Hey guys, semi-long author's note at the bottom. I'm feeling the juices for this story starting to flow again, which makes me really glad. My Way is my babe 3
Anyhoo, as usual:
My Way
By AzureChan
Chapter 14:
Her hands wandered, explored. She was feeling around for a key, or a card, or some blasted way to get out of her metal imprisonment. Her fingers crawled slowly across the first guard's pants and—metal. A key.
Freedom.
In movies, criminals made sticking a key into a lock, without looking, seem simple. Usagi struggled once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth time, jammed the key into the lock and twisted quickly. With a small squeak of protest, the iron door in front of her slid open, and she was free.
Partially.
She still needed a way out of the camp, and preferably, off of the colony. The farther away from the military she was, the better. According to Mikoshi, Oz was the enemy and since Usagi was now associated with Oz—incorrect as that was—she was a prime target for the Alliance. This meant that in the morning, all of the familiarity she'd had with anyone in the camp was completely irrelevant. The friendships she'd worked hard to make—small as they were—meant nothing, now. No one in this camp would trust her anymore, no one would help her.
This was why she desperately needed to get out of the camp quickly and unseen.
She wondered if Trowa and Quatre had been informed. Did Trowa hate her, now? Did Quatre?
"Not that it really matters," she mumbled, quietly making her way across the soggy field toward the barracks, where the other trainees were sleeping soundly. "He wasn't here to help me at all."
Then again, she reasoned silently, maybe it hadn't been his fault. Maybe he had wanted to come to her, to help her, and maybe he'd been stopped, or silenced. Fear slowly edged its way into her mind. What if someone had seen her and Trowa talking a lot, had seen her sneaking to his room, and had told Kihono and Mikoshi? What if someone had known about her true identity long before now, and had only hidden it to hurt Trowa in the end?
She shook these thoughts from her mind and focused her attention on the building in front of her. "No time for fear," she whispered to herself. If she was going to go through with this, then the one alibi she was about to use couldn't be mistrusted, or feared.
Usagi shivered. It was cold, and the rain hadn't stopped blowing or coming down since she'd killed both guards.
A new kind of shiver made its way up the back of her spine, slowly and uncomfortably. It wasn't as if she had forgotten her kills, but the fact that she had killed in general. She had never actually killed a person—another living, breathing human being. Oh, she'd killed youma with her Senshi—she swallowed thickly at the memory. All four of her closest friends flashed in her mind, and for a moment, she felt weak and drained.
Standing in the rain, barefoot, probably catching all kinds of sickness, Usagi realized, once again, that she couldn't do it.
She sighed, frustrated, and sat awkwardly down on the stairs leading up to the barrack door. "This again," she murmured, not amused. She was beginning to despise these mood swings. First, an immense and uncontrollable anger, hatred, and in the next second, a kindred and tamed spirit, full of hurt and sadness, and weakness. It was damaging to her body and mind. She felt like two people in one body. Two Usagi's with two minds, and only one body to take action with. She gripped the concrete of the stairs and shook with coldness and uncertainty. Fear. How she loathed the feeling.
"Two choices," she whispered in the rain. By now, her clothes were soaked through and sticking to her like a second skin, and her hair sagged limply around her shoulders. "I can go in there and try my luck with Trowa, see if he'll help me, or I can wait until dawn and let it all go to waste, just like everything else in my life has." She wanted to pick at her nails, because that's what she usually did when she was afraid, but a stronger feeling overpowered it and she just sat, thinking.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, she pushed herself up and onto wobbly legs, started down the stairs, and walked around to the back of the camp. If she was going to wait until morning to finally receive her peace, unjust as it was, she would at least have one last look around the place she had called home for the past six months.
Six months, she thought as she rounded the building's corner, the tree Hiiro often hid in coming into view. Had it really only been six months? It felt like an eternity. An eternity that would end, bitterly, at six o'clock that morning.
She stumbled, almost drunkenly, toward the huge tree, clasped its base, and dug her fingers in the mushy bark. She had planned on just leaning against the tree for another moment or so to wallow in her own self pity, when out of nowhere, in the darkness, a figure landed with a thump at her side.
