mika: A cookie for you! If you live in Singapore I can give it to you face-to-face. I still have parts of S.S.' past to smoothen, but your review kind of gave me a fabulous idea (that's the third thing reviews do to me. I believe stories write themselves. I can plan but normally the direction changes halfway, sometimes dramatically). I know, I know…Lelouch will probably meet the others next chapter; he needs to find the trigger to leave S.S., something that convinces him the unknown is better than staying with her.
Long-Live-Christopher: A cookie for you, too! Te-hee, the whole 'the person I love killed my beloved' thing is too irresistibly similar to X/1999! (Only, Suzaku gets way, way angrier than Kamui and Subaru ever can).
La Luna Negra: Sorry for the threat. (I'm not going to mask it. My A/N was a threat) Oh, I'm guilty of not reviewing stories I favourited/story-alerted several times, too, though I try to refrain. 'Be the change you want to be in the world', right? That shirt is the one I was talking about! There is a picture in moe dot imouto dot org of Rolo and Lelouch, the latter in that outfit.
Nusku: Seconded you! Sadly, I can only play dress up with 'Kamui' for a while…
Diana Prince: Nope, sorry…Xing Ke didn't have mismatched eyes. S.S. is an OC. Thank you for the faith and reviewing faithfully.
SecondtoNon and setsuko teshiba: Here it is! Thank you for the review. I wish you can be more explicit (like what of the story makes you want to continue reading it ^^)
Warning: Spoilers to R2
Chapter 2: Monsters
S.S. paused on her way to her bedroom from the porch. She had just come back from 'work'.
"What are you doing?" She craned her neck to look up at her houseguest and blinked.
Kamui was standing precariously on a stool next to the glass sliding doors leading to a balcony protruding above the cliff, his hand unfastening the rings around the bar above aforementioned doors. The hem of his sleeveless amethyst turtleneck – the colour matching his eyes – rode up as he reached out for the furthest ring, exposing a strip of pale taut skin above his denim. "Taking down the curtain," he answered, one eyebrow arched elegantly, his expression deadpanned. "The bottom is riddled by holes, and unexplainable stains whose origins I don't even want to think about. I want to cut off a foot and patch it with a material I found in the storeroom," he explained himself.
A few days had passed since Kamui was brought to the cottage to be…held captive. He wouldn't sugarcoat it. Isolated from the rest of the world indeterminately…Oh, it wasn't as horrible as it sounded. He was just bitter about it.
The two had settled to a routine. S.S. went to work everyday, though through the erratic working hours Kamui wagered her occupation wasn't an office job. Her inability to smile unless she meant it also crossed the service industry from the list of possibilities. While the breadwinner was out Kamui maintained the cottage and performed household chores: vacuuming, laundry, cooking…there was just nothing else to do. He would have taken up gardening as well if he could step out of the front door.
Kamui was aware he was acting like a 'househusband'. He didn't resent the activities, but he hated being cooped up in this mockery of a prison, probing S.S. for scraps of information and driving himself up the wall with speculations. He was faced by two choices everyday: the unknown or this… 'safe' haven, however temporal and suspicious, his 'warden' a dangerous, probably unstable mystery? Was this safety a trap?
Yesterday, while cleaning the rest of her closet (and avoiding the drawer and that pile of male clothing like a plague), Kamui discovered another article of eastern clothing…some sort of a ceremonial garb, the outer jacket black and the inner kimono red. The sleeves were large, thick red strings sewn to the hems, and two bells attached to the end of each sleeve. There was a pentacle embroidered to the left side of the front of the jacket, a five-pointed star of red threads against the black fabric. Its twin was sewn on the right side…or so Kamui thought until he noticed that the pentagrams were 36 degrees off, inverted versions of one another.
The costume seemed…religious. Why did S.S. have it? She always donned professional western shirts and skirts when she left the house, and Kamui couldn't imagine she was a priestess. The robe couldn't be for cosplay, right?
