Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss kreuz or any of the characters therein so no suing!

Warnings: Pretty much all out angst with a hint of violence!

-Denotes thought-

Denotes a flashback

The rough divide

Stroke, step, parry, advance.

-Don't think, just move.-

Retreat, advance, lift, stroke.

-Just move, keep moving.-

Lift, pivot, stroke, jump.

I landed heavily on my right leg making me stumble and lose my balance. I could have easily recovered…but I just couldn't do this anymore. So I didn't. I let myself collapse heavily onto the training mats, my katana skittering out of reach over the floor. I lay there, not moving, hardly breathing even though the rough exertions I had forced myself through made my lungs ache and my body cry out for air. Yet the only breath I seemed to be able to draw was in silent sobs for her. I would only ever draw breath, I would only ever walk, talk, only ever cry in her memory now. Only for her, ever again.

"Sometimes I wonder how you can live with the responsibility Aya-kun," Omi's light voice was almost awed as he watched me brush the hair from her forehead, "I mean, holding someone's life in your heart every moment of the day. It must be tiring for you."

"Not tiring," I assured him as I checked her IV was secure and the drip was functioning correctly, "just…comforting…I guess."

"She'll wake up soon Aya," Ken told me clearly as if he'd just read about it in the big-book-of-the-future, "just wait for her, you'll see."

"…Some day," I agreed cautiously, wishing superstitiously that there was some wood nearby to touch.

"Yeah, and then she can appreciate what a handsome young man you've grown into," Yoji chuckled to himself, grinning at the glare I shot him, "calm down, you know I was kidding. But she will you know, appreciate all that you've done for her."

"I…hope she can understand," I said slowly, "…someday."

"But, even then…" Ken's voice was a little hesitant as he leaned back in his chair, pulling my gaze from her so as to study his face, "if she never woke up…you would be able to, you know, live with that?"

"I have done so far," I concluded darkly, really not wanting to elaborate on the thought that Aya-chan would never wake up; I just never allowed myself to think it anymore.

"Ken!" Omi berated his friend with a scowl, "Don't talk like that, of course she will!"

"Yeah, but…" Ken winced visibly under Omi's glare, yet somehow found the courage to go on, "…you live and breathe for her Aya. Could you really handle doing that forever?"

"…I would never allow myself not to," was the only reply I would give him, the only reply I could give him, before I added softly, "ai shitteru Aya-chan," and kissed her forehead lightly.

Silent tears were flowing from my eyes, pooling on the red mats, looking like blood. Like her blood. My hand shook as I timidly, gently brushed my fingers over the leather, imagining it was her soft, calm face instead. The material seemed to give under my fingers, becoming the curve of a cheek, or the line of a nose.  I closed my eyes and tried to hear her soft breathing, the smell of the flowers that I usually took to her room in the hospital…but it didn't come. The fantasy seemed to slip right out of my hands, even just as I managed to take hold of it. The leather once again felt cold and hard under my touch, not soft and smooth like her face had been.

Had been.

I want to die.

She was dead. I should be dead, not her. I still could be dead. It would be so easy, just to die, so many ways…

Then could I be with her? Could I finally hear her laugh again like I remembered she had done so long ago? Would she run to me and hug me and tell me how much she loved her big brother?

Probably not. I really doubted that I of all people would be going to the same place as my dear Aya-chan after death. They should reserve an entire hell just for me. Just for the one miserable excuse for a brother who couldn't even save her. The one innocent left in this world, and I had let her slip through my hands just as easily as the thought of her still breathing was slipping through my mind now.

I hate myself. I want to die. I deserve to die…but I don't die. Why? Why won't they let me? I hate them; they shouldn't mess with other people's affairs. I wouldn't mess with theirs. If Yoji wanted to slit his wrists with his own wire and bleed to death over his beloved Asuka, I wouldn't be the one to stop him. I can understand that want now; I know why he would do it. If Ken wanted to jump from a bridge and drown himself after having to kill Kase…I would gladly drive him there myself; I know why he would want to do it. And Omi, if he wanted to take one of his own arrows and plunge it into his heart after Ouka and everything he had learned about his family, then I would leave him to it. I would, I swear blind that I would.

