Author's Note: Wow, this update is very, very late. It was mostly me being distracted by Songs for Daddy and school. Well there's death and action and it's long. I hope you like.

Letters Home

By: Bar-Ohki

Tenth Correspondence

Silence, cold and quite as the crispy air broke over the camp, making everyone nervous. Hiruma was couched down inside a crate that would have been normally used for the lavatory pit. Which meant it would either be full of shit or empty, something the enemy probably wouldn't investigate immediately, if at all. Most of Hiruma's plan was revolving around the fact that these men were stupid enough to fall for enough of the traps, or at least enough of them to substantially diminish their numbers before the ambush.

So far they were cautious, looking around as if anything would jump out and attack them.

"It looks like they really did just abandon the outpost and flee." One of the Nagas remarked. He was a big man with a particularly wicked looking scar down his face.

"So Company 021 gave up the fight?" Another Naga snorted. He was short with spiky hair.

"No, those trashes didn't abandon the fight," a third Naga, this one with dreadlocks, observed, "this is a trap."

"Agon?" The first Naga blinked.

The dreadlocked man picked up a rock and knocked one of the apples over. Then the little pile of fruit blew up. The blast would have been enough to kill a man or two.

Hiruma bit his lip. Shit he'd been read-!

"Which means the trashes are hiding, waiting for us to kill ourselves off before attacking." The dreadlocks man concluded. "They're probably hiding in places we wouldn't normally investigate, like this lavatory create here…."

Hiruma wasn't sure if the man was ballsy or stupid, because he put his hand on the top of the create Hiruma was hiding in and began to open it.

Well, fucking dreads probably wasn't going to be able to do anything about a machine gun barrage to the face at this range, Hiruma decided and pulled the trigger.

The entire Team Naga gasped in horror as a massive amount of destructive bullets came flying out of the innocent crate, slamming into their commander's body. Agon Kongo, the great genius behind Team Naga had been 99% sure that no one in their right mind would actually hide in a used lavatory crate, mostly because the stench would have been overwhelming. But Agon Kongo hadn't ever lived in a trench. He didn't know the horrors and smells of the trench were nothing in comparison to some rotting shit. He didn't know how desperate Youichi Hiruma had been to win. And because of that Agon Kongo was killed by Youichi Hiruma.

Blood and flesh splattered into the crate, smacking against Hiruma's face and body. He let out a battle cry and his troops came out of the woodwork of the outpost, firing on Team Naga, catching the horrified team by complete surprise.

Unfortunately the shock did not last as long as Hiruma had hoped, they were already grabbing for their guns and someone was barking orders. The first priority was to kill Hiruma, since he was an immediate threat. The second priority was to trip all of the traps in the room. Knowing that having killed one of their own would make Hiruma a target, he ducked back down into the crate and prayed the thin cement wall Sena installed that afternoon would be enough protection from the bullets.

It did not take long for the spray of deadly lead to come his way. Hiruma shut his eyes, covered his ears, and prayed that what bullets did pierce that concrete wall would have slowed down enough to not be deadly. He could smell and feel the concrete dust falling on him. Maybe he was going to be buried alive in a crate full of shit. That'd be highly appropriate in the eyes of several people back home.

While Hiruma was hiding the crate, a small portion of his team, lead by Kurita, opened fire from various places, most of which were up high in the rafters or on the lofts. This allowed the troops to move around and not be a sitting ducks, well theoretically. Their movements were limited and the Nagas were too quick to figure out where the few choices of escape or alternative cover were and closed them off with bullets of their own.

Yukimitsu signaled Monta and Kurita, then Taki when he came into Yukimitsu's line of sight. He'd kept in hiding for the sole purpose of carefully examining their opponents, in Hiruma's place since he was hiding in a crate that had gone under some pretty hefty gunfire. There was a high chance Hiruma was dead, something only Yukimitsu had understood. Hiruma had ordered him to hold his silence earlier.

"You can't go into that crate! You'll be a frozen target!" Yukimitsu protested.

"Fucking badly, what are the advantages of being the man on the level?" Hiruma asked.

"You get a better assessment of your opponents in a shorter period of time because of your view point. In an ambush your bullets would have the highest chances of hitting, the chances of getting a vital organ are very high, sir." Yukimitsu almost recited.

"And what kind of man should you place on the level knowing he'll have those advantages?" Hiruma asked.

"A quick tactical thinker who is a good shot." Yukimitsu answered. "And is disposable, sir."

