Crown Impulses : Break My Wings by wallflower

I remember we could talk about anything
I remember when we used to want to hangout
I remember we could talk about anything
I remember I remember I remember
"So Much For the Afterglow" - Everclear

A/N: Sorry..it's been like a month since I've posted a chapter, and I'm sorry to say this chapter is nothing out of the ordinary. I've been kind of busy. Sorry guys. Thanks to the ones who've sent me emails, luv ya all :)

GRR...stupid Harrison. I don't even like him anymore. GO GEORGE! the song of the chapter is "Ride Wit Me" by Nelly, cause I fit those measurements in his song perfectly. lmao..

any emails and stuff can be directed at joy_fishy@hotmail.com (email/MSN), sunshine ba ba (AIM), stellar687@yahoo.com (Yahoo!), and 71018292 (ICQ)

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Matt involuntarily grit his teeth as he strained to lift the block of cement. His muscles protested, starting a fire in his leg that he wouldn't be able to extinguish. But it didn't matter; he was used to it by now. The twisted muscles, the hands so calloused there were blisters on his blisters. He didn't wince, knowing that any sign of weakness would being on a round of taunts from the pig-headed, muscle-bound guards that stood watch over the prisoners.

He had lost track of the days he had been here, but he was pretty sure it was about 2 weeks. 2 weeks, 2 years, when you're stuck in a hellhole is there really a difference? Eternity equals eternity.

Not that he could blame the soldiers. They were just mindlessly following orders, striving to make a difference, to help their country. And if that meant torturing the enemy, so what? The Japanese did the same to him, not to mention there was the time they invaded and raped women then killed them and their children, even though had done nothing to them. (A/N: The Rape of Nanking was the slaughter of innocent civilians, babies and elders, and the rape of Chinese women, from teenagers to 85-year olds, that lasted for six weeks. More than three hundred thousand of Nanjing residents perished.) No, he couldn't blame them.

But that didn't mean he had lost his will to live or anything. He had made a promise to Mimi to come back alive, and that he was going to do. Right now, he wasn't really needed to any work. They just wanted to see a Japanese general at their mercy. The real torture would come later, he figured.

The memories of home were starting to fade. What did Mimi look like again? She had chestnut hair, brown eyes, and always, always, wore pink, but what else? He couldn't be sure that his memory was really what she looked like anymore. And what did a cherry blossom smell like now? Not the dirt, grime, sweat, that he inhaled now. A dainty, fragrant whiff…fragile, something out of a storybook life. Out of the life he had lived in.

What would TK be doing know? He grunted as he shoved the block into place. Probably eating, his stomach reminded him. It was some sort of twisted fun, cutting the food in half while doubling the workload. As much fun as repeatedly running into a concrete wall.

He half-heartedly smiled when he saw another person. Communication of any sort was forbidden, negotiations one-sided, objective: don't piss the Chinese off. But it was still comforting to see someone from his country here, a flower in the desert. (A/N: the ep where Mimi got her crest? Hm?)

Matt's arm wrenched, and he gasped before he could help himself. He had pulled something in his arm. He set down the block he had been lugging around, and sat upon it. He grabbed his throbbing limb, willing it to stop. Of course it didn't.

A hulking shadow stood over him.

"What's wrong, pretty boy?" the guard sneered.

Hair shorn, uniform ragged, enough meat to fill a teaspoon, Matt wasn't really the picture of perfect. He said nothing.

"Answer me."

Now he would have to answer. "I hurt my arm."

The guard grinned, and before Matt could move, and wrenched his arm even further, and then swung it back to hit him.

"That better?"

Silence.

The guard pushed his face closer. "I said, IS THAT BETTER."

"Yes sir." Matt whispered. The soldier was close enough that Matt could count the individual dirt-clogged pores on his nose. Not that he was going to. He thought his arm was going to fall off, neatly amputated. Glancing at the ground he half-expected to see it twitching there. He tried to wiggle his fingers but was dismayed to find they weren't moving in sync with his brain. In fact, they weren't moving at all.

A whistle sounded, bringing relief with it. At least now he could take a real rest and get at least some food to eat, roach and maggot infested as it may be.

He sat down on the ground, waiting for the leftovers that would hopefully be deposited at his feet. Instead, somebody slapped him on the back.

"Up." It was a different soldier, and Matt awkwardly stood up, avoiding use of his arm.

"Come with me." The man spoke perfect Japanese, a rarity here. Matt peered at him more closely but he had already strode off. He had never seen this man around before, but he had this weird sense of déjà vu.

The blonde was led away from the construction site, past the shed that doubled as the prisoners sleeping place. As the site disappeared from his vision, he felt a little lost. For two weeks, it had been his sense of security; a knowledge that they weren't going to do anything really bad him, at least not yet. Now..who knew? Maybe he would be killed. Maybe he would be tortured. Maybe..maybe…maybe he would live. "That's the spirit." He told himself.

The pair was approaching another building in the compound now. Matt had never seen it before, but assumed it was some type of headquarters, at least the center of the complex. It was HUGE.

"So, Matt, what happened since I've seen you?" the man spoke again for the first time, turning to face him.

Yamato was startled; he didn't know this man.

"Don't remember me? I'm hurt."

Matt looked at the man's face.

"Ryan?"

No way. This could not be the same guy. Ryan, his friend from boot camp in the beginning. Ryan, the boy who was his only friend in the isolation of war. Ryan, a JAPANESE recruit.

His bewilderment must've shown on his face, because Ryan smiled a little.

"Man, how'd you let this happen to you?" he looked at the ground. "I would hate to be you."

Matt still hadn't put together everything in his mind. His arm was forgotten. Ryan was obviously…a Chinese spy.

"Ryan's not even your real name, is it?"

Ryan looked a little astonished at the question but answered. "No, not anymore. It's Kevin."

"Are you even Japanese?"

A small fire started in Kevin's eyes. "I was."

Before Matt could say anything he continued, his voice low and hard.

"I was. I was born and raised Japanese, in Tokyo, the heart of the wretched country. Even when I was a young boy, I saw something wrong with us. Some artificiality, some false sense of security, pride, empty praise, it swirled all around me in the form of rich businessman, successful entrepreneurs, empty, empty, people.

Then one day I took a trip to China. The lolling hills, the landscape, the earth-like, natural feel of it all was like nothing I had ever felt, seen, smelt, heard before. Imagine holding a plastic flower your hold life and suddenly you're thrown a rose.

But I couldn't just ditch Japan. After all, I was Japanese, and the Chinese and the Japanese have been enemies for as long as time, even though we share a lot of written language, and even some speech. But the plastic artificialness was suffocating me. I thought that by registering with the Japanese army I would find the reasons to hate China; to protect Japan.

If you can't tell, I didn't. To witness the Rape of Nanking was the single most vivid, horrible, memory in my life. The thousands of innocents, plundered, violated, by our so-called "patriots". Give me a break.

That's when I joined the Chinese army. And since I had some knowledge of our troops plans, I became an invaluable source to these people. MY people."

Now they were at the door to the intimidating fortress. Kevin said a few words in Chinese; the guard inside grunted and opened the door. Matt was pulled in by his hurt arm, and Ryan stayed outside.

"Good luck…" was softly heard over the slamming of the door, and before the guard dragged Matt off.

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A/N: DUM DUM DUM...lol... any emails and stuff can be directed at joy_fishy@hotmail.com (email/MSN), sunshine ba ba (AIM), stellar687@yahoo.com (Yahoo!), and 71018292 (ICQ) and PLEASE REVIEW SINCE YOU'RE DOWN HERE! *grovels at reader's feet*