She stiffened, her senses running wild and putting her on a full alert. Slowly, her body automatically falling into a stance, she turned and faced her unwanted company.
And she blinked, astonished.
"You?" she said, and the figure stepped forward.
"Sing us another one, Barbie," slurred the drunken soldier, arm draped over the side of the bar counter, and in his other hand a fresh shot glass of whiskey. "You got a damn pretty voice."
Another soldier muttered something in response, and still others hooted encouragingly, drunkenly, at the petite woman on center stage of the private bar.
She smiled sweetly, falsely, at all of them.
"You boys up for something fast, or would you like me to—" she lowered her eyelashes and winked at the men—"take it a little slower?"
They whistled and howled, excited and drunk with booze and sexual frustration.
This time, the smile was inward, and it was real. Perfect, she thought, eyeing the one soldier she had been trying to reach at the very beginning of her "show". He was gazing at her dreamily, quieter than the other soldiers, but just as drunk, and just as stupid.
It would be a slow song. A slow, hypnotic song. The words would speak to the soldiers in a language only men with full bellies and swelling loins could appreciate, and she would sing it beautifully, slowly.
"I know I saw you here last night, lover boy," she began in a silky soft, entrancing voice. "And I know you saw me too, honey," She made her way offstage, her body moving with the soft and capturing chords of the music, and the soldiers responded to her by tittering and clapping, watching her every movement.
"Won't you let me take you home," she was singing, swaying her hips from side-to-side as she sashayed toward her prey. "Oh, please, come on home with me, darling…" And she stopped, right in front of the soldier, so underneath the impression of alcohol that his eyes were glazed with it, leaking with it. He sat up straight on his stool, smiling stupidly at her, opening his mouth in response to her singing, giggling expectantly.
"'Cause I," she sang, and leaned down toward his ear, "—I want to take you home with me…" she whispered the last verses of the song right in his ear, and almost snickered when she felt him physically tremble.
He was hers.
After the song was finished and her respect was paid, she slid on the barstool right across from the soldier, crossing her legs and leaning toward him in one swift moment. She almost laughed aloud when he swallowed a lump, eyeing her long legs and small attire. This was too easy for her.
"You come around here a lot?" she asked in her honeyed voice, motioning to the bartender for a drink. The soldier cleared his throat and she slid the full glass toward him, and he drank before he answered.
"I come here a lot," he said, confirming her question. "But I've never seen you before…Barbie?"
He was so drunk that he couldn't even fully focus on her face. His eyes were looking somewhere over her shoulder and beyond. She reached forward and gripped his chin, turned it so his eyes were staring into her own. "Yeah, that's what they call me, sugar. Barbie Doll." She leaned closer, so their faces were mere inches apart. "You have a secret you want to tell me, stud?" She blinked cutely at him, and kissed the tip of his nose. "'Cause I want to know everything about you."
He was excited, antsy. Drunk. "Couldn't we go—somewhere else, Doll?" he grinned crookedly, nodding toward the staircase that led to some secluded rooms. "Couldn't we be alone?"
She sat back, anger throbbing in her veins. They always wanted something more than what she was willing to give, those stupid soldiers. Those stupid, pitiful Alliance soldiers. If she had her way, she'd—
"Sure, hon," she reached forward and gripped his hand, almost yanking him off the stool. "We can be alone." And as she led him up the stairs, leading to her special room, she only glanced over her shoulder once, winking at the face and grimacing inside.
He was young. Eighteen or so. Fresh out camp.
Too bad.
She pushed him in the room and closed the door behind her.
He only continued to stare at her, motionless.
Usagi wanted to rip his head off. Her last moments were intended to be alone, and here he was, ruining the whole effect. And he wasn't even talking!
"Well?" she snapped, hands on hips. "What the hell do you want, Yui?"
Hiiro simply looked at her, for the first time, as a woman. He noted the smooth, feminine curve of her face, her petite, womanly frame, her long hair. How had he missed it while training her?
