Guilty Gear, its characters and
settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it
contains yaoi material.
Thunder Falling
Chapter 3
By the time Ky returned to
his small house in the downtown of
Ky Kiske’s home,
despite belonging to a prestigious world hero, was not in itself very
remarkable. From the front door was a short, thin hall lined with
closets, preceded on the left by a staircase to the upper level and a small
foyer for visiting guests on the right. The hall opened into a modestly
decorated living room with a pair of small sofas and a glass sliding door which
led to a stone patio and tiny garden. Attached to the living room were
the kitchen and dining room, and to the left a bathroom, and another stairway
leading into the basement where his two housekeepers would do the
laundry. The bedroom and study took up the upper floor.
It was simple—it was
just what it needed to be, and it suited Ky’s
purposes. His housekeepers saw more of it than he ever did, as he spent
nearly all of his time on duty, or else working in the study. He had
given them time off for the holidays, and the house was quiet and dark without
the extra light on that was usually left for him. Ky moved slowly down the hall, pausing at an
intricate display case on his right to store his Thunderseal.
His cape followed suit in a separate closet, and his uniform top should have as
well if not for the sudden disinterest he had in fumbling with all the straps
and buckles. Instead he wandered down the short hall and sank into a soft
chair near the glass patio window. At some point it had started to snow,
and the faint white powder stuck to the dead earth that would, come spring,
bear vibrant flowers again.
He should have been celebrating.
This entire season was supposed to one of thanksgiving and jubilation, and even
now he could still hear the cheerful songs echoing from distant streets.
But as was always the case, year after year, he merely felt cold. With the
memories of the war so close to his surface there was scarcely room in him for
merriment. It helped very little that the praises lifted to him, to his
order, were all but meaningless. It had been no strength of his that
brought salvation to the world. As a captain, all he had ever done was
watch casualties increase.
“
The voice came softly
in the stillness of the darkened room, and Ky jerked to his feet with a start. His hand
brushed at the space Thunderseal should have occupied
at his hip as he scanned for the intruder. “Who’s there?”
The shadows on his left
rippled, peeling away from the form of a man as he stepped out of the thin
hall. Even in the dark Testament’s face was pale. “It’s me,” he
greeted quietly.
Ky
stared at him for a long time, as if unable to make himself realize that what
he was seeing was real. It had only been three months and yet he felt
dimly surprised that the Gear had not changed in anything but his attire—he was
draped in a long black coat that reached from neck to ankle, and with his face
the only part of him bearing color he could have very well been rendered
invisible against the dark even without his magic aiding him. Ky’s fingers curled.
“Testament…?”
Testament shifted his
weight uncertainly. “You…told me to visit,” he explained somewhat
nervously.
“I did.” Ky stepped around the sofa, too
swiftly, and paused awkwardly just in front of him. Though his chest was
swelling with elation he himself was suddenly unsure. He didn’t even know
how to properly great him: formally, casually, intimately…? He managed a
shaky smile. “Though when I did, I meant sooner than three months later.”
Testament shrugged
slightly. “We came mostly by foot. Bridget wanted the time to
train—so he could surprise you.” He hesitated, and then offered, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s…it’s fine.” Ky
took a deep breath. “I’m glad you came. You…look well.”
“You….” Testament
paused, his brow furrowing as if he were about to say something and then
changed his mind. He frowned. “You look awful.”
Ky
chuckled and lowered his eyes. “It’s been a long day for me,” he
explained. “With everything….”
He trailed off when a
gloved hand touched his cheek, urging his gaze back up. He met
Testament’s eyes tentatively. His insides quivered a little with the
close proximity as his mind filled with familiar remembrances. The hand
slid to his shoulder, then behind his neck, and before Ky could wonder how to react to the touch he found
himself against Testament’s chest, warm arms enveloping him. The feeling
of having a strong body supporting him abruptly stole the rest of his strength,
and without a sound Ky
sagged wearily against that solid frame.
The pair was still for
some time, and Ky was
grateful for Testament’s unquestioning support. Finally he felt steady
again and started to ease back. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly in
embarrassment. He glanced toward the kitchen. “I should offer you
something—you’ve come a long way, and you probably didn’t get a chance to visit
the festivals, did you? You must be hungry.”
