SAKURA TAISEN/WARS, MARIA TACHIBANA, and all related characters, names and

Rating: PG-13, violence/horror

"FROM THE ASHES" – Unbreakable

Even though she was no longer dressed as the boy who was tailing Silvio – in fact, those clothes had been stolen along with everyone else, by she could not imagine whom – Maria still did not feel completely safe out alone this late, the same day she was caught by Silvio. The hope that was keeping her walking at the moment was that it was too soon for Lupo's gang to react.

Two hours ago, she'd fled her apartment, leaving Valentinov staggering and cursing in pain. Valentinov was becoming terrifying. He'd said he loved her, but that could not be love. Obsession, perhaps, but not love. And the longer Maria denied him, the greater the chance of him becoming enraged enough to truly do her harm. How this had not been clear to her sooner, she did not know. Perhaps she truly did believe herself unlovable.

She did not want to go home – not to an empty flat with a broken and unlockable door. She would have to go there eventually, she knew – she had nowhere else to go and no one else to go to. But for now, that was not completely true.

She left a message with Mama Luna for Piotr Karpov, asking him to meet her under the footbridge in Central Park. It was generally a place for lovers to meet, so it tended to be dark, quiet and undisturbed. They would not be found there.

Piotr was a good man and a good soldier. Maria had known him for three years. Though despite the length of time she knew him, she did not know him very well. He, like herself, was quite reticent, stoic, silent and brooding. However there was something about him that made Maria believe that he would step in front of a speeding train to save her, and any of their fellow Revolutionaries. It had been a great source of pain to Karpov, as it had to Maria, that he had survived and his comrades had all died. Maria would not typically ask Piotr Karpov for help, but she was swiftly arriving at the end of her rope.

Karpov's apartment was two doors down from Maria's. The two of them were the only 'employees' of Giuseppe Ignazio who lived above Luna's Restaurant. Perhaps he'd heard something – anything – that might give her a hint as to who robbed her, and why. She could understand if someone had taken the money. Everyone needs money. She even understood someone taking her clothes. Times were difficult, and people needed clothing. Her bedclothes… that was a bit strange, but not outlandish. But who would take the time and trouble to steal things such as a keepsakes book, her makeup kit, her toothbrush, Yuri's photograph… Well, she understood the theft of two bottles of vodka, it was only two months ago that Prohibition had gone into effect. Alcohol was very difficult to come by now. Valentinov carried a flask in his coat at all times. Maria was now 'dry.' And at a VERY bad time.

She would have been on time to meet him, they had agreed to meet at eleven at night, but several of Lupo's lackeys were hanging around the downtown gate to the park and Maria had to go a long way around. She was almost thirty minutes late when she finally could make out Karpov's shadowy silhouette sitting at the base of a tree near the path, his back to her.

She felt a twinge of guilt – she'd made the former soldier wait for so long that he had sat down. Then the guilt became apprehension. Maria could remember Karpov standing guard for hours without faltering. Why would he need to sit after only thirty minutes?

She closed her right hand around the handle of her Enfield, tucked into its holster under her right arm, and slowly approached.

"Piotr?" she whispered.

When he did not answer, she touched his shoulder. Karpov slid away from the tree and collapsed to the ground, his eyes wide and fixed in his head, unseeing. His throat had been slit from ear to ear. The grass and cobblestones were soaked in his blood.

Maria's gasp of horror was staunched by the hand she clamped over her mouth in an effort to maintain silence. She took a step back, shaking her head in disbelief, her hand still over her mouth. Then she glanced quickly around, almost expecting someone to leap out at her.

She drew her gun. Well, at least now she believed she knew why Lupo's gang had been this far uptown. How they had known where Karpov would be meeting her, she had no idea. Her survival instincts kicked in. Someone knew the two of them would be here. And someone had killed one of them. Odds were good that they meant to kill the other one, too.

She turned and took the highest path through the grass and trees toward the West Side gate of Central Park, then scaled the wall rather than coming out to the street via the gate. As she ran, she wracked her brain for a plan. Uptown. Out of Little Italy territory. But then where?

She had literally nothing but the clothes on her back. And she would NOT sell her gun. She could no longer go to Karpov, he was quite dead. Tears for him would have to wait. She was afraid to go to Valentinov, but she was swiftly realizing that there was no where else for her to go. She felt herded along her path, and that enraged her.

When she stopped to catch her breath, she realized she was in front of the apartment building uptown in which Joseph Ignazio lived. She had been to his apartment once or twice with Valentinov and Karpov. Perhaps she had one other option after all.

Joseph opened his door in a silk robe and lined leather slippers, squinting blearily into the corridor, sleepy eyes dazzled by the fragmented light of the Austrian crystal chandelier. In the corridor, on the Oriental runner carpet, stood Maria, wearing her pin striped suit and red gloves, her gun DRAWN, but her arms folded, shivering so hard that her teeth were chattering.

"Maria…?" he mispronounced her name, as usual. "It's after 1:00 in the morning…"

Softly, apologetically, she interrupted, "Have... Have nowhere else to go..."

"It's all right, c'mon in." Joseph let her pass him, then peered out into the corridor to be certain no one else was there.

Joseph made sure there was a generous glass of vodka in Maria's shaking hands before he left her alone to dress more appropriately. When he returned, he asked her to explain what had happened.

