-As a reminder, costa is a way of measurement. -A more recent note - 'baka', I have discovered, is a rather rude word. 'Cept I didn't know that when I wrote this... but it is, indeed, a rude word.
Tenkuu no Ryuugekitai - Akai Baka
How dare she! How dare she speak to me like that! I, Migel Labariel, a
soldier of Zaibach!
The chestnut-haired youth hobbled through the crowded streets, anger and hurt
in his heart.
Hell hath not known such fury as a woman scorned, indeed.
Though he appeared to be weak with his wooden crutch, fellow pedestrians seemed
to sense his foul mood, and stepped aside. After all I did for her! For
Dante!
You only did it for selfish reasons. You hoped that the ring would be yours
to give.
Yeah, right. Welcome to Reality, Migel. Enjoy your stay.
The boy suddenly slowed his hurried pace to an inane meander.
Why did she yell at me so? he thought idly. I was only late.
'What if something happened, hm? He could have started bleeding with no one else around! He could have died!' her shrill voice rang through his head. Even in memory the words held a snapping edge.
'He could have died...' Migel whispered the words to himself, some small
inner voice reminding him to exercise his voice. 'And it would have been my
fault,' With the momentum of realization, Migel had an epiphany.
'So that's why she was so angry. She's scared... she knows he's going to die.
It's no use pretending he's not going to,' his whisper came fiercely hissing
through his teeth. Truly, he was only keeping up pretenses to please the girl.
A code of silence, really. Dante could be buried in the earth and they'd still speak
cheerfully as though he would join them for tea later that afternoon.
Not that Migel wanted the boy to die. They weren't good friends; Migel had
always been a distant, quiet person who tolerated Dante. Besides...getting too
acquainted with Dragon Slayers was dangerous. They may be the elite of the
elite, but that does not mean they didn't bleed and die.
'You're changing the subject,' Leaning against a wall for a rest, he chided,
then stopped suddenly as he realized with bemusement he was talking to himself.
'Did I say you could talk yourself? But answering is the problem!'
Dante would have said, had he seen Migel.
Dante...
With a flick of his hair, he decided he wouldn't think about Dante anymore.
Getting back to Master Dilandau was the most important objective. As soon as he
could walk freely, he would steal a horse and hunt down the Vione. He was far
too dignified (and haughty) to ever return to the Master injured. That is, if
Master Dilandau would ever welcome him back. The dead prodigal son.
I wonder if he might even miss me.
With his finger, Migel swept his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear out of
his eye. His unruly hair had grown long enough that the tips of his bangs
touched his chin, and the rest could be pulled back into a low ponytail. His
grey-green eyes wandered aimlessly over the passing crowd; analyzing each
individual, becoming disinterested, then moving on to the next. Thoughts swam
randomly through his head.
Perhaps he should return back.
Perhaps he should apologize to Mikyla.
Who were those two he had bumped into, anyway? They seemed so familiar, and
that voice...
Migel couldn't grasp it, and he hated that. He disliked having the ghost of an
image; the faint sense in his head, where he KNEW the answer, but it was
just...barely...out of his reach. The two featureless faces and meaningless
voices drifted through his mind without connection until, in annoyance, the
Slayer shook them out.
The sun was becoming very hot, baking his skin. The clinic was cooler, even if
the people in it weren't. Placing his crutch firmly underneath his arm, the
subdued prodigal turned and began the humble journey back.
***
'This is the place, yep,' Guimel knocked on the wooden door to the large stone building. Glancing at his companion, he raised a brow and asked, 'What's wrong with you?'
'Didn't that guy seem familiar? I'm sure I've seen him somewhere,' Gatti replied, his brows furrowed in thought, a stray finger rubbing his chin in thought. The other shrugged, his hand reaching to rub his tender stomach as if the scene had happened again.
'Well, I hope I never do again. He could have at LEAST apologized, and why isn't anyone answering this door?' Guimel stared at the wooden planks intensely, as if his very gaze would caused it to swing open.
'Maybe no one's home...'
'Then we'll wait inside!' came the agitated reply. Guimel pushed the door open, causing it to hit the inside wall with the loud crash. 'Oops...'