"I see," S.S.' voice pulled Kamui out of his musings, the sound almost drowned by the droning of the news. She had switched on the television. There was a large red dot splashed against a white rectangle in the background. "Konnichiwa, minna-san! Area juu-ichi kaiho sareta no toki kara mou sugu san nen desu! (Good afternoon, everyone! Three years almost pass since the liberation of area 11!)" The bubbly female newscaster gushed, "For this joyous anniversary, our hero, Zero-sa-"
S.S. switched off the television abruptly. "I'm going to take a shower," she declared.
"Wait!" Kamui took down the curtains and jumped down from the stool, the mass of faded fabric spilling from his arms. "Can you help me hold this while I cut the bottom off?" He spread the material and handed one end to her.
S.S. spread it and held it dutifully with both hands as Kamui retrieved a large scissor and cut through the thick woolen drapery, which emitted a sibilant song as the blade tore the seams apart. Partway through its path, the rather rusty scissor got stuck. Kamui clucked his tongue in irritation. "Come on," he sighed under his breath and exerted more pressure, "Come on-"
The twin pieces of metal clattered to the floor after the fabric gave way and Kamui stabbed S.S.' palm.
"I'm sorry!" the black-haired boy gasped, scooting to the girl as she nursed her hand, a slight wince on her face as a trail of blood flowed on her skin. Kamui looked around almost anxiously, missing the fact that she was withdrawing from him. "First aid kit…is there any first aid kit anywhere? Have you got a tetanus shot before?"
S.S. inhaled deeply and the taut lines around her lips evened out. "It's all right. I can take care of it myse-"
"Should we seek any medical assistance? The scissor is rusty after all-" he interrupted.
"Kamui-"
"For now, we should stop the blood-" Kamui grabbed the hand to inspect the wound only to find that there was no injury. The palm was unblemished, not ever a scar was left. As if the wound was never there.
Kamui swore he'd seen the crimson life essence dripping down her fingers, felt the sickening feel of pushing a blade through unyielding, squishy flesh. That type of wound wasn't one that can heal in an instance, without leaving behind scabs, let alone a mark.
Was S.S…not a human?
"Kamui-" she attempted to snatch her hand, but for once, Kamui's grip was strong. Her faint struggle alerted him to the fact that the sleeve of her dark blazer was damp. "Is your sleeve wet?" he asked and reached out to touch it.
S.S. was too thrown off by the complete non-sequitur to stop Kamui from pulling back the cloth and revealing the sleeve of her white shirt below, which was so, so red, it seemed like it had been drenched in blood.
Kamui gasped again. "What happened?" He nearly ripped the clothes in the haste to look at her upper arm. May be the trail of blood he'd seen was from there, and the palm had been unhurt after all. May be…
"Stop it!" Kamui could only catch a glimpse of her skin before S.S. yanked her limb away and cradled it close to her breasts. Her arm had been just as immaculate. Whole. There wasn't even a scratch. "It's not my blood!" she blurted unthinkingly before her hand flew to her mouth in shock, eyes wide as saucers.
'Whose, then?' The question that followed the statement hung heavily in the air, loud in the suffocating silence that shrouded them like a cloak. Kamui's amethyst eyes were equally wide as he stared back at her.
"…I'm going to take a shower," S.S. said quickly and spun on her heels, rushing out of his view.
Overwhelmed by tremors, Kamui sat down on the sofa before his knees gave away and forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. Trusting his state of mind and his eyes, he couldn't have imagined the stabbing. The scissor…if she was really wounded the scissor should have…he looked at the floor frantically, eyes darting and-
…found the damned stationary, red spots staining the dull steel and gaudy yellow plastic handles.
He'd really wounded her, and the injury was healed in seconds.
What was S.S.?
A mechanised sound made Kamui's heart, which had been beating wildly under the skeletal encasement of his ribs, jump as though the organ was clawing its way out of his chest. The persistent and systematic rhythm told him that it was just the ringing of a telephone, before he doubled over and remembered there was no telephone in the house.
He strained his ears to search for the source to find that it was very near. There was a cell phone lying on the floor between two adjacent sofas, near the path one would take to get to the bathroom. The device must have slipped out of S.S.' pocket when she ran away.