She felt naked beneath his eyes, and she squirmed. "What the hell are you looking at?"
"You're cold," he said, matter-of-factly.
No matter how angry, how serious she was, Usagi never ceased to keep a straight façade with Hiiro. Almost immediately, her face burned red and she wrapped her arms around her upper torso. "Oh, that's just great," she snipped, miffed and embarrassed. "You see one woman in your entire life time, and the first thing you do is point out her boobs. Real mature, Hiiro."
For a moment, he didn't know what she was talking about. Then, he simply glowered at her. "You're shivering, Shenji…"
This time, the redness seeped down her neck and she tightened the hold she had around herself. "Touché," she muttered, embarrassed beyond all repair. "And my name isn't Shenji. That's my brother's name."
"Okay," he said.
She blanched. "Well… don't you want to know my name?"
He ignored the question. "Why are you alive? The penalty for impersonating a man, in a camp, is death." His eyes were cold, but his face was expressionless.
She thought it a very rude question, and anger settled itself upon her nerves. "I'm sentenced to death at six AM," she said quietly, glaring at him. "You and all your trainee friends get to watch. I'm to be shot, Hiiro. Feel all better now?"
If he was shocked at her sarcasm he didn't show it. He leaned against the tree and crossed his arms. The rain still fell and the sky was still black, but they stayed considerably dry under the thick leaves of the tree.
"It was a stupid thing to do," he said finally.
Usagi leaned against the tree next to him, shrugging dejectedly. She knew he was talking about her joining the camp and posing as a guy. "Yeah, well," her voice was ragged. "I didn't know what else to do. I wanted what was best for my friends and family, so I left."
"It was a stupid thing to do," he repeated. "And I don't see how it was best for your family. Just stupid."
"I bet you don't care, either," she snapped, eyeing him. "Maybe it was selfish, okay? Maybe I did it because I couldn't handle the problems at home."
He made a sound, almost akin to a grunt. "You can't handle the problems you have here, either."
"Look," she exploded, standing straight. "Just shut up! I told you once already—if you haven't got anything nice to say, then—"
"Don't say anything at all," he finished for her. "Your mother said that."
For a moment, she was stunned. She hadn't expected him to remember. Then again, Hiiro was already a great trainee. He probably remembered a lot about everything. But she still murmured, "That's right" anyway.
"You couldn't possibly have gained anything, even if you had succeeded and gone to war. Your family would still be dead, and your purpose would have been aimless. You were destined to fail the moment you left home."
She shook her head wetly, frowning at him. "You know, you're really cynical." As an afterthought, she added, "and I never said my family was dead."
"That's irrelevant." He stared at her. "You're a woman, and you don't belong in this war. Women—"
"Don't you dare say women don't fight in wars," she griped. "Because they do."
His grin was faint and cold. "As prostitutes, yes."
Usagi shook her head again, and took a step forward. He was still taller than her, but she had grown an inch, so she reached his chin. She looked up at him and glared right in his eyes. "You have a lot of nerve, saying shit like that. My friends are in the war, and they are not prostitutes." She shuddered, imagining Mako in the arms of some beastly man. "Not prostitutes at all."
"Your friends are useless to this war, as are you. Hopefully, they weren't as foolish as you."
"Why, Hiiro," she sneered, "I never knew you to be sexist."
He turned. "Hn. This is a pointless conversation." He reached a hand up to climb back in the tree, but felt her smaller hand grip his arm. He looked first at her hand, then her face. He waited.
Usagi bit her lip, hesitant with a bit of fear. "Look," she said slowly. "You're right."
Hiiro turned fully to face her, still waiting quietly.
She sighed, looking at the ground. "I can't do this, you're right. My coming to this camp was a mistake, Hiiro. And I realize that. And…" she paused, gathering her thoughts to keep his full attention. "I really wish I hadn't come. I wish I'd stayed home, and hadn't bothered trying to be something I'm not…"
Still, patiently, he waited.