'Come back, have you? You, little ingrate, can start by cleaning these!' A pile of dirty clothes came soaring through the air at decapitating speeds. Gatti managed to dodge the dangerous laundry, but Guimel had barely enough time to move. With a thump, he landed on his backside, a pair of breeches settling on his head, hanging cheekily over one eye.
'This... is not my day!' he wailed, throwing various articles of clothing in every direction.
'Is that...?' A girl popped her head around the corner of the hallway, her face
red with embarrassment. Gatti remembered Dante's vivid description of the deep
violet dreadlocks she wore, and recognized her. Mikyla came squealing towards
them.
'Guimel!' She quickly helped Guimel up, and threw her arms around him in a
tight hug. Guimel let out a pained squeak.
'It's so nice to see you again! Did you travel far? What brings you here?
You're Gatti, right?' she asked suddenly. Gatti nodded his head and extending
his hand, which she took.
'We came to find Dante,' Guimel said after they had shook hands, nursing his gut once more. At the name, Gatti could see the life being sucked out of Mikyla.
'Dante,' she sighed and leaned against the wall, her arms folded, her eyes downcast. The two boys exchanged looks, and Guimel went over to the girl, putting his arm around her reassuringly.
'What's wrong? Did something happen to him?' he asked. Mikyla's bottom lip trembled, then her entire face scrunched up as she let out a mournful wail. Burying her face into Guimel's chest, she sobbed uncontrollably.
'He came to...visit and, and...and they found him and...and they...hurt him so badly... and... and,' Whatever she said after that was unintelligible, as she began to hyperventilate. Gatti put his hand on her heaving shoulders.
'It's alright, Miss Mikyla...' A thought crossed his mind that he seemed to be very good at calming girls down. 'Just settle down...there. Where's Dante now?' Mikyla rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, muttering something about letting her emotions get the better of her, sorry...so stressed right now... With one final sniff, she cleared her throat and forced a smile.
'Oh, he's still here. I put him in the room down the hall, second to last one on your left. I think he's asleep right now, but you can sit there if you want. He's not in the best of shape, though...just to warn you,' The boys helped her clean up the pile of laundry, and made their way down the hall. They turned into the room, and with one look Guimel stepped back, his hand over his mouth. Gatti waited for him, and together they sat down on two nearby chairs and had a good look at their comrade. From inside the large mass of crimson-stained bandages there was a groan, and a soft voice rasped,
''Ky?...'Zat you?' No words came to Guimel as he stared, his head shaking in disbelief. A Dragon Slayer in this condition was unthinkable. Gatti answered instead.
'It's us, Dante...'
*****
'Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine...' Shesta blinked as he entered the room to see his friend lying on his back in the middle of the floor.
'Er...Shanti? What are you doing?'
'Forty, counting ceiling tiles, forty-one...'
'Right…' he stepped over the boy, carefully setting the tray he was carrying down on a nearby table.
'Forty-two...' The counting stopped as the scent of what Shesta had been carrying reached Shanti's nose. 'That smells like tea.'
'That's because it is,' Shesta poured some of the drink into two small blue cups. 'Now sit up properly... here we go.' Shanti crawled over to the table, climbed up onto a chair and sat cross-legged on it. He moved a cup closer to himself, and curiously examined a blue jar.
'What's this... honey? How did you get this?' The blond shrugged, taking a small amount of the liquid gold and stirring it into his own cup.
'The cook likes me,' was all he said. The Highlander took some honey as well, becoming seemingly engrossed as it dissolved in the hot tea. Very carefully, like a child, he lifted the cup and took a small sip. Shesta heard the immense sigh of contentment, and knew his brilliant plan had worked. Shanti inhaled the steam, apparently liking the scent.
'What's this? It smells familiar,'
'It's catnip tea,' Shesta explained enthusiastically. 'It's supposed to calm
you down and help you sleep,'
Shanti twitched.
'Catnip tea, ne?' At the excited tone in the Highlander's voice, the smaller
boy promptly looked up from his tea with the sinking sensation his brilliant
plan was backfiring, and backfiring horribly. Shanti took another sip, then met
Shesta's gaze with an innocent expression.
'Why do you look so worried?' he asked.
