4: Knight of Sin
My vision is blurry and the lighting seems dim. My chest throbs painfully. I don't know where I am, and I can't remember exactly what happened, but I'm sure I've been shot. In my half-conscious state, I feel someone pull me up into a sitting position. I smell the scent of someone familiar. A beautiful and slender young woman with black hair has her arms around me. She is holding me and weeping softly. In a weak, cracked voice, I tell her not to cry. She gasps at the sound of my voice. Perhaps she thought I was dead. The young woman kisses my forehead, and then each of my cheeks, and finally my mouth. I'm vaguely aware that it's my first kiss. It feels soft and heavenly, and I like the taste of this woman. I am too tired and in too much pain, or else I would have held her tightly and kissed her back: a longer, deeper kiss.
The woman looks right at me, but the only part of her face I can make out clearly is her left eye, which is encompassed in red. Deep within her pupil is a symbol that resembles the silhouette of a flying bird. I hear the following words from a strong and commanding, yet somehow feminine voice:
"Kururugi Suzaku, you shall always live. You will forget that I saved you here today."
Moments before, I had been wishing for my death, disappointed to find myself with nothing worse than a sore chest. Now, however, I feel a powerful will to live surge up inside me. It's the first time I've wanted to live in a long time. Did the words of the mysterious young woman affect me so intensely? She speaks to me again in that beautiful voice, but this time it's a question and not a command.
"Who was it that ordered the occupation of Shinjuku Ghetto? Who ordered the army to destroy the whole area and kill so many civilians, just so they could find the terrorists?"
I want to tell her that she's mistaken, and the army isn't killing anyone unnecessarily, but I only have the energy to answer her question in two words. "Viceroy Clovis," I whisper.
Hearing that, the young woman leaves my side, and I vaguely see her talking to another woman. This one is a tall, robust Britannian Knight with a Sutherland parked behind her. The shorter, thinner, black-haired woman tells the female Knight to forget all about her Knightmare, drop the key, and "take Private Kururugi to a medic." After a pause, I see the older woman nodding and dropping the key to her mech. Then she approaches me and prepares to take me away. Behind her, the mysterious girl who had kissed me picks up the key and takes control of the Sutherland Knightmare. I have a vague sensation she's out for blood. Then the pain in my chest returns, and I pass out.
*****Line Break*****
As far as what happened after I was shot by the General, I thought it was a dream, or else I didn't remember it at all. However, much later, I would find out it happened in reality. The woman who kissed me, and then cursed me with the will to live, was Lelucia vi Britannia. With her Geass, she would soon take on the role of the revolution leader and the enemy of the Holy Britannian Empire, Zero.
I woke up on a makeshift bed in a trailer set up by the medics just outside the Shinjuku Ghetto. I was shirtless and someone had bandaged my chest. Judging by the feel of it, I hadn't actually been pierced by a bullet. My skin was broken just a little and I could feel the deep bruising all around it. Something had stopped the bullet itself, but just barely, leaving the left side of my chest swollen and sore. When I saw my metal-coated pocket watch lying on a table next to me, cracked and broken, I understood. That watch the last belonging of my father that I owned. I had always kept it in the pocket closest to my heart on the left side of my chest. Like a charm, that watch had saved me from sustaining what might have otherwise been a fatal injury. A strange thought crossed my mind, though: it was a feeling of certainty that I would have lived even if I had been shot in the heart.
My thoughts were interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Lloyd Asplundh and Cecile Croomy. The former was a genius private contractor who researched and developed Knightmare technology for the Britannian military; he looked about thirty, had blue-gray eyes and silvery hair, and wore a white lab-coat and large wire-framed glasses. The latter, Miss Cecile, served as Lloyd's assistant and helped develop new Knightmares. Her dark hair almost looks like it has blue highlights in the right light, and her eyes are beautiful shade of deep sapphire. Just a few years younger than her spectacled supervisor, she was always poignantly kind-hearted. That was why she took a liking to me as soon as I started participating in the tests of new Knightmares that she and Lloyd frequently conducted. As an Eleven, I was forced to take part in various tests and experiments, and Cecile must have taken pity on me.