Hiruma had been grinning until the last statement. "You forgot something, Private."

"Sir?"

"If you choose to place a non-disposable solider in a disposable place, you can do so with tactical confidence if that particular solider is clever and good at escaping. Are we clear Private?" Hiruma looked Yukimitsu in the eye as he said this.

"Yes sir." Yukimitsu nodded but couldn't help but to keep his frown. "I'm just worried being clever won't be enough this time."

"None of the other fucking idiots here can do it, not even you." Hiruma responded grimly. "I'll take out their control tower, everything else is on you, is that clear, Private?"

"Yes sir."

Grimly, Yukimitsu passed on the information he had expected to gain. The Nagas had much more ammunition and firepower than they did. Their best bet was to push them into the unsprung traps or to drop the flower, but that was their trump card and would definitely assure Hiruma's death if he wasn't already.

Monta signaled back that he was awaiting orders, as did Taki. Kurita frowned; he wasn't a strategist, he was just strong and hardy. That's how he earned his rank. But Kurita did know one thing, a subordinate trusted their commander blindly so a commander had to make sure that he didn't do anything dumb. Right now he just nodded to Yukimitsu and hoped the Private had a better idea of what to do than him.

Yukimitsu asked Monta if he thought he could jump across the rafters and draw their fire until Kurita could drop a few flash grenades on the floor. Monta nodded and readied himself for the upcoming pain since he was most certainly going to get hit at some point during this venture. Yukimitsu readied his gun, he was going to shoot at their feet while they were blinded and make them run towards the traps.

At least that was the plan when Kurita gave the signal to set it in motion.

Hiruma, if he had been up there, would be the first to tell you no plan survives its first encounter with the enemy. And Hiruma was right.

Only have the guns followed Monta, the other half shot out the flash grenades before they could fire. Due to getting startled (the very reason Yukimitsu had not been allowed to be down in that crate), he accidentally shot off a few rounds, revealing his location and getting a large burst of deadly lead sent his way. Unfortunately for Yukimitsu, his only exit was a window outside, which was unfortunate because it meant there might be enemies out there too. He sat there, torn between a rock and a hard place when Kurita opened fire at some of the traps in an attempt to shake the Nagas.

All that did was shake the building and make Monta cry out indignantly from his precarious, but out of firing range, post in the rafters. Swearing under his breath Yukimitsu decided to fire a round out the window. It was the signal for Takekura to come down from the roof and drop the flour.

Hiruma lay there still as a board, he didn't know if he was hurt, the adrenaline was running far too high. He heard a lot of gunfire and explosions. For the most part stuff had stopped being directed at the crate, so he was pretty sure the enemy thought him dead or at least not the most imposing threat in this time. And they were right to think that because if he sat up he would become a bigger target and it wasn't like people were actively avoiding the crate out of courtesy for the dead or anything.

With his pointed ears, Hiruma carefully listened, waiting for some signals for what was going on. Was there something he could do?

Glass shattered, it was up high and fairly far away. Yukimitsu was signaling the flour dropping. Team Naga had moved to respond when white dust came flying down on them, making them cough and blink in an attempt to see. Hiruma could hear the coughing and the 'flump' of something falling quickly and heavily down on the top of the crate. He smirked.

The white dust was actually flour from a mill located just up the road. Yukimitsu had suggested they try dropping it on Team Naga if the other traps failed. Hiruma had agreed that was a good idea because there was one thing about flour he knew that most didn't: it was highly flammable. Hiruma sat up carefully since the gunfire had stopped and curses replaced the air. He picked up his lighter, knowing he did have much time to do this and prayed the flour in the crate wouldn't get him killed.

"Rubber duck!" Hiruma cried as he threw the lighter into the flour-saturated air and ducked down into his crate. The command simply meant get back under cover, something they should already be doing if the flour had been dropped. Hiruma dove into the far back of the crate and prayed he didn't catch on fire like the rest of the room surely would.

The air exploded into cinders, the ground caught flame quickly and easily. The flour served as tinder to catch uniforms on fire, making most of the Nagas swear loudly. The members of the team that had been inside the outpost, fled only to run right into the confusion that was being caused by Sena's team's ambush of flash grenades and actual grenades coming from all directions.

Hiruma could hear the screams of agony from the Nagas. He could feel the heat and on a few occasions watched fire spurt into the crate. The flour that had been inside was now burnt away and the little that had been on his uniform was now gone too. It turned out the concrete dust served as an anti-fire retardant, what a stroke of luck that was. He could also smell the burning flesh despite being inside a crate that once held a lot of shit. How the hell was he going to get out of here?

