Sumina

-chapter nine-

Motion

A/N: Wow, I'm almost finished with the main chapters! Chapter Nine gives us just two more until the main action comes to a close (would that be falling action, or the denouement?). I enjoyed this chapter, for some reason. The song that Ivan is singing is called Polyushka Polye—it's an old Russian song from the Revolution, from what I'm aware. It's truly beautiful, so I recommend listening to it throughout the chapter. Any version is fine, though I used Origa's for the scene with Ivan singing it, and Ahmet Koc's and the Red Army Choir's for the rest. Enjoy!

Rating: T, for violence, coarse language and gruesome images. It's definitely for violence and gruesome images in this chapter.

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Blood covers his body. He crawls backwards, staring fearfully up at the figure in front of him. Natalia brings the knife down again, narrowly missing him. She shrieks with rage, body shaking as she pulls the knife from the floor with difficulty and brings it down once more. The knife hits home. It lodges itself right down to the handle in her brother's belly. Natalia's grin is triumphant. "Brother, you should have never left me. Brother, you should have stayed with me. We could have been together. We could have gotten married and started a family! Don't you care about me, even one bit?!" When Ivan did not answer, she shrieks again and twists the knife, pulling, stabbing it down again, and Ivan can't help but to scream, his helpless calls flooding the room. His older sister cannot help him. Their caretaker has died. She has died. And this makes him cry, makes bloody tears stream down his face to match his helpless appearance as Natalia continues to stab and rip and hurt, covered in his blood. As if searching, her hand reaches within his wounds. "Brother, where is your heart?! Don't worry…I'll find it! And when I do, I'll keep it! It's mine—your heart belongs to me!"

Ivan wakes himself up with his scream. It echoes against the walls even as he stops and reduces himself to panting, heart pumping wildly. With a shake of his head, he lays his head back against the pillows and groans. "Why do I have these dreams? What did I do to deserve this?" His throat is raw as he speaks. Coughing to clear it, Ivan begins to slide from the bed, only to fall back down onto it unceremoniously from a sharp, intense pain from his abdomen. His heart begins to beat wildly once more. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead. Quickly, he tugs the covers from his body and looks down at his stomach.

Red blood stains his white nightshirt. A sharp pain makes him gasp, no more wind in his lungs. He groans quietly, whimpers a little louder. As he begins to run for the bathroom to clean his wound, Kiku stands in his way.

"Braginsky-san? I heard you scream…are you alright?" Kiku's eyes are red and puffy. He looks tired. Ivan can only guess that he has been up all night crying. And who can blame him?

"I'm fine, Kiku," Ivan rushes his reassurance, turning slightly. Suspicious, Kiku looks at the area Ivan wished to keep a secret.

"B-Braginsky-san! You're bleeding! What happened?!" Kiku's eyes are wide as he stares at the wound.

"Nothing," Ivan snaps. "Nothing! I told you I'm fine."

Kiku shakes his head, grabbing Ivan's wrist. "Braginsky-san, people lie. You're obviously not alright! Now please, allow me to help you—" Ivan struggles, but he doesn't have the strength, desire or heart to hurt the smaller male further than what he's experienced already. Kiku leads him towards the bathroom and instructs him to sit on the toilet seat.

"Now lift your shirt, please, Braginsky-san." Ivan does as he's told. A large, deep gash runs from his ribcage down to his hip. The same wound Natalia caused in his dream. This only makes him sweat and fidget nervously. "Oh, my! How did this happen?! It's a horrible cut!" Kiku retrieves some of his supplies and sets to work on cleaning out the wound before healing it. Both processes are painful. Ivan bites his tongue in order to keep himself silent. He tastes his own blood in his mouth. It's enough to make him sick. There is regret as he swallows down the foul mixture of bile and blood, gags trying not to think of it. Ivan does not want to move, nor throw up on Kiku, who is kind enough to treat his own careless mistake. For some reason he feels as though this is all his own fault.

