Disclaimer:

I do not own Weißß Kreuz or any of its characters. I just love them to no end and have a very twisted imagination. Please be aware that I am extremely poor so suing me will do you no good. Thanks.

Warning: Lemon Yaoi - Hints of Yuri / Hardcore Violence & Rape / Explicit Language / Angst / AU

Pairings: Ran x Yohji / Ken + Omi / Birman + Manx

FYI: Inner thoughts - [ Flashback ]

Author's Notes:

Hi guys! Well, here is the second chapter of Circle of Time. Since this fic is an AU story, our four bishounen are in a sense OC so developing their personalities has become an interesting challenge for me. So far, I like how they've turned out and I hope you like them as much as I do. Also, since I am a great fan of angst, I have of course included plenty of it in this chapter and because of the emotional turmoil going on, you will get to know our bishounen a little better, getting a hopefully clearer picture of their backgrounds.

Well, that's it for now. Please continue on and read the fic. And as always, I encourage you to review. Your comments are always appreciated.

Thanks again,

Forsaken

Circle of Time

Chapter 2 - Rivers Of The Soul

By the time Yohji made it home, he was nearly dead on his feet. He walked into the small two-leveled house he shared with his father and threw himself onto the black leather sofa against the far right wall. Yohji rubbed his tired eyes with one hand and shoved the other through his disheveled honey-blonde hair. I feel like shit.

His stomach was still a little queasy and he felt exhausted enough to pass out right where he was. But Yohji knew he couldn't let himself give in to his body's demands as of yet. His father would be home soon and it was Yohji's turn to make dinner. Damn, he'll ream my ass if I don't.

With a heavy sigh, Yohji pushed himself onto his feet. He yawned as he entered the large kitchen and walked over to the refrigerator. Opening the freezer door, Yohji narrowed his eyes as he searched the frozen contents inside. What the hell am I going to make? It's like fucking Alaska in here.

Finally settling for a package of chicken cutlets, Yohji moved to the sink and ran the hot water, placing the package of meat directly under the running water. Knowing that he would have to wait a few minutes for the meat to defrost under the water's heat, Yohji took a seat at the oval kitchen table in the middle of the room. With his elbows on the table's wooden surface, Yohji dropped his aching head into his hands. He closed his tired eyes, trying to relax but found himself unable to do so as today's events interrupted his thoughts.

Yohji moaned in misery. Not only had he almost broken down in front of a bunch of strangers but he'd also managed to embarrass himself in front of a particular redhead. Yohji cursed as he wondered why life was out to make a fool out of him.

He could still remember with horrifying clarity the humiliation he'd felt when Ran had coldly informed him that he'd looked like shit. It was like the very hands of Fate had deliberately chosen Ran to come looking for him at the most inopportune time. Yohji had nearly died under Ran's scrutiny and had been mortified beyond belief. So much so, that he'd avoided the redhead for the rest of the day.

But now that he thought about it, Yohji had to admit that Ran had appeared just as mortified as he had. Yohji opened his eyes and stared at nothing in particular. Could Ran have regretted saying those words to him? Maybe the redhead hadn't meant for the words to come out that way? It happens to him all of the time.

Yohji smirked and shook his head. Silly, Kudou. That guy could give two shits about you and your feelings.

Ran Fujimiya had been cold and aloof throughout the entire day, speaking only when spoken to, keeping to himself and pretty much ignoring everyone around him. Why in the world would the redhead even glance his way? Why would someone so beautiful care about what a mongrel like him thought or felt? He was trash. A punk from the streets tainted by the sins of his past. He would be more than an idiot to think that anyone, let alone someone like Ran, could be interested in him.

It was true that he wasn't bad to look at thanks to the honey-blonde hair, fair face and dark green eyes he'd inherited from his mother, but to Yohji what he looked like on the outside didn't matter. It was what he looked like in the inside that did. Maybe that was why he hated himself so much. For he knew how black and corroded his soul really was.

Yohji sighed and lowered his hands onto the table, staring at them with solemn eyes. You forgot about that, didn't you Kudou? How dirty you are?

He had forgotten. Forgotten about his past, about who he really was. He had allowed the world his adopted father had exposed him to to fool him, to make him feel like he belonged. What a fool you are, Kudou. But not anymore. The little incident at the flower shop had snapped him back to reality but ironically enough, he didn't know whether he should be thankful or bitter about it.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the smell of cooking meat in the air. Yohji's eyes widened as he remembered about the chicken in the sink. "Shit!"