“It’s all right,”
Testament assured, keeping a hand on his shoulder. He seemed to be able
to easily tell how close Ky
felt to simply collapsing. “I did eat.”
“Oh,
good.” Ky turned back, and in meeting
Testament’s eyes found himself again at a loss for words. He simply
wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to the Gear. Three months ago
they had been enemies, companions, and eventually lovers, all in the span of a
few short days. He couldn’t help but wonder if such a brief time meant
anything now, thousands of miles away, practically in another world.
“You look exhausted,”
Testament observed.
“It’s just this time of
year,” Ky confessed.
He wasn’t sure if it was much of a help, to find himself wearing down the
evening with a Gear. “I’m sorry. I want to hear how you’ve
been—what you and Bridget have been doing—but….”
Testament regarded him
silently a moment; there was no interpreting the calm expression he wore.
“Come on,” he said abruptly, giving his arm a tug. “I’ll take you to
bed.”
Ky
blinked in surprise, but by then Testament was turning way, leading him back
towards the hall. He smiled faintly as he followed along. “I can
find my way in my own house.”
“Then I’m making sure
you don’t pass out on the way,” Testament replied. There was a note of
teasing in his voice that made Ky’s
smile deepen.
They climbed the stairs
together, and Ky was
suddenly grateful that Testament had decided to lead him after all; having been
on his feet all day even a short flight to the second story made his knees
ache. The sight of his bed, the sheets thoughtfully turned down and
awaiting him, nearly pulled him in without shedding any of his uniform.
Before he could move to it, Testament’s hands fell over him to begin undoing
the fastenings on his thick attire. He sighed. “Thank you.”
Testament paused to
take his gloves off before returning to his work. “I hear you’ve been
very busy lately,” he remarked as he eased the outer layer of Ky’s top off his shoulders and
tossed it aside. Ky
was too tired to protest his rough treatment of the material as his gloves
followed. “Taking on the Assassin’s Guild.”
Ky
smiled grimly, and when he reached to help Testament with the buckle across his
chest his hands were pushed away. He relaxed and allowed the Gear to do
as he pleased. “Yes. We’ve made tremendous progress—they’ve all
earned the holiday.”
“And you?”
Ky
chuckled quietly. “I suppose I’ve earned it, too.”
Testament’s fingers
brushed against Ky’s bare
shoulders as he finished removing the thin belts that crossed his undershirt,
and Ky couldn’t help a tiny shiver. Despite
being exhausted he could feel the underlying tension between them, the way they
shifted and watched each other as if testing. Neither knew what to say or
how to act.
“Bridget wouldn’t talk
about anything else,” Testament told him as he tugged at Ky’s shirt. “Wondering how you’re doing,
wanting to see you….”
“I did see him
earlier.” It didn’t seem appropriate to mention the circumstances, in
case Testament didn’t already know about Bridget’s family situation. He
lifted his arms. “He’s seems to have done well by your training.”
“It’s not training so
much as playing around, I think….”
Testament pulled the
other’s shirt off, in the process his hands skating up Ky’s ribs and arms. Ky’s fingers curled slightly. He didn’t want to
admit that the past several months had been…lonely. After the time he had
spent with the pirates he had become somewhat accustomed to the sound of breath
echoing back to him in the dark. And for one night, he had remembered what
it was like to have another pressed against him, warm and accepting. He
had missed it. With the memories of such intimacy always close in his
mind, returning every night to a dark, empty room had worn at him; having
Testament here now only made him recognize that loneliness for what it was even
more so.
As soon as Ky was free of his shirt he leaned
abruptly forward; his fingers twisted in the front of Testament’s jacket as he
pulled him into a firm, long-awaited kiss. The Gear stiffened in
surprise. It lasted only a moment, and then Ky was bound again in strong arms, Testament’s mouth
hot and insistent against his own. He murmured between them in quiet
relief. Testament’s lips were just as full, his hands just as broad as he
remembered, and he could not have been more pleased to know he wasn’t the only
one who had been waiting for this moment.
Ky
pulled back reluctantly when his breath ran out. “I’m glad,” he
whispered, knowing Testament would understand. Whatever had taken place
between them, it might not have been a mistake.