The whole process takes several hours. While Kiku works, Ivan becomes aware that his fingers are coated in blood, caked thickly under his fingernails. He licks his lips, spreading the blood, saliva and vomit from his mouth onto them, twitching nervously. Kiku is aware of his state, but says nothing. "There. Braginsky-san…be careful. You're worrying me," he murmurs, walking through the bathroom door. Ivan leans his head back against the tiled wall. Its cool surface clears his mind enough to let him think. Happy birthday, Brother! But he does not want to think.

Drip. A single tear slides from his left eye. It lands on the floor as he murmurs to himself, hugs himself, tries to soothe his shaking body. His crying is silent. He refuses to make any noise other than the gentle singing of a song he knew a lifetime ago, a song he sings under his breath now in a quivering voice, "…Polyushka polye, Polyushka shiroka polye…Yedut da po polyu gyeroi, Proshlogo vryemyeni gyeroi…" He knows the song is not the most soothing, but it keeps him distracted. Pulling the lyrics from his memory bank stops his tears, but not his quiet anguish. His bottom lip quivers even as he stands, hugging his stomach as he walks, and the melancholic melody running through his mind. "Polyushka polye…" It brings him back to the bed, stripped of the soiled sheets, cleaned. Ivan falls back onto it, staring at the ceiling, humming to keep himself steady. The sun rises through the window. He has spent the whole night through once more.

______

Arthur's eyes are closed. He turns the ring around in his fingers, feeling its smooth edges and the engraved words. As Kiku walks into his room, he opens his eyes to look at him. The Japanese male rubs at his reddened eyes. He looks far older than he ever has. "Kirkland-san…Braginsky-san is worrying me," his voice wavers as he ends. "He…he had a deep cut on his stomach when I went to check on him."

"Hm," Arthur grunts, shaking his head. "Were his hands bloody?" Kiku nods very gently. The Englishman shakes his head, sighs. "If he's been suppressing something…then he's been hurting himself."

"But, what should we—" Kiku stops when he sees Arthur direct his gaze to the object in his hand. He looks down as well, at the silver ring gleaming in the light.

As if instinctively, Arthur clutches the ring tight against his palm. He knew indents would be left behind as proof. The metal warms in his hand. "She left us the means to help him until he can overcome it on his own." He looks up at Kiku with a slight smile. "Let's not disappoint her now."

______

The time comes upon them swiftly. Arthur, Ivan and Kiku rise soon after the sun, head into the basement, meeting the Rebellion there. They stand very straight, grim, but ready. Everyone is dressed in a uniform of sorts. Roderich stands, speaking to them. "Feliks, we need you to stay in town. Keep up a barrier in case his men try to get in. Lilli will stay with you and make sure that everyone stays indoors."

"And what if, like, one of you tries to get in?" Feliks raises an eyebrow.

"Don't open the barrier for anyone, Feliks. Only open it if you feel the atmosphere getting lighter." Roderich raises his hand when Feliks stands, mouth open, a million protests ready to spill out without thought. "Anyone. That's final." Feliks sits, his eyes flying open a little wider than usual. Ivan can only imagine what must be running through the blond's mind.

"Toris, Raivis and Eduard?" The three brothers sit up a little straighter. "I want you to help breach his defenses. Toris, get through the main door and open it. From there, all three of you should clear a path one way or another." They all nod and swallow with difficulty. Next to him, Feliks clutches Toris' arm.

Roderich turns to face the three that have just entered. "And what are your plans?"

"We're to get to Animus as quickly as possible. Kiku will be summoning Malorus," Ivan explains, nodding his head slightly. "All we need is a few minutes with him. The problem is getting there."

"Gilbert, Vash…you'll be with Ivan, Kiku and Arthur, in that case. Help them get there." Vash nods his head—he looks as determined as usual. Gilbert's arms are crossed as he glowers at a cup left on the table. No brazen retort is thrown back at Roderich.

With everything set up, all the Rebels have to do is wait.

_______

Night falls in a painfully slow fashion. When it does, everyone is eager to take the plans up. They hop to their feet and begin to form their groups, head for the door, and all assemble near the edge of town. Feliks looks solemn as he stands alone, separated from the others, staring at them with a desperation hidden deep within his eyes. "Good luck," he breathes, before a pinkish-red barrier swirls up from the ground and folds around the city like a flower closing in on its center.