'You have a twinkle in your eye,' Shesta replied slowly.
'I do appreciate your attempt to preoccupy me, truly I do,' Shanti seemed
sincerely sympathetic as he took another sip. 'But my body is very...altered. I
believe this is having the opposite effect.' The Highlander twitched again, and
Shesta's hand flew to his face with a resounding smack. Apparently taking no
notice of his comrade shaking his head, the red-haired boy quietly finished off
his tea, and set the blue cup down with gentle ease.
'That...was good. Thank you, Shesta,' he said. There was a long silence, and
Shesta cautiously lifted his head to peer at the other Slayer. Shanti was
staring off into space, his hazel eyes blank and his body perfectly still. The
petite blond sighed and finished off his tea, hoping that it would at least
calm his nerves. The last of the sweet liquid slid down his throat,
leaving a pleasantly warm trail behind. He thought to himself how he would
quite like another cup, and made a future note to never try and calm the nerves
of such an eccentric individual again.
'Do you think,' came the voice of the Eccentric One. 'Master Dilandau likes
tea?'
Shesta's heart stopped.
'Why...?' he choked. The other Slayer shrugged.
'No reason. Here,' he picked up the tray and stacked the cups onto it. 'I'll bring this back.' With that, the boy left. Shesta exhaled, shoulders slumping. The effects of the tea were starting to kick in inside his body, and he felt himself relaxing as his heart beat normally in his chest. Steadying his breathing, Shesta reclined in the chair and felt the deeply satisfying feeling of peace enter his body. His baby blue eyes closed as he began to doze, lost in the numb tranquillity of the quiet room.
'You know-'
'GAAH!' A nearby pillow flew through the air, breezing past Dalet's surprised face as he stood at the doorway. Making no sudden movements, the lilac-eyed Slayer edged slowly towards a safer area of the small room.
'That was unnecessary,' he said cautiously. 'You know where he's going,
though, don't you?' There was a pause; a slow, horrible pause that could only
mean slow, horrible realization.
The sound of Shesta hitting his head on the table, making sobbing noises,
answered Dalet's inquiry.
***
Shanti hummed as she walked down the hallway with a new tray of tea. The
normally mournful tune had a bouncy ring to it as she came to the foreboding
doorway that led to Dilandau's chambers. Shanti pushed the lever that would
open the automatic door down with her nose, and entered the room when the door
slid open.
'Excuse me, Master Dilandau,' There was a grunt from the far corner.
'What is it?' Shanti walked over to the chair which Dilandau was sprawled
across. In one hand was a dagger; the other held a half-empty bottle of vino
with white scratch marks criss-crossing one side. As Shanti bowed his head in
greeting, Dilandau raised a brow.
'Oh, it's you. What do you want?' he asked, his lip curling. The Dragon Slayer
straightened, motioning with his head to the tray as he explained,
'I was informed that you were preparing for battle, and, upon careful consideration, thought that you would perhaps fancy a cup of this hot beverage,' The commander froze.
'You what?'
'I made you tea, sir,' Shanti replied. Dilandau's eye narrowed, his mouth partly agape, as he looked at the other incredulously.
He made me...tea?
'Are you looking to die?' he asked in amazement. How dare this backwater
Highlander enter his chamber unannounced and be so incompetent as to...
'Not at all, sir.' The boy's eyes stared straight into Dilandau's own as he
answered in all seriousness. Garnet eyes flashing, Dilandau stepped straight up
to Shanti until they were inches apart, causing the shorter boy to tilt his
head back slightly. He looked down his nose at him, trying to make the other
bow under his might. The Slayer, however, merely stared back, his eyes sincere,
and perhaps even a bit caring. There was no fear in them, which made Dilandau
uneasy, and when he was uneasy, he became angry. Without warning, his hand flew
up to strike the tray from the impertinent boy.
Suddenly, his hand stopped. In confusion, Dilandau looked down his arm to see a
second hand firmly grasping his own by the wrist. Rage built up inside him as
he looked up to see Shanti balancing the tray in one hand, the other wrapped
around Dilandau's.
'Why you little...'
'Your eyes widen before you strike, sir.' The Highlander released the wrist
gently, and stepped back. He set the tray down on a nearby table, and, moving
towards a pillar holding a candle, turned back to Dilandau.