Almost as soon as Kamui located the cell, it stopped ringing. The raven-haired boy stared at the cell, his brain devising how he could use it to discover his identity, or S.S.' for that matter, when the phone beeped. "Tadaima rushu ni…I am currently not available to take your call…please leave a message after the second beep."
Gulping, Kamui picked the cell with shaking hands to listen to the message better. Kamui could hear the person at the other end of the phone clearing his throat – the voice was very low – before he began the message. "Dieto desu. GT no sakujyo no mere ga kakunin shimashita (This is the Diet. The order for GT's elimination has been confirmed) but the order on you-know-who is still pending. Only eliminate him once found useless or threatening."
The quietness left in the message's wake was bone crushing.
Kamui's pulse had fluttered like a frantic caged beast at the word 'elimination'. So S.S. was…an assassin. She must be. And 'Diet'…as in the legislative assembly? She wasn't working for a mafia, but for the government? Why was she living with him? To keep an eye on him? 'You-know-who'…was that referring to…to him? (1)
'Eliminate him once found useless or threatening.' The sentence kept echoing in his skull.
'Eliminate him once found useless or threatening.'
'Eliminate him once found-
Kamui had to escape.
S.S. immersed her toe in the hot, almost scalding, pool of water before lowering herself entirely, sighing as the water relaxed her tense muscles. "It's your fault, you know," she leaned back on the mouth of the bathtub and spoke to the steaming air, "If you didn't seal his memories I could have started training him as a 'protector'. This babysitting is interfering with my duties."
C.C.'s voice filled the mismatched-eyed girl's head, sarcastic and amused. "No, you would have your hands full just trying to catch him and hold him in place. You can't win against him. He's the type that can think of seven possibilities in a second. You're not intelligent enough in the first place." (2)
S.S. didn't bother disagreeing with the fellow Code holder. C.C. was true – S.S. wasn't notably clever, like V.V. was. It was amusing that the inheritor of his Code was also the type to rely on his brain.
After Charles' death, his Code lingered in the World of C for a while. Technically, there wasn't a formal take-over, and the Code had been confused as to which body it shall reside in, divided over the choice of getting back to the mass of consciousness, or seeping into the boy who had murdered Charles, its most recent holder. The boy might fight it, though, and it didn't look forward to that unpleasant confrontation.
Then Lelouch vi Britannia died, and the Guardian of God decided that since even without the powers of the Code, that human had protected God capably (ulterior motives notwithstanding), so he should be made a Code holder to protect God more capably.
In the crucial seconds between his loss of consciousness and the death of the body, the Guardian had placed the Code inside him. With the soul nearly severed off the body, the mind had enough to deal with to fight the Code. Before everything settled down and Lelouch could function like a human again (albeit an immortal one), three years had passed.
S.S. retorted to the witch. "If that happens I'll just trace him through the Code. I've learned how to mask my presence. He won't be able to sense me. Then, I'll trap him in an illusion. He has enough issues and baggage to last a century of mulling over."
C.C. snorted. "More like several centuries."
"That's why you sealed his memories, isn't it? To relieve him off the guilt? Let him start a brand new…not-life?" S.S.' eyes turned soft. "You love him, don't you?"
C.C. was quiet for some time. "I don't think I remember how to love someone," she was quick to defer after that confession, though. "I know you don't hate babysitting him as much as you complain you do. His soul…was someone you 'know', right?"
S.S. sighed. She would allow her lime-haired senior this slip. "He's changed."
"Most reincarnated souls do," C.C. stated in boredom. S.S. imagined the witch was probably flicking her nails or twirling a lock of hair with her fingers that moment. "I've encountered several in my lifetime." S.S. could hear the hesitation in C.C.'s 'voice'.
"I knew what I signed up for when I received A.A.'s Code," the brown-haired girl assured the witch, thinking, 'The long, long lifetime and the suffering it brings.' S.S. shook her head and treaded her fingers through her long, long hair. "How do you find the confinement?"
"Comfortable, thank you," the sentence was oozing with sarcasm. Then, C.C. added, "It's not as bad. Better than being Clovis' lab rat, at least. I can sleep through the decades I have to serve as punishment."