Vash looks over Ivan, Kiku and Arthur and sighs, growling. "Here," he offers Ivan a gun—while several of his own are most certainly tucked away, as just a few are noticeably on him—with a shrewd glare. "You're gonna need it."

Ivan pushes the gun away, expression terse. "I don't believe I'll need it, but thank you anyway."

The blond's glare only becomes worse. "Look. I don't care if you don't think you need it or not, but take the damn gun! You're gonna need it, trust me." To appease the short male, Ivan takes the gun and tucks it into the pocket on the inside of his coat. Vash settles and looks between both Kiku and Arthur. The two fidget and turn away, mumbling things about being able to protect themselves. They received harsh glares from the blond, who turned around and did not bother to argue with the rest of them. "Stupid magic-users never think to have back-up protection…"

It was a long march to Animus' estate. Perhaps an hour or so passed before they reached the gates, which were wide open as they normally would be. The doors into the main building were shaped like wide arches, also locked. Toris clears his throat and steps forward nervously. "Allow me, please." He closes his eyes and hangs his head; feet spread wide apart, fingers stretching away from one another. He seems to be in a state of concentration. When the color began to fade from his body, he surged forth at a blinding speed, launched himself at the door and disappeared through it. Ivan cast a look of surprise at the door. It rattled and clanked before it flew open altogether; open for the others to rush through. Toris stood in the threshold of the doorway. "Go on! Go! I'll be right behind you all." They all rushed past him.

"Feliks," he murmurs, looking towards the barred city. "Dear God, please hold out long enough…"

The palace was large, lavish. They could only assume all the money taken from the town had gone into supporting Animus' lifestyle. Instantly, Eduard, Raivis and Toris split up to do their work, leaving only Vash, Gilbert, Ivan, Arthur and Kiku. Vash led them over to a wall and looked about carefully, making sure no one was headed their way, before walking down the nearest corridor. "Damn it, this is gonna be a guessing game," Gilbert curses. "There's no way we can know where the hell he is."

As they walk, Arthur gives Ivan a discerning look. He tells him, "Ivan, let me see your hand." When Ivan raises an eyebrow, Arthur glares and smacks his arm. "Not like that, you git!" The Russian lifts his hand for Arthur to see, who snatches the glove off of his hand and slips the platinum band over his middle finger, tossing the glove at him once he's finished. "There."

Ivan furrows his brows as he slides the glove back onto his hand. The metal warms his finger slowly, until it envelops his hand, his arm, and eventually his whole body. Once it's touched his toes, it fades altogether. All the while, they have been walking through the long corridor, looking in on the rooms with open doors cautiously.

________

Heracles is not surprised when the door to his cell is suddenly swung open. He does not move as his savior walks towards him, ripping the shackle from the wall with ease. The tall man tosses his head back and grins. "Hey there, prisoner! It's time you got a little taste of freedom." From his posture, brazen speech pattern and simply the look in his eye, Heracles can tell that the man is young, just ready to reach his twenties, but still a teenager unwilling to let go of his adolescence. The dark allows him no more defining features other than that.

"There's something to be said about tasting freedom, when you're constantly suffocated by oppression," Heracles answers as he stands. The shackle is still attached to his wrist. It clinks as he walks.

"Well, I wouldn't be too worried about that. It looks like freedom's comin' at us real fast," the man grins again and motions for Heracles to follow. The Oracle does so.

______

"Would ya look at that," the man whistles as he gazes out the window, at the barrier-covered town. The pinkish-red shield flickers every once in a while. "Impressive, that it's being held up for so long while under attack."

"That it is."

"It's about time you caught up with them. Tell 'em where Animus is," he grins and pats his shoulder. "Seeya!"

"…Goodbye, for now."

The man gives Heracles a strange look with furrowed brows, but runs off immediately, down the halls, to do whatever odd task he broke into the stronghold for. Heracles turns away to look out the window once more; the barrier flickers more often now. 'Hold up just a moment longer,' the Oracle wills it to stay up, before he rushes off to deliver the information needed to end it all.