"I… I only want to go home, Hiiro." When she looked up, her eyes were full of bright tears, threatening to brim over. "I just want to leave. I want to forget I ever had anything to do with this stupid war effort. But… I'd need your help." She gripped his arm with her other hand.
It felt wrong. It felt very wrong. The sincerity in her eyes seemed false, and her lingering touch seemed planned. But maybe it was just his mind? He had been trained, almost programmed militaristically. He stared again into her eyes, into her tears. No. He wouldn't be fooled.
He yanked his arm away. "Your penalty is death. You brought this upon yourself, and you'll pay for it accordingly." He stepped backward from her gaze, her sad stare.
But she took a step forward, and kept the eye contact. "Please, Hiiro," her voice floated through the wind and rain toward his eyes. "I know I've betrayed you and asked a lot of you in these past months, but I'm only asking for one more thing."
He shook his head slowly, but even as he did, the word flew out of his mouth. "What?"
"Freedom," her voice was almost a whisper, and her heart sunk when he shook his head again. "Freedom, Hiiro. Please. I just—I need you to help me get out of here, off this colony. I need you…"
But he knew she didn't. She wanted to use him. She wanted to use him as a way to cheat death, cheat her fate. His training said it was impossible, said it was unthinkable. His training said her sentence was just.
"Please, Hiiro. Just put yourself in my shoes for a moment. Oh," she looked down. No shoes. "Or, just put yourself in my feet."
He swallowed.
"I know you can do that, Hiiro. Just… help me." She reached out her hand, slowly, never once breaking the eye contact. "Please, help me…?"
The rain poured thickly and unevenly. If he helped her, it would be easy. Under the cover of rain and darkness, no one would be able to see them, let alone stop them, from reaching one of the military jeeps parked in the front of the camp, under the tin overhang. No one would know who had hotwired the car to start. They'd all assume it was this girl, this tiny girl…
She stood quiet while he thought, and she knew he was thinking by the stony expression on his face. He wasn't looking at her anymore—he was looking into the night, past her shoulder and far away. He was thinking. He was formulating a plan.
He was going to help her.
She bit her lip as they stood in silence, and she glanced nervously at the building behind her. What if, at any moment, someone woke up? What if Kihono or Mikoshi went to check on the guards, or her? What if—no. It was too much.
"Hiiro," she tried to sound urgent but silent. "Hiiro, if you're going to help me, I don't have much ti—"
"Quiet." His voice was dull, but cold and firm. "And follow me."
He brushed past her and started walking toward the front of the camp, and she followed closely behind. So closely, that once she stepped on his heels, and he turned and looked at her only once, then turned back around. The look hadn't been anything special—just serious. She made sure to keep a safe distance so she wouldn't step on his heels again. But in the darkness and rain, it was hard to see him, even with the camp lights all around. He was like a shadow—he moved expertly through the darkness, almost as if he was some kind of creature from the night.
Then again, she thought. Hiiro was no ordinary boy. He was a trained professional.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice when he'd stopped walking, and she bumped into him from behind. He, of course, took no force from the impact, and only turned his head to fix her with a look of hidden annoyance.
She backed up, sheepishly. "I'm sorry," she started. "I just—"
"Get in."
It was only then that she noticed they were standing near the camp jeeps. The jeeps were colored in standard camouflage colors, green and brown, and marked with the name of the camp. Patented. Slowly, realization dawned on her, and she backed up even more, shaking her head.
"Hiiro, no. You want me to steal a patented army car? Are you crazy?"
Apparently, he thought, but he only reached out and grabbed her shoulder. "I said, Get in." And he pushed her toward the jeep's one open window: the driver's window.
She fell against the side of the car, shoving Hiiro's hand off when she made contact. "Ow," she snapped irritably. And then, when she tried the car handle: "Hiiro, the doors are locked. I can't possibly drive away in a locked car, with no keys." She saw the malice in his eyes before she heard the anger in his voice.
"You're not thinking like the criminal you are." He ignored the wounded expression that took hold of her features. "Climb in the jeep through the window, and unlock the door from the inside. I'll take over from there."