Yohji jumped out of his chair and turned quickly to the sink. He closed the faucet and made a face as he picked up the now steaming package of partially cooked meat. Placing the awful looking package on the counter, Yohji stepped back a bit and scratched his head. Fuck.

"Yohji, what's that smell?" asked Shiro Kudou as he stepped into the kitchen much to Yohji's dismay. "Did you burn dinner again?"

Yohji winced and turned to his father. "Well, not exactly."

"I'm home," Ken called out as he entered the living room of his grandparent's house.

Knowing that his grandmother would blow a fit if he dumped his jacket onto the sofa, Ken walked over to the hall closet and hung up his jacket. He turned and found his grandmother smiling at the kitchen doorway wiping her hands with a dish towel. "Hey, sexy," he said affectionately as he walked over to her and placed a quick kiss on her soft cheek.

Hazel eyes twinkled in delight and a sassy grin curved his grandmother's lips as she lightly slapped his shoulder in mock reprimand. "You're so fresh."

Ken chuckled as he walked over to the kitchen. "I just can't help myself sometimes, Grandma."

Shaking her silver haired head, his grandmother sat down at the kitchen table where she had apparently been slicing vegetables. "So, how did it go today?"

Scrummaging through the cabinets, Ken paused briefly at the question before he shrugged and continued searching for food. "It was okay." Let it go, Grandma. I don't want to talk about it. Please just let it go.

"Oh, it had to be more than just okay, Ken," his grandmother replied.

Ken turned around and was thankful that his grandmother's back was to him. He resented her prying but at the same time knew that he was being irrational in his thinking. He couldn't help it though. What did she want him to say? That he'd had a wonderful time? Christ, participating in that program alone was a chore. He was willing to do just about anything to get back into his grandfather's good graces but that didn't mean he wanted to discuss the program at home. He felt guilty enough as it was. He didn't need to be reminded of his failures twenty-four-seven.

Ken looked up and was a flustered to see his grandmother's hazel eyes looking right at him. The determined look in her eyes was enough to let Ken know that it would be useless to try to get past the subject. I have no choice, do I? Ken sighed, resigned to having his back against the wall. "You're not going to ease up on me until I talk, are you?"

His grandmother smiled, the action crinkling the corners of her eyes. "You've got that right, kiddo. So start talking. I want to hear every detail."

Ken grabbed a can of soda from the counter and walked over the kitchen table. He took a seat next to the petite woman he cared so much about and willed himself to relax as he recounted what had transpired at the Koneko to his grandmother. Not once did he look at her, keeping his gaze focused on the soda can in his hands.

"These women,"" his grandmother asked him. ""Manx and Birman. Did you feel like you could trust and respect them?"

"I think so. I mean, they're tough enough to kick all of our asses if they wanted to."

"Watch the cussing, Ken," his grandmother reprimanded.

Ken looked up at her and gave her an apologetic grin. "Sorry, Grandma. It's just that I never thought I'd meet younger versions of you." Ken shivered dramatically. "It was damn creepy."

Ever the 'cool' grandmother, Miyuki Hidaka shook her head and grinned. "You're such an ass."

Ken chuckled. "I know. But seriously? They seem to be really dedicated to the program and to us."

Vigilant as always, his grandmother asked, "But?"

Ken looked at her and sighed knowing that he couldn't hide anything from her. "But, I don't know if I'll be able to open up to them like I know they want me to." Ken looked away from his grandmother's concerned eyes not wanting her to see the apprehension in his own eyes.

"Ken?"

Ken's hands tightened over the soda can before he reluctantly shifted his gaze back onto his grandmother. Gentle hazel eyes stared back, understanding clearly seen within their depths.

"I'm sure they don't expect you to start rambling off about your problems to them, Ken. So don't worry so much about it. Everything will fall into place within its due time." His grandmother once again touched his hand in comfort. "You just have to keep an open mind about things. Besides, I'm sure you'll make a friend or two along the way so it probably won't be so bad to share a few of your problems with them."

