In the vicinity of the national border, a Western Alliance infantry division had awoken to a living nightmare.
Across the rugged terrain where they had watched as many enemy soldiers die as their own comrades – a terrain that was being steadily scorched off the face of the Earth with shell blasts and bombs – there came a rumbling that seemed to originate from the planet's core itself.
In fact, the rocks and debris at the soldiers' feet seemed to come to life in the exact manner of an earthquake. And still bullets rained from Eastern soldiers across the firing lines, pushing them further and further back.
'What the hell is that?' a wide-eyed sergeant asked, indicating the rumbling.
'I don't know,' his colonel yelled back, hand on his helmet and crouched behind a rocky outcrop, firing whenever he had the chance.
The rumbling seemed to get louder. The colonel tried to spy through the clouds of settling debris and occasional flares of a shell hitting the earth.
Then he remembered. It was nothing more footnote in his training. Something that his countrymen had faced in the previous war, and against which they had lost resoundingly.
But that had happened right on the border of the Eastern Country itself. Not all the way out here, where the west was simply defending its own borders against a new, rapacious east that had declared war.
Could they really have come all the way out here in –?
'Tanks!' the radio hollered. 'Tank company straight ahead! Deploy anti-tank missiles!'
'We can't change our trajectory in time!' the colonel shouted back.
At that moment, the sound morphed into a shape through the smoke. They thundered in over the ground, canons poised, moving at a speed that was breathtaking for monsters of their size. All state-of-the-art, with barely a dent in them, and all bearing the insignia of a triple-leafed rose.
'Stand – stand your ground!'
The colonel watched as men from another infantry poured in front of him, scrambling to get the anti-tank missiles ready. He felt a urgent flare of hope – perhaps they might be able to load up and swing and aim in time –
And then there was a different kind of roar, higher pitched and somehow even angrier, sounding over the tops of the incoming tanks. A motorbike. A flash of yellow and steel. And an entire belt of grenades that was let loose over the front line.
The anti-tank missiles and the men operating them were lost in the explosions. The tanks followed through with booming, ear-splitting canon blasts that uprooted man, machine and land. The colonel watched, appalled.
And the tanks thundered past, even past where the colonel was hunkering with the radio and his wide-eyed sergeant.
'Fall back,' the colonel ordered, the words coming out before he had even thought of them. 'Fall back, now. They're through the front lines. I repeat, fall back! Retreat!'
The defence was crushed. The fort-like buildings on the outskirts of the border were either decimated or had caved in, their sad metal frames bare in the open air. Bodies littered the ground in the dozens and dozens. Mostly western soldiers. Killed right at the border of their own land.
Klaus' heart was surprisingly heavy when he flipped his goggles up. The lull after a battle was always loud. It always brought out each small movement – glass tinkling, bricks tumbling, the occasional, awful groans of unfathomable pain.
He had brought the bike to a stop not far from the leading tank. It wasn't Murakumo but one of the newer models; lower to the ground, faster and stronger. Still, it was Haruki who emerged from the hatch. Klaus saw that his face was also grim. He suddenly recalled their training drills back in the east when Haruki came out with his bright smile to the equally glowing faces of men in other tanks.
Now, their eyes met across the wasteland they themselves had created. And there was no room for joy, even in victory.
Klaus swung his leg off his bike – again, not his own but a newer model that they had found for him. It was an upgrade, objectively, but Klaus still felt a nostalgic pull for his old girl back in the east, whose improvements under Haruki's hand had nevertheless preserved her as she was.
In the few weeks that had passed since war was declared, half of each division in the east had been deployed to the front lines. During the last war, the Western Alliance had brought the fight to the east's border. Now, there was no doubt who was aggressor and who was defender.
Half of the Fifteenth Armoured Division had been dispatched. The newest tanks and equipment had gone with them, along with half the manpower. The other half, including Murakumo, had remained at home to fight the civil war against the Hitobito. It had been decided that the division's third in command, Colonel Motohara, would be sent to lead their men in the Western Front while Haruki, who had trained for months to fight the rebels, would remain at the compound.
The commander had been torn by the decision. On the one hand, it didn't feel right abandoning the division when they could face a rebel attack at any moment. On the other, he knew the real danger was out there at the doorstep of the west where their enemies were mounting a desperate defence.
In the end, he had compromised by accompanying Motohara for the first few days on the Western Front. Klaus and Kolya went with him.
It was a cold winter's day that saw the east's latest victory. Clouds gathered with a mind to release fresh snow, though there was nothing white on the ground. Nothing but rubble and upturned earth. Klaus' coat flapped as he crossed the short distance from his bike to the leading tank where Kolya and Haruki were standing.
'Well done, kid,' Klaus said as he drew near. 'Not bad for a first strike.'
Though clearly relieved to see that Klaus had made it through without a scratch, the smile Haruki gave him in response was thin and forced. The commander wiped sweat from his forehead and surveyed the damage around them. The rubble. The bodies.
Kolya had clambered out of the tank ahead of Haruki to scope out the surroundings and he still kept an eye out even after his commander was on the ground. Klaus saw the way Kolya's eyes darted to the partially collapsed buildings, watching for snipers. His vigilance on the commander's behalf reassured Klaus.