S.S. sighed and shook her head again. "That stint you and V.V. pulled…"
"You won't understand," C.C. sighed in reply.
S.S.' eyes hardened as she clutched the edge of the bathtub tightly, her knuckles whitened. "You're right, I won't," she muttered darkly.
C.C. seemed to realise her mistake. "S.S.-"
"I have to go," S.S. interrupted her as she rose to her feet and moved to grab the towel, "I'll talk to you later."
"I see," C.C. responded resignedly. "Thank you."
That gratitude was entirely unforeseen. S.S. smiled slightly as she dried herself, forgiving the other woman already. "No. Thank you."
Kamui figured that it would be better to run off tomorrow instead of tonight. He would still have to see S.S. in the morning for breakfast, and it was common sense public transport wouldn't operate at night. She would have to leave the house to 'eliminate GT' anyways. He could pack his clothes tonight and food tomorrow. He had retrieved S.S.' bank account, as well as several contacts from the cell; the device had been unexpectedly easy to decode. S.S. couldn't be very adept with technology. In any case, he would try to cash out some money (via hacking the ATM? Steal S.S.' electronic bank book?) and travel to other cities. May be he could hide in one of the unregistered Ghettos near Tokyo Settlement…
He didn't question those bits of knowledge that sprang to his mind. He hoped he was remembering things, and those terms were parts of his past.
S.S. clapped her hands right in front of his face and tilted her head, wet locks of mahogany hair spilling to her loose shirt. "What are you thinking about?"
Kamui nearly jumped out of his skin. "N-nothing much," he berated himself for the stutter. "I'm just wondering if you can help me buy a few things…" the amethyst-eyed boy hid his face from her in the pretense of scooping the soup from the pot on the stove to two porcelain bowls.
"Is it very urgent?" S.S. asked as she sat behind the dining table and continued drying her hair with the towel slung over her shoulders.
"Sort of," Kamui transferred the bowls to the table. "Our food is running out. Toiletries and detergent too. New pillows are also in order, I think…" He referred to the incident whereby S.S. found newborn termites crawling out of her pillow this morning.
The longer Kamui made S.S. stay out tomorrow, the better.
A frown graced the girl's face. She looked so young…younger than him, even. For her to be an assassin at that age…
Then again, she might not be that young. She might not even be human.
"I don't think I can make a trip to the convenient store tomorrow," S.S. shot him a somewhat apologetic look before she brought her palms together and said the customary Itadakimasu. "I will be very busy tomorrow. I may not even come home."
'I know you will be busy, with GT to exterminate,' Kamui gave her his best imploring stare and let his lips quirked to a grimace. "But we don't have any meat and soap left," he lied through his teeth and hoped S.S. hadn't been keeping track of things. Judging from her 'penchant' for disorders, she hadn't.
Her frown deepened. She hesitated before proposing her idea. "What if…I order the goods through a catalogue? I'll leave you a debit card to pay the deliverer. You'll have to wear the flu mask and an eye patch when you accept the goods, though…they're on the shelf behind the mirror above the sink…"
Kamui couldn't believe how lucky he was. His attempt to buy himself time managed to secure him a supply of cash. He beamed at her. "Thank you, S.S.! I'll hand you the list later!"
S.S. cocked an eyebrow, the spoon she was raising to her mouth stopping halfway. "…Why are you so unbelievably happy about this?"
Crap. Kamui feigned a laugh. "Aren't you? I'm not looking forward to sleeping on the floor." Well, that much was true. If the pillows had been turned to insects' nests, who was to say the mattresses hadn't been infiltrated as well?
S.S. shrugged. "I guess I'm used to sleeping anywhere," she lifted the utensil to her lips and started sipping the soup, also signaling the end of the conversation.
Kamui tried to ignore interpretations of that horribly revealing sentence and enjoy the meal. He wouldn't have to worry about S.S. anymore. Tomorrow, he thought giddily.
"Kochira e douzo (Please go this way)," the stewardess gestured at one of the hatches of the private jet. He nodded and rose to his feet, ready to take his place behind the wheelchair and pushed it forward.