Ken smiled, feeling a little better about the situation. Maybe his grandmother was right. He shouldn't close himself off just because he cherished his privacy. "You're probably right." Ken smiled and moved forward a bit, his blue-green eyes lighting up in delight. "There is this one kid there, Omi. I've talked to him before in school and he seems pretty cool. And he feels just as bad as I do about the trouble we're in."

His grandmother smiled and patted his hand. "There, you see? Already you've made a friend. Just stick to that attitude and I'm sure you'll make it through this program just fine."

Ken nodded and was about to thank his grandmother for the advice when a deep voice interrupted him.

"I'm home."

Ken barely managed to hold back a wince at the sound of his grandfather's voice. His grandmother's hand tightened over his own and Ken looked up at his grandmother taking in the silent warning in her hazel eyes. Ken sighed and nodded, praying that he'd keep his temper in check.

"We're in here, honey," his grandmother replied as she picked up the knife in front of her and resumed what she'd been doing when Ken had arrived home.

His grandfather walked into the kitchen and Ken willed himself to relax as the tall man walked over to them and bent down to place a kiss on his grandmother's upturned cheek.

Maybe his grandfather wouldn't ask him about today, he desperately told himself. He really wasn't in the mood for one of his lectures right now. Maybe…….

"Ken, how did the meeting go today?"

Shit. Can't I get a break? "It was fine, Grandfather." He looked up, meeting his grandfather's serious gaze, and saw that the older man was obviously waiting for a more detailed reply. But although he knew he should open his mouth and provide the information his grandfather sought, Ken remained stubbornly silent. You're bucking for it, Ken.

"You have nothing more to say about it?"

No, dammit. Why do you want to know anyway? So that you can throw it back in my face? "What do you want me to say?" he replied, his tone sarcastic and rude.

Ken regretted those words the instant he'd said them. From the corner of his eye, Ken saw his grandmother grow still. And Ken knew why. Respect and absolute obedience were two things expected of him by his grandfather and by the rage sparkling to life in his grandfather's brown eyes, Ken had just ignored the latter. Ah, shit. Dammit, why can't I keep my fucking mouth shut?

"What do I want you to say?" his grandfather repeated the question, his voice full of anger. "Why not try telling me how it felt to be among other criminals such as yourself?"

"Kazuno!" his grandmother exclaimed as she dropped her knife onto the table and grabbed her husband's arm. "Stop it."

"Did you enjoy being among your own kind?" his grandfather continued, angrily shaking off his grandmother's hand. "Among the trash, the deviants, the crack-heads, the---"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ken shouted as he shot off his chair, anger consuming him. He couldn't think past the pain his grandfather's words had caused. A slap across his face had Ken ramming his hip into the table and he winced from the impact.

""Kazuno, please!""

Ken couldn't hear anything past the drumming in his ears, couldn't see anything past the red haze clouding his vision. All he knew was that someone had hurt him and without thought, reacting only on instinct, Ken pulled his arm back and swung his fist. But it didn't get connect.

Ken snapped back into reality the instant his grandfather's strong hand halted his fist. Pain shot up his arm and Ken winced as his hand was gripped harshly within his grandfather's grasp.

"You dare raise your hand to me."

Ken cried out as his hand was twisted viciously.

"Kazuno, please! You're hurting him, dammit. Let him go!" his grandmother yelled, pulling at his grandfather's arm.

Suddenly Ken was released and he cradled his injured hand against his chest. His blue-green eyes narrowed wildly as they focused on his grandfather. "I hate you!" he yelled, before he pushed past his grandparents and ran up the stairs to his room, ignoring his grandmother's pleas for him to come back.

Slamming his bedroom door and locking it behind him, Ken sat down at his bed still holding his bruised hand close to his chest. Breathing heavily, he stared at the wall as angry tears trailed down his face.

God, I hate my life. I hate it! I fucking hate it!

Omi sat quietly in his father's office as he looked down at the crisp white 3x3 piece of paper their butler had handed him the instant he'd arrived at the house. He wasn't really surprised that his father had requested his presence, but he certainly wasn't thrilled about it either. Omi sighed as he placed the note onto his father's large mahogany desk.

The silence was getting to him.

The house was empty aside from the servants working within its confines, his mother apparently having left to attend a social event earlier on and so once again, Omi was alone in the huge mansion he was forced to call home. Omi looked over at the clock on the wall just above his father's computer, again.