In moments of duress, Maria's English became abominable. Frequently, Joseph either had to exercise extreme patience, or make suggestions of possible words she could be searching for in order to help her along. Throughout her story, he was appropriately horrified, grieved and sympathetic. When she was done, he stood and took his wallet out of his inside jacket pocket.

"Ahie, nyet… pazhowlusta… Joseph…" she tried to stop him as he took ten dollars from his wallet.

"I insist," he thrust the money at her. "I'm only sorry it isn't more, but at least I can keep you sheltered and fed until we get all of this sorted-- …who is in there, by the way?"

He asked because Maria had folded her locket into her hands, nervously, clutching it as if it were the only thing she had left of value in the world.

"Hn? Oh…" She tucked her locket into her shirt and shook her head, her eyes still distant and her gaze still overwhelmed. "Is… only someone who… I wish… to be here, now."

Joseph sighed, nodding, and sat down beside her on his couch, leaning his elbows on his knees and joining her in staring off into nothingness. He knew who was in her locket. He knew the whole story. He knew a surprising lot, as a matter of fact. "Look, Maria… I think I can help you solve this."

She looked up at him, questioningly.

"It won't be easy, but it might solve a few of your problems at once. How good are you with that revolver?"

Instinctively, she placed her right hand over it, as if he might take it from her merely by mentioning it. "Am…" she appeared to consider appraisingly, her gaze heavenward, then met his eyes again. "Excellent."

"Good. You will likely need it often. Shall I tell you your first difficulty?"

Maria looked a little surprised.

"You are a poor judge of character. Valentinov is not your friend."

She huffed a mirthless laugh. "I know this."

"I'm not sure you do. I mean, it's obvious that you're guarded around him, and you try to keep someone between you and him at all times, and that's smart. But you're skipping the most important part, Maria."

She turned her empty glass in her hands, just as something to do. Joseph took it as a hint and stood, taking the glass from her and going to his baptist bar to refill it. "Think back to Russia. Think back to the day of the ambush."

Maria squeezed her eyes closed. She did not want to think back to that day. She'd spent the better part of her days since trying to never think of it again, trying to never dream of it, trying to escape the grasping ghosts of her wailing comrades, their corpses littering the snowfield around her—

"It would have been a different story that day if your numbers had been a little greater, wouldn't it? If Valentinov had showed up, you would have fended off that ambush, wouldn't you?"

She nodded, her eyes still closed.

"Lemme see if I remember this right. Your regiment is summoned to rendezvous with Valentinov's, right? So you guys get there, only there's no Valentinov and no regiment. Instead, an army is lying in wait, and they slaughter you all. Still no Valentinov, right?"

Again, Maria nodded, wincing against the echoes of gunfire in her memory, the hollow sound of Yuri commanding them to retreat…

"Why do you think he was not at the rendezvous point, Maria? Have you ever known him to be so forgetful?"

All the explanations she'd come up with herself surfaced: they'd been attacked, but no one was wounded. They were snowed in, but there was no storm. They were needed elsewhere, but there was no battle. She'd lied to herself to avoid considering the unthinkable.

"Haven't you ever wondered why he didn't tell you the reason for missing the rendezvous? Or were you too busy wallowing in grief and self pity?"

Sharply, Maria rose to her feet, glaring at him angrily.

"You were so preoccupied idealizing the dead guy in your locket that you haven't noticed the traitor in your midst."

"Govnyuk…" Maria whispered, and raised a hand to slap him across the face. He caught her wrist and stood too, facing her.

"I'm harsh, true. But you'd better reconsider your anger, Maria. Right now… I'm your only friend."

She exhaled, still furious, and expected to be released. He did not release her.

"No. I know you're just like the other Russians are. Were. Nothing inside, and walk away when wounded, pace furiously, get absorbed in yourself, but this is important, and you're going to look me in the eyes when I tell it to you."

She was, in fact, remarkably uncomfortable with the proximity and the eye contact – as if he could see her soul, a part of her she wished to keep hidden.

"Silvio knows someone is trying to kill him. And the bottom line is, he knows it's us. More to the point, he knows it's you, Maria. And he knows you'll be after Lupo next."

All the colour drained from Maria's face and she staggered. Joseph pulled the wrist he held to keep her on her feet. "No, hey – don't panic. Now's the time to be ice cold again. I told you I had a solution for you."

He gave Maria a moment to muster every ounce of strength she could and compose herself.

"Skip a step. Forget Silvio, leave him to me. Go straight to Lupo. And do it as fast as you can."

Maria opened her mouth to protest, but Joseph interrupted her.

"You have no lead time, so forget about that. He needs to be dead in days, Maria. Your apartment's been ransacked, so now you can probably guess what Lupo and his gang know about you. Stay away from your usual restaurants. Don't go home. Not until Lupo's dead. And for God's sake, don't come here."

This was too much. Everything was happening so quickly, and all of it was so dangerous… there was no way she could survive it. She had nothing, she had no one. And she was hunted. Hunted by the other guys, and by her own. Maria saw her future shrink before her eyes. She felt broken, numb, like someone simply waiting to expire. She would not live through this.

"Go now. Use that money I gave you. Find a youth hostel or something. Stay low. When you're settled, send me a telegram and tell me where we can meet tomorrow night. I'll have more answers for you, then."

Russian Glossary:

Ahie, nyet… pazhowlusta – Ah, no… please

Govnyuk - Bastard