'Just so you know.' The Dragon Slayer gave the deep bow of a performer; legs
daintily crossed with one arm across the chest, the other extended to the side.
Dilandau wasn't sure whether to admire or kill the boy. The pure brazen,
uncaring attitude of this skinny weakling who dared stand up to him was
amusing. Even Shesta knew when to back off. This red-haired idiot stared him
back, showed no fear... he even made him bloody tea!
Still...such an insolent act should not go unpunished. Dilandau's lip curled as
he put on his best glare.
'What is wrong with you?' he asked in a pleasant, deadly tone. His voice and demeanor set, Dilandau expected the red fool to quail under his might. The Highlander's arms dropped, and he looked off to the side with such a sad, lost expression. Only for a second, however...suddenly the corner of his mouth turned up into maniacal bemusement. A black feather appeared as if by magic into his hand, and without a word the Dragon Slayer thrust it into the flame of the candle. The feather crackled as the flames licked it up into a glowing pile of ashes.
'Burn...' With a proper bow, the Highlander humbly excused himself and left,
leaving the bewildered commander to stare after him. Something about the
expression and act perturbed him, but he knew not how.
An inner voice inside him whispered kinship into his ear...that soft, feminine
voice that would arise out of the depths of his mind to torment him with
admonition. The voice that was always accompanied by grey images of a small,
crying child...
Don't leave me alone.
'Shut up.' Dilandau walked over to the table where the tray had been set. He picked up the small blue cup of steaming liquid, and slowly sipped it.
*****
'Attack?'
'The main Zaibach forces have already begun on the outer rim of the country. They will reach Godasim in the afternoon, which doesn't give you much time.' Gatti said, moving straight to business. He was annoyed with Guimel for being so quiet, then guilty at being annoyed with Guimel. This was his best friend lying here; a glorious soldier reduced to a breathing corpse.
'The Dragon Slayers will be joining them, then...?' Dante asked.
'I'm afraid so. Lord Folken wants to secure the powerspot...and Emperor Dornkirk made a prediction that the Dragon would be there,' Ah, so Guimel could speak.
'I see,' Dante spoke so quietly, as if any breath could be his last. 'Tell 'Ky...she'll prepare everyone...'
'There isn't any time to warn others, Dante. You and Mikyla have less than
three hours to pack up what you can and be as far away from this city as
possible.' Gatti stated firmly. This was a war, and in a war there was no room
for vague sugar-coated statements.
'There is a small village on the outskirts, near the Asturia-Freid border. Wait
there until we can come and meet with you.' The broken Slayer nodded his head
weakly. In the silence that followed, Guimel stood up and said he would go tell
Mikyla to start preparing, leaving Gatti and Dante alone. As the ash-blond
regarded his comrade, he saw an ironic smile grace the pale lips.
'I was hopin'... I'd marry her here,' Dante sighed. Gatti gentled his tone, saying as he put a hand on his comrade's shoulder,
'I'm sorry...I know how you feel,'
'Since when... did Gatti have a girlfriend...?' asked the other in an amused tone. A blush came to Gatti's cheeks. He quickly considered the fact that Dante would never tell a secret, and perhaps would die with it.
'Well...you know Shanti,' Dante coughed, his dark eyes widening.
'Gatti, I...didn't know you...went that way...'
'He's a she, idiot.' came the annoyed reply. 'An amazing she...' Dante shook his head at the love-struck sigh that followed.
'This... is a very lucky time,' he commented off-handedly. Gatti asked what
he meant. In an instant, Dante went from amused to serious.
'Gatti...you might not believe me... when I tell you...' His voice was becoming
very quiet; the boy exhausted from the energy of speaking and the excitement.
Gatti was losing him fast.
'Tell me what?' Dante's eyes rolled around in their sockets, fighting with his leaden eyelids to stay open. He whispered something that was drowned out by a loud noise coming from the hall. Gatti ignored it, sensing great urgency in hearing what Dante was trying to say. He bent his ear closely to his comrade's mouth, focusing hard on what he was saying as more noises came from the hallway. He felt breath tickle his ear, then Dante whispering.
