Title: Band Of Brothers
Series: Family Bonds
Author: Dark_One Shadowphyre
Feedback: darkone2813@mindspring.com
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama
Rating: R [for violence, and an occasional non-explicit sexual reference]
Pairing: 1+2+3+4+5, implied 1x2x3x4x5 in various combinations; eventual 4x1, 2x5, and 3x11
Summary: It's been a year since Trieze Kushrenada died and the "war to end all wars" was finished. Now, his daughter Mariemaia seeks to finish what she believes he started and follow through with the original Operation Meteor. The Gundam pilots are needed once again, but how does one track down a former terrorist? Then again, some of those "former terrorists" are easier to find than one might suspect. And once this battle is over, there just might be more happy endings in store.
Warnings: Violence, non-explicit sexual references, MAJOR Endless Waltz spoilers, several OCs and demi-OCs, minor theological references.
Disclaimer: All Gundam Wing characters are owned first and foremost by Bandai and Sunrise and the Sotsu Agency. The characters as expanded upon in this fic are but secondary figures drawn from the images of their shadows, and as such are attributed to me. This is a non-profit work of fiction.
Notes: ::gives a forlorn and agonised wail and curls up into a tight ball, whimpering:: [Translation: If ever I had any sanity or peace of mind left to me after having been a fanfic writer for 8+ years... this fic ate it. And then it went on to eat my pride, my dignity, and my too-precious TIME, damnit!!]
Dedication: To Talon Navah, Nell Monroe, QueenStrata, and Moon Faery-- for being there and hand-holding me through the long and partially painful process of thinking out and organising the damned details for this thrice-damned fic-turned-Arc. Domo arigatou gozaimasu, minna-chan! Suki da!
Distribution: FanFiction.Net profile; the Shadow Realm, my site; the WufeixDuoYaoiML list; the onetwentyfive mailing list; the 1x4/4x1 mailing list; the SDDI mailing list; the SDQB mailing list; the Shadowphyre_Stories mailing list. Anywhere else-- ask, and ye shall receive.
Prologue
Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends...
It was the year 196AC, and the Yakuza Clan were the most powerful in Japan. In the twentieth century of the pre-colony era, they had been top masterminds of organised crime, ranked highly with the Russian, New York, and Italian Mafias. Since the colonisation of outer space, the Clan had begun to broaden its activities into the more legitimate fields of business, seemingly leaving behind their more covert "criminal" operations. In reality, those operations were more active than ever, though with a considerably more benevolent intent than organised crime. A more highly trained and specialised group of assassins, intelligence agents, and undercover operatives on Earth could only be found among the other three Mafia "families" which did not include the resources those self-same families had on the colonies themselves. No longer feeling the need to be competitive, the four rings often shared their information through secure channels.
In the office of the Yakuza's youngest - and best trained - operative, there was an intense feeling of gratitude for that inter-ring communication. The young man behind the dark-varnished oak desk looked to be no older than sixteen years of age, hardly the trained top assassin he was ranked as. His eyes told a different story, however. Those Prussian blue orbs half-obscured by chocolate-brown bangs were deeply shadowed with too many years of pain and front-row seats to every major battle fought during the war the previous year. Those same eyes were now fixed on the computer screen, reading with growing concern the reports from the Marelli ring on a group called the Barton Organisation. It was a group the young assassin was all too familiar with, and one he'd hoped never to hear from again.
A knock on his office door interrupted him, and his eyes leapt from the screen to the door, one hand automatically going for the gun concealed beneath his desk. A split-second later and his mind caught up with him, allowing him to relax slightly. Only slightly.
"Chotto o-machi kudasai," he called as he carefully minimized the communication on his screen. Satisfied, he turned his full attention to the door. "Hairu kudasai."
The girl who opened the door was little older than the young man behind the desk. She was slim, almost too thin for her height of 173 centimetres, with pale skin and chin-length black-brown hair. Her eyes, which were currently respectfully lowered, were ice blue, betraying at least part of her ancestry to Russia. After OZ's defeat, she'd been left without a job and while the Yakuza Clan had been hesitant at first, they trusted the judgement of their young chief assassin when he'd decided to hire her. And he would never admit it, but he was more than glad he had hired her; she was consistently helpful in her capacity as his personal aide and made a very effective receptionist when dealing with his co-workers and/or relatives.
"Gomen nasai, Lowe-sama," she began softly, her Japanese words partially accented by Russian tonality. "O-tesu kakete sumimasen... demo...."
"It's fine, Tatyana-san," he interrupted in the Universal tongue, his lips twitching upwards into the barest hint of a smile. "And please. I am the last person who would insist on formality."
Tatyana Voronov lifted her head and gave her young boss a cheerful grin. "Of course, Hoshiko-san, but I must play the part of a properly grateful and respectful employee, da?"