'How'd she handle?' Klaus asked, with a backwards glance at the newer tank that Haruki had commanded.
'Well enough,' Haruki replied, following his gaze. 'Not as well as Murakumo, though. He's older but I feel like I can handle him better than the new ones.'
'Him, huh? I feel the same way about my bike back home. Except she's a she.'
Haruki's smile was, again, a little more preoccupied than usual.
They waited for the second tank to roll to a stop nearby. Motohara emerged from the hatch. Flanked by soldiers with eyes alert and guns drawn, he and Haruki walked a little further afield so they could see past the border at the distant western settlement where the enemy had retreated.
After covering initial reports about casualties and losses, they confirmed something that had been weighing heavily on their minds and on the minds of every soldier and officer and commander in both east and west.
'Any sign they're using nuclear artillery?' Haruki asked.
'No, sir,' Motohara replied. 'None of the other divisions have reported it either.'
The wind lifted Haruki's hair and coat. His face didn't change as he stared west, but Klaus could sense his relief. And his continuing anxiety.
A WEEK AGO
The Imperial Palace hadn't changed significantly from Klaus' memory of it. Klaus walked through the familiar entrance hall with suspicious eyes, but it didn't bear any hallmarks of tyranny. There were still the flowers frozen and falling. The gilded frames and long murals.
And the Throne Room was as majestic as ever, with perhaps only a note or two of ostentation that Meiji hadn't had. Klaus forgot to see if the heron in the grounds beyond had either survived or left any kin behind. They were promptly ushered into the war room where military leaders and political advisors took their seats around an enormous table. Klaus and Hasebe sat on either side of Haruki. Since he wasn't an officer, Kolya had been forced to wait by the car.
Emperor Tachibana then entered and sat at the head of the table. His thin moustache and thick eyebrows were as straight and stiff as ever. Officious eyes watched the room from beneath the short rows of red bead curtains hanging from his headdress. The rest of his raiment was also red.
It was the first time Klaus had set eyes on Tachibana in nine years.
His weapons. His canisters. His fault.
Only the fact that Roskilde had been an accident, one that no one could have foreseen or prevented, kept Klaus from wanting to leap for the man's throat. Haruki was aware of this and had kept a close eye on Klaus during the drive and especially when they were in the war room. He saw the smouldering eyes and the clenched jaw and wondered if it had been a mistake to bring him. He knew how dangerous it would be for Klaus, and their entire division, if Tachibana was angered in any way.
But as the hours dragged on, Klaus didn't speak or put a toe out of line.
And besides a wayward glance or two, no one questioned Klaus' presence, despite the fact that their nation was again at war with Klaus' homeland.
It occurred to Haruki, with a sliver of pride, that perhaps most of them knew who he was. And perhaps, like everyone at the compound, they also knew everything Klaus had done for their country and for Taki in the past war.
Only Tachibana himself felt a squirm of resentment – almost discomfort – when he caught sight of Wolfstadt. He maintained a dignified silence, however, as the meeting progressed.
General Saigo Nakamori who sat beside him did most of the talking and fielded questions from the table. He would throw an occasional nod to the man handling the projector. Large maps materialised on the wall, with the borders of the west heavily marked and arrows aggressively piercing it at many angles. The war within their own borders was barely given any thought. There had only been one mention, early on, for each commander to deploy half their divisions to the Western Front, implying that the other half remain behind to deal with the Hitobito.
Clearly, Nakamori and the emperor were almost entirely focused on subduing the west.
It became steadily apparent to everyone there that the tension and rumours generated by the cold war had been used as a pretext for this new, very real war. But of course, neither Haruki nor the dozens of other men raised any objection of any kind.
Until, that is, the issue of weapons was brought up.
As soon as General Nakamori announced that they had been manufacturing and producing nuclear technology at a level that was finally able to be weaponised, a hush fell around the table that was different to the silences beforehand.
'Of course, they haven't been tested in combat yet,' Nakamori went on. 'And so, for now, they will only be used as a reserve measure. However, every branch of the military – including the air force – will be equipped with artillery, missiles and –'
'Excuse me, General. Did you say they haven't been tested?'
Haruki turned to look at the lieutenant general who had spoken. He recognised him from the evening at Feulner's.
'No,' Nakamori replied stiffly. 'With all of the spies sent in from the west it was impossible for us to conduct large-scale tests. However, we expect –'
'I beg your pardon, General, but we're talking about weapons whose impact we don't understand. It could lay waste to entire cities. Not to mention that it puts our own armies at risk. If Roskilde is any indication –'
'What happened at Roskilde is irrelevant. In the nine years since, we have –'
'Irrelevant?'
The word came out of Klaus like a burst of hot steam.
Haruki's pulse spiked. All heads turned to Klaus, whose gaze was suddenly razor-sharp.
'So nothing that happened at Roskilde matters anymore, is that it?' he said, his voice loud in the silence. 'We throw some missiles over the border and take no responsibility?'
'Watch your tone or I'll have you removed,' Nakamori warned.
'Do you have any idea about the kind of damage you're about to do?' Klaus said, his voice strained.
'That's it,' Nakamori said tersely, jowls set. He motioned to one of the guards stations around the room.
