I do not own Gunslinger Girl, any of the characters from the show/manga or any other copyrighted material herein.
"Don't you forget about me"
Anya woke that morning in her dorm, lying on the floor. Never certain how or why, Anya simply accepted the fact that, despite tucking herself under the covers, she would always wind up curled into a ball on the floorboards by the ladder leading to the upper bunk. Her hands had been wrapped around her throat again, the scar around her neck tingling with pins and needles.
Stretching out in an attempt to work the soreness out of her joints, Anya then proceeded into a vigorous routine of calisthenics followed by tai chi. Uncertain when or where she learned the art, Anya still found it relaxing; the forms aiding in the use and conditioning of her newly acquired cybernetic implants. She astounded her Handler one afternoon by requesting a jian completely out of the blue.
"Good morning," the voice drifted down from the upper bunk. Anya's roommate Rebecca sat up and had been watching Anya's movements for some time.
"Good morning," Anya replied with a smile. "Sleep well?"
"Sort of," Rebecca said. "I think you had a nightmare again. You kept tossing all night and shook the bed frame."
"I wish I could remember why," Anya scratched her head. "I tell you what. I'll ask Paolo for separate beds to replace the bunk."
Rebecca nodded and hopped from the upper bunk. She landed perfectly on her feet in front of Anya and assumed a crouching silat stance. Obliging her roommate, Anya assumed a down slope tiger stance. Their sparing continued in this manner for twenty minutes until Anya was brought into a submission hold.
"You're getting better," Rebecca complimented. "When you first got here, I had you down in less than five."
"Thanks," Anya said, smiling. "I am learning from the best."
Embarrassed at the praise heaped upon her, Rebecca blushed and looked to the floor. Looking back to Anya, she said:
"I'm hungry. The cafeteria should be open by now."
"Let me get ready," Anya said as her stomach growled in concurrence.
Pulling her long brown hair into a loose ponytail and dressing in a middy blouse and slacks, Anya turned to watch her roommate dress in khaki drills, her short black hair pulled off her face by a head band. The two girls then exited the dormitory and wandered toward the cafeteria.
"…Will you recognize me? Call my name or walk on by…" Anya sang to herself.
Rebecca looked to her roommate with a curious face.
"What is that you're singing?"
Knocked back into the real world, Anya remained silent before answering with a shrug of her shoulders.
"I dunno," she replied. "I get it in the back of my mind every once in a while, but I can't remember where I heard it, when or from who. I don't even remember all the words, but somehow, it reminds me of something that I don't want to forget. Does that make any sense?"
Rebecca thought for a long moment as they continued walking. Rebecca thought the world of her new roommate. Anya was so smart and athletic and mirrored Rebecca very well. They shared similar tastes in music, art appreciation and, of course, martial combat. When Anya was first brought into the Social Welfare Agency, Rebecca took it upon herself to train the new girl in unarmed combat. She wanted Anya to be as good if not better than herself.
Anya, for her part, looked to Rebecca as the older sister she never had…or could not remember. Anya noticed one day the missing pinky on Rebecca's right hand and had point blank asked about it. Rebecca responded cryptically that her missing finger landed her in the "care" of the SWA. Seeing Anya horrified at the answer, Rebecca clarified somewhat that Anya needed to be very careful in whom she trusted and to whom she owed favors.
Breaking her silence, Rebecca glanced toward her younger sister and spoke cheerfully.
"I hope you remember one day."
Anya smiled back and nodded her head.
The morning following breakfast was devoted to long arms training. Rebecca led Anya onto the rifle range, each with their chosen weapon in their gun bags. Rebecca had chosen as her personal long arm a Yugoslav built M59 SKS. Preferring the permanently attached swing out bayonet, Rebecca could use her close quarter skills to devastating effect. The added bonus of the semi-auto only feature meant that she would not be tempted to unload a full magazine into one or two targets, but could instead carefully place each round into a target of opportunity.
Anya, while still considered new, had yet to choose her primary weapon, but gravitated towards the British developed L85A2. She found that the NATO 5.56mm round produced less kick, and that the bullpup design gave her added accuracy in a carbine length weapon. The bonus of a SUSAT scope simply meant putting the obelisk on the target and pulling the trigger…no complicated optics or hard to use iron sights.
After taking a bath that afternoon, Anya returned to the dormitory and flopped into her bunk. She wanted to take a short nap after her run through of the MOUT facility and be fresh for language classes that evening. Rebecca had other ideas. Sneaking up on Anya as her eyes began to close, Rebecca threw a bucket of cold water into Anya's bunk. The younger girl screamed and rolled out of her rack, frantically scanning the area for the source of the attack. Seeing Rebecca holding the bucket, Anya reached over, grabbed a sopping wet pillow and tossed it at the older girl. Laughing and easily evading the clumsy attack, Rebecca reminded Anya to always be prepared for sneak attacks.
"You never know when you might be ambushed," Rebecca said between laughing fits. "You should see your face."
"I just got dry from my bath, тупоумно!" Anya shouted.
At that moment a knock at the door drew attention from both girls.
An older girl, maybe mid teens or older with long blonde hair and a somewhat masculine suit entered the room.
"What's this ruckus about?" she asked sternly.
"Rebecca threw water on me while I was trying to sleep, Miss Triela," Anya said.
"I was only training her to be aware at all times," Rebecca rebutted.
"Knock it off," Triela growled. "Some of us are trying to study."
Admonished, Anya and Rebecca apologized for their unruly behavior. Triela scowled slightly then left the room. Anya changed into dry clothes and pulled the bedding. Rebecca offered to help and took the mattress out of the frame and hung it out the window to dry in the midsummer breeze.
"So much for my nap," Anya grumbled on her way to the laundry. Rounding the corner, she barely avoided colliding with another older cyborg.
"Oh, I am so sorry, Miss Claes," Anya said, lowering her head in respect.
"Have we met?" Claes asked while adjusting her glasses. "You're new here aren't you?"
"We've met several times, Miss Claes. My name is Anya. Don't you remember?"
"It would seem I do not," Claes shrugged. "Oh well, goes with the job, I suppose."
Anya watched Claes wander down the hall in the vague direction of the Agency's library. Anya had heard stories from the older girls about the toll on the mind and body the cyborg procedures and "conditioning" took on everyone in the program. It would seem that Claes was beginning to experience the lapses in short term memory everyone had been warned about.
'Poor girl,' Anya thought, slowly shaking her head. 'But then, am I in any position to comment?'
Pushing such thoughts out of her head, Anya continued her way to the laundry.
A/N: "Don't You (Forget About Me)" lyrics and title by Simple Minds