'Mi...Migel...'
'Yes...what about Migel...?' Gatti asked, as if his life depended on the one answer. Dante leaned closer to his ear, and words carried on breath came from his mouth.
'Mig...Migel is...a-'
'Gatti!' Guimel burst into the room and slammed the door behind him, barring it with a chair. Gatti waved him away, and turned desperately back to Dante...only to see his head drooping in unconsciousness. As he turned to snarl at Guimel, Gatti saw fear in the other's eyes.
'They found us.' As he spoke, there came a loud banging on the door.
'Open this door! In the name of Freid!' Gatti scrambled to the window high
above a table and punched through the glass. He swept the broken shards away
and pulled himself through the small opening. Turning back, Gatti saw Guimel
put his hand on Dante's bowed head,
'Goodbye, my friend...' then bolt to the window as the wooden door splintered
in two. Freidan guards poured into the room like water bursting from a dam,
each armed with long lances. The metal points gleamed wickedly as the soldiers
surged towards Guimel. The platinum-blond boy leaped for the small opening and
scrambled to pull himself through. Gatti watched as the nearly relieved
expression in his comrade's face changed in a split-second to fear as he was
jerked back by dozens of fingers. Guimel fought against the wave of hands,
using the outside wall to push himself further outside. His arms shook
violently at the force being applied on them, and for the smallest moment slackened
in desperation for rest. The eager, grabbing hands surrounded him, pulling at
his legs, his waist, his shoulders.
'GATTI!' Guimel thrust out his arm seconds before his grasp on
the window gave.
Gatti lunged forward and grabbed the outstretched arm just as the Slayer was about to be swallowed up into the probing abyss of hands. Positioning his feet squarely on either side of the window, Gatti leaned back with all his might, half-afraid that he would dislocate Guimel's arm. Slowly, in agonizing inches, Guimel emerged from the masses. His lower body twisted frantically like a fish out of water, and cries of guards whose chins had been struck by a stray foot or knee filled the air. With one last bone-breaking kick, Guimel flew through the window, slamming into Gatti in a tangle of arms and legs. The disheveled Slayer looked up from his ash-blond companion's chest with an insane grin.
'Gatti, you're my hero,' he said, batting his eyelashes. Gatti rolled his
eyes, then bolted up as they heard a cry from the side of the house. The
soldiers poured out of the open front door and charged towards them. In an
instant the Dragon Slayers bolted down the street, shedding their disguises as
they ran in hopes of tripping their pursuers.
'Split up and move through the marketplace,' Guimel instructed. 'I'll meet you
on the other side!' With that he turned a hard right and sprinted down a narrow
alleyway. Gatti ran further down the cobblestone road, the market and its
sanctuary of people edging closer.
*****
Mikyla, I'm sorry. No. Mikyla, I apologize for my behavior... no.
Migel shook his head in annoyance. Why should he have to apologize? It
was her fault in the first place.
Oh, yah. She'll REALLY take you back now with THAT attitude.
So, maybe he should stop being so indignant. Even if it was her fault.
'Halt! Halt Zaibach spy!' A Freid soldier's voice called from a far distance. Migel froze, his heart beating.
How could they have found me? He quickly looked around for the source
of the voice, and saw a crowd of soldiers at the top of the street a couple of
hundred costa away, pursuing someone. Looking down the street, Migel saw who.
His beating heart stopped when he recognized the shining blue armour, the black
leather, and the ash blond hair.
All at once the grey images in his mind came together in a single, glowing
picture.
Gatti.
Migel saw the Slayer was headed in his direction, looking over his shoulder to
see how far away the soldiers were. Flicking the long bangs out of his eye,
Migel took a deep breath. Ignoring the protesting ache of his throat, he cried
out as loud as he could,
'Gatti!' There was no response from the incoming Slayer, and Migel wasn't sure if he had heard. He croaked the name out again just as the other came within mere feet of him. Migel saw the other's head jerk up at the sound of his name being called. Gatti checked his pace for only a second as he zoomed past the other. Their eyes met for one breath-taking instant... and then he was gone.
Migel whirled around and stared after the Slayer; being pushed away by
soldiers moments later. His throat ached, burning maddeningly with pain.