Unlike the general, however, Tachibana had noticed how several of the officers' expressions had changed when Klaus spoke. As though they were almost relieved that someone had finally said it.
'Hold on, General,' he said quietly. 'The captain raises a valid point.'
The emperor's eyes met Klaus'. For long seconds, neither of them looked away. Haruki, though somewhat relieved at the emperor's response, felt his pulse continue to hammer.
'While I'm sure everyone here is grateful for your services in the previous war,' Tachibana continued, 'I would remind you that in this room, you are nothing more than a captain, and you will bear that in mind when you address General Nakamori.'
Klaus remained silent; a response that bordered on disrespectful. At least it wasn't another outburst, Haruki thought helplessly.
'Despite what you're implying, General Nakamori and I have fully considered the ramifications of what we are proposing,' Tachibana said, before turning to the room at large. 'This is a new world we are in, gentlemen. It might not be savoury but it is reality. These weapons are the only thing that will deter our enemies. Enemies who, as all of our intelligence indicates, have weaponised the very same technology themselves.'
There was a small pause.
'Only when we have a foothold in the west, only when we have made them aware of the new strength and superiority of the east, will our nation will finally be secure. Only then will we be able to preserve and even strengthen our nation's legacy. What we stand to gain is far greater than what we stand to lose.'
'We could stand to lose everything,' Klaus returned before he could stop himself. His anger and disbelief were threatening to reach boiling point. It was suddenly like there was no one in the room except for himself and Tachibana. 'Everything! Enough people have already been lost.'
'How dare you address His Majesty without –'
But once again, Tachibana silenced Nakamori with a raise of his hand.
The entire nation knew of Reizen's death and its cause. And he banked on the fact that everyone in that room was aware of Wolfstadt's ties to Reizen. The restless glances from officers along the table, glances that darted between Wolfstadt and himself, confirmed his suspicions. It felt distinctly to Tachibana as though he was under the spotlight. His military cabinet now awaited their emperor's response regarding what had befallen the young prince, whose absence from that very table suddenly seemed conspicuous.
Even in death, Tachibana thought with gritted teeth, Reizen continues to be a nuisance.
He lifted his chin slightly.
'I believe I understand your insinuation, Captain. But I urge you and everyone else in this room to keep perspective. Taki Reizen's death, regrettable though it was, has no bearing on –'
Klaus suddenly slammed his hand on the table loud enough for several people nearby to jump out of their skins.
Haruki flinched and looked round to see that Klaus had gotten to his feet. He was staring down the table at the emperor, eyes burning like Haruki had never seen them before. There was an awful silence.
'Don't you ever say his name.'
A fierce, acerbic rumble that carried around the table.
The emperor and his cohort, and all the other officers, were too stunned at first to say anything. The guard who had been motioned earlier took a few steps closer, though no one had ordered him to.
Klaus didn't give him a chance to haul him out. He turned, ears still ringing, and headed for the large double doors at the end of the room. The anger that coursed through him was all-too familiar. He could feel it pulsing in his fingertips.
He didn't expect anything to pull him out of the tinny ringing that clouded his mind at that moment. Least of all did he expect it to be Haruki's voice, which sounded clearly from behind him.
'I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but our party will be taking its leave. We'll await the minutes of this meeting at our division.'
It took a few more steps for the words to sink in. Klaus stopped and turned. Haruki was standing and facing the emperor, his expression resolute.
Another smaller shock followed on the heels of the one left by Klaus. The emperor and the general stared at the young commander.
'You –' Nakamori started. 'Your emperor has not dismissed you, Commander.'
'Then I await His Majesty's dismissal,' Haruki said smoothly.
A collective, silent intake of breath. There had been nothing at all impertinent in the commander's words or even in his tone. And yet the stand he was making was clear.
Hasebe stared up at Haruki tensely. Then he too got to his feet beside his commander, wondering what exactly they were getting themselves into.
'This is unacceptable, Commander,' Nakamori spluttered.
'It's fine, General,' Tachibana said evenly, eyeing Yamamoto with fresh interest. 'Commander, you and your men are dismissed.'
'Your Majesty,' Haruki replied. His bow was stiff and perfect.
Klaus had been standing at the door, a little stunned. Haruki strode towards him without looking at him. Though Haruki's face seemed as composed as his replies to Nakamori, Klaus thought his eyes carried just a hint of something fiercer. Hasebe followed him, looking a lot less calm.
Haruki breezed past Klaus and through the double doors. After Hasebe passed him as well, Klaus spared a glance at the silent table they were leaving behind. He took in the steely gazes of the emperor and the general. Klaus' coat swept behind him as he turned to follow in the commander and colonel's wake.
Once they reached the front steps of the Entrance Hall, the guard who had followed them for good measure was replaced by Kolya. He noticed the look on Haruki's face and fell in step behind him, wondering what had happened.
Klaus realised it was the first time he had ever seen Haruki angry.
In the crisp morning air, everything Klaus had said and done in the war room caught up with him. He had defied an emperor whose rule bordered on despotic. A few paces behind them, Hasebe seemed about ready to explode at him once they were out of the palace's earshot. Klaus wondered how much damage he had done.