By being clever. Right.

With a small shudder, Hiruma pushed his back to the front of the crate and faced the back for the sole purpose of kicking it down. It opened up to reveal an area where the flour had already burned away, another stroke of luck. Someone wanted him to actually have a chance at survival today. Hiruma crawled down on it, carefully maneuvering himself closer to a trapped latter he could disarm then used to climb up off the floor with.

"You bastard." Hiruma felt warm gunmetal against his side. He looked up in horror to see that there was a Naga solider standing there, on fire, glaring at him calmly. He looked a lot like the dreadlock guy Hiruma had killed earlier, Hiruma realized, and this man wanted some revenge.

"Yeah, I know." Hiruma answered with a dry, tired smile. "You gonna send me out of this hell hole? Thanks."

The Naga only blinked at that. Suicidal soldiers were common enough on the battlefield, but he hadn't expected the great Youichi Hiruma to be one. Or was this bastard bluffing to have his life spared, it was hard to tell.

"You killed my brother," the Naga remarked dryly, "now I'll kill you."

Bang!

He shot Hiruma's arm. The world slowed down and Hiruma watched in fascination as his arm blew up and bits of flesh and bone went flying. That must really hurt. Then the pain set in as reality sped up. Hiruma cried out, tears prickling at his eyes.

"You're going to die in this inferno with me." The Naga smiled, his sanity clearly gone. "This inferno you made."

That's all Hiruma remembered when the blackness overcame his vision and he passed out.

Black.

Blank.

Oh, a light. Hiruma found himself sluggishly moving towards it. At first the light appeared to be white, but then it turned out to be green and blue. He got closer and realized he was standing in his father's orchard, looking down a row of trees at Mamori. Her back was to him and her gaze skyward, into the cloudless blue sky. She was wearing a blue dress, a beautiful blue dress; it must have matched her eyes.

She was holding something, Hiruma observed, a basket maybe?

"Mamori!" Hiruma called to her, standing there in his sullen uniform, his arm dripping blood. She jerked, startled, and turned around to him.

In her arms was a basket and in the basket was a baby. Somehow, Hiruma knew that was his baby.

"Live." Mamori muttered softly. "For this one."

And then Hiruma felt hot and came back into the painful reality of his broken arm and flaming building. He got up and stumbled his way over to the trapped ladder. Quickly he pulled the cord to disarm the trap with his teeth. Somehow he found the strength to climb that ladder with one hand and his mouth. When he reached the top, Takekura grabbed his jacket and pulled him the rest of the way up.

The pain was so much, Hiruma blacked out again with a gasp.

When Hiruma came to and was lucid enough to understand the world around him, he observed that he was on a hospital cot, staring up at the canvas ceiling. Lieutenant Kid was beside him, looking down at Hiruma with thoughtful eyes.

"They managed to put your arm back together. Somehow the bone you lost got stuck on your uniform so you should be able to use it without trouble when it finishes healing." The Lieutenant told him softly.

Hiruma glanced at his left arm. It was covered in a cast that was clearly going to keep it and him out of commission for a while.

"So I'm going back on medical leave?" Hiruma smiled at the thought. All he remembered from the last few days was Mamori. She'd been talking to him about something, what he couldn't remember. Logically he had probably been hallucinating and had taken comfort in her presence.

"No, Don wants you around to help with strategy." The Lieutenant answered grimly. "Your tactics whipped out all of Team Naga without any loss to your own men and besides your arm, no injury either."

Hiruma shut his eyes and understood. What had happened at that outpost had been nothing short of a miracle. There was no way no one was going to recognize his talent or his ability after that. Nor was there any way they weren't going to capitalize on it.

"Ah." Hiruma muttered. "How long have I been out?"

"Eight days." The Lieutenant answered. "And I have to be going now."

Hiruma only nodded.

"Your orders are to rest until the medical team here deems you good enough to be moving about." Kid told him flatly.

"Yessir." Hiruma saluted from the bed, then relaxed with a sigh. He couldn't remember anything from when he blacked out for the first time after getting shot. Something about Mamori then the ladder then more blackness and pain. A lot of pain. Shutting his eyes, Hiruma wondered if by doing so he'd recall his dreams. Or at the very least return to them.