(Not that I ever acted like I wanted pity: I was actually glad to be of use, and thanks to all the tests, I found out I have a high Knightmare performance percentage (94%). Furthermore, I am compatible with many frames, including the newest one Lloyd had been working on, a white 7th generation prototype. Since Elevens could not become Knights, they would never be allowed to own their own Knightmare or pilot one in battle. So I was pleased just for the opportunity to do some test-runs and simulations.)
"Too bad, Suzaku-kun," Lloyd said in his characteristically light, zany voice. "You missed your chance to get into heaven." He grinned at me and then let Cecile explain how the watch saved my life and how Lady Villetta Nu had brought me back to the medic's trailers.
"What about Lelucia?" I interrupted them. Then, realizing how bizarre that sounded, I rephrased my question. "What's the current situation?"
"Poison gas was spread all around Shinjuku," replied Lloyd, repeating the story that he had been fed by the higher-ups. "There's been a great number of casualties among the elevens in the area. It seems the culprit hasn't been caught yet."
"I see." The loss of life truly saddened me, but something else was on my mind. In all the chaos, had Lelucia been killed, too? Surely someone would have reported it if they saw a young female student of Britannia. More than anything, I wanted to find her, and make sure she was alive. "Lloyd-san," I said, standing up, "will I be allowed to rejoin the other ground troops and continue searching the area?"
"It's funny you should ask." Lloyd was holding what looked like a Knightmare key and spinning it around on his fingers. "There's just no rest for the wicked, Suzaku-kun. Would you like to put your piloting skills to use in the field of battle? Come. The only Knightmare of its kind in the world awaits you."
He was referring to the white-and-gold, 7th generation prototype I had taken for a test run last week. But why would he make such a ludicrous offer? Elevens weren't allowed to pilot Knightmares. I didn't understand until I heard more about the battle situation currently underway. Terrorists calling themselves "The Resistance" had appeared and started fighting back. Two Britannian Knightmares had been destroyed by bazooka blasts from the suspected leader of the operation, and three others were wounded in a gunfight in which they shot and killed five armed and dangerous Elevens. Furthermore, one terrorist had control of an old red Glasgow; whoever it was, her piloting was top-notch, and she brought down at least one Britannian Knightmare even after one of her mech's arms was torn off.
Conditions worsened when a second terrorist appeared piloting a purple Sutherland. He worked with the red Glasgow take out two more Britannian Knightmares. Then, together, they stopped a train on the east end of Shinjuku, having somehow discovered that the locomotive was full of brand-new blue-and-gray Sutherlands. Those machines were supposed to be used by the Viceroy's new personal guard squad, which hadn't officially been formed yet. The terrorists quickly took control of the fresh mechs, meaning the Britannians were now up against about a dozen enemy pilots.
Whoever was in the purple Sutherland was a genius. He did an excellent job uniting the terrorists and ordering them to proceed according to his schemes. Viceroy Clovis la Britannia had sent in reinforcements, so compared to the resistance, Britannia had about three times as many Knightmares. However, they were being swiftly out-maneuvered by the enemy's strategies and tactics.
"So you want me to go into the field with new prototype and stop the terrorists," I realized. For a moment I thought that Lloyd was eager to help Britannia and stop the destructive terrorists, but it didn't take long for me to recognize that he was actually just eager to test out his "toys." To him, I was like a key part in a machine: I was necessary, and valuable, but I was still a thing to be used.
Acting far too cheerful, Lloyd Asplundh opened audio and video communications with Clovis' command center to the northwest. After some argument and convincing, he persuaded the higher-ups to give his plan the go-ahead. I would be sent out into the battlefield piloting the best mech Lloyd and Cecile had worked together to create: the Lancelot. Assuming I was able to pilot it well, this Knightmare was said to be worlds better than the mass-produced Sutherlands. It was faster, stronger, and had numerous weapons, along with a shield powerful enough to deflect heavy fire from other mechs.