'Haruki,' he said finally, though he already knew an apology wouldn't cut it. 'Listen, I –'
Haruki pulled his head up and glanced to his left as though only just remembering Klaus was there.
'Are you okay?' he asked, suddenly but quietly. His expression was familiar once more; keen and open.
Klaus was startled. He had expected a reprimand like those he had frequently received from Taki for doing much less.
'Me? What do you –?'
And then it occurred to him why Haruki might have taken the stand that he did. It occurred to him that Haruki's momentary flash of anger might not have been directed at him at all. Klaus stared. His shock and gratitude and exasperation melded together.
'You shouldn't have done that, kid,' he said after a pause, wondering if he had even understood properly.
'Done what?'
'Back there, you – you didn't have to do that for me.'
And then Haruki's face turned a little colder. Like the anger had edged in again at the thought of Tachibana. He turned away.
'Leaders should know better,' he said quietly just as they reached the car and Kolya opened the door for him.
Klaus had no idea if he was referring to the war. Or the weapons. Or what Tachibana had said about legacy. Or what Tachibana had said about Taki. He even wondered if Haruki was referring to something as simple as the fact that Tachibana had spoken of Taki in front of Klaus, even though that thought seemed somewhat ridiculous.
Whatever it was, Klaus climbed into the backseat behind Haruki with newfound awe and pride. Haruki's quiet anger and recklessness and poise was an exact replica of Taki's.
And yet, given the way it had all happened, it was also something he could never imagine Taki doing.
BACK ON THE WESTERN FRONT
A week later, after they tore down one of the Western Alliance defensive outposts, Klaus saw it again. Taki, both there and not, in Haruki's posture and expressions and the decisions he had made. And the decisions he was about to make.
The snow held its breath but the wind freely swept across the scattered ruins around them. When it died down, they heard the sounds of trucks and jeeps rumbling up to cart their injured back to base.
And another jeep that didn't bear the army medical insignia did their own rounds of the injured; their grim job was to haul injured enemy soldiers back to base as POWs.
Haruki watched the various jeeps going about their work. Stretchers and camouflage and lost limbs and groans and blood. The decision came to him slowly, like it emerged from the back of his mind where it had formed without his knowledge.
He took out his handheld radio and told the army patrol scouting for POWs to return to base.
'But, sir,' the crackled response sounded. 'There are still wounded enemy soldiers in the vicinity.'
'How many?' Haruki asked.
'Sir?'
'How many do you have now? And how many more do you think there are?'
A number that was somewhere in the sixties. Haruki took another moment to calculate before he repeated his order for the jeep to return to base.
He then ordered more vehicles bearing the medical insignia to be sent. Enough to carry the sixty or so wounded enemy soldiers across to the edge of the settlement nearby where they were to be left for their own army to recover.
The act of taking POWs, though technically governed by international laws and treaties, often fell under the purview of the commanders themselves. More often than not, this meant that injured enemy soldiers were either taken prisoner, summarily executed or left to die so as to save time and resources.
Haruki's order, on the other hand, was one that no one had heard before.
Still, it was carried out with no further questions asked. The trucks bearing wounded enemy soldiers approached the settlement with caution and left the soldiers there, some sitting on the ground, some in stretchers. After the jeeps turned back, they were retrieved by their own suspicious and confused army.
As the jeeps returned, Klaus threw Haruki a questioning glance, which Haruki had seen coming. He turned to meet his gaze. They were Klaus' own countrymen, Haruki thought. Klaus' own kin that they were tearing down by the hundreds.
'We started this war,' Haruki said, low enough so only Klaus could hear. He didn't offer any further rationale. Klaus didn't need him to.
Back at base, which was nothing more than a wide network of tents on a remote stretch of land outside the western border, they reviewed the day's offense and sent confirmation to the other divisions that, yet again, there had been no sign of nuclear artillery being used.
And they sent confirmation to the capital that the west had yielded yet another defensive outpost.
'That'll keep Tachibana happy,' Klaus observed tartly. He glanced at the commander. 'What's our next move, kid?'
A pause as Haruki thought over their past few days on the Western Front.
'Motohara can take things from here,' he decided. 'Let's go home.'
And so they went from one enemy to another.
Home, Klaus thought. Where Tachibana ruled with an iron fist and where the rebels were breathing down their necks, plotting away somewhere in the dark.
The struggle against the Hitobito, however, was fairly muted, especially when compared to the drama unfolding on the Western Front. A few days after they arrived back in the east, the Fifteenth responded to a scuffle in the centre of Hokane between possible rebel members and the police. It was a brawl that had escalated by the time their convoy arrived and several of Haruki's men were injured. Despite this, their recent dismounted training manoeuvres, which Klaus had helped them to hone, served their convoy well. From behind jeeps and barricades, they managed to send the rebel party scattering, most of whom were chased and rounded up. No civilians had been harmed in the crossfire.
For Klaus, the hour they spent in Hokane didn't stand out as much as the following day when he watched Haruki speak with his injured men in the infirmary. It was, in fact, a day that would stay with him for a while, as innocuous as it seemed at the time.
In the infirmary, Klaus and Suguri steadily avoided one another's eye as Haruki spoke to the six soldiers who were either sitting or lying in bed, all of them having been patched up well by Suguri and the nurses. The room was all casts and bandages and smiles.
