To Serve and Protect
Army AU
When they asked for soldiers, she was one of the first to step forward.
Even before training her potential was widely recognized, and when mentored she was a deadly weapon. Her cool head allowed her to rise through the ranks quickly and before she knew it she was in the middle of active combat. She hadn't seen Akihito since just after boot camp, when they had given her three days to herself to prepare to jump into the fray.
She knew she was hardly recognizable, even before the surprise registered on her boyfriends face. The light hair that normally hung in loose waves that framed her face now sat atop her head in a strict tight bun. The red glasses he loved so much were replaced by regulation shatter proof lenses, in a frame that sat heavily on her features. The flowing sweaters and skirts she normally favored were now dark camouflage, with combat books laced to just above her ankles.
Even though he started for a moment, he reminded himself that this was Mirai. The woman he swore the rest of his life to. The woman he was in love with. He cracked a joke about the ugly glasses and her lips turned up at the corners, breaking through the calculative mask that she had adopted in her time away from him. Three days was far too short for the two of them, and all too suddenly they had to pretend that letters and the occasional short and expensive phone call that was full of too much static to hear each other properly was enough.
One letter in particular was creased far more than the others she left at camp, which were protected and locked away by a reinforced box. The writing on the fold was partly worn away, unreadable if not for the fact that she had long since memorized the rolling ridges and plains of his lazy script. The paper stained brown with age and the red dust flying around her at every moment. She kept this letter folded away in the pocket of her armored vest above her heart, running her fingers over the ridges of the paper where he had pressed too firmly with the pen as he wrote. On especially difficult nights - every night at war was difficult if she was being honest with herself - she forced herself to believe that the smell of the man she loves adheres to the paper, instead of the dust and sand that she absently wondered if she would ever be able to clear from her sinuses. That if she focused, she would be back in their home, flush against his chest as the audio of a movie played forgotten in the background instead of rapid gunfire and the sounds of lives coming to an end.
She kept this letter with her to remind her. Of what - who - she was fighting for. The last line of the letter kept her grounded. The indentations were more prominent; the letters tighter together than the rest, as if he forced himself at the last moment to ask the question that consumed him.
Why do you do it?
The answer was what kept her head firmly attached to her shoulders with every close call, every panicked scream that alerted her to danger. With every shot fired too close for comfort, and every metallic click of a boot on a faulty landmine, she thought of tousled blonde hair and golden eyes. With every long night covered in dirt and the blood of her fallen comrades, she imagined the life he promised her. But when she heard her commanding officer shout "grenade!" and a small hard item slammed against her feet she just thought one word.
Goodbye.
Akihito couldn't place the sense of dread that weighed down on him as his eyelids rolled open and diluted sunlight rested on his cheek. He assured himself it was because Mirai's letter was late, and that mail was sometimes unreliable. The longer the day went on, the more he missed her, just like the day before and every day since she had been home. His tie was crooked, and he found himself wishing for the days that she would sleepily reach up to straighten it, even though her own glasses lay askew on her small nose.
A sudden knock at his door sent his stomach down to his knees, but he shook his head and scolded himself for being ridiculous, even though he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very very wrong. Summoning a smile to his face he swung the door inwards, until he was face to face with two men in the same uniform that the pink haired girl wore when he saw her disappear past security in the airport lifetimes ago.
"Y-you have the wrong house," he swallowed the lump in his throat as his mind screamed it's not her, there's no way over and over until he couldn't remember ever having another conscious thought. "I'm sorry but you-"
"Kanbara Akihito?" his throat closed and he nodded mechanically. The man on the left tentatively raised his arms, offering the folded flag nestled between them. "I wanted to tell you personally," when Akihito finally met his eyes he realized they were glistening with tears. He wondered if he himself fared any better. "She saved my life." He took a deep shaking breath before he spoke again, the temporarily silence roaring in the blondes ears. "I was lucky to serve with a soldier - a person like her. I am so sorry."
Tears fell unabashedly down the man's face now, as he deeply bowed to the man who's world he just shattered, as if that would fix anything. Akihito wondered if he could find it in himself to hate the man, desperate for something to take his pain out on. Before he could move or speak or even get his thoughts in order, the forgotten man on the right cleared his throat.
"We were instructed to give this to you," he said softly, holding up a sealed envelope with his full name printed in her delicate scrawl. He slowly reached for it, only vaguely aware of the shaking of his hands.
The men politely dismissed themselves, smart enough to know that the younger man would want his privacy. His mind didn't even register the dull thud of the door swinging shut once he stepped back and his weight no longer supported it. He stared at the paper in his hands, noticing the ink was slightly faded from age.
His feet carried him to their bedroom before he was even aware that he was moving and he sat down, surrounded by the smell that was distinctly Mirai in spite of the length of her absence. He breathed in deeply, a part deep inside of him committing the smell to memory while it was still strong because he might never have this chance again. Clammy trembling hands reached for the seal of the letter, the back of his eyes burning with unshed tears after two failed attempts of ripping it open. Finally he pulled the letter from inside, gently placing the envelope on the quilt next to his thighs.
He doesn't know how long he stared at the folded paper before he willed himself to open it. He just knows by the time all is said and done, and he lay down a broken man the moon was already high in the sky, taunting him with its abnormal brightness.
It was only when the paper was unfolded that he allowed himself to weep, his face buried in hands that muffled his strangled screams. He finally had an answer to the question he asked so many months ago.
To protect you.