Disclaimer:  I don't own Weiss Kreuz.  I am not profiting off of this… this… odd, odd THING I've created.  I also don't own Windex, for those interested.

Ken's hair was shiny. 

Ken's hair was very shiny.  Abnormally shiny.  Ken's hair had the glimmer of a professional model, which was unusual.  Not to say that Ken's hair was nasty or greasy, but it usually only had a dull shine that showed that he washed it on occasion.  But this, this shine was…preternatural.  This shine bounced the morning sun back into Omi's eyes so fiercely that it almost hurt. 

Yes, Ken's hair was shiny.  And Ken knew it.  Omi could tell, because every once in a while, he would grin almost proudly and run a hand through it. 

Omi had had a sense of foreboding all morning.  The sun was shining brightly, there had been actual paying customers in and out of the flower shop all morning, he'd eaten a full, good breakfast, slept well, it was a beautiful Saturday—in short, everything should have been fine.  But everything was not fine.  He didn't know yet what it was, but he could feel that something bad was going to happen that day. 

He frowned, worried.  He hoped that Manx wouldn't show up that day—he didn't want his bad feeling to translate into someone's untimely death or anything.  In fact, he hoped that nothing at all would happen that day.  He hoped that he was crazy.  He—

His brooding was prematurely ended by the sound of Ken laughing—no, giggling from across the store. 

Ken stood in front of the window, a bottle of Windex in one hand, with a roll of paper towels on the floor beside him. 

At first Omi thought something was going on outside—maybe there were some little kids doing something funny?—only to realize a moment later, to his horror, that Ken was not looking out the window, but rather at the window.  Or, more correctly, at his reflection in the window. 

Ken giggled again and rotated his head to a different angle, eyes never leaving his reflection. 

"Ken…" Omi started to say, only to have the older man turn sharply toward him. 

"Ne, Omi?  Do I look any different to you today?" he asked with a hint of mischief in his voice. 

"D-different?" Omi asked, bewildered. 

Ken ignored the other boy's fright and turned back to the window again for a moment.  After a few more seconds, he turned around again, stooping over to pick up the paper towels as he did so.  His hair fell artfully over his eyes as he did this. 

It was like a commercial, Omi realized dully.  The sunlight streaming in, the hair falling…  All it needed was for Ken to return to a standing position with a product in hand. 

Ken stood back up, grinning, Windex in one hand, paper towels in the other. 

"Come on, don't you notice anything at all, Omi?" 

"Like what?"

Ken ran a hand through his hair again and cleared his throat. 

"Okay, I'll bite.  Your hair is really shiny, Ken.  What gives?" 

Ken then ran up to the counter, dropping both Windex and paper towels in his excitement.  He leaned over the counter at Omi and giggled again—Omi wished he would stop, it was rather disturbing. 

"Isn't it pretty, Omi?!" Ken asked with childish glee.  "My hair's never looked this good before!" 

"Ken, what did you do?" Omi asked cautiously, but was interrupted by Aya coming in from the direction of the kitchen. 

In a rather uncharacteristic show of weakness, Aya yawned hugely, blinked owlishly, and put up a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of Ken's hair. 

"Long night?" Ken chirped. 

"Couldn't put it down…" Aya muttered, moving next to Omi on the counter and dropping his head onto his arms. 

Ken and Omi blinked at each other. 

"Couldn't…  put… what down?"   

"Book." 

"What book?" Omi asked slowly. 

There was a pause.  Ken and Omi exchanged bewildered looks again. 

Hesitantly, Omi reached out and shook one of Aya's shoulders.  Aya started and jerked back into a standing position. 

"What?" he asked, looking around as if he expected Schwartz to appear out of the woodwork.  

Omi was starting to think that his feeling of foreboding was well founded.  This was confirmed once again a moment later by an ear drum-shattering scream which undoubtedly belonged to the fourth, eldest, and blondest member of Weiss.  Also, apparently, the one with the strongest vocal cords. 

The other three members of Weiss looked at each other with concern. 

"Should we…  maybe… go see what just happened?" Omi asked. 

Aya nodded.  Omi nodded.  Ken, not wanting to be left out, nodded. 

"I mean, after all, what if he fell down the stairs, right?" Omi asked

 "More likely that he cut himself shaving," Ken snickered.  "Can't you imagine it—'Ah!  My face, my beautiful face!'"  He snickered again. 

"That's not very nice, Ken, he could really be hurt—say, where is he?" 

Aya pointed up the stairs.  "Bathroom," he said. 

"Hmm…" Omi replied, starting up the stairs.  A moment later all three stood in front of the bathroom door.  Omi knocked cautiously. 

"Y-Yoji?" he asked.  "Are you all right in there?" 

No response. 

"Yoji?" he asked once again, looking concernedly around at Ken and Aya. 

The door swung in slowly, as if of its own accord.  When it finished its rotational path inward, it revealed a very irate looking Yoji, clad only in a bathrobe and a towel turban.

Ken started another snicker, but then, seeing the look on Yoji's face, stifled it. 

Slowly, very slowly, and also very deliberately, Yoji raised his right arm, index finger extended in a very accusatory way.  He drew the arm around in an arc, pointing at each one of them in turn. 

"One of the personages assembled here," he said menacingly, "is a thief." 

