A/N: I leave stories in piecemeal form for too long, and I apologize to anyone who's reading this for the length of time between the first and this chapter.
Two months had passed since the appearance of the blue-haired boy, next to a man wearing colonel's stripes, at the gates of the camp. Two months had likewise gone by since Major Mikhail Razhin assigned Laika to his training squad of orphans.
Ilya had never come to hate anyone more in just two months.
It wasn't because of the rate at which Laika took to training, and became at least second-best in most of his courses in a matter of weeks; Ilya had enough grace to be no more than mildly envious of others' skill. It also wasn't due to the attention being given to Laika as a result of this skill, or whatever else – Ilya didn't care much for attention. It was, however, partially due to the gossip, which had been circulating camp since the day Laika arrived. The colonel with him was his uncle, some suggested. No, his father, said others, and he was an illegitimate child that the man didn't want to deal with, you know how officers are. The latter idea had been quashed when Valentina, whose own father had done the same, threatened to douse anyone who spoke of it with iced water in their sleep. But the rest of the suspicions followed the same general train of thought. If Laika had a relative – family – what was he doing here?
Such an issue by itself wouldn't have been enough to arouse Ilya's dislike had it not been for Yuri. Yuri, never one of the more skilled trainees but the sort of person nobody could hate, had finally gotten tired of the speculation and declared that whatever the case, Laika was here now and Yuri wouldn't question his right to be accepted as a comrade. Yuri had gone up to Laika, who no one else had spoken directly to yet, and genially offered an invitation to eat together.
"Sorry, I can't." Laika had said, expressionless. "I don't need to be distracted."
Yuri had taken the rebuff with his usual good humor, but Ilya had been incensed at the respone, and his ire only grew each time Yuri offered another such invitation and was brusquely rejected. He had tried to keep his patience by asking Yuri about it.
"Who does he think he is? He's an idiot with no manners, and I don't see how you could still be so nice..."
"I'm sure he's got his reasons." Yuri had said, amicably, but Ilya had suspicions about just what those reasons were. He had been at the camp long enough to understand that even if Major Razhin treated the orphans fairly, no one else would do the same. To the other soldiers-in-training who were enlisted, on track to becoming officers, or simply had parents to return to, the orphans who had nowhere to go, "Razhin's dogs", were less than dirt. Ilya himself had fought this scorn to little effect, and had eventually helped gather the younger orphans together into a more close-knit group, which supported its members against such derision. Unsurprisingly, the older orphans had soon also drifted in, and aside from a few mishaps, their makeshift family had come to function very well. None of the new orphans who joined them had objected to being included.
But Laika alone had refused all offers of friendship, and had made no effort to interact with the other orphans since arriving in camp. Laika, Ilya had realized, did not care for the group. And the only explanation that Ilya could think of, which had come to him as he overheard two of the others gossiping, was that Laika had family. Not birth parents, but the colonel who had been with him on the first day was clearly a close relative, one who would have taken him in, one who would support him. Laika, alone of all of them, had someone waiting for him outside of the camp's gates – and because of this, despite his name as one of them, Laika must have regarded the rest of the orphans as below him and unworthy of his attention.
That was when Ilya had begun to hate him.
He had done nothing at first, hoping that Laika would only be a short-term addition to their squad. But as the weeks and months dragged on and Laika showed no signs of leaving or acknowledging the other orphans, Ilya had found himself becoming increasingly hostile. Laika would return to barracks to find his belongings strewn across the floor, or would be tripped while going to marksmanship training, while Ilya was passing the other way. Laika knew exactly who was tormenting him, Ilya was certain, and after scattering Laika's belongings he had lain awake for half the night, wondering whether he would be reported to the Major. He certainly deserved it. He was ashamed of himself then, and not for the last time.
Yet Laika, in another strike of oddity, refused to even indicate that he knew – or cared – that Ilya actively hated him. As a result, Ilya's shame had soon given way to anger. He would have been fine with being hated in return, and had expected it; Laika's utter lack of response was unacceptable. It was as if the other boy saw himself as so much higher than Ilya that he wouldn't even deign to respond to Ilya's antagonism. Whether or not that was the case, Ilya grew more rash.
"What are you even doing here, huh?" He had challenged Laika once, during fencing practice, after jabbing his sabre a bit harshly into Laika's midsection and causing the other boy to stumble. "If you're so much better than us orphans, why don't you go train with the enlisted men? Or go back to your uncle, go on!"
Although Laika's expression was impossible to tell behind the face guard, his voice was emotionless. "I don't know what you're talking about, but it's none of your business."
