Keroro walked up to Kururu, a look of pure misery played on his uncharacteristically dim face. Also, he looked tired, not the usual, 'lazy, do nothing tired', a tired that added age to his frame. A tired that made him look much, much, much older. Instead of looking like a go-lucky teen, he looked his age.
Kururu didn't look that well either. The sadistic Keronian stayed quiet, his face paling by the second. Even his usual, 'Kukuku' was missing. Slouching over heavily he fumbled with some dark contraction he held between his tiny hands. Every now and then he would mumble I push and take a quick snap shot of the surrounding area. A faint buzzing was heard from him also, which meant he was communicating through his head set to his computer and Mois Angol. Focusing harshly, but trying not to show it he let out a puff of hot hair and Keroro did also.
Looking down at the scrambled body of the Keroro Platoon member the two exchanged sharp glances, but said nothing. He stared into the lifeless eyes of the seemingly helpless Keronian. He lay there sprawled against the cold ground. Keroro shuddered; this was nothing like how the movies described it. Death that is, but how does one TRULY capture the essence of death? In the movies Keroro would stare at the seemingly dead body and wait for the very slow rise and fall of the chest and the corpses eyes were always shut, they would lay there, as if asleep, but as he bent over his comrade and even though he had teary eyes which blurred his sight, he could tell that all those movies were full of total bull shit. There was no movement of the chest and he knew for a fact that those widened, terrified, surprised eyes on the dead Keronian showed that he was in fact NOT asleep, he cursed and spun around, hitting a nearby rock, sending it flying across the yard.
There was a very large dent on the right side of his head. Keroro bit his lower lip, thinking the question that haunted not just him, but the rest of his platoon. No. Not the rest of his platoon, he looked down at the disfigured figure, the platoon would never be complete again without him. The question: Who did this?
"Comrade." he whispered harshly, then shook his head. "Friend," he corrected himself, "Who did this to you? Who the hell thought your day of death would come this soon?" No answer. "I am your commanding officer!" Keroro shouted, pointing at the corpse. "You answer me when I talk to you!" He fell to his knees, he couldn't see, his eyes had too many tears to see and they wouldn't stop coming. He turned to Kururu and harshly said, "Can't you bring him back to life?"
"Resurrection? Is that what you want me to do?" Kururu took another picture and looked at his commander with a blank face. "You want me to raise him from the dead? Captain, I may be an inventor of great power, but I'm no-"
Keroro cut him off. "Then call Pururu, she can cure him of this state." Keroro watched Kururu, who to his anger didn't move. "What are you waiting for? We need a medic!"
"A medic? What we need is a body bag." Keroro stared at Kururu with such hatred and dare in his eyes, that for a split second he thought HE was the one who would need the body bag, but being Kururu he continued. "Captain, he's dead. There is nothing we can do about. We need to start worrying about other things. Like the funeral." The last sentence rang in the leader's ears, "We need to inform HQ that we have a fallen solider and his parents. We need to find out who got him, too. Unless, you want to take the chance of getting another member of YOUR platoon murdered under your non-existent nose, it's your job as captain to ensure that this sort of thing doesn't happen, but alas it has." Keroro stayed silent at Kururu's spew of the rules and what needs to be done. "Now, captain, what would you like me to do first? Kukuku." His laugh sounded like an afterthought.
First? What did he want him to do first? "First I want you to finish taking pictures and collecting evidence or whatever your doing. In the mean time I'll call his parents. Lady Mois?" Keroro shouted the teen alien's name, who stumbled through the doorway leading out of the house.
"Yes, Uncle?" She looked horrible, but tried her best to smile. Keroro looked closer to her, studying her face. Her eyes were closed; she didn't want to see him lying on the floor, he didn't blame her though. If he was her age, hell, if everyone wasn't around his eyes would be shut, also.
"I would like you to arrange a funeral for our deceased friend. Is that okay?" Wordlessly, she nodded and walked back inside.
Kururu took another picture and placed the camera in Keroro's hands. "I need to collect specimens I can use to find out whom and what," He paused for a moment, "exterminated him. All I know so far is that someone hit him in the back of the head with some sort of heavy item, quite roughly if it broke through his thick headed skull." He looked up. "Captain? Kukukuku."
Keroro wasn't paying attention anymore. Looking at the pictures he swallowed roughly. Eyeing the real, non photographic version of one of his dearest friend a new batch of tears rolled down his cheeks. A Keronian who was born into a family whose motto was quite literally 'fight till the death'. A Keronian who trained his WHOLE life to be a soldier. A Keronian who had befriended almost everyone he knew. A Keronian who joined the few five who were destined to invade and conquer the planet Pekopon. A Keronian who died in an invasion, one of the most honorable ways of death known on the alien frog's home planet, Keron.
Keroro clenched his fist in utter frustration. "Giroro-dono." He whispered so quietly even Kururu couldn't hear him. "I will avenge you. You will not die in vain."