Klaus was surprised to find that Haruki knew a lot of them by name. He saw how they responded to Haruki's presence. How they seemed better for it. He heard it before he saw it, when Kaiser trotted into the infirmary wing ahead of Haruki and hearty greetings sounded down the hall. And then Klaus saw it in their faces, which broke into wide smiles as the commander entered.
After a short, unadorned speech where Haruki said he had never been prouder to be their commander than he had been yesterday, he sat by one of them, a sergeant named Ao whom he had known as a cadet, and asked about the bullet that had grazed his right thigh. Ao scoffed and declared he had had closer calls while shaving. Their easy banter drew in the others, even the more reserved soldiers who were a little thrown by the commander's visit.
One of the quieter ones, Ao revealed, had received a letter from his fiancé in the weeks prior which he carried around in his front pocket at all times, even in the middle of combat.
'But he won't tell us a single word from it, not even her name,' Ao complained. 'Or any other details about her,' he added in an undertone to Haruki who chuckled.
He looked across the room.
'Corporal Iwasaki, is it?'
'Yes, sir,' the soldier called back, trying to sit upright and stand to attention despite his injured arm.
'Let's hear the letter,' Haruki said, eyes simmering.
'None of us will make fun, we swear,' a delighted Ao was quick to add.
The corporal was clearly flustered.
'Sir…'
'Wolfpup's given you an order, Corporal,' Ao pointed out.
And so the soldier slowly drew out the much-folded piece of paper, ears burning, and began to read slowly.
'To… to my dearest Toshiro –'
Wolf whistles and hooting abounded almost instantly and the corporal was lost in a scarlet flush. Even Klaus was beginning to feel sorry for him but Haruki only laughed and encouraged him to keep reading.
'Every – every day, I think of you…'
As he progressed through the short and lovely letter from his beloved – punctuated faithfully by crass, good-natured calls from his comrades – Iwasaki himself began to smile. His flush receded and he read out the last few lines to a round of applause and requests that they be next in line for the girl if Iwasaki met an unfortunate end.
Klaus leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and smiled. He even thought he caught a ghost of a smile from Kolya where he stood by the door, though he couldn't be sure.
He had wondered for a few days on the Western Front whether something of Haruki's nature had been marred by the horrors of war. There had been so much of Taki in his distant, preoccupied gaze on the battlefield that he could only too easily imagine him retreating behind the pressures of his role. But he was relieved to find that, in some ways, he was still the same.
He remembered eavesdropping on Taki as he visited his men in the infirmary. How Master Torieda had told him not to cry.
You must keep those feelings concealed. Out of sight. You are one of noble birth. You are a leader of men.
Klaus watched Haruki and wondered what Taki would have been like if he had been raised outside the shadow of the lofty pillars he was meant to uphold. How much of him would have been different.
Perhaps none at all, Klaus mused, thinking of Meiji and how similar his upbringing had been to Taki's. After eight years away from everything, despite all the prince had given, there had still been so much he had held back.
And so Klaus watched Haruki and found himself wondering, absently, abstractly and with only a minor ache, how much of Taki had really been Taki.
ONE MONTH LATER
Though each day brought something new for Klaus and for everyone at the division, there was one structure that he could rely on no matter what.
The day would start with Taki. It would be spent with Haruki. And then it would end with Taki again.
I'm never letting you go.
It was a promise Klaus had made to Taki on one of the nights when Taki had held onto his shirt and tears leaked from the pain in his bones.
The talons cut into Klaus only if he was alone for a long time. When that happened, to ease the pain, he would talk to Taki. He would clean his gun or polish his boots and recap that day. He imagined Taki to be lying stretched out on the bed behind him, or sometimes doing something in the other room, which in the shed equated to the en suite, though in Klaus' mind it sometimes morphed into the kitchen back at the cottage.
He often spoke of Haruki.
'You should have seen him take on the Western Alliance last month. Fast as a whip. His reflexes on the ground still aren't quite in your league, though. But in other ways…'
Occasionally, amidst his little monologues to Taki, he would remember something to tell Haruki the following day. Ideas for offensives and how to prepare for the next Hitobito strike, whenever it might be. And just memories of his own time in Luckenwalde and flight school.
He and Haruki often found themselves speaking of light-hearted things, even in the midst of a war on two fronts, almost as though to remind themselves of what they were fighting for. Klaus smiled more and more, which Haruki saw. Haruki wondered, sometimes, whether Klaus was doing it just so Haruki wouldn't ask questions. He wondered what Klaus was like when he was alone.
Sometimes, when he was alone, Klaus couldn't feel Taki's presence strongly enough to speak to him. Sometimes he would wake from a dream or a nightmare in the dead of night and the aura he imagined and attributed to Taki, tinged by the soft purple of wisteria, would be gone and there was only that familiar ink-stain spreading beneath his ribs.
One night, in his fifth month at the compound, he awoke to the same feeling. The air was quiet and there was almost no light in the shed. And no matter how much he lay back and tried, he couldn't recall the dream that had shaken him back to consciousness, nor could he fall back asleep.
So he pulled on his coat, thrust his gloveless hands into his pockets and strode out of his shed.
