Tormented, Aya seeks out Yohji for comfort...
managed to hear a gasp of horror from his mother as he cut down a target. He could see her
wide, glassy eyes. Small, transparent hands held to her heart.
Oh, Ran. My Ran. Why?
"Aya," was all he could ever answer. There were underlying thoughts of honor and
responsibility, of course. It was necessary. Who would care if he didn't? And if he needed
vengeance, needed to see the life drain out of the one that shattered his life, what of it?
That thought always brought his father. A towering, frowning man would materialize,
shaking his head 'no'. He could never remember him being so big. It was the nature of ghosts he
supposed. The disapproving face of his father would kill the bloodlust, if only for a little while.
It never lasted long though. Never long enough to stop the want and end the haunts . . .
Until he became one himself, seeking out wide, green eyes and soft lips, the warm press of a
body against his own. He spoke with his body, with whispers and gasps and shivers. He needed
this, but only for a little while. Just to make it better . . .
And when the sun rose, he was gone