“You’re exhausted,”
Testament returned lightly. His uncertainty seemed to have vanished; he
drew his hands up to Ky’s
shoulders, massaging the tight muscles. It was blissful, and when Ky sagged against him with a
grateful murmur he chuckled softly in his ear. “See? We
can…reminisce in the morning.”
Ky
smiled boyishly into Testament’s shoulder. “Will you stay?” he asked,
inexplicably embarrassed. “It’s not a large bed, but….”
“We’ve made do with
worse,” Testament reminded him with a smirk. He eased Ky back. “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
“All
right.” All too
pleased that he wouldn’t be spending the night alone, Ky
slipped out of his boots, socks, and—with a blush—his pants. As he slid
beneath the blankets he snuck a peek at Testament, who had stripped out of his
coat and was removing the familiar bands of black leather. When he’d
finished Ky was a bit
surprised to see Testament’s choice of undergarments was little more than a
black thong. When Testament caught him watching he made a face and
dropped onto the bed with him. “Something wrong?”
“You’re bolder than I
am,” Ky chuckled, relaxing
into his pillow. Testament crawling over him, his eyes flashing in the
dark, made Ky’s insides
tighten.
Testament rolled his eyes,
giving Ky’s shoulder a
tap. “Turn over.”
Ky
did so somewhat reluctantly, but when Testament’s hands returned to massaging
his stiff shoulders and back, he quickly surrendered. “You don’t have to
do this,” he murmured as his eyelids fluttered shut. He stretched and
settled himself. “But…thank you.”
“Just got to sleep,”
Testament’s low voice floated down to him. “We can talk in the morning.”
Ky smiled. He would
have liked to remain awake a while longer, to feel more of Testament’s hands,
but he was already taking the Gear’s advice. With a quiet sigh he relaxed
against his pillow and was soon deeply asleep.
*~*~*
“Uh…what time is it?”
“Sometime…after four, I
think.”
“Bugger that.”
Venom frowned, and he
was just thinking of how irritating drunkards were when he stumbled, barely
catching himself on the inn wall as his long travel case bumped against his
knee. He had certainly had his fair share of alcohol that evening.
Or morning, as it now seemed to be. When he looked to his unlikely companion
he found Axl leaning against the opposite wall, eyes
closed and smile lazy. With a sigh he tugged the man’s coat sleeve and
urged him on. “The room,” he said firmly. “What number was it?”
“115,” Axl mumbled. He allowed Venom to lead them down the
narrow hall to the room he had reserved earlier. They had parted with the
second Axl not long ago when they could no longer
find cheap alcohol, and with the promise of a room for the night—without having
to offer an innkeeper his name—Venom couldn’t refuse the remaining
blonde. Looking rather ridiculous in the process they had somehow managed
to find the correct inn after three tries, and were now making a journey of
discovering the right room.
Venom was surprised
with himself. It was absurdly unlike him to act with such little caution.
The pair reached room
115 at the end of the hall and, being the slightly less intoxicated of the two, Venom fitted the key into the door and allowed them to
enter. He was surprised, but relieved, to see a pair of beds awaiting
them. “You reserved a double?” he asked as they stumbled inside.
“I knew you were comin’, remember?” Axl
chuckled. He fell, face first, onto the closest
bed.
Venom closed the door
behind him, removing only his shoes as he spilled onto what seemed to be his
sleeping space. His luggage he took slightly better care of in placing on
the floor in easy reach. “I still don’t understand,” he confessed as he
stretched out against an uncommonly soft mattress; he hadn’t felt anything like
it in perhaps years, and he nearly fell asleep right there. Axl’s reply caught his attention before he had the chance.
“Understand what?
I ‘splained the time travel.”
“That, I understand,”
Venom was able to say, amazing himself. “But I still don’t understand…why
me?” Neither had bothered to turn on a light when they’d entered, and so
when he glanced over at Axl was only barely able to
make out his features in the dark. “There are so many people here…why did
you…?”
Axl dragged himself more comfortably onto the
mattress with a soft groan. “I dunno.
That was a different me.”
“But…you’re still the
same person….” Venom relaxed onto his back, frowning to himself.