But they wouldn't do that. They would never do that. They're all too strong. How do they do it?

"Asuka!" Yoji's wail of despair was nothing short of blood curdling, "Oh god, please Asuka, I'm so sorry..!"

He trailed off into sobbing uncontrollably, weeping into his dead loves hair, shoulder's shuddering and back muscles jumping under the onslaught of his sorrow.

"Asuka, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," his voice was shadow soft yet ragged with grief all at once, "I didn't mean it, I didn't…"

There was nothing the other members of Weiss could do except stand off to the side and stare helplessly at their distraught comrade. Yoji didn't even seem to know they were there, his whole world having been brought down to him and Asuka.

And now it was only him that survived in that world.

No one dared to move towards him, even as the older mans broken sobs weakened and his shoulders slumped, shivering only slightly. Yet all Aya wanted to do despite his hesitancy was to bundle Yoji up in his arms and run. Run away as fast as he could until everything was left behind them. For a small damning moment, which Aya berated himself over later, he even forgot that he would be leaving his sister behind.

Suddenly a soft thump echoed through the silence that had descended over the scene. Omi stifled a sob, turning into Ken's shaky embrace as Yoji let Asuka's corpse fall unceremoniously to the floor. The blondes sobbing had stopped, as had his shaking, which should have been a relief. Yet to Aya it just made his insides twist in horror. As the redhead watched his fellow assassin with obsessive detail he realised why he was so terrified by the sight of Yoji's seemingly calm form. It was as if Yoji had just stopped.

Completely stopped.

Stopped dead.

Aya had seen that look before, that look in the older mans back as he slouched putting his weight on his bent knees, that look in the loose hanging of his head, that limpness to Yoji's arms as they slumped against his sides, hands resting on the ground. He saw it in Aya-chan every time he had helped to move her from her bed when the sheets needed changing, or she needed a bath…

"Yoji…" he choked out before he could stop himself, taking an involuntary step forward.

To Aya's intense relief Yoji's head snapped up in response to his name. Yet it was a long time before he brought his head round to look at his team mates, instead waiting to shuffle back a little from Asuka's corpse. Then he turned…and Aya wished to god that he hadn't…because he'd never wanted to see that look on Yoji's face as long as he lived, and he never wanted to see it again.

It was dead. His eyes were dead. Yoji's eyes never looked like that.

Aya may not have appreciated it all the time, but the redhead had found himself accustomed to the lanky playboy's attitude. His carefree smirk, his meaningful grin, that shine to his eyes that always showed that he truly believed that things couldn't get any worse than they already were. That shine was gone now. And without it, Aya thought Yoji looked dead.

"Yoji," Ken's voice was uncertain and strained as he clutched at the sniffling Omi like a lifeline, "let's go."

There was a silence. Then Yoji stood, albeit a bit awkwardly, and stood swaying slightly before her corpse. It was almost as if he didn't really remember how to use his legs, the way he stood, or that it simply didn't matter to him any more. He didn't find it hard to step back quickly however as the slowly widening pool of blood that leaked from Asuka's throat touched his boot. It was only then that Aya noticed that the front of Yoji's coat was drenched with the sticky red life essence of his dead love. Yoji just turned then, fully turned away from what he had done, and walked out into the street without a backwards glance. His face was utterly blank. Ken and Omi followed his in reverent silence, Omi still wrapped warmly under Ken's arm. And I was left…

…left wondering how Yoji found the strength not to just put the same wire he'd used to kill his one love round his throat and pull it and pull it until he choked.

I couldn't have done it…or at least I thought I couldn't have. I vaguely remember thinking that night, the night Yoji had killed Neu when she turned on him, that if that had happened to me, if it had been little Aya-chan looking up at me with those dead eyes, that I would have just stabbed myself through the heart right there and then. Yet, when it had happened, I hadn't. I didn't get the chance. Yoji had snatched the blade from my numb hands before I could gather the wits to end myself.

"Damn you Yoji," I breathed, making the little puddle of tears shiver at the touch of my breath.

