Chapter 4

The day was dying like wildfire, the scene was dyed red, contrasted by the shadows that grew bolder. Fifteen paces in front of the noble family existed a child they all knew. They had just seen the boy earlier that day, but it seemed in a short time he had outgrown his shell. The slender physique squatted slowly over a peculiar spot in the dust. The holes in his tattered kimono stretched further from his movements while his brown hair fluttered in the wind. The trims of his unkempt kimono were scorched black. Five of his lefthand digits spiraled towards the earth. They grasped the hilt of a small dagger. It was his wakizashi.

A fierce look mounted his boyish features. There was something different about him. Yet it was indistinguishable like marking out the salt out of seawater. The young man took a lengthy gaze at the weapon in his hand. Or rather it was a precious gift. After realizing what needed to be done, he squeezed the tsuka tightly and valiantly tossed aside the tears that threatened his eyes. He returned the dagger into its rightful place beside an empty saya. The missing long sword was wielded in his right hand firmly. The tip of the blade etched a small wound in the earth. The boy slowly walked over towards the bounded group. Each step of his feet causing an involuntary shudder amongst the befuddled samurai. A small trail made by his katana led him to the binded and bewildered noble ladies.

A billion questions flooded the minds of all who bore witness. The ropes that once binded the group seemed to fall off like a ripe flower from an aging tree. Lady Clyne and Lady Zala could not bear to look into the eyes of the boy, for an insuppressible fear of what they might find beckoned them not to. Lady Lacus chanced her curiosity. What she saw frightened her inside. A gentle and kind look filled his light streaked gleaming whitened violet eyes. They were so different, she had partly believed to have imagined his eyes of a different colour. A soft smile planted on his lips. Lacus' breath hitched at his presence. Her heart pounded in her ears. An unfamiliar warmth encompassed her whole being. She was shaking from the inside out. Kira hardly recognized, but brushed the thoughts quickly aside. He needed to fulfill his duty.

Soon, the bindings on the men were cut loose effortlessly. For a time, no one stood up and no one spoke. The young saviour quietly turned his head back looking over yonder. Athrun was the first to recover as he staggered onto his feet. The rest of the conscious party followed suit afterwards. They were all still silent. Athrun decided to chance himself and committed to getting the boy's attention. His hand reached out gliding through the air as a mild draft shook his motions slightly. Before his hand reached its destination, the boy swiftly turned around. His rigid face beckoning a sense of urgency and unknown authority. He simply said to the group, "Go. Hayaku."

The horses of the noble group appeared out of thin air. Each member perched atop a mighty stallion. All but one young man. They zoomed across to the Ha-no-mon Gate that was unknown to the youth until he had seen it. The brunette surprisingly kept up with the speed of the samurai cavalry. He stopped abruptly before the entrance of the gate. The noble family had not noticed until they were a good twenty paces ahead. Athrun was the first to notice. He reined his horse to stop and turned around quickly, baffled by his pause. The rest of the group stopped in their tracks as well. Though all but two returned to the brunette's side. The rest were contented in being barely in earshot.

Athrun unsaddled his horse in a smooth like fashion and offered the horse kindly, believing the boy was tired. The brunette declined silently. Nicol trotted back carefully, being the loyal subject he was, he allowed Athrun to have some space with the boy.

"Kira?" Athrun asked now completely confused.

"I will hold them back," Kira said simply.

"Baka!" Athrun said completely opposed to such nonsense.

"There is not much time," he responded dryly.

"You will come with us!" Lord Clyne interjected, shame pricked its way into his kind heart. He sensed the same feeling emanate from his wife and daughter. He had even felt the same premonition with Lady Zala.

"Iýe," Kira said defiantly, his voice laced with a seriousness that surprised even he himself.

"As your liege lord, I order you--"

"With all do respect," Kira smiled, interrupting as politely as he could, "I'm no samurai. Nor have I plead my effort to your cause." The entire group was taken aback by the truth of his words. He was no samurai. Nor was he technically an ally. Lord Clyne was speechless. The boy was right.

