the table, his good mood from earlier completely gone. "Killing for them, for their internal politics or whatever damn games they're playing!" Maybe it was because he'd been the oldest when Weiss had formed, but he'd never been able to see it as noble or just. It had been a means to an end, and not one he'd had much choice in either.

"Shut up, Yohji!" It wasn't exactly a yell, more like a cry to get Yohji to stop, the anger within him building to be harder to control. But this was Yohji, of course he wouldn't be quiet. He tried to lower his voice but the words came out clipping and with an edge of annoyance. "Only when you allow it, you'll become a puppet."

Aya stared at Yohji's profile like waiting it to reveal some deep secrets to him, intently, not seeing. He had joined Weiss to kill Takatori, not for some noble cause. He had continued working for Weiss because Kritiker was not eager to let him go, he wouldn't risk Aya-chan just for his own desire for peace and quiet. And later on because, like Yohji, he had nothing else left and Weiss had become a new family.

And Omi was a part of that family. Mamoru on the other hand, had his own, which he'd protect whatever the price.

"Don't let them hear you say such things. It's not wise." Aya was tired of fighting with Yohji. Why couldn't they just have one simple conversation without someone pulling out the guns?

Heh. Yohji had never learned to keep his mouth shut when it was good for him. Or maybe he was just a masochist who was waiting for Aya's temper to fray enough to get himself hit. "We've been puppets since the day we joined Kritiker, Aya."

Kritiker had always held all the cards. They'd never really had the choice to leave. Weiss were too valuable and too knowledgeable to let them leave. And when you'd been killing for so long, it was difficult to stop sometimes.

He raised one eyebrow at Aya and glanced around disbelievingly at the nurses in the room. "They think we're crazy. I doubt that people claiming to be assassins is the worst thing that they've heard."

"Not them, idiot." Exasperation in Aya's sigh, fist unraveled on the table as he glanced around tiredly. With Yohji's attitude, Ken's apparent lack of control, Aya was not really surprised that Kritiker, perhaps Saijou, had decided to take out Weiss with Esset. Based on Mamoru's own words the last order was not commissioned by Persia, but Tsukiyono Omi, perhaps Saijou had not known he was sacrificing his own grandson as well. The reason why Queen and Crashers had took on the mission was still beyond him. They were supposed to be non-lethal team after all. Possibly someone had been planning to mold a new Weiss out of Crashers.

He clenched his teeth for the thought. Yuushi wouldn't, would he? He had no reason.

Gaze resting on Yohji again, Aya picked up his coffee cup and cradled it between his hands, still trembling from the restrained anger. The tone of his voice softer than before, listless. "We might be puppets. But are you going to just sit here and whine about it? Your bitterness doesn't help you along."

Yohji sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck for a moment. He forced humself to finish off the last of his suddenly unappealing breakfast, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the food instead of glancing over at Aya.

He would kill for a cigarette. Just to calm his nerves a little, give him something else to focus on.

Finally he turned back to Aya, regarding him with uncharacteristic seriousness. "What do you instead?"

Sipping from his cup, Aya matched the seriousness in Yohji's gaze with his own, holding it for a silent moment, just long enough to feel uncomfortable.

"You either play their game or end the game." He answered silently while nursing the cup against his chest. "Like we have to do to get out of here."

Coffee to an empty stomach was bound to make him even more jittery and nauseated, but it was the best diet he could have managed at the moment, bitter enough to fit his mood. He sipped and wanted to grimace at the burned taste of coffee on his palate but only allowed a slight twitch on his brows.

Yohji shifted uncomfrotably beneath Aya's gaze, finally having to look away. Aya was good at loaded silences. He should have remembered that. He hated being outstared, made to feel like he was some immature child.

He took a breath and then nodded. Aya made sense, no matter how much it annoyed Yohji that the other man was always right. "Then we end the game," he said. "Maybe I belong in a place like thi, but not one this fucked up."

A slightly amused snort managed to slip from Aya as the redhead gazed at Yohji through his tangled bangs. For a moment he felt the urge to crack a joke, but pursed his lips around the words before they managed to sneak out of his throat. He had fought with Yohji enough for today.

He was about to answer Yohji, the words already on the tip of his tongue, but the intercom interrupted him. Frowning slightly, he sipped the last of his coffee instead of speaking. Over the collective noise of chairs being moved and crowd shifting towards the doors, he tried to catch Yohji's eyes once more. "This seems more and more like a big, cruel game to me. All down to the intercom and nightly radio broadcasts. We have to gather Omi and sit down to talk and figure out some kind of plan when it's possible."

He spotted a nurse heading her way towards them and stood up, wanting to avoid more physical contact if possible. He nodded to Yohji as a goodbye before moving out with the tail of the crowd.

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DAY 23: BREAKFAST

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