“This is strange.”
“Isn’t it?”
Having twisted onto his stomach, Axl stretched
lazily. “But I dunno. You look pretty
interesting, I guess.” He yawned. “An assassin in
Venom was about to
reply that he wasn’t exactly a “man,” but it would have been too difficult an
explanation given their relative states. “He is,” he said instead.
As he stared up at the ceiling his view began to blur at the edges, and he
sighed softly. “I don’t know if I can win.”
“Ooh, it’s a job.
What if y’can’t kill him?”
Venom closed his
eyes. He suddenly remembered why he didn’t usually drink; it was harder
to lie. “In that case,” he murmured, not caring if Axl
was really listening, “I’ll make him kill me.”
The room was silent,
and Venom was sure that Axl had simply fallen asleep
when the man shifted slightly. “Bummer.”
Venom’s lip curled
slightly in a bitter smile. “Maybe.”
Axl shifted again, and after another quiet
moment Venom could hear him snoring quietly. He sighed. It didn’t
matter what Axl thought, after all. He had been
the one that called him over, that invited him here—if he was disappointed with
his guest now it was his own fault. Venom hadn’t asked for any of this.
He twisted into his
side, away from the man, slipping beneath the top blanket as he, too, fell
asleep.
*~*~*
The ceiling of his small room at
the back of the temple wasn’t the most exciting thing Chipp
had seen all day. For the moment, though, it seemed a good alternative to
sleeping. The buzz from the alcohol he and Anji
had shared earlier had long since worn down, leaving him lethargic and bored,
but he knew that going to sleep now would only hasten him waking up to a
hangover. He usually didn’t let himself drink at all anymore let alone to
excess, and he always paid for it.
More than that, he
could still hear Anji pacing across the mats two
rooms away. Baiken hadn’t come back yet.
There was a light knock
on the panel to his room, and Chipp called for
whoever it was to enter; anyone coming to visit him at this early hour should
be interesting. He wasn’t at all disappointed when the face that peeked
inside was that of Murase Sousuke’s
daughter, Wakami. She was a beautiful young
Japanese girl, with long, silk-black hair that reached to her waist and bangs
cut straight across her eyebrows. Being the caretaker of her parent’s
shrine she had been looking after Anji, Baiken, and him during their stay in the colony. He’d
never seen her out of her shrine robes, as was the case now as she stepped
hesitantly inside. “Can you not sleep, Zanuff-san?”
she asked, her voice thickly accented.
Chipp sat up quickly, blushing a little at
having been caught by her in only his boxers. “Oh, hi,” he greeted with a
boyish smile. He suddenly wished his Japanese was good enough for him to
speak with, to make it easier on her. “You’re up pretty late, aren’t you?”
Wakami blushed as well as she took another
hesitant step inside. “So are you,” she replied. “Can you not
sleep? Should I get something for you?”
“Ah, no, I’m fine,” Chipp replied with an embarrassed laughed. He always
felt a little silly when Wakami was around; the way
she fixed her adorable dark eyes on him made him want to grin stupidly.
“You shouldn’t have to look after me.”
“You’re our guest,” she
replied brightly. “My father said to look after you all, and…I would like
to help you when I can.” She lowered herself gracefully to her knees
beside him. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do? Or….”
She ducked her head. “Are you worried about Baiken-san?”
“Well….” Chipp shrugged. “Not worried, really. Just…you
know….”
The sound of footsteps
echoed to them from down the hall, and Chipp cringed a little as he recognized them as their missing
companion. “Like I said—not worried.”
Even knowing Baiken was coming, Chipp and Wakami both flinched a little when she appeared in the open
doorway. She looked just as disheveled as she’d left, though by now was
somewhat more sober. She set Wakami a pointed
glare and then marched past her into the room. “I’m sleeping in here,”
she declared as she dropped onto the mats behind Chipp.
Chipp and Wakami
exchanged glances. “Um…why?” Chipp
asked hesitantly.
“Because.” She didn’t bother with finding an
extra futon, choosing instead to stretch herself out on her side, facing away
from them.
Chipp frowned, and when he looked again to Wakami she ducked her head again. He sighed. “Wakami, thanks for looking after me, but it’s pretty
late. I think I’m going to go to bed now.”