Winter was winding down but that night it was still bitterly cold and Klaus regretted his midnight sojourn only a few minutes in. He tried to focus on the soft, satisfying echo of his footfalls and how the trees personified themselves in the darkness; limbs and arms and hair and creatures could be seen in their outlines against a moonless, starless sky.
And there, somewhere behind the trees lining the courtyard, there was an amber glow in an upper storey. It loomed through the darkness like a candle flame, even though from that distance he knew it must be bright enough to light up an entire room.
As he turned the corner, he realised it was coming from Haruki's office. He looked at his watch. A little after midnight. After a moment's deliberation, he walked slowly in the direction of the light.
In the quiet, fire-lit office, beside Haruki's feet, Kaiser cocked his ears and sat up.
A few minutes later, three short knocks jolted Haruki from his work at the desk. He checked his watch in slight puzzlement.
'Kolya?' he called.
The door opened.
'Nope.'
Haruki's smile of surprise was worth the walk.
'Klaus, what are you doing up so late?'
'Oh, you know. I was just wandering around in the dark.' He strode in beside a happy Kaiser, who accompanied him to his seat like a valet. 'Saw your light was on. Thought I'd interrupt whatever big, important thing you're working on.'
'It's nothing important,' said Haruki, still in his uniform, his eyes looking slightly worn after hours spent poring over the pages. It was rare for Klaus to find Haruki without Kolya's hulking presence in the background. 'I didn't feel like sleeping so I thought I'd get some work done ahead of time.'
The room was warm enough for Klaus to shed his coat. He looked over his shoulder at the fire that was crackling merrily. He'd never noticed that Taki's office had a fireplace.
Haruki happily closed his files.
As they spoke of the past few weeks, the subject swung back around to their tense brush with the emperor at the Imperial Palace.
'It's been a month and we're still alive and kicking,' Klaus astutely observed. 'No one's been carted off in the middle of the night by Tachibana's secret police or assassins or feudal ninjas or whatever the hell he uses to make people disappear. So we can't have pissed him off that much.'
'Actually, I've been meaning to tell you,' Haruki said with a broad grin that made Klaus wonder whether, like him, Haruki sometimes filed away little things to mention to him. 'I thought about what Feulner used to say. About how if Tachibana got rid of him, the entire world would come to know about it. So maybe it's like that for us, too.'
'Careful, kid. You're getting a bigger head than me.'
'No, I mean,' Haruki laughed, 'this division and this estate have always been important. Historically, and in the last war especially. I think our people and even other commanders look to this division almost as a… symbol. Of strength.'
Klaus was a little surprised to hear Haruki had given it so much thought.
'So if anything were to happen to anyone here,' Haruki said. 'I don't know if Tachibana would be able to stand up to the scrutiny.'
Klaus mused on thought that the Rosen Maiden was protecting them in more ways than one.
'You might have a point.'
'The division's always come through for us,' said Haruki, echoing his thoughts almost exactly. 'For us and the people in this province.'
Hopefully I'll be able to do the same, he thought but didn't say.
A comfortable silence followed. Klaus had his left ankle propped up on his right knee and his hands laced behind his head, lost in thought. The fire's gentle noises filled the room.
Haruki hesitated before asking. He was deterred by the memory of when he found Klaus by the side of his shed, barely aware of himself or his surroundings. But surely enough time had passed since that day.
'Do you want a drink?' he asked tentatively.
Klaus looked at him and raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'Sure.'
Haruki pushed back his chair and went to the sideboard. He took out a few glasses and a bottle before he realised he only had his own drink of choice, something he only indulged in on the odd occasion that Ryoumei visited. He didn't know what Klaus preferred.
'Sorry, all I have is scotch,' he said, turning with the bottle in hand.
Klaus' laugh was short and loud.
The kid could be our son, he had once said to Taki.
Over the past few months, the similarities and differences between the commanders had continued to spring up and catch Klaus unawares. He thought about it again as he sipped his scotch and Haruki leaned against the desk nearby and did the same.
They spoke of Klaus' travels the previous year. Haruki listened, remembering the dark words uttered by Aizawa in a hallway about flights and landings that he tried to characterise as suspicious. He wished, suddenly, that Aizawa was there to hear to the way Klaus spoke of it now.
For Klaus, it was like each place he recalled came back to life again, without the tendrils of sorrow, as he recounted it for his rapt audience. He described the people he had met, the most noteworthy of whom was the dark-skinned girl in a bar in Braxton. Haruki laughed and even blushed slightly at the way she had casually propositioned Klaus.
By the time either of them glanced at the clock, it was almost two in the morning.
Klaus got to his feet and stretched. 'I'll let you get some sleep, Commander. Shouldn't have kept you this late.'
'It's okay, I'll probably work for a while before I turn in anyway.'
Klaus pulled on his coat, eyeing the files on Haruki's desk, and warned him not to tire himself out.
'I was going to say your men need you rested and alert,' Klaus went on, thinking of what he had seen in the infirmary a few weeks ago. 'But by now I'm pretty sure they'd follow you to hell and back even if you were in Murakumo half-asleep.'
As he expected, the compliment was brushed aside by a slightly abashed, dismissive smile.