She grumbled and mumbled as she struggled to haul herself in the window. "Hiiro," she complained pitifully. "I appreciate the help and all, but I can't—"
From behind, he pushed her roughly inside the window, watching as she hit her head on the steering wheel and tumbled over the seats. He ignored her protests of pain. "Unlock the door," he said, and waited impatiently for her to do so.
She settled herself in the driver's seat and rubbed her forehead, already grimacing against the bump she was sure would appear shortly. Unlocking the door, Usagi figured it necessary to mention to Hiiro that she couldn't drive—had never taken a test, had never been behind the wheel before.
"Now," he said, as he tampered with some wires underneath the steering wheel, "would be a good time to learn."
Her blood ran slightly cold at the thought.
After another moment, Hiiro touched two wires together, and a rumbling sound flitted throughout the entire jeep as the engine awoke. He stepped back, proud of his work.
Usagi glowed as she heard the engine start, and she closed the driver's door, testing out each petal with her bare foot. She grimaced in pain when the pads of her feet touched the petal, then reached down and slid her hand underneath her foot. It was slick, warm. She removed her hand and looked at it. In the darkness, the liquid was black. Blood. She was bleeding. She must have stepped on something on the way to the car. Thinking quickly, Usagi tore two shreds from her already tattered shirt, then tied one shred around one foot, and the other around her other foot. She tested the petal again. To her relief, no pain met her tests.
Hiiro tapped the car door and she looked at him. "What?"
"The petal to your right is the gas," he said, pointing. Her eyes followed his finger. "The petal to your left is the brake."
"Oh," she said. "Simple. I'll just use one foot for each petal. Piece of cake."
"No." He was annoyed. He thought she was just as stupid as when he'd first trained her. "You only use one foot for both petals. Alternate. There are gears," he again pointed in the car at the clutch and letters and numbers beside it. "'R' is reverse, 'D' is drive, 'B' is brake, 'N' is neutral. The numbers are the different gears for driving. You hit a steep hill; you put the car in '1' while driving. Understood?"
No, she thought, and said, "Yeah, I got it."
He knew she didn't. But whether or not she crashed while on the road was not his concern. Helping her was a big enough mistake already, and he was ignoring it as best he could. "When you get on the road, follow the train tracks North and you should get to town. From there, you're on your own."
Usagi nodded, testing the different systems within the jeep. She remembered that she was cold and tried the heating system. Instantly, warm, welcome air flooded the car and Usagi's body reacted by shuddering, but it was a happy, content shudder. Her skin dried and her clothes seemed as if they would follow shortly. It was a normal enough jeep, but equipped with an advanced military system that would give her radio connection to the other jeeps in the camp. She frowned at it. "Can they track me in this jeep?"
"Yes," he said.
She sighed. "It's always something, isn't it?" He remained quiet, and she saw she was overstaying her welcome. After all, Hiiro was illegally helping her. He could get in some serious trouble for doing so.
"How long do I have before they realize one of their jeeps is missing?" she asked, tapping the steering wheel. The jeep's clock read: 3:17 AM. A lot of time had passed. Too much.
"You said your execution is scheduled for six AM." He, too, looked at the clock. "Three hours from now, Kihono and Mikoshi will notice you're missing. It won't take long for them to realize where you've gone, or how you got away."
"So…" she drawled. "Roughly three hours?"
He shifted. "Two-and-a-half."
Usagi let out a slow breath. "Okay," she exhaled, nodding to herself. "If I'm going to do this, I have to do it now."
He didn't reply.
She looked over to her right and wiggled her fingers over the clutch and different gears. She gripped the handle and slowly moved the clutch toward the 'D', then tested the gas petal cautiously.
"Seatbelt," Hiiro said, and she quickly put it on. "I don't doubt someone heard the engine start." He let the sentence hang in the air, and she looked up at him, eyes wide and thankful, and she nodded. He could see she was afraid.
She bit her lip, and in a fit of emotion, smiled shakily at him. "You… you wouldn't want to come with me, would you?"
"No."