He must have come from Mikyla's house! Does that mean they know I'm here?
He watched as Gatti disappeared into the crowded marketplace, and made a silent
prayer for his escape.
Were they looking for me? Turning, Migel moved as fast as he could back
up the street to the clinic. If Gatti had been there, Mikyla would tell him.
***
Gatti slammed into the crowd as a rock against a wave. He dodged and pushed his way against onlookers who shouted colourful curses after him. There was no time to waste at all; in his Zaibach uniform he was clearly identified, and with the shouts of the soldiers the mob could take it upon themselves to subdue the Dragon Slayer. As he neared the square, Gatti saw a band of soldiers cutting off his escape to the west. Ahead of him was a wall, and behind him were agitated Freidans. A mental map appeared in Gatti's mind, as he had been trained. His only escape was to the east, where a backroad would lead him down to an urban area. The winding, darkened alleyways would be perfect for losing most of the soldiers. He had passed the road, and would have to backtrack to reach it...running straight into the Freidan guards. Precious seconds passed by as Gatti looked around himself, desperately trying to find a place to avoid the soldiers that were closing in around him. It was no use...he was trapped!
'Here, young one! Over here!' Gatti twisted around and saw a nearby vendor
motioning towards him. Mere moments away from being caught, Gatti had no choice
but to dive underneath a green-swathed table.
'Don't move,' the voice warned him. His heart pounded in his ears as the Slayer
heard the footsteps and voices of his pursuers. He hardly dared to breathe as a
guard asked the vendor where the Zaibach spy had gone.
'That way sir! I saw the scoundrel run down that road!' the vendor replied, his
voice sounding angry. 'I do hope you catch him, the miscreant!' As Gatti waited
underneath the table, his body crammed against boxes and tools, he could not
help but notice the vendors' bushy, white-tipped tail - the tail of a fox. A
foot nudged him, causing the boy to jump.
'Quickly, now my young friend,' the fox-man's face appeared underneath the
table, which Gatti quickly recognized.
'I don't know how I can thank you enough,' he started in awe. The vendor smiled.
'Never mind. Now go; your lady is waiting.' Gatti crawled out from the table slowly, turning towards the fox-man.
'I'm indebted to you. Please leave this place now; Zaibach will attack very soon.' The same smile returned to the muzzle of the other.
'I've lived here all my life; I will die here.' A shout interrupted their conversation, leaving Gatti no time to try and persuade the vendor otherwise. Knowing he'd been spotted by the soldiers, the Slayer bowed deeply to the vendor, and thanked him for everything before speeding off to the backroad.
Twisting through the darkened alleys, Gatti finally made it to the other side of the marketplace. As he ran towads the city's gates, Guimel pulled up beside him, panting.
'Miss me?' Together they broke past the two guards at the gates, and sprinted for their guymelefs with half of the Friedan royal guard hot on their heels. The pair leaped up the metal of their Alseides, climbing frantically as javelins bounced off the machines, missing them by mere centimetres. Guimel was in his cockpit first; standing as the front hatch closed. The mechanical collar/breastplate moved down over his head, the glove-like controls fitting around his arms and the entire chamber filled with liquid metal. The blue Alseides roared to life, and soon soldiers were flying through the air as Guimel kicked them off the legs of his 'melef.
'Let's go!' shouted Gatti, and the two units leaped into the air, switching into Flying mode and soaring away with a blast of the thrusters.
'Heehee... look how mad they are!' Guimel said gleefully over the com-link. Gatti shook his head, and set a course for the Vione. Turning to autopilot, he relaxed into the comforting suspended-animation of the liquid metal. He slowly eased his arm from the controls and felt the ring box in his pocket. With a sigh, he returned his arm to its original position and let himself float. As he loosened up, his thoughts wandered back to the street with the boy on the crutch.
I'm sure that it was him. It can't have been a ghost. But what if it was
just a boy who looked like him?
Come on, Gatti. How many chestnut-haired white boys do you know wear their
hair that way and live in Fried?
But he's dead!
Are you sure?
Gatti paused at that thought. Migel's body had never been found...Master
Dilandau has just said the Doppelganger killed him. But there was no body...