The 100th Empress of Britannia smiled as the door was opened and the wind blew against her face and her long, long pale caramel locks fluttered. "I miss this scent," Nunnally turned to the masked man and smiled, "the scent of Japan."
Saviour of the world Zero nodded to the person he had been standing by for almost three years now, protecting her from ill wills, both in politics and from physical threats. Gone was the unsure, weak girl Suzaku recalled, in her place a confident young woman who carried herself well in negotiations and faced adversities unflinchingly, a quiet strength burning in compassionate lavender eyes. Her form had begun to fill out to beautiful curves, and one of these days Zero was sure he would be fending off suitors as well.
Sometimes, looking at Nunnally hurt because she resembled Euphemia too much.
"Zero?" Nunnally touched his gloved hand when he was engrossed in agonizing reminisces. Suzaku blinked and berated himself before bowing his head. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
Suzaku hadn't been looking forward to visiting Japan. Even though the land had been his hometown, too many tragedies had occurred here, too much blood shed, his precious lost. He couldn't look at a place and not see the glaring absence, the ghosts of his past…
"It's all right," Nunnally faced the front again. "I know it can be painful…to be here."
In the three years of his service, he had never revealed himself to anyone, including Nunnally, though he had his suspicions that the Empress might know that Zero was Kururugi Suzaku. However, Nunnally never asked, so he would not do anything.
Kururugi Suzaku was dead three years and two months ago, anyways.
"Zero," Cornelia li Britannia nodded at the masked, caped figure. "Your Majesty. Please proceed." The proud and strong magenta-haired princess and Schneizel el Britannia were to escort the Empress to the celebration of Japan's third Independence Day. That was only fair because the two royalties were involved in the conflicts in Area 11, and their attendance would convey to the world that they acknowledged Japan's sovereignty.
Sometimes, Suzaku caught Cornelia looking at Nunnally the same way she did with Euphemia, the older princess' gaze filled with love and affection, only to be clouded with regret and guilt seconds later.
He knew the emotions too well.
Cornelia, Schneizel, Nunnally and Zero walked down the slope prepared for them to be greeted by Ohgi Kaname, the youngest Prime Minister of Japan in history, his wife, former Baroness of Britannia Ohgi-Nu Viletta, and re-instated General (newly-appointed Minister of Defence simultaneously) Toudou Kyoshiro. There were several soldiers stationed along the red carpet as well.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," the humble Japanese bowed to the girl on the wheelchair, "Your Highnesses, Zero-sama." Other Japanese followed after Nunnally bowed as deeply as she could. "On behalf of everyone in the nation, we would like to thank you for taking your time to visit Japan for her third Independence Day." He smiled brightly.
"Oh, no, Ohgi-san, I am glad to be here," Nunnally smiled in return, "Congratulations for the complete re-establishment of the government too. I thank the interim as well, for working very graciously with Britannia…" (3)
"Thank you very much," Ohgi replied politely, "Britannia had been helping the interim a lot; I think we shouldn't overlook that."
Before the two leaders could engage in a 'thank-you-no-thank-you' banter, Viletta steered the conversation. "Your Majesty, Your Highnesses and Zero-sama," she stepped closer to the guests, "We have prepared your accommodations. I am sure you are tired from the long journey, not to mention the jetlag…" she led them traversing through airport to the limousines prepared for the diplomats.
There was no meeting that night; it was late, after all. Cornelia and Schneizel retreated to their hotel rooms while Zero helped Nunnally settle down. He had tucked the teenager to her bed and was about to leave when the Empress whispered. "Zero?"
The masked figure stopped, but didn't turn his head around.
"I'd like to visit my brother's grave…" her voice was brittle, as though she was holding back tears. "I-it's…the third anniversary of his death, too."
An image flashed before Suzaku's eyes, a memory of pale, flushed, naked limbs on his arm and shoulder, raven locks splayed against the sheets, amethyst eyes gazing at him raptly, swirling, conflicting emotions he couldn't recognise threatening to spill to those quavering long lashes.
Fingertips touched the side of his face, tenderly. Suzaku watched as swollen luscious lips moved soundlessly, as though in slow motion.
