Trio Maxwell-Chang (trio) wrote in fictionaltrio, @ 2007-08-08 16:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | die einigung, fujimiya ran, hidaka ken, kudou yoji, manx, tsukiyono omi, weiß kreuz |
[Weiß Kreuz] Die Einigung - Sayonara
Title: Die Einigung
Scene Title: Sayonara
Author: trio
Series: Weiß Kreuz
Pairing(s) Involved: none
Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz is owned by Takehito Koyasu, Marine Entertainment, Project Weiß, and associated parties.
Scene Wordcount: 728
Current Wordcount Total: 5618
Rating: G
Warnings: none
"It's not like Ran," Omi said, as they stepped into the mission room. Manx was waiting for them by the television and had clearly already slipped the video into the recorder. But she waited, watching the three men before her silently. "He wouldn't just blow off a mission." The youngest of the three moved to the couch and flopped onto it with the boneless grace of a teenager, glaring at the television as though the blue waiting screen had done something to him personally. "There has to be something going on."
Directly behind Omi was Ken, the athletic man watching his younger friend with a crooked smile. "This is the first time since Aya's awake that he's had to decide something like that," he said soothingly, reaching out to ruffle Omi's hair as he passed the boy. "It's probably a lot to think about, really. Especially after the last missions directly involved her." He settled on the couch against the wall, sitting on the arm and falling back, until his upper body took up nearly half the couch and his feet still grazed the floor.
Yoji brought up the rear, lazy green eyes looking from the television to Manx, then sweeping over the other two assassins in the room before his gaze settled back on Manx. "He's not just blowing you off, is he?" he asked softly, making no move to flirt with the redhead. Instead, he dropped onto the couch beside Ken's head. "Something else is going on." As he waited for her to respond, he dug a cigarette out of his pack, settling it between his lips, where it listed enough to seem almost as though it might drop at any moment. But it remained in place as he flicked the lighter on, lighting the cigarette and inhaling. The smoke worked through his body, carrying soothing relief within it and infecting every pore as he closed his eyes and waited for the tension in him to unwind. And then he tucked the lighter away, folding his arms behind his head and simply staring at Manx, his cigarette seeming as lazy as he himself did.
"Abyssinian has been given a different assignment from Persia," Manx said quietly, once they were all seated. "He will not be joining you for any part of this mission." There was a hint of almost-apology in her tone and eyes, driving Omi to his feet fast enough for him to reach out and catch her wrist as her finger descended to the player.
"What do you mean, he won't be joining us?" he demanded sharply, confused anger enough to tighten his fingers into a bruising grip. Manx flinched slightly in his hold, but remained still, waiting for him to finish his outburst. "You make it sound like Ran isn't coming back at all!"
"I'm not," came the dark voice from the stairs, drawing everyone's attention. At Manx's narrowed gaze, he nodded toward the far wall, where their weapons were stored. "My sword," was the quiet explanation.
"...Ran?" Omi asked weakly, simply staring at the swordsman with pleading eyes.
"It's time for a change," Ran returned, aubergine eyes flicking over each of them in turn, but lingering the longest on Omi. "For me... and for Weiß. One more change before Weiß goes active again." He moved to get his sword in the ensuing silence, then stood standing with the weapon in hand as he tried to find the words to tell them all why he hated the reassignment. When he turned, three pairs of eyes stared back at him, hurt and understanding mingled within their gazes.
Omi would've smiled as he left, and possibly tried to hug them all. He certainly would've tried to assuage the hurt there. Ken would've joked, making empty, comforting promises as he headed out the door. Yoji would have smirked, waving away their concern and sadness with a dismissive flick of the wrist and disappearing through the door while a tiny plume of smoke trailed behind him. But none of them were going, and Ran had never quite known how to tell them what he felt for them. In the end, faced with their expectations, he simply turned and headed up the stairs, face stony and lips thin.
Their eyes followed him up, lingering on the closed door upstairs as the first few seconds of the video played.