"Kira come with us!" Athrun asserted.

"Iýe," Kira stated, "you must go," instantly a blade shot up towards Athrun's neck poised to kill, "or die here."

At the notion of Kira's threat, all were once again flabbergasted. Lord Zala was the first to recover and promptly demanded the group to move forward. No one moved an inch. Kira drew his sword back. A small genial smile grew on his lips. Athrun was baffled by Kira's capricious actions. A small nod encouraged the blue-haired samurai onto horseback. Reluctantly, Athrun saddled his horse. His emerald eyes never leaving the brunette's face. A comforting hand was draped on his shoulder beckoning his attention instantly. Nicol smiled at him genially, believing in the boy's words. He believed in karma. He felt that this was the boy's time. Hesitantly, Athrun bridled his horse forward.

Halfway back towards the rest of the group, Athrun turned around one last time. What he saw shook him viciously with the strength of a mild earthquake. The noble families followed suit. In a sign of utmost respect, Kira had bowed very low to their retreating forms with his sword stabbed in the earth in front of him. The metal gleamed a tinge of orange from the waning sun. His medium lengthy brown hair draped sullenly covering his head. His small frame protruding from the earth like a stone memorial.

From the distance, the noble families could barely make out an engraving on the katana. Silent sadness lurked in their heavy hearts. They all knew what it was. After all, it was in noble script. They had just realized an important question that completely vexed them. When did he have sword?

For Athrun, such a question was trivial. He could no longer bear the enormous weight burdening his righteous mind. His mind was in a reckless amount of clutter. He began to question what was truth and what was deceit. He wanted to know the truth. There was one thing he knew for sure though. Kira was still his precious friend. He did not want him to die.

Athrun swiftly turned around his horse, surprising the nobles. Nicol followed after. Kira was rising slowly onto his feet. A small smile graced his lips as he thought his precious friend would do such a thing. In a matter of seconds, Athrun was once again in front of him. His emerald orbs more determined than before. The rest of the group watched on with a suppressed sense of urgency.

"Kira come with--"

"Iýe," Kira responded before he could finish, "you must go, they are coming." His head motioned towards the direction of the castle, a small group of figures rising from the earth slowly. An increasingly louder raucous erupting behind the donjon. The ground trembling in an ominous warning.

"They will kill you!" Athrun verbally protested.

"They will kill you," Kira responded calmly.

"Baka! You can escape with us! There is no need to throw your life away here!" Athrun reasoned getting worked up by the minute, "You must remain alive!" He loathed Kira's fatalism. He did not understand why Kira was so insistent on being such a moron. He did not want his precious friend to die.

Kira's amethyst eyes shuttered from view followed by an elongated sigh. Before his lips moved, his eyes opened showing a deep virtue and the strength of his resolve. His hands dipped inside his shabby kimono. Athrun did not realize what Kira was doing until he saw what was pulled out. It was the wakizashi. "Today . . . I had already died," he smiled warmly rendering Athrun's resolution useless. Athrun finally figured it all out. Tears unfitting for a noble samurai threatened his eyes. Kira gazed at him in a silent plea for understanding. Athrun's mind still screamed objection. He could not accept.

Using that familiar lightning speed, the empty saya in the brunette's obi lashed out swiftly laying out the blue-haired samurai. Nicol and the rest of the samurai were aghast by the brunette's brash actions. Lord Zala was by far the most upset about the cowardly act. Kira strung the scabbard back into his obi and picked up the unconscious body. With some effort, he managed to toss Athrun into Nicol's hands. His head nodded for comprehension and Nicol understood. Kira smiled at the green-haired samurai.

"Excuse me . . ." Kira started to inquire, "can you please give this to Lady Lacus-sama?"