"I have always loved you."
'I thought you hated me,' he remembered replying. Those eyes stared and stared still until the Emperor laughed maniacally, the action making his entire being shudder and clench the part of Suzaku that was still inside of him. Suzaku gasped before the hands that were previously covering their owner's face reached for him and pulled him downward for a burning kiss that marked the start of another rabid fucking.
Another reminder that made visiting Japan upsetting…Tokyo was the place he snubbed the life of his first best friend.
Nunnally had been the one to suggest that Lelouch be buried in Japan instead of in Britannia. Though a Britannian, he lived almost half his life in the land of the rising sun, fought for this country in his last two years of life (ulterior motives notwithstanding), he hated Britannia with such vehemence…and Nunnally dared say he had been happy in Tokyo as he had been in Aries Imperial Villa.
Suzaku agreed with Nunnally because burying Lelouch in Aries Imperial Villa implied some clinging to the past. It went against Lelouch's choice, 'tomorrow' over 'yesterday'. Besides, after that horrible truth about Marianne was unveiled in the World of C, Suzaku didn't think he would want to lie at the house of his childhood forever.
So the 99th Emperor had been buried in the graveyard near the Kururugi Shrine instead, under a commonplace, unmarked tombstone. Suzaku's mockery of a grave had been thoroughly slandered after Lelouch's death, and Nunnally didn't want people to defile and trample upon her brother's resting place (or worse yet, dig out the bones and dispose them). The only people who knew the location was Nunnally, Suzaku, and Jeremiah Gottwald, who had been in charge of the funeral rites. Lelouch had been clothed in a brown jacket, black turtleneck and jeans – the ensemble he often wore back 'home'. He was casketed as Lelouch Lamperouge, not as a student of Ashford Academy, not the eleventh Prince, not the Maou and certainly not Zero.
Just him.
That was when the loss hit Suzaku hard.
'I had been blind,' he lamented as Zero gave the Empress a rather stiff nod. "I will arrange it for you," he promised. The irony of that day: destruction for re-construction, one sacrifice for peace. Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it produces a lot of grain. (4)
'I forgot,' Zero exited Nunnally's room, flicking the switch off before closing the door softly and nodding to the two security guards stationed outside. 'I forgot that before the tragedies…' (betrayalkilledEuphiehurtsGeass'survive!')
…he loved Lelouch, too.
That's why it hurt, hurt so much.
"Zero-sama," Ohgi, Viletta and Toudou intercepted him before he could enter his hotel room. The three shared a hesitant look when Zero gave them his full attention. They reached a silent consensus, and Toudou stepped forward. "Zero-sama, I would like you to meet…someone tomorrow evening."
Suzaku frowned underneath the mask. "Who?" the tone in which his former teacher said the word 'someone' was not comforting.
"An…addition to the Ministry of Defence," Toudou answered after shooting Ohgi and Viletta another look. "An important person who'd…like to re-offer…her services. We think you might want to meet her, because she's related to…Japan's security."
"Who?" the masked figure pressed. Though Zero originated in Japan and liberated Area 11 first, Zero should have been a neutral, global political icon. He shouldn't have any say in whoever Japan's Minister of Defence wanted in his department. Unless…this person could shake the precarious peace he'd lost so much for.
Toudou's lips were pressed to a thin line. A suffocating silence enveloped the quartet for a while before Ohgi broke under the pressure. "Just say it!" the man hissed at his subordinate and frowned. "She's…the Sakurazukamori."
TBC
(1) No, Lelouch, You-know-who's Voldemort -_- (Sorry, can't resist;;)
(2) Everytime the conversation is carried in Japanese, I will start the sentence with Japanese. Though I end with English, the things in italic are supposed to be spoken in Japanese. (Likewise, If I don't start the sentences with Japanese e.g. C.C.'s talk with S.S., they're not Japanese.)
(3) What made the third Independence Day very important is also because it's the first year the re-established government will commence (before that, the interim was in charge of things). I can't imagine re-establishing the politics after being a colony easy (but is 3 years too long a time? What do you think?)
(4) John 12:24. The references between Lelouch and Messiah are too glaring.