"Yeah," she closed her eyes, breathed. "I didn't think so."
"You need to leave. Now."
She nodded again, slowly, and then put her foot, gently, on the petal of the car, turning the steering wheel as she did so. It jumped once, then stopped, then lurched again, then continued smoothly toward the iron gate that enclosed the camp from the outside world. She looked out the rearview window as Hiiro grew smaller and smaller, just standing at the overhang, watching her leave. Finally, he was out of sight, and she stopped at the gate.
The radio in her car crackled, and for a moment, her heart froze. Then, a tinny voice came through her car's radio: "Identify yourself, soldier. Over."
She hesitated, then cleared her throat and made it as deep, but soft as she could, and answered: "Ah, this is cadet Quatre, requesting permission for departure. Over. I'm, ah, picking up supplies for General Kihono. Over. From a nearby base. Over…" She breathed quietly, gripping the radio tightly and listening closely. She heard two men speaking, though their voices were clouded by the storm and the bad radio signal. After a moment, the long, large gate in front of her began to slide to the side, and her heart started beating a little faster.
The radio crackled again, and the same tinny voice floated throughout her car: "Quatre Winner, sir, it's a bad storm out there. Over—" the signal was lost for a moment, but it came back in the next: "—ight not make it back—morning. O—er…"
Usagi ignored this, though, because she was already on the road and following the train tracks north, just as Hiiro had instructed her to do. The radio came on once more: "—ead me, Quatre? I repeat, do you read me? –ad storm out there. You might not make it back until morning. Over?" And afterward, she turned the radio system off completely, and drove the rest of the way in silence.
She was free.
And, just as Hiiro had predicted, the girl's absence from the camp was discovered exactly three hours later, and all trainees were called behind the school to stand in five rows of straight lines, at attention.
And that was when Hiiro realized just how badly he'd been used.
"Usagi Tsukino was an Oz soldier!" Kihono barked angrily, pacing back and forth before the rows of boys. "She was a threat to the Alliance—to the war effort! She was on a different side! And now—" he glared furiously at the boys. "—she's gone!" He voice carried like a gunshot. Powerful. Fierce.
"So I want to know," he continued, "which one of you helped her escape. She didn't have the potential, or the strength, to kill two armed and highly skilled military men on her own. She was not capable of such strength!" Shot after shot, his words rang out in the air among the boys, instilling a fresh fear in the ones who had grown accustomed to Kihono's angry personality.
And then, without word, Trowa Barton walked over and handed Kihono a small black disc, which he yanked out of the youth's hand impatiently. He held up the black disc for all to see.
"Video footage!" he was yelling. "It shows two people. One is the girl, the other—one of you! And we will find out who it was, gentlemen. Or else all of you will be punished on account of one of your own!" He took the disc and shoved it back at Trowa, who received it calmly and, like the others, stood at attention. Now, Kihono walked furiously up to the trainees and barked in their faces.
"We do not fraternize with the enemy! This is a war! This is not a game of cat and mouse! This is a war!" And then, as if exhausted from his exertions, he ordered all trainees to do thirty laps around the entire camp, his voice subdued.
And while they began to run, he glared and clenched his fists. "Don't forget," he warned. "We will find out which among you is the traitor, and you will be sentenced appropriately."
And it was then—while Hiiro ran between Wufei and Duo, both boys huffing angrily at the punishment bestowed upon them—that Hiiro had a new, dominating goal. One that he wouldn't forget, one that he wouldn't push aside.
I will be perfect, he thought.
And then, I will kill you, Usagi Tsukino.
Wow. Fun, huh? Imagine if Hiiro made a promise to kill you one day! HAH! Well, hope you guys enjoyed this nice, long, informative chapter. I'm sorry so many of you are confused! The plot will thicken, but at the same time, it'll unfold. I promise not to leave you guys too far behind!
Hope this chapter cleared up some things, and if not, those of you who are still confused can leave a review with your email. I'll try to get you guys some responses ASAP if you do.
And, as always… next chapter coming soon
Love,
AzureChan