DISCLAIMER: Inspired by the song, written by My Chemical Romance. AU WWII fanfiction surrounding the Visual Kei band "The GazettE". Real names are used, so this is your reference guide: Takashima Kouyou [Uruha], Shiroyama Yuu [Aoi], Suzuki Akira [Reita], Uke Yutaka [Kai], and Matsumoto Takanori [Ruki]. I do not own GazettE...yet.


I'll come back for you.
But when?
...I don't know.
Will you promise me?

Staring up at the ceiling from his bunk, Kouyou was lost in thought. His shoulder-length blonde hair was unkempt after six days of continuous battle, his bangs matted over his almond-shaped eyes. He turned his helmet in his hands in the silence.

He did not know what time it was. He only knew the ink black sky outside, perforated by tiny pinpricks of light and the sound of war. The air was thick with gunpowder and shrapnel, heavy with the threat of American air raids sneaking up on them like the Greeks in their Trojan horse. Though the war was the furthest thing in Kouyou's mind at that hour.

"Takashima-san?" A whisper from below startled him, and he dropped the helmet in his hands. It was the squadron's first night back from the field, and small noises still very much surprised Kouyou's alerted mind. The man on the bottom bunk shifted, the flurry of moving sheets unusually loud. "You're awake, aren't you?"

"I am," he answered in a low whisper, so as not to wake the other sleeping men. "What is it, Shiroyama-san?"

A small laugh from below. "You're always awake at night, when we come back. Why?"

Kouyou did not answer, and the man sighed. "Family? A girl?"

Where she was, it was morning. He imagined her, still asleep, as the rising sun filtered through the glass pane of the window. The white lace curtains would be open; she hated having them shut during the summer. The hazy golden rays illuminated her features. She slept on her side, the left half of her face against the pillow. Her full lips slightly curved in a sleepy smile, wavy brown hair splayed over the white pillowcase. Her face, slightly rounded with eyes and nose set in so beautiful and delicately that he could only describe them as carefully engraved, glowed. Her long lashes rested above her cheek, gilded with sunlight. She looked like an angel when she slept. He remembered that clearly.

"Yeah," he found himself murmur. "A girl."

"I know the feeling," Shiroyama fondly whispered. "I've got a girl myself. Two actually. A wife and daughter, back in Mie."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My daughter just turned six. But this war's got me worrying if she'll see seven. What with the firebombing and all."

"If that happens?"

"I'll go to Washington D.C and pull a fucking Rape of Nanking on them myself."

"Yes, because you can orchestrate an entire attack on the U.S Capital, Yuu," the man on the bottom bunk beside them muttered sleepily. "By yourself. Well, maybe you could. If you pretended to be one of Japan's finest geisha to sneak up on them. You're womanly enough to pull it off, that's for sure."

"Fuck off, Akira!" Yuu hissed. "Just because your girlfriend is a blow up doll--"

"--Ah, an American blow up doll! Only the finest American import. It's really all their women are good for, when you ask me--"

"Nobody asked, and if you don't watch your fucking mouth I'll rip your jaw off, Suzuki." Kouyou snapped. "Someone already broke your nose."

It was true. Some way or another Akira ended up having his nose broken, and he now sported a white bandage that wrapped around the injury. He scoffed. "What, can't joke?"

"Just shut up."

"Whatever," Akira whispered as a loud boom exploded in the distance. On that tense note, they settled into a silent and uneasy slumber.

Kouyou's promise echoed in his mind.

"I promise you, my love."