He fished out the object from his kimono and placed it into Nicol's free hand. The green-haired samurai had a questioning look on his face for awhile, but a small appreciative smiled lined the brunette's face so he was forced to happily oblige such a request. He did owe the boy a favor. They all did. The rumble of the earth shook them all from their dreamy reverie. Athrun's eyes opened lazily. His questioning gaze looking towards his friend's eyes. Kira walked closer to Athrun's side and whispered genially, "Arigatou my friend . . . for everything," a small smile lined his lips as he knew Athrun was soon to pass out, "You must remain alive, Lord Athrun-sama." Athrun's eyes snapped shut, the throbbing dull pain in his neck beckoned him to.

Kira nodded farewell to the green-haired samurai. Nicol quickly rode up alongside the noble group. Their eyes hadn't left the young man's form. Kira placed the dagger beside his long sword's saya. He walked up to his earthed katana. His hand grasped the hilt of the sword and in a swift moment, unearthed the weapon. He wiped the sand tipped edge with his burned kimono. A mild breeze unveiled his violet eyes to the nobles and he turned away.

The rattle of the earth grew impatient. The silver-haired leader and his fellow group had risen to their feet. Anger arose from them considerably. They saddled their horses and glared at the culprit menacingly. The trample of countless thousands of samurai emerged from the incinerated castle.

The lone figure went to the other side of the Ha-no-mon Gate. With one last longing look, he threw two swift strokes to the supports of the boxed roofing of the gate. The raised structure collapsed onto the earth blocking the only exit down the back of the mountain. The noble families had all realized what Kira had done. Even Lord Zala acknowledge that the boy's actions was not at all brash nor were they cowardly. They began their journey to Zaft in solemn silence. Kira faced his death courageously. Not a single ounce of regret lingered in his body. This was his karma.

In front of him stood the faces of ten thousand samurai and growing. Armed with spears, swords, and longbows. All poised to kill. The men clad in armour at the forefront glared menacingly. The silver-haired samurai channeling all of his ire at his very being.

"Fool! Do you know what you have done?" screeched the leading samurai.

Kira did not so much as budge an inch from the darkened voice. He was not afraid.

"Answer me peasant!"

"Iýe," Kira replied simply.

"Lord Yzac, may I have the honour of ridding this fool," spoke a battle-experience man out of the crowd of brown kimono samurai.

"No you will not," responded Yzac firmly, "he will die by my hands."

"Iýe," Kira replied simply invoking more anger to seep out of opposing samurai.

Simultaneously, the two poised their swords into battle. Before they charged, Yzac scoffed at the obvious amateur in front of him. He laughed, "Ha! you defeat me? You are nothing but a coward. You cannot even hold the sword the right way. What a fool!"

The rest of the thousands of samurai laughed in the same manner. The laughter died as Kira charged Yzac. Yzac read his movements easily and swiftly blocked the onslaught. Yzac berated himself for having fallen to such a novice swordsman. There was not a blinding speed in the brunette's thrust. There was nothing special about him. To Yzac, he was pathetic. Yzac had superior skill with the sword. Years of intense training toughened him significantly. Yzac let the boy expend much of his energy while dodging conservatively. After scores of missed, blocked, and dodged slashes, Kira's stamina wavered. His chest heaving for air. Ever so confident in his superiority, Yzac dared a small laugh at the amateur opposition. A move he would later regret.

Seeing an opportunity open up, Kira whirled his sword high above his head using the last remnants of his strength. With a powerful downward swing, he forced the blade of the silver-haired samurai to slither out of his grasp. Taken aback and angered, Yzac quickly reached out for the dagger in his obi. Sensing his movement, Kira summoned the depths of his strength and drew out lightning from his body. Kira twirled the blade and thrusted it downwards using the upward momentum to bring a devastating blow to the side of Yzac's neck. Yzac had fallen.

Silence ensued. Soon after anger had trailed. Outraged by the defeat of an allied lord, the legions of men one by one challenged the young swordsman to a duel.

