Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass.
He stepped onto the concrete driveway hesitantly. This was foreign soil, and the foreignness permeated the air and impregnated the dirt.
Everything was different, unfamiliar, and alien.
In front of him was a tall man with graying hair and Asiatic features. He was solidly built, with a stern, fierce expression and a white, button-down shirt with a collar that flared around his neck like a mane. Beside him was a boy about Lelouch's age, with some resemblance to the man. He had ruffled, untidy brown hair and unfriendly, dark green eyes. Behind the two stood a group of people in various uniforms; a chef, a maid, a driver, and so on – no doubt people who worked for the Kururugi's in some fashion.
The man stepped towards him and bowed. Lelouch noticed that the man's gaze lingered on his eyepatch for a brief moment before sizing him up. The boy, on the other hand, was staring unabashed.
"Welcome to Japan, Your Highness. I am Genbu Kururugi. It is an honor to be your host for the duration of your stay," stated the man in a gruff tone.
Lelouch noted that the man's English was fluent, albeit accented, as he hurriedly bowed back. He didn't have any knowledge of local customs or etiquette, but returning the gesture seemed to be appropriate – the best he could do at short notice.
"No, the pleasure is mine, Mr. Kururugi. Please call me Lelouch. Thank you for consenting to my stay at such short notice. I look forward to being in your care," he replied.
"You're well-mannered!" remarked Genbu, chuckling. His fierce expression shifted into a predatory grin that unsettled Lelouch. "This is my son, Suzaku. Although his English is not that good yet, he knows enough to understand you. Please get along with him. Hopefully your politeness will rub off on him."
Suzaku looked away sullenly, causing his father to frown.
"Hora, Suzaku! Chanto aisatsu shinasai!" barked Genbu loudly.
"Hai, chichi-ue," replied Suzaku dutifully.
Suzaku then gave Lelouch the slightest of nods, stating, "Welcome to Japan. Pleased to meet you. I am Suzaku."
Abruptly, Genbu's phone began to ring.
Before dashing off, he told Suzaku, "Bring our guest into the house, make sure to serve tea!"
As the herd of people in various uniforms dispersed, Suzaku scowled and turned to Lelouch.
"Come."
Without waiting for a reply or any form of acknowledgement, Suzaku set off towards the Kururugi Shrine, and Lelouch followed him.
It was obvious to Lelouch that for whatever reason, Suzaku didn't like him. Perhaps Suzaku was xenophobic and rejected his foreignness. Or maybe Suzaku didn't like Britannia, and by extension, him. There were a thousand different possible reasons, each as likely as the last, and he would be sure to find out later.
As they entered the building, Lelouch observed its innards. The decorations on the walls were as foreign to him as the cave paintings of his ancestors. Occasionally, they passed displays of swords that looked menacing despite their ceremonial nature.
Soon, they stopped in front of a room, and Suzaku slid open a door that looked like it was made of paper. He then pointed at a low table that didn't reach his knees, with a few cushions scattered around the woven, straw floor.
"Sit."
"… Where?" asked Lelouch, as he stared at the room.
The problem was simple. There were no chairs. Did they not use chairs in Japan? How can one sit if there is no furniture to sit on? Was he supposed to sit on the floor? Or did he mistakenly identify the piece of furniture as a table, when it was really a large Japanese-style stool?
"The floor is not good enough for Your Highness?" sneered Suzaku.
Lelouch swallowed a retort, feeling a mix between embarrassment and annoyance.
"No, it's fine," stated Lelouch.
He sat quietly for a couple of minutes, until Suzaku walked back into the room with two ceramic tea cups on a tray.
Lelouch cleared his throat.
"What's your problem with me, Suzaku?"
Suzaku set down the tray on the table, glaring at him.
"I do not want you here. Because you are here, I have to look after you. My free time is gone," complained Suzaku.
Lelouch frowned.
"I didn't ask to come here. I'm here right now because my father ordered me to, just like you," retorted Lelouch.
"Do not compare me to you! I am nothing like you! You have no place here. Go back to Britannia!" roared Suzaku.
Lelouch stood, irritated. The idiot didn't seem to understand that he wasn't here by choice. He would have happily packed his bags and gone to Pendragon if that was an option. Sadly, it wasn't.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" criticized Lelouch.
An appeal to authority.
He would bring up Suzaku's mother in an accusative manner, implying that Suzaku's lack of hospitality was the result of failed parenting. Naturally, of course, Suzaku would deny this accusation. Judging from Genbu's warm reception earlier, it was safe to say that his wife likely shared a similar mindset regarding guests and hospitality. It would be a trivial task to emphasize this point to make Suzaku reign in his aggression.
A fist came out of nowhere, slamming into his cheek.