'Night, kid,' he said as he reached the door. 'Thanks for the drink.'
It was only after the door closed that Haruki thought to reply, 'No – no problem.'
Klaus didn't hear him.
In the silence afterwards, Haruki clicked his tongue and sighed at himself and the juvenile gaucheness which still cropped up from time to time around Klaus. He found that his heart was beating just a little faster than it ought to be. He wondered how long it had been doing that. Surely not the whole time Klaus had been there?
He thought he caught Kaiser's gaze out of the corner of his eye.
'What?' he said somewhat defensively.
But Kaiser's face atop his front paws remained artfully canine; blank and innocent.
Haruki pushed off the table and walked around it to his chair. It took him a few moments before he was able to get back to work.
Despite how late it was and where Klaus had just been, when he returned to his shed, he found, as ever, that his day still ended with Taki. In that moment, he thought of how that unique contrast of pale skin and blue-black hair was something he had never come across in his life and probably never would again.
I'm never letting you go.
Right before he fell asleep he found himself wondering whether scotch might have brought about the same soft flush on Taki's face that he had seen on Haruki's, in the office with a fireplace he didn't know had been there all along.
Spring came round with news of more victories on the Western Front.
Despite this, Tachibana demanded yet more troops and equipment to be deployed. As the last of the snow melted, the number of men and tanks that remained at the division had been reduced to a third of its usual strength.
Still, training and drills progressed as normal. That afternoon, the weather permitted Klaus to discard his shirt altogether.
Haruki again struggled, at first, to focus. He found himself wondering idly how Klaus had maintained that bronze tan all through winter. But he didn't have a great deal of time to wonder. Klaus' first strike immediately put him on the defensive.
The men watched, again with bated breath, wondering if their commander would finally best the captain.
Alas, after a heated match that saw them both panting, Klaus got the better of Haruki again and even made him fall to the floor for the first time. Even there, however, Haruki's smile preserved his dignity and the soldiers felt a familiar pride in tandem with disappointment.
Smiling too, Klaus offered him a hand.
In the split-second after he pulled Haruki to his feet, like a streak of light that came from nowhere, Klaus felt the sudden urge to kiss him. And then, just like that, it was gone again.
Klaus blinked.
'What's wrong?' Haruki asked, wondering if he had imagined the strange and subtle shift in Klaus' features.
'Nothing,' Klaus replied, even as he took a step back.
Haruki turned to the unit he had just trained in order to dismiss them. They saluted their commander and headed for their quarters.
Somewhat unsettled, Klaus did the same.
As he walked back to his shed with his shirt slung over his shoulder, he managed to rationalise it well enough. He realised with no small amount of shock that it had been over a year and a half since he had touched Taki in that way.
In the intervening time, it had become clear to him that his hunger had died with his master. The urge had never come back as anything more than mild curiosity, and even then only once – in a bar in Braxton. Which meant, in all likelihood, that his momentary impulse had been nothing but a glitch. A tiny echo of something that was long gone and would most likely never come back. He never wanted it to come back.
He wondered if perhaps he had seen a little too much of Taki in Haruki in that moment. The thought inspired a sharp twinge of self-disgust and guilt, especially when he imagined Haruki knowing what had flashed across Klaus' mind.
Thankfully, before long, it became nothing more than an odd, guilty memory. The following day, all had returned to normal. He caught Haruki's smile when he came in and felt a familiar paternal warmth.
The thought did cross his mind that morning, however, about whether it was altogether necessary for Kolya to hover so close to Haruki's shoulder for the entire duration of the meeting.
I hope this letter gets through, Klaus. I'm assuming I made some sort of mistake in posting the last one. I'll be more diligent this time.
A sunny afternoon about a week later found Klaus sitting on his bed, carefully reading through the latest letter from Claudia.
He had written months ago when the war started and when the threat of a nuclear confrontation didn't seem out of the question. He told her it was safest to leave the capital, which could be a target, and to wait at the cottage until they heard from him again. It had gotten more and more difficult to communicate with the west - Claudia's last letter hadn't made it past the borders of censorship. But the latest was short and didn't reveal too much.
In it, she hinted that the family was at the cottage and that things were tense but quiet in their neck of the woods. She also expressed her relief and tempered happiness over the brief recounts Klaus had provided of his time at the division.
You almost sound like yourself again, little brother. If you're not just putting on airs to mollify your insufferable older sister, I think I owe your commander a debt of gratitude. Take care of him, Klaus. And take care of yourself out there. You're not as invincible as you think you are.
He smiled softly as he wrote his reply.
It was a sensation like a distant, tinkling bell. Or soft lights in trees. Something faint and bright; simultaneously alien and familiar. But it never lingered long enough for him to focus on it. Effervescent laughter in the infirmary. A jade coat flapping on the border of the west. Thoughts he'd had over the past week that rose up from nothing and dissolved almost immediately.
Perhaps whatever he was feeling simply owed to the weather. It was the middle of the afternoon on the last day of the week, which meant most of the division was on a short break. The compound itself seemed to settle back into the new warmth of the season, trying to shake the memory of winter's chill. At the centre of the compound, the cherry blossom tree was in its element.
After he dropped off the letter at the postal exchange near the south entrance and made his way back, he had an unexpected visitor.