It was about three weeks before Hiruma was finally allowed some time to himself again. He moved around with an aching left arm and got shit done the moment he'd been released from that medical bed. But unfortunately his hours in the day were always spent at Don's side or in the medical tent or unconscious out of exhaustion. Munakata had remarked that Hiruma simply wasn't getting proper rest with his injury and demanded he at least have one free hour during the day for a mental break, if not a physical one.

With a grumble, Don had agreed. Initially Hiruma had been planning to spend that time sleeping, but Sena's presence in his tent said it would be spent otherwise.

"Mamori-sis is worried sick," Sena remarked as he held up a 'letter' he had gotten from Suzuna, "because I was able to write Suzuna. I did say you were busy but she stopped eating and isn't sleeping…." It wasn't really a letter he had gotten from her. It was a message he faked having received so that he wouldn't have to explain to his comrades why he'd been able to talk to someone from home.

Actually Sena didn't know how Suzuna had managed to get through to call and have him put on the phone. Being in this war had made Sena's desire to voice his curiosity about such things all but gone and in some occasions his curiosity was simply nonexistent. All he knew, all he cared about, was that he had to do something dramatic to get Hiruma to write Mamori right away or there were going to be problems back home.

"Fuck." Hiruma muttered. Just what he needed, another distraction.

"Please write her." Sena asked.

"Yeah, just get out of my fucking tent already." Hiruma grunted as he went and grabbed some paper. He pulled out his previous letter from her, re-read it and wrote a reply. Because of his mood and desire for sleep, he kept it short and rude. He also made a demand for the support of hers he'd come to be dependant on.

Fucking Woman-

You are in no place to be making fucking demands. I write you your fucking letter, it makes you fucking teary eyed and happy, I'm so fucking sure. And if you plan to whine every time you send me a fucking reply, I won't read it.

So fucking there!

Get me a third pack of that gum.

-Y. Hiruma

Pausing at the letter, Hiruma realized he had signed his name. He hadn't signed it as a Sergeant. There was a small part of him that was tempted to add the rank, but he realized it didn't matter with Mamori anyways. He always had and would be just 'Youichi' to her.

Sena was relieved when Hiruma shoved the letter in his hand told him to go 'fucking deliver it'. He was equally relieved to hear snores coming out of the tent not long later. With a smile, the young Private went about delivering mail and messages as needed.

A long, somewhat boring and high strung month past by. Company 021 had been idle while Hiruma recovered and getting mail to these bases was getting progressively more difficult. Thankfully on the day Hiruma was finally deemed well enough to go out into the field again, the mail from home came. He requested another day so that his men could enjoy some time thinking about home.

Don had thought it a wise choice and allowed it immediately.

Now Hiruma was sitting in his tent, holding a cup of piss they called coffee in one hand to keep it warm. It was immensely chilly as of late and his request for gloves had gone unnoticed and neglected. So instead of drinking the piss, he used it as a hand-warmer. Seemed to be the only reasonable use for that shit.

Before the Sergeant was a pristine white letter from Mamori Anezaki. With a deep breath, Hiruma set his 'coffee' down and started to open up the letter. It was pretty thick this time, something he thought was kind of odd.

Youichi-

Would it kill you to tell me if you are unwounded or not?

And if you plan to be an ass about this, I'll just stop sending you your coffee and gum.

So there yourself!

I heard you managed to defeat Team Naga! We were all so happy, we cried. Suzuna still hasn't been giving me news about Sena's welfare, would you mind sending me some next time please?

I sent you some mittens this time. I hear that they are a shortage on the field and I just want you to not lose any fingers. You always had such amazing, nimble fingers, it'd be a real shame if you lost them. Let me know if the mittens don't fit.

And so you know, I was defending your honor the other day. One our customers wished you dead and I smacked him around and kicked him out. Using that broom you got me last year, might I add.

I hope you are well.

Lots of love,

Mamori A.

Hiruma pulled out the red, carefully hand knit mittens. Mamori had tried to put a little design on the back but with her shitty art skills it was impossible to tell what it really was supposed to be. If anyone asked Hiruma planned to smile and cackled evilly at them instead of answering.

Putting them on, Hiruma was pleasantly surprised to see that not only did they both fit very well, but that they were made of wool. Probably spun from one of the Kobayakawa's sheep, Hiruma mused. He was smiling now, very happy to have something to keep his hands warm that was comfortable and still useful when wet.

He was glad to have her support. Even if it was something he was becoming too dependant on, the fact it was there was enough. More than enough.

Because it was the only real support he still had.

_=_=_=_=_

Next chapter should be up sooner.