Hoshiko Lowe, only son of Odin Lowe and Kakuretasame Mayumi and heir to the Yakuza Empire, relaxed his control enough to chuckle at his receptionist's words. Tatyana was cheerful with a sardonic sense of humour and very little patience for fools. Her general disdain for pomp and ceremony was kept carefully masked from everyone in the Yakuza Clan, barring only her sixteen-year-old boss. Hoshiko found her refreshing amidst an entire office full of his almost too-formal relatives and encouraged her to think of him more as a friend than an employer. He'd had precious few friends in his life...
"Was there something you needed, Tatyana?" he asked, bringing his mind back to the issue at hand, whatever it might be. Tatyana was good about not bothering him unless it was really important. He narrowed his eyes slightly. Or if it was something he didn't want to hear.
"Anou..." Tatyana fidgeted slightly, and Hoshiko felt an unpleasant sensation in his chest. "Your Grandfather sent Karai up here with a message."
Kakuretasame Yukio, Hoshiko's grandfather on his mother's side and the patriarch of the Yakuza Clan, was an arrogant man in his sixties with a keen intellect and an even keener blade. He had contacted Hoshiko at the end of the war with some reluctance, and the two had formed an uneasy truce that was continuously tested by both of them. Yukio's personal aide, Kikentorihiki Karai, was a quick-tempered woman with a slightly bloodthirsty streak that made Hoshiko a little nervous in spite of himself and, as he'd once overheard a fellow student at a boarding school say of a particularly well-endowed female teacher, "a body that wouldn't quit." Hoshiko was almost positive that Yukio and Karai were sleeping together, but he wasn't stupid enough to call his Grandfather on it.
As it was, Yukio tolerated Hoshiko because Hoshiko was the only son of Yukio's only acknowledged and legitimate child and was therefore the Heir to the Clan. Hoshiko put up with Yukio because the old man left him pretty much alone, and as long as Yukio was alive and competent, Hoshiko wouldn't be shoved into the power seat, which was more than fine with him. Despite his natural affinity for taking charge of situations when he needed to, positions of power made him more nervous than Karai.
"Wonderful," Hoshiko muttered, slumping slightly in his chair. "And what message did the Firebrand bring from Sofu-sama?" Tatyana gave him a look that was a war between laughter and sympathy. Hoshiko couldn't blame her; the honorific suffix was meant sarcastically, a vowel pronunciation away from same, and it would have been almost an insult had his Grandfather or anyone else besides Tatyana heard it. He thought almost because who really knew what went on in Kakuretasame Yukio's mind anyway? The old man might actually take it as a compliment!
"Nothing too horrific if you like family get-togethers," Tatyana was saying wryly. "Although, if you'll pardon my saying so, Hoshiko-san, with your family..."
"I quite understand, Tatyana-san," he said smoothly as she trailed off. He sighed, watching his fingers idly play with the pen on his desk. "As it so happens, I agree with you. My Grandfather is as dangerous as the shark of his name and there are quite a few things I'd rather do than spend any prolonged amount of time in his presence."
"Like what?" Tatyana asked, seeming genuinely interested, and Hoshiko realised that Tatyana was one of the few people in whose presence his vocabulary didn't restrict itself to death threats and monotone, single-syllable grunts.
"Like fighting off six squads of OZ mobile suits on my own with four broken ribs, a broken leg, and five bullet wounds," he replied bluntly, and had the satisfaction of seeing the seemingly unshakable Tatyana gape at him like a stranded fish. Then again, this was probably the first time he'd ever referred - however obliquely - to either of their previous wartime occupations in her presence. He gave her points for quick recovery as she snapped her mouth shut and gave him a mildly droll look.
"Perish the thought that Christmas dinner with the family patriarch be any easier a duty to perform," she teased, then looked uncertain as he continued to watch her with the same inexpressive countenance that flustered and frustrated any number of people Hoshiko came across. "You... didn't really fight off six squads of OZ MS on your own with those injuries... did you?" she asked hesitantly, not looking at all sure that she wanted to know the answer. Her employer was young, yes, but he had the Clans' respect, and with very good reason. Hoshiko let her stew in her uncertainty for a moment before taking pity on her and shaking his head.
"Iie," he said, then added mischievously, "it was only five squads and a bullet in the side."
"'Only,' he says," Tatyana mocked, throwing up her hands with a sigh. She pinned Hoshiko with a stern, searching look, unintentionally provoking a slight smile from the sixteen-year-old.
"I'm fine, Tatyana," he assured her. "No crippling injuries, no concealed wounds, no broken bones, no internal damage. Just a network of scars to map the last ten years of my life, and most of those will fade with time. Even if the memories remain."