"Don't talk about my mother!"
Lelouch staggered back into the sliding door, ripping a large hole in the paper material.
He had miscalculated. He should have seen this coming, seeing as Suzaku's mother hadn't been present to greet him earlier. Perhaps she had divorced or died, or was terminally ill. Either way, this topic was an obvious landmine and should have been avoided. Unfortunately, he had overlooked such a small detail.
Suzaku's ferocious assault was wild and unpredictable. Lelouch brought up his hands to protect his face and weather the storm.
Somebody pounced into the room and seized Suzaku by the collar, dragging him back and throwing him to the side.
"Suzaku! What are you doing! He is our guest! How dare you!"
It was Genbu. Lelouch noted that Genbu was using English.
Suzaku looked down in shame.
"Moushiwake arimasen, chichi-ue. Desu ga, kare-"
"I told you to use English in front of our guest! Now apologize to him! Not to me!" interrupted Genbu.
Suzaku scowled, then bowed to Lelouch.
"I am sorry. I should not have hit you," apologized Suzaku.
Genbu placed his hand on the back of Suzaku's head, forcing it lower. He then followed suit with a deep bow.
"Lelouch … please forgive my son. He is very hot-headed and gets into fights easily. It will not happen again," pleaded Genbu.
Lelouch swallowed.
This culture of bowing and whatnot was foreign to him. He really didn't get it… Did they just bow for everything and expect everyone to let bygones be bygones? For a brief moment, he imagined a criminal being sentenced to a million bows.
Either way, he wasn't really in a position to refuse.
"Mr. Kururugi, it's all water under the bridge," stated Lelouch.
Genbu frowned, staring at him in confusion.
"Why are you talking about water under a bridge?" he asked.
Lelouch blinked.
"Um… That is a figure of speech. It means that we can forget about what happened in the past," he explained patiently.
Genbu slapped Suzaku on the back.
"It's time for your Kendo lesson. Tohdoh is waiting," stated Genbu.
As Suzaku walked past him, he snarled, "This is my country, not yours. Go back to Britannia!"
As Lelouch reflected on those words, he almost didn't hear Genbu offering to show him the way to his room.
He couldn't deny that Suzaku's words were true.
He didn't belong in this country, he had no place here. But at the same time, he had no place in Britannia.
He was a hostage in a foreign nation, exiled from his own.
In a way, he had no home to return to.
'Home' had died alongside his mother and sister.
His thoughts were interrupted as Genbu placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Lelouch, I will introduce you."
In front of him stood a pair. The taller of the two was an old, bald man with sharp, calculating eyes. In stark contrast, the other was a small, young girl with flowing black hair, at least a few years younger than Lelouch.
"This is Taizou Kirihara, a good friend of mine, and Kaguya Sumeragi, Suzaku's cousin," explained Genbu.
Kirihara raised an eyebrow. "Oh ho, if it isn't the famed commoner prince of Britannia."
Kaguya paid no heed to the tense atmosphere, leaning uncomfortably close to Lelouch.
"Is it true that you were on Flight 273? What really happened? Did the terrorists really blow up the plane?" asked Kaguya excitedly.
Lelouch glared at her. "I'm not an attraction," snapped Lelouch.
"I was just curious!" exclaimed Kaguya. She huffed and stormed off, leaving Lelouch alone with the two men.
"Lelouch, I have a few things to talk about with Kirihara-san. Your room is just around the corner," said Genbu.
He took heed of the obvious dismissal and began heading to his room. It only took a minute for him to locate it.
As he entered and sat on the bed, he noted that it was western-style. He would not have to sleep on the floor. That was a pleasant surprise.
Lelouch stared at the ceiling.
He had no power.
As much as he despised the Social Darwinist rhetoric of his father, it was true that power was important in this world.
And he had none.
When he had stood there in a plane held hostage, he had done nothing. No, that wasn't strictly true. He had tried to intervene. But in the end, he hadn't accomplished anything. That general … that accursed Avery – had damned him to death, uncaring of his royal status. He had survived through sheer luck. That boy in the hospital had pulled him out of the wreckage … what was his name again? He couldn't even remember. Even then, he hadn't escaped unscathed. His monocular vision was a daily reminder of that fact.
And when he had lay in a dark storeroom with his limbs bound, he had been helpless before his captors. He had struggled, done his best to fight back. He had analyzed every possible option and chosen the one with the best outcome. But his best hadn't been good enough. Only Villetta's intervention had saved him.
In the first place, the scenario hadn't been fair.
He had been thrown into an unwinnable situation, where every outcome was a loss.
What could he have possibly done, when the odds had been stacked against him from the very beginning?
His father's words came to mind.
Too weak, simply too weak.