At the death of the sun, Kira emerged with legions of bodies sprawled over the earth. His fragile frame was smothered with injuries. Blood profusely trickled out of his wounds. Spears had punctured him. Swords gashed him. Arrows embedded him. His line of sight blurred mixing the thousands of brown kimono samurai into a giant heap of dung. Another samurai stepped in front of him. Faintly he noticed the man having been turned away. A different coloured kimono raised his sword signaling the beginning of the duel. Kira smiled lazily. He drew his sword upwards half-consciously. He knew his time was coming.

The light in his violet eyes was fading into the darkness . . . He was dying.

The noble family rode for the remainder of the day in a solemn silence. A simple image engraved in their minds. It was of the boy that saved their lives. The tender smile that could be seen from two thousand paces away. Tattered and burned kimono and all. His sword wounded in the crust of the earth. His violet eyes filled with genuine kindness. Not a single trace of regret dotted his face.

The stars shimmered overhead while ominous clouds gathered. A small encampment was made and everyone save for one person gathered around the campfire. The hill they were perched upon was covered by a thick forest. They took a shortcut only the daimyos knew existed. Boaz was almost in sight.

They were safe. Plenty of food was served, but no one ate. Even in the darkened night, the air grew thick choking the life out of the small embers. They could all talk, but no spoke. A huge billow of smoke arose from a peculiar area. The sight still evident from over twenty thousand paces. Though impossible, the sound of terrifying battle cries could still be heard. The rumble of the ground ceased to exist. All was quiet.

Athrun was in complete turmoil within himself. His fists clenched in anger partly at himself and partly at the friend he lost. He accepted the fate he chose, but he did not accept his loss. He was not given the chance to apologize. He should have known how much Kira treasured that gift. His eyes never left one figure in front of him. The flickering of flames undeterring his piercing emerald eyes.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"Nani?" Lord Zala replied cautiously.

"Why did you do it?"

"I did what I had to do," the daimyo replied sharply, leaving no room for argument.

"What? What do you mean--"

"With all due respect Athrun-sama," a blonde haired noble guard interjected, "but you're father has lived to see more years than you have. Do you not remember your place from his place on this earth?"

Athrun glared at the offending man. He never did like him. "Rey . . ."

The harsh reality struck Athrun like a taí fun. Another young woman had been equally enlightened. During their trip towards the camp, they were finally taught the social hierarchy of Japan. Kira was a servant. They were nobles. The very thought shook them to the cores. They berated their own blindness.

"In any case, there was nothing that could be done. He himself chose to die, did he not? Lord Zala did not choose for him to die, did he not?" Rey replied smartly knowing he had outmaneuvered the young lord. Lord Clyne, Lady Clyne and Lady Zala all looked at embers forlornly. A part of their hearts rebutting Rey's remark, though it was true.

Lady Clyne finally gracefully uprighted herself. Her small feet led her to a small pathway hidden by the thick brush and abundant trees. She leaned onto the cold bark of a tree, watching her daughter in the clearing carefully from afar. The long pink locks flowing freely now, no longer tied into a neat bun. Her petite frame and naturally pale skin illuminated breathtakingly by the small streaks of light from the heavens. She was the envy of all who had seen her. Even Lady Clyne herself would be naturally jealous if not for the fact she was the maternal figure of the epitome of perfection. From afar, Lacus Clyne had it all. The looks, the nobility, the fiance, the sincerity, the fame, the talent, the strength, the courage. Her life was perfect. She was perfect.

Lady Clyne knew much wiser. Perhaps it was a familial bonding that allowed her the foresight into her daughter's being. Or perhaps it was because she did not turn a blind eye to Lacus' weaknesses and flaws. Lady Clyne saw the tears that marred her daughter's beautiful au naturel face. Her face scrunched in utter sadness. The baby blue eyes gazed into the bright crescent moon wistfully. Her tiny delicate fingers wrapped into a small bundle. There was a peculiar object clasped tightly yet softly within them. She smiled a sad smile knowingly. It was an origami.