"The hell it's not!" Ilya exclaimed, but at that moment the buzzer rang and they were forced to separate. He had then cornered Laika after practice and demanded an explanation. When none seemed forthcoming, he shoved Laika to the ground, scattered his already-packed fencing gear, and left. But even when Laika arrived late to their next training section and faced a blistering scolding from the corporal in charge, he said nothing about Ilya.
"Ilya," Yuri said to him, as they left the section together for the dining hall. "You're going a little far with this. He might be arrogant, and I'm not even sure about that, but he hasn't done anything wrong, or hurt you, or -"
Ilya shook his head.
"You're a saint, Yuri. I'm not. He acts so high and mighty just because he has family to go back to, it's sickening, and I don't know why he doesn't just join the enlisted soldiers and use his real name, his uncle certainly could pull it off -"
Yuri looked at him as if he were brilliant. Ilya stared back suspiciously. "What?"
"Maybe he's unhappy about his orphan-name and just wants things to go back to normal." Yuri suggested. "I would, and I don't even have a dog's name – but, in any case, we should ask his real name and call him by that. That way you don't have to think of him as an orphan and can just ignore him, right?"
Ilya had immediately voiced several objections. But Yuri had taken the idea to heart, and Ilya was not unfamiliar with how stubborn Yuri could be about some of his ideas; Ilya had as yet been unable to talk him out of continuing his attempts at befriending Laika. And so Ilya gave in without much of a struggle. They approached Laika the next day at noon meal, as the boy sat reading in the shade of one of the evergreens in the courtyard. Ilya remained silent as Yuri spoke.
"Excuse me, but...would you tell us your given name?"
Laika visibly froze. After a moment, without looking up and in a tone of voice impossible to decipher, he asked, "What?"
"Are you deaf-" Ilya began, but Yuri cut him off and continued, earnestly, "Well, I thought that you might like us to use your given name instead of your orphan-name, since...well, it's a dog's -"
Laika set his book aside and got to his feet. Yuri, almost half a head taller than him, suddenly appeared to shrink as Laika fixed him with a withering stare, his voice colder than any ten-year-old's Ilya had ever heard.
"Who asked you to care? My name is none of your business, and I don't need your pity. Shouldn't you focus more on fixing your own lack of skill and intelligence, instead of faking friendliness and trying to get me to -"
Ilya punched him in the face.
"Take that back." He hissed, as Laika staggered back, holding his cheek with one hand. Yuri was yelling something at him, but Ilya couldn't care about that this time. He would apologize to Yuri later. The only thing he wanted to do at the moment was to beat the daylights out of the snotty little brat who'd insulted Yuri, and by extension every orphan who he'd taken under his wing. "Take that back, or I'll -"
"I refuse." Laika replied, his voice muffled by his hand but steady.
Ilya threw another punch, and this time Laika guarded - somewhat inexpertly - and only caught a glancing blow across the shoulder. They separated, circling each other warily. Laika made no move to strike back, and this for some reason infuriated Ilya more than anything else he had said.
"Hit me." Ilya taunted. "Come on! You want to talk about skill? Then show me yours! Or is all your training only good for licking the officers' boots, you dog?"
His taunt was met with silence and no change whatsoever in Laika's demeanor. With a roar, Ilya went on the offensive, hurling punches and kicks wildly in an attempt to pummel every bit of the other boy he could get at. He was leaving himself open, the calmer half of him knew. An expert opponent could have brought him down easily, and yet Laika continued to guard without even countering. But some of his blows were definitely connecting, and Laika was stumbling back while Ilya pressed forward. This, along with Laika's silence, fueled Ilya's anger and kept him attacking. An audience had gathered by this time, but Ilya ignored them. Yuri had gone, which meant Ilya could concentrate on the fight, and he was going to wipe that smug look off Laika's face if it was the last thing he did -
A pair of stronger hands grabbed his shoulders. Before Ilya could react, he found his arms forced behind his back, and a gruff voice was saying into his ear, "don't move, you little hellion, or I won't be responsible for anything you break."
Panting with exertion, Ilya forced himself to be still and tried to get a clearer grasp of the situation. Another figure – an officer, Ilya realized with a shock – was behind Laika and holding onto him firmly, although without restraining his arms as Ilya's captor had. The murmur of their audience had died away. The conspicuousness of its absence made the silence all the more unbearable, and Ilya didn't dare look around.
The two officers – for of course that was who they were, Ilya thought with growing panic – barked something at the gathered trainees, who scattered. And then Ilya's captor forcibly turned him in the direction of the main compound, Laika's presumably following suit, and said, "Walk. I'm sure the Major would like an explanation."
Ilya walked, his head down, with Laika behind him and the two officers somewhere behind them, and did not turn around until they had reached the open door of Major Mikhail Razhin's office.