He heard a rapid, familiar scattering of paws behind him and he turned just as Kaiser reached him. His coat shone in the sun and was warm to the touch. Klaus looked around but didn't see Haruki.
'Where's your master?'
A happy, lolling tongue and trusting eyes that didn't reveal much. It occurred to Klaus that he'd never asked Haruki exactly where and how he had found Kaiser.
For a few paces, Kaiser seemed content to follow Klaus. But before long, Klaus turned to see the dog had taken a sudden right and veered off the path.
Curious, Klaus followed.
A pair of dark birds swooped low nearby and darted off above the trees lining the path, locked in an exuberant courtship. Kaiser trotted ahead of him, taking his time to sniff the bases of trees, apparently not overly interested in whether or not Klaus was following. After a while, Klaus realised he was being led to the groundskeeper's quarters; a small, squat room not unlike Klaus' own, right in the corner of the compound, a short walk from the postal exchange.
The door was partially ajar and Kaiser invited himself in.
Klaus knocked, but it didn't look like the groundskeeper was in. The interior was cluttered but welcoming. On the table, tools and bits of maintenance equipment were scattered among breakfast dishes. Flower pots lined the sill and there was even a large tree branch propped up against the wall by the narrow bed.
A door on the other side of the room was also open, the frame silhouetted slightly by the sun's glare.
Klaus walked through the little room, dryly hoping his intrusion would be forgiven by dint of the fact that he was following a dog. He stepped through the door on the other side.
It took him a moment to notice the sharp right angle of the division's tall brick perimeter. His senses were so taken up by the unanticipated tranquillity of the little space that he forgot he was still within the compound. A few tall, lush trees enclosed the area with foliage that seemed to have jumped the seasonal gun. Yellow and white flowers grew in abundance, some in rows and others sprouting from hedges and bushes. There was the sound of gentle rustling that took him back to the cottage, which he hadn't seen in six months.
That particular illusion was heightened by the wheat stalks that dipped in the breeze. When Klaus blinked and stepped closer, he realised it wasn't wheat but a tall, pale, reed-like plant rising from a greener undergrowth. Still, the effect was strikingly similar.
He turned in time to see Kaiser spring up onto a sturdy wooden bench nestled at the base of a tree where the patch of wheat-like grass ended. The dog lay down with his head and paws draped over Haruki's shin.
The commander was stretched out on the bench, fast asleep.
The familiar jade jacket was folded up over the armrest. His shirt had hitched up a little above his belt line near his hip and his thin black tie fell over the side of his chest.
Taking in the unexpected little scene, Klaus approached quietly and stopped before the bench, feeling instantly protective. He had suspected that Haruki had been working himself too hard recently. He wondered why. One of Haruki's arms was thrown up and curled around his head. His chest rose and fell peacefully.
Strangely, Klaus didn't feel like he was intruding. Though something told him that this place was Haruki's little secret, one that perhaps not even Kolya was aware of, Klaus inexplicably felt like he was welcome there.
He wondered how often the kid stole away to this corner of the compound when he wanted a few moments' peace. He could imagine the groundskeeper being only too willing to oblige the young, charming commander.
Klaus sat on the armrest, careful not to disturb him, and watched him for a few moments.
It brought him quite vividly to a day eleven years ago when he came into his room at Luckenwalde in the middle of the day and saw Taki asleep in his fatigues above the blankets. He remembered how his stomach had done a strange flip even back then, months before he had opened himself up to the reality of his feelings.
The minutes lengthened. He breathed deeply and stared at the flowers and wheat-like grass, which carried him from Luckenwalde to a different time. Into those seven years he never felt like he deserved. Seven years of peace. He could see it all when he closed his eyes.
There was the cottage with its short front gate. The brick wall skirting the rose garden. The stalks swaying gently in tandem with –
With Haruki's hair.
A flicker of a frown crossed Klaus' face. Again, it was a thought that seemed to rise slowly from the depths of something. But this time it didn't dissolve. This time, his mind lingered on that image of Haruki turning around in the stalks.
Haruki, who had found him in the dark and summoned him. Haruki, who laughed often. Haruki in his silky black vest, champagne in hand, his hair glistening and swept back for the occasion, except for those few errant strands. Always those few –
Klaus frowned again.
– those few errant strands of hair. Falling into his eyes.
Haruki, who never failed to smile each time Klaus came into the room.
Haruki, who –
Klaus' heart pounded suddenly. Like there was something knocking at the back of his mind, trying to inch its way in. Something that had been knocking for weeks. Perhaps even months. He opened his eyes and kept his gaze trained directly ahead. Directly ahead, and nowhere else.
He told himself not to turn his head. He told himself that nothing would make sense if he did. He knew that if he did – if he turned his head and looked down – he would be in a world of confusion that would make everything exponentially worse.
He restrained himself for a good while longer than he expected.
And then he turned and looked down.
He saw the commander's sleeping face. Peaceful and vulnerable. The strands of hair that fell backwards rather than forwards. The strength of his body. The exposed skin of his hip.
And suddenly, there it was.
After a few more seconds, Klaus dragged his eyes away and stared at the sky imploringly, heart still hammering.
'Shit,' he muttered.