Anger came over him. Anger at his father, for being such a callous bastard. Anger at all those who had hurt him. Anger at those who had saved him, because he hadn't been able to save himself. Anger at himself, for being so damned weak.
He turned over, rolling on to his side.
His gaze settled on a chess board which he had brought from Britannia.
It was exquisite, with hand-crafted ivory pieces and an antique look.
And he hated it.
Chess was undoubtedly a 'fair game' where there was only one enemy and both sides started off on the same playing field. There was some debate about the advantage that moving first might provide, but generally speaking, most would agree that chess was a balanced game.
Except that it was wrong.
In the first place, to start a game on even footing with an opponent was a strategic mistake. Instead, one should rig the deck in their favor in every possible way before playing the game.
Why had he enjoyed winning chess games so much?
Why had he struggled so desperately in the hope of beating Schneizel in a chess game one day?
It didn't make sense.
It was foolish.
Chess was a not a game of kings. It was a game of fools. The uncomfortable anger erupted into full-blown rage. He was so weak and helpless, always at the whim of fate.
Lelouch got to his feet, grabbing the chess board and throwing it against the opposite wall. It smashed against the wall and cracked, breaking into pieces as it fell to the ground.
His fists shook and trembled, without any release for his rage.
Never again would he play chess, nor any other game that purported to be 'fair'.
He would never place himself in a situation where he could lose.
He had been thought himself too weak to stop his family from being murdered, too weak to do anything about the aircraft hijacking or the kidnapping at the Academy.
In reality, it wasn't that he had been too weak. No, the mistake had been made before that. He had allowed himself to be placed in such a vulnerable position.
In Britannia, he could have ordered guards stationed directly inside Nunnally's room. Failing that, he could have sat guard himself. They had just killed his mother, of course they would come back to finish the job. When he had stormed into the throne room, he had already lost. The moment he stepped inside, there had been no way to win. He should have never entered the room. That had been a mistake.
In the first place, why had he boarded a plane with hundreds of poorly screened passengers? Even if he had been a disgraced prince, he should have arranged private transport. It had been a stupid risk. The moment he had stepped on that plane, he had opened himself to vulnerability after vulnerability. Anything could happen, and he would be helpless.
At the Academy, why had he accepted an anonymous invite? How had he become so carelessly overconfident, so arrogant and sure of himself? Yes, he had rationalized the decision; a library should have been a public place, with many witnesses, he had a companion with a gun, and so on. It had been stupid.
When had he become so foolhardy?
The simple truth was that he didn't want to accept his lack of control over the situation. So many things had happened, and he had felt so helpless.
He had wanted feel in control, even if that control had been a pleasant illusion.
But the truth was that he was utterly powerless.
Wherever he went, whether he lived or die, everything was in the hands of fate.
He hadn't chosen to come to Japan. He had been sent here.
Suzaku's words came back to him.
You have no place here … this is my country, not yours.
They were undeniably true.
He had been exiled from Britannia, and was now a glorified hostage in Japan. And now he had nowhere to return to, no place to call home. Months ago, he had sworn to avenge his family and find their killers.
But where would he begin?
Where? How? Who?
Lelouch had absolutely no idea where to start. The sad truth was that he had zero clues. It could be anyone apart from himself. They could be anywhere in the world, with any potential motive – money, power, revenge, and so on.
What could he possibly do?
He was alone.
All alone in this world.
No friends, no family.
Only enemies.
And to think that he had sworn to hunt down his family's killers. The sheer impossibility of the task overwhelmed him.
It was unthinkable.
It was hopeless.
What chance did he have?
He hadn't even begun the search yet, and he had nearly died twice.
An uncomfortable feeling emerged in his chest.
His throat felt heavy, and his eyes began to tear.
Why had they left him alive? They had killed his mother and sister with ease. Why didn't they kill him as well?
Things would have been simpler.
Instead, he was doomed to a life of suffering and hardship, a relentless struggle in the pursuit of an impossible task.
It would be easier to just disappear.
It wasn't as if he loved his homeland. He wouldn't be able to step foot back in it again for a long time, anyway.
It would be easier to forget the past, to leave behind who he was.
There would be an initial ripple in the media over a missing prince, but Britannia would quickly forget him in favor of the next exciting fad. After all, there were over a score of other princes and princesses.
He swallowed.
Would anyone care if he disappeared?
If he walked away from it all, who would mourn his absence?
He was alone in this world.
He brought up one hand to brush away the wetness forming in his eye.
He was exhausted. His body ached all over, with bruises and scrapes from all the incidents he had been caught up in. He felt lethargic and fatigued, with all his will sapped.
The darkness embraced him gently and he lost consciousness, slipping into a fitful, uneasy rest.