"You're in a talkative mood today," Tatyana murmured, though her teasing tone was subdued and did little to mask the underlying concern and sadness she felt at hearing one so young as her boss speak as a man of many years. Young in years... but never once a child.
"The others would faint from shock," Hoshiko drawled, startling a laugh out of her, and he added his own chuckle to hers before sighing. "So. Just dinner, do you think? Or does Sofu-sama have something more sinister in mind for the prodigal grandson?"
"Oh, undoubtedly," Tatyana said with mock-seriousness, not in the least started by the Christian Biblical reference. Slyly, she added, "This may be overstepping my boundaries as your personal aide, Sir, but I think from the way Karai was snapping he may want to discuss your motives behind being seen in the company of a certain female Peacecraft heir..." Hoshiko's eyes widened slightly, the only hint that he was startled, then narrowed at her in mock reproach.
"That is overstepping your boundaries, Miss Voronov," he began, but broke off as his computer beeped at him. Instantly, the amusement fled his expression and he turned to the screen. Tatyana took two unconscious steps back, recognising the look on her superior's face as his "mission look." He always got that same expression when he was given an assignment, completely focused on whatever dominated his attention. As she watched, Hoshiko frowned at the screen, then sighed with a wry sort of smile tugging at his lips. "Well, I did say...."
"Sir?" Tatyana asked hesitantly. Hoshiko twitched, then looked up at her.
"At ease, Tatyana," he said, and she unconsciously relaxed her stance. Soldiers, both of them, too young to have seen so much, and not a damn thing either could to about it. Although... Nodding his head at the computer, he said, "I suppose this will teach me to be careful what I ask for."
"Mission?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Of a sort," Hoshiko said cryptically, then explained. "That 'female Peacecraft heir' you mentioned was just kidnapped by the Barton Foundation. And before you ask, it's only just happened five minutes ago and the reason I know is that Oto-kun was there when it happened."
Hastukanezumi Otobai was an eighteen-year-old boy with a cheerful attitude, a passion for fixing up old motorbikes, and a knack for sniffing out trouble before it happened. He was also one of the few members of the Yakuza Clan that didn't question or even mind taking orders from Hoshiko. His hand-to-hand combat ability and carefully honed marksmanship had made him ideal for sending to watch over one Relena Peacecraft. Hoshiko couldn't help but wonder about the boy's name, given as it recalled to mind snatches of a very old children's book from the pre-Colony era.
"When are you leaving?" Tatyana asked quietly. Hoshiko glanced at the clock on his desk, mentally calculating the time it would take to pack up his laptop and leave the office building, how long it would take to drive to his apartment, how long it would take to pack and get to his private shuttle and get clearance for take-off. He'd have to go to L2 first, sending secured messages to--
"Twenty minutes," he said. "I intend to be headed off-planet within the next hour and a half."
She nodded. "I'll inform Karai that you will be, ah... unavoidably detained for the foreseeable future."
"Thank you," he nodded, turning to his laptop to begin packing it for the trip. He paused. "If anything... untoward happens to me...." he began awkwardly.
"I'll go to L4 and Winner Enterprises with the references you've provided," Tatyana assured him, smiling. It was a slightly melancholy smile. "I sincerely hope I won't have to."
"I rather hope you won't have to, either," Hoshiko replied quietly.
It was the closest either of them ever came to admitting that they'd grown used to each other, even to the point of liking each other. They were friends, true, but neither of them readily expressed that, uncomfortable with emotions and all too conscious of the many eyes that watched them in the Yakuza headquarters. Instead Tatyana stepped up to the desk and lightly touched Hoshiko's shoulder before drawing away. Hoshiko responded by catching her hand and giving it a brief squeeze before letting go.
'Take care of yourself,' she was silently telling him.
'I will. Don't worry about me,' he silently replied.
"I will notify you of when I can be expected to return," he said aloud, shutting down his laptop.
"Understood, sir," Tatyana said, bowing, and took herself out to go deliver the 'bad news' to Karai while Hoshiko made good his escape.
Fifteen minutes later, Hoshiko Lowe was seen leaving the Yakuza headquarters in a black sedan, headed for his apartment. Within an hour of the young man's departure from his office, a young man with messy chocolate brown hair, dressed in blue jeans and a green tank top with a denim jacked slung over his shoulders, was seeing roaring down the road on a beat up and scratched Vincent Black Shadow motorbike headed for the Neo Tokyo Aero-Spaceport.
Ten minutes later, former Gundam Pilot Heero Yuy was cleared for take-off in a small shuttle en route to the L2 Colony cluster.
Chotto o-machi kudasai - Just a moment, please.
Hairu kudasai - Enter, please.
Gomen nasai, Lowe-sama - I beg your pardon, Mr Lowe.
O-tesu kakete sumimasen... demo.... - I'm sorry to trouble you like this... but....