I rolled my face forward then, rubbing my hair into the small pool. I'm still not sure why; whether it was to soak it up to hide my grief from anyone who followed me into the training room, or if it was just to feel something against my skin that wasn't the pain in my limbs or the burning on my cheeks. Just as I managed to bring my facade into check, slipping my barriers back down with practiced ease, the door to my little hideaway opened cautiously.

I had forgotten to turn on the lights when the sky outside had grown dim, too busy working myself into exhaustion practicing with my blade. As I had lain on the floor it had slowly faded to black without my even noticing. Yet it wasn't completely dark in the training room as silvery moonlight splayed in callously through the high windows, bathing everything in silver. It made everything look dead. It made Yoji's eyes look dead again as he stood, slightly slumped in the doorway, his ever present shades glancing in the darkness.

"…You okay?" he asked quietly, an ever so light waver in his voice betraying his unease.

I just lay there, not responding to his tender concern. I didn't deserve it. I wanted him to take it back, to just spit at me in contempt before ramming my own blade in between my ribs. I wanted him to hate me like I hated him, like I hated Omi and Ken, like I hated all of them for being able to handle their grief. I wanted to bring up my shields around my heart again, to not feel; I wanted to never feel again if that's what it took. Only she deserved my feelings now…I would only feel for her now. Only she deserved my pain.

I wanted to give it to her.

I wanted it, and I would get what I wanted. In one swift motion I was on my feet, ignoring my hair as it stuck to my face with my tears and retrieved my fallen katana from the mat. Yoji had moved inside the doorway while I stood, not entirely inside yet still in, with his foot holding the door open; his very pose was offering comfort if it was needed.

And it was needed, but it would not be received. I would not receive that to which I no longer had any right. She needed my pain, she deserved it, and I would give it to her for as long as I was able.

"Are you?" he asked again as I placed my katana carefully back into its sheath and then back onto the wall.

"What do you think," I offered in a low growl, turning my eyes on him knowing full well how hard and ferocious they must look.

He didn't wince, he didn't even flinch. He just looked at me with those caring, sympathetic eyes. Eyes that echoed my hollow, aching grief; eyes that offered a shoulder to cry on for as long as it took until that grief was gone; eyes that almost said that they couldn't possibly understand the pain I was in because it must have hurt more than Yoji's own. And that just made me more determined in my decided course of action. Yoji had every right to feel sad; his pain was just as worthy as my own. Yet he had the right to happiness and to forget. I did not.

"I think that you should come down stairs and eat something," Yoji said softly, almost as if he believed that if he spoke too harshly that I would shatter before him into a million shards, "you've hardly eaten for three days now."

"I don't need food," I argued rewarding me with a slightly incredulous look from Kudo.

"Ran…" he started, but he had made the mistake before he even knew it would be so devastating.

"Don't you dare call me that!" I shouted angrily, glaring at him in outrage.

Only she could ever call me that. Only she who would never speak again could ever have called me by that name. And she would never speak it again, so Ran was now dead. Only Aya remained. Aya, the living memory of the girl that deserved to live in his place; Aya, the man who would live solely for her, solely to avenge her on her killers; Aya, the one person who could keep her memory alive while giving her the only thing he could in penitence for his failure. His pain.

I stormed towards him, glaring past him to the faint light of the hallway that beckoned from below. Wisely enough he did move out of the way to let me past, his eyes not betraying his reaction to my words. But in his benevolence he couldn't bring himself to let me go, knowing what I was going through…or at least thinking he did. I was half way out of the door when I found his hand wrapped around my arm to stop me from my retreat. I tried to pull away, snarling dangerously as I felt his skin on my own, that tender touch that promised solace from the grief.

"Aya…" he began again, hoping to quell my anger by giving me what I wanted. Yet he did this not even really knowing what I wanted in the first place. If he had, then I would have been dead right now with Yoji's wire wrapped around my throat.

"Let me go," I said slowly, letting the threat slip into my tone, "now."

"Not before you listen to me," he said shaking his head.

I couldn't take it.

"I said get your hands off me Kudo you fucking slut!" I screamed as I wrenched my arms from his grasp.

That reaction he couldn't hide from his eyes. He visibly flinched at my words as if I'd struck him with every syllable. He winced at the glare before managing to recover from the pure unadulterated hatred that poured from my eyes.  He didn't try again to stop me as I raged past him and all but flew down the stairs.