For over an hour now, he'd sat in his father's den waiting for his arrival and as usual, his father was late. I'm an idiot.He had better things to do than to sit here waiting like a trained dog for his father to decide to finally come home. He was about to get up from his seat when the door to his father's office opened, prompting him to settle back down. Omi tensed as his father's elegant form walked into the room.

"Hello, father," Omi said as his father walked past him and sat down on the other side of the desk.

"Hello, Omi," his father replied distractedly, barely giving Omi a glance.

Watching with silent impatience, Omi watched his father place the black briefcase he'd been carrying on top of the desk before opening it.

"Did you attend the meeting I had scheduled for you?" his father asked him, still not even looking at him.

You know I did. "Yes, Father."

His father's black eyes finally looked up at him. Omi swallowed and fought the urge to look away. You're a man. You're strong. Don't look away. Don't show him any weakness.

"I expect you to handle yourself properly while you participate in this program, Omi. I cannot stress to you enough how important it is for you to repair the damage that you've caused the Tsukiyono name."

Omi clenched his jaw as fought back the bitter anger that was swelling up inside of him. I know already, dammit! How many more times are you going to shove my mistake in my face? Dammit, it was a mistake. A stupid mistake! It's not like I killed someone.

But as he sat there under his father's intimidating stare, Omi knew that he might as well have killed someone. He'd allowed his emotions to rule him and had acted upon those emotions, tainting the Tsukiyono name in the process. There could be no worst sin. I'm only fourteen, dammit. I'm only human. But it's not like his father cared about that fact. All his fathered cared about was his damn name. ""I understand, Father. I won't make another mistake."

"I hope you don't, Omi." His father's voice suddenly turned cold in warning, sending a shiver of apprehension up Omi's spine. "You know what will happen if you fail this family again."

Omi lowered his gaze away from his father's icy stare. His hands clenched over his knees and Omi nodded his head. "Yes, Father. I know."

He would be punished - severely. How? He wasn't too sure. But if the backhand he'd received previously was any indication of what he was to expect, Omi knew he didn't want to find out.

"Good, I'm glad we understand each other." His father said as he turned his attention away from Omi and began to remove stacks of paperwork out of his briefcase. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to attend to."

Knowing he was being dismissed, Omi dutifully stood up and moved toward the door. He looked over his shoulder briefly and felt his heart clench when he saw that his father had already moved on to more important things. More important than me.

Silently, Omi exited the room and walked down the huge corridor leading into the foyer. He stopped at the base of the staircase and looked around the ample but empty area, his watery eyes shining under the light. So this is my life.A sad smile curved his lips. What a fucking joke.

Omi turned and began to climb the stairs, his slow footfalls echoing loudly through the deafening silence.

Ran held back the urge to slam the kitchen door as he walked through it with a garbage bag in his hand. His uncle had once again gone out of his way to insult him and it had taken all of Ran's strength to hold his tongue. Damn fucking bastard!

Outside in the backyard, Ran walked over to where the trash cans were against the house and dumped the garbage bag into it, placing the lid back over it non too gently.

He was so sick and tired of taking the man's bullshit. He hadn't been home not even ten minutes when his uncle had started on him. Ran sighed as he sat down on the back porch's steps. He looked around, making sure that no one was around and took out a pack of cigarettes out of his jean jacket. Lighting up a cigarette, Ran took a deep pull and pondered on his miserable life.

Aya had been asleep when he'd checked in on her a few minutes ago. She had looked so pale and lifeless that Ran had reached down to caress her cheek to make sure she was still warm and alive. Ran let out a breath of smoke and looked down at the burning cigarette in his hand.

For her. Everything he did was for her. His sister deserved so much more than what she had received. It killed him to think that Aya would probably be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life, never experiencing the joy of being free to do whatever she wished.

Why? Why had their lives turned out this way? Why had Fate decided to take their parents away from them, leaving them in the hands of a family who considered them to be a only a burden? Ran took in another pull from his cigarette and looked up at the darkening sky.

And if his life wasn't already a burning hell to live through, he'd made things even worst by losing control of his temper. Now on top of everything else, he had to perform community service for two whole years. Ran flicked the half smoked cigarette toward the trash cans and intertwined his hands in between his bent legs, his thoughts shifting to the meeting he'd attended.

He winced as a pair of jade eyes came to mind. Ran shoved a hand into his crimson hair cursing himself for allowing himself to think of the lanky blonde. But he couldn't help it. He could still remember the embarrassment he'd felt when like an idiot he'd spoken to the blonde without thinking.