“All
right.” Wakami bowed shortly, then pushed
to her feet. “Goodnight, Zanuff-san. Baiken-san.”
With another bow she departed, closing the panel behind her.
Quietly, Chipp arranged his futon and slipped beneath the blankets,
attempting to give Baiken the space she seemed to
need. She wasn’t asleep—he could tell by the strange aura of tension in
the room as he tried to find a comfortable sleeping position. At last he
spoke up. “Anji’s been worried. You
should let him know you’re back.”
Baiken snorted, and when she didn’t reply he
tried a different tactic. “Did you go into town like that?”
“I needed to talk to
him,” she muttered, her voice hoarse with fatigue.
“That
Murase guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
Chipp fell silent again—that was about the
limit of his ability to cope with people in the state she was in. He
rolled over, intending to go to sleep and let Anji
worry about it in the morning. The sound of Baiken’s
voice caught his attention before he could do so.
“Something’s going to
happen.”
“Huh?” Chipp twisted to face her once more. “What do you
mean?”
“Something’s going to
happen to this place.” Baiken curled in a
little on herself. “And I’m not supposed to care, but…it means something
to Anji. To Wakami and Miyuki. And I can’t stop it if no
one will listen….”
Chipp sat up, a little startled to think that Baiken was really trying to tell him something
important. It wasn’t just her paranoia or anger—she really did
know. “What…” He gulped. “Like what?
Before
Baiken could answer the sound of many heavy footsteps
echoed down the hall to them. “Mito Anji!” a voice was calling,
followed by others Chipp couldn’t make out. He
glanced to Baiken.
“Something like this,” Baiken muttered, not looking up.
Chipp frowned at her, but as the footsteps drew
nearer he pushed to his feet and investigated. A group of men was coming
down the hall with Murase Yuuya
at the lead, followed by a flustered and protesting Wakami.
Further down Anji finally appeared from his room to
meet them. “What’s going on?” the Japanese man asked as he wiped his
glasses on his T-shirt. “It’s—”
“I’m sorry about this, Anji,” Yuuya said evenly, resting
a hand on the sword at his hip, “but I have to bring you in.”
“Bring me in?” Anji replaced his glasses on his nose. “Why?”
“Yeah,” Chipp added impetuously, “what for? What’s going on?”
Yuuya smirked without humor. “You’ll see,
all right? Come on.” He waved for Anji to
come forward, and as the men shifted behind him, it was then that Chipp noticed they were all armed, and a few were carrying
lengths of sturdy rope.
Anji stared the men down a moment, when
suddenly his face paled a shade. “This is about him, isn’t it?” he
asked softly. His jaw clenched.
“Afraid
so. So if you
don’t mind…”
Chipp glanced between them, and the realization
hit him just after it had Anji. “It was Baiken,” he breathed, watching helplessly as Anji stepped closer and allowed Yuuya
to begin leading him towards the exit. “She told you about how Anji, and
the Gear man….”
They didn’t look at
him—the men parted to let Yuuya and Anji pass, as if…Anji were just
going to let them get away with this. “Wait,” Chipp
started to protest. “Are you fucking arresting him? He didn’t do
anything—”
He reached for Yuuya’s arm, and was stopped by one of the men he had
brought. Chipp cursed and thrust the man
aside. “What the hell is this?” he shouted angrily. “Anji, don’t—you don’t owe these shits—”
“It’s all right.”
Anji met his gaze briefly before turning, starting on
his own to the door. “I’ll tell them what I know.”
The men followed him,
and Chipp could only gape, frustrated but helpless,
as they disappeared outside. Yuuya was the last
to go, and he sent Chipp a lopsided smirk before he, too, was gone. Leaving Chipp and Wakami to gape after
them in confusion.
“Baiken….”
Chipp whirled, stomping back into his room. “Baiken, aren’t you going to do something?” he demanded at
her turned back. When she didn’t reply he scowled and came further
inside, moving around in front of her. “Didn’t you hear what just
happened—Anji’s been arrested! Don’t you—”
He crouched down,
intending to give her a good shake, but he stopped before he could touch
her. Baiken was already sound
asleep.