Ken paled suddenly, turned, and fled down the stairs. 

"HIDAKA KEN!" Yoji shrieked in fury, starting after Ken's retreating form.  Omi, however, reached out and blocked Yoji's path. 

"What happened?" he asked.  "What did Ken do?" 

Yoji's face contorted in rage for a moment, and Omi shrunk away slightly, but when he refused to back down completely, Yoji's expression melted into one of reconciled sadness.  His lower lip quavered slightly. 

"Omiiiii," he whined.  "No one understands!" 

"No one understands what, Yoji?" 

"Curly hair!" he replied, eyes welling up with tears.  "It's just naturally so dry, Omi!  It's a condition I've dealt with ever since I was little, understand.  I thought I would never really be able to deal with it fully, until…  until the day my stylist recommended this conditioner to me!"  He grabbed the collar of Omi's shirt desperately.  "It worked miracles for me, Omi!  I haven't had a single day of frizzies since I've been on this conditioner!  But…  I only had a little bit left in this bottle.  I was going to go buy more today, but…"  He looked away and clenched his fists.  "But that damned Hidaka Ken used it." 

"Oh, come on Yoji.  It can't be that bad, can it?  I'm sure your hair will be fine."

 Yoji's eyes blazed with unholy fire. 

"You think so, Omi?  You wanna see what he's done to me?"

Omi swallowed, considered for a moment, and then slowly nodded. 

Yoji looked around suspiciously for a moment, before his eyes settled on something behind Omi.  Omi turned. 

There was Aya, leaning against the wall.  His head drooped to one side, and he was snoring very very softly. 

"…Fine," Yoji said at last.  "I'll let you see.  But no one," Yoji continued, gripping Omi's collar once again, "must hear of this.  Ever.  I have an image to maintain, understand?" 

Omi nodded violently, eyes going wide. 

Yoji's eyes flicked suspiciously across the hallway once more, before he finally sighed and lifted a hand to remove the towel.  Omi held his breath in anticipation as the towel slid off of Yoji's usually perfectly coiffed head. 

…Key word being "usually." 

However, at the moment, Yoji painted the perfect picture of what happens when a person sticks a finger into an electrical outlet.  It was like a mist of blonde hair, sticking out of his head almost horizontally.  Omi had no idea that any one person's hair could take up so much room.  "Volume" would be the wrong word to apply to this, because "volume" was one of those words he knew applied only to good hair.  And sure, maybe this was good somewhere in the world.  Maybe some people in some far, far away tiny island country thought that blonde frizz was the sexiest thing in the world, but to Omi Yoji's hair just looked like that of a much loved, and much abused, doll. 

And because of this, Omi was having to try very hard not to laugh. 

Yoji's face crumpled. 

"I knew it!  I look ridiculous!  I look like a clown."

"Actually, you look like you rubbed balloons all over your head, and then—"

"Shut up!  Shut up, shut up, shut up!  This is all KEN'S fault.  I can't be seen in public like this, Omi!" 

"Yoji, it's not really a big deal.  Look, just put your hair in a ponytail or something and go get more conditioner." 

"I can't.  It's already snapped three ties.  I'm doomed, Omi.  Nothing will work.  I'll just have to stay here for the rest of my life." 

"Yoji, it's not that bad.  You can—" 

"This is all Ken's fault," Yoji interrupted, a sudden manic look in his eyes.  He took a menacing look forward.  Or at least it would have been menacing if he hadn't been dressed in a bathrobe.  And if his hair hadn't been sticking out a good six inches from either side of his head.  "Yes, this is all Ken's fault.  I will have my revenge," he continued, his tone icy. 

"Yoji, wait—" Omi started to say, but Yoji just ignored him and pushed past Omi in the direction of their rooms. 

"HIDAKA KEN WILL PAY FOR THIS!" was the last thing that Omi heard, other than the violent slamming of a door. 

Beside him, however, Aya started into wakefulness once again. 

"Oh, gosh," he said innocuously.  "Did I drift off again?" 

Yes, indeed, Omi now realized that his feelings of foreboding would be fulfilled before the day was through. 

            ---------

            Notes on curly hair: Yes, this can happen.  I have seen it happen.  It has happened to me.  Frequently.  ::sob:: YOJI, I FEEL YOUR PAIN.  Anyway, the point is, I personally have given up using shampoo at all, and use conditioner exclusively.  Yes, yes, that sounds disgusting, but genuinely—my hair is so dry that it sucks it all up, and just getting it wet cleans it sufficiently.  Curly hair is a finicky creature.     

Notes: I've given up trying to figure out where these things come from.   I don't know what this story is, or WHY, but I think it should be fairly short as far as Weiss Kreuz stories go.  Also note that this really will have no shounen-ai in it.  I think.  It's not that I'm against shounen-ai or anything, I'm just not good at writing it for W.K. -_-.  And I also tend to get very confused over which couples I like best O.o.   But enough about that—I can feel your interesting waning even as I speak.  Er, type.  Whatever.  Well, anyway, if your interest really wasn't waning, and you actually REALLY REALLY want to talk to me about what Weiss Kreuz couples I favor, in if you just want to talk to me about anything at all…  or if you want to flame me until my eyeballs burn, you can do any of the above (or all of the above if you so desire) at [email protected] 

Thanks for reading!