[ You look like shit. ]

""Idiot,"" Ran muttered to himself as he ran a hand over his face, letting it drop back down to his lap. I can't believe I said that. Kudou had looked sick and slightly flustered and all he had been able to say to the guy was, [ You look like shit. ].

Ran had wanted to die on the spot the instant he'd let those words come out of his mouth. He'd felt like such an clumsy fool. Fortunately for him, the blonde had merely smiled at him and had walked past him as if the comment hadn't bothered him in the least. Then why did he avoid me from that point on? And why was the thought of the blonde being offended bothering him so much?

He should've been relieved over the blonde's dismissal of him but for some inexplicable reason, he wasn't. In fact, it was bothering him to no end. No matter how much he tried, Ran just couldn't get the green-eyed man out of his head. Maybe I should apologize? But even as the thought crossed his mind, Ran knew that he wouldn't be able to. His pride wouldn't let him. What's done is done. Besides, he told himself, Kudou probably didn't care anyway. Why would the blonde care what an idiot like him thought?

Ran sighed and stood up looking over his shoulder at the door leading into the kitchen. He didn't want to go back into the house but Ran knew he had no choice. As long as his sister was in need of medical care, care that he couldn't provide for her as of yet, Ran had no choice but to go back into the home he considered to be his prison.You can survive another night, Ran.

Unfortunately for Ran, the cycle would begin anew tomorrow and he would have to re-chant those words yet again.

Resigned to another restless night, Ran took a deep breath as he opened the door and stepped back into the house he hated with his very soul.

The silence was shattered by the shrill of a ringing phone.

"Dad? Do you want me to get that?" called out Yohji from his room near the top of the stairs.

Shiro Kudou looked away from the televison set. "No, I'll get it from here."

"Okay."

Shiro stood up and walked over to the kitchen slightly annoyed by whomever was calling at such a late hour. He picked up the receiver, placing it between his cheek and his shoulder as he reached out to open the refrigerator door. "Hello."

"Shiro?"

""Mason?"" asked Shiro, surprised to hear from his partner so late at night.

""Yeah, it's me.""

""Why are you----.""

""Listen to me, Shiro."" His partner cut him off. ""Do you remember Ryoji Yu?""

Shiro eyes widened and his grip on the phone tightened at the mention of that name. ""Yeah, what about him?""Please, don't say it. Please don't say it.

""He just called me, Shiro.""

Shiro closed his eyes and put a hand to his mouth as his worst nightmare was confirmed. ""Tell me.""

""Yu said the bastard got out a week ago.""

""What!"" Shiro exclaimed, quickly looking toward the stairs hoping Yohji hadn't heard him. He lowered his voice and spoke into the phone. ""What do you mean he got out a week ago? What took Yu so goddamn long to tell us?""

""He couldn't. His boss had been keeping too close of an eye on him. He couldn't risk getting caught talking to me.""

""Dammit!"" Shiro spat out. ""Do we know where he is? Please tell me you know where he is.""

""I'm sorry, Shiro.""

Shiro slammed his hand against the wall and pressed his forehead against it, despair and fear washing over him in waves. ""My God, Mason. Jesus Christ.""

""Look, I've got a few friends in high places that owe me a few favors. I'll call in my markers, Shiro.""

Shiro took a deep breath and straightened away from the wall. ""Do what you have to do, Mason. Whatever it takes, understand?""

""I will. Shiro,"" There was a pause and then, ""Are you going to tell Yohji?""

Shiro shook his head, ""Fuck no. I don't want to send him into a panic. If he found out his father was out of prison, the kid would run in a heartbeat. I can't risk losing sight of him, Mason.""

""I see what you mean. Okay, Shiro. You keep an eye on Yohji and I'll call my guys in to help search for this bastard. Don't worry, Shiro. We'll track the son of a bitch down.""

Shiro hung up the phone and stared at it, his thoughts already focused elsewhere. His heart was hammering against his chest and his guts were twisting out of fear as he thought of the man who had nearly killed his adopted son. Anger and determination welled up inside of him and his hands clenched at his sides as his dark eyes took on a feral light.

You're not going to get anywhere near him, you son of a bitch. I'll kill you first before you ever touch him again.

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