I heard Omi ask me if I was okay as I passed him in the hallway. I simply shook off his big blue eyes, that concern, just the same as Yoji's. I tried not to listen to that little voice inside me that pleaded with me to just give into that caring gaze as I roughly grabbed him by the collar and pushed him up against the wall.

"The next person to ask me that stupid fucking question is dead," I growled down at his wide shocked eyes and I pressed my face closer to his, "understand?"

He could do nothing but nod. I continued to stare at him menacingly until Yoji, whose running down the stairs had eluded me in my rage, pulled me forcefully away from a now shaking Omi.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" he said angrily, unconsciously, or perhaps not so, putting himself between myself and the younger assassin.

"Why the fuck do you care?" I spat narrowing my eyes, "Didn't think you cared for anyone except yourself Kudo."

Now Yoji, for all his laid back attitude and seeming lack of interest in his surroundings has to be one of the most caring people I've ever met. Also he has one of the best tempers I've ever come across, and I always noticed that it was a hard job to irritate or goad him into getting mad. So when the anger flashed into his eyes after just one statement and a scrap with Omi I could see how frayed his nerves were.

-That's it, - I thought almost in relief, -hate me Yoji, hate me with all you've got.-

"I don't know if this is usually how you deal with loss Aya, but I can tell you now," he warned slowly, "there are easier ways, and I won't let you take it out on Omi…"

"Oh I'm sorry," I sneered, just feeding off all the most hurtful things that popped into my head to say what I said next, "I guess you wouldn't want me to hurt your little whore."

It was enough to make him snap. Although I doubt whether even a fully prepared Kudo Yoji who hadn't been worn into the ground over the past week could have dealt with that blow. In his current state I didn't blame him for what he did next one bit. Instead I welcomed it. With a snarl of fury Yoji's leapt forward and landed a punch on my jaw that could have easily knocked me out if I hadn't known it was coming.

"Yoji-kun!" Omi wailed, jumping up from his place against the wall to restrain the enraged older man.

Even after everything I did, and Omi was still trying to protect me.

-Poor Omi. Poor, poor Omi, - I thought wistfully as I dragged myself away from the wall I had fallen against, -so innocent, so loving…just like her.-

I heard Ken's feet thumping urgently on the stairs. I heard Yoji give in to Omi's pull and turn from me with a derisive snort. I felt the younger teen's watery eyes on me. I felt the blood run satisfyingly down my chin from my split lip. I pushed from the wall and stalked into my room before Omi or Yoji could stop me, slamming the door behind me. I heard Ken asking what was wrong; I heard Omi's weak mumbling in reply and Yoji's silence. I couldn't stay here.

Grabbing my car keys I roughly pushed my bare feet into untied shoes, not even bothering to stuff the laces in. I barely even remembered to shrug my trench coat on over my bare chest and training pants before wrenching my bedroom door open. I pushed past Ken who was standing right in front of me, his hand timidly held out to knock. I didn't even notice how hard I had shoved him until I heard Yoji grunt as Ken rammed into him. I ignored him; I ignored them all with their concerned eyes and their understanding stares. I just pounded angrily down the stairs and walked briskly to the back door that led to the alley, not looking back once.

"Aya..!"

Ken's concerned shout of my name was abruptly cut off as I slammed the door shut behind me. I unlocked my car, slipped into the driver's seat and backed out at a dangerous speed onto the road as fast as I could. Yet not fast enough to miss Ken, all big brown eyes and hurt, racing out the back door after me. He raced towards me with an athletes speed, but even his determination wasn't enough to reach me before I turned the Porsche and sped off along the road. I saw him run after me a little way before he was hidden from view as I turned a corner, his voice managing to float after me…

"Ran...!" the tone was sad and even a little worried.

-No, - I thought, - Ran is dead. Now I am only Aya…and I will honour her name by giving her what she deserves.

My pain.

AN: Please remember that this is an AU fic even though many events are either similar or the same to those in the series, so please don't kick my ass for anything you think is wrong. But feedback is very welcome, and this is my very first Weiss kreuz fic so don't be too harsh! Please R&R!