The lovely Miss Cecile expressed concern about me piloting when I had an injury, but I had to go regardless. A third of Britannia's Knightmares had already been taken out when the ground gave out under them and they crashed down into the tunnels below, where the terrorists were waiting to shoot them. I had to prove my loyalty by saving the remaining twenty-five Knightmares from defeat. This would also prove that Elevens could be valiant and skilled Knights. Those were the reasons for which I "should" pilot the Lancelot. But in reality, the reason I "wanted" to pilot it was to look for Lelucia. She took priority in my mind. I simply had to find her. It was too sad to think that I had seen her after so many years, only to have her die for getting caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Once I got out into the thick of things, though, I realized this was truly a life-or-death situation. I had orders to take out the terrorists. If I didn't kill them, or force them to eject from their machines, they wouldn't hesitate to kill me. I had my hands full with fighting, so there was no time to look for Lelucia. At one point, I saw a woman falling from a half-destroyed building, and caught her in midair, hoping she was Lelucia. When I looked closely, however, it was a woman in her thirties with a baby at her breasts. Well, I thought, at least I had saved two innocent lives. I let her run away. Then it was back to the battle.
I won't lie and say I didn't feel empowered and thrilled in this kind of situation: outdoing the other pilots, fighting for glory and honor, risking my life in reckless moves, and playing the role of a white knight. I felt like I was born for piloting the Lancelot. For so many years, I had been forced to suck up to the Britannians, to follow orders unquestionably, and to swallow all the insults and discrimination that came my way. But now, here I was in a real Knightmare, fighting with my own skill and power. I destroyed the ten main Sutherlands operated by the terrorists, though I only killed two. The other eight—nine counting the woman piloting the red Glasgow—ejected from their machines and escaped. I fought against the ringleader in the purplish Sutherland, but in the end he managed to evade me as well.
After defeating the resistance, there was a period of about thirty minutes where the Britannian pilots and I received no orders from the command station. They spent this time wreaking further havoc on the Shinjuku Ghetto. About two hundred of my own people were killed.
I was about to snap. I couldn't take this cruel world anymore. I already knew the casualties from before were not really from poison gas. The Britannians were simply culling the Japanese; some did it for fun, and others, out of the heartless rationale that displays like this were needed to prevent the natives from starting rebellions. Just when I was about to start killing the Knights in my vicinity, an announcement from Viceroy Clovis was aired all over Shinjuku.
"This is an order from Clovis la Britannia, Third Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, and Viceroy of Area Eleven. Cease fire! All units, Knights, and soldiers are to cease fire. You are to cease all other destructive activities in Shinjuku as well. Search for survivors, and help the wounded, whether they are Britannians or Elevens! This is an absolute order from your Prince and Viceroy Clovis la Britannia!"
Nobody could claim to have not heard this widespread broadcast. The twenty-some Britannian Knights had no choice but to follow orders. Of course, Clovis only made this announcement because Lelucia was at that point holding him at gun-point, but I had no way of knowing that. I've never been anywhere near as clever as Lelucia. To me, the Clovis' declaration was exactly what I needed in order to forgive the Britannians and once again cooperate with their corrupt systems. I vowed once more to change the system from the inside, and to never use dishonorable methods to achieve results. Good would eventually prevail. Elevens would win civil rights one day. I stubbornly hammered that into my head.
Thanks to Clovis' broadcast, six hundred wounded people were saved, and twice that many that lived in the Ghetto had their lives spared after being told earlier that they were going to be culled for conspiring with terrorists. I later found out that about five hundred residents of Shinjuku had been killed during the operation before the ceasefire announcement, but at the time, I was happy enough just to find and help survivors. Plus, while I searched for and helped the wounded, I also investigated every nook and cranny for signs of Lelucia and that the green-haired girl. My search was fruitless, though.
*****Line Break*****
Finally, my energy filler ran out, and I took the Lancelot back to Lloyd and Cecile. They had nothing but bad news for me. I was immediately seized, handcuffed, and dragged away by Britannian officers. When I asked why, they said it was because Clovis la Britannia had been murdered, and I was going to be the one to take the blame. They didn't care in the least if I was actually the one who killed the Viceroy.
I was interrogated by Sir Jeremiah Gottwald, and he allowed the guards to give me a few good kicks and punches. I had been through much worse, so I put up with it. The bullying was supposed to make admit to the crime, but it didn't work. I rightfully claimed innocence. After another beating, I was sent to wait in a jail cell while the brass decided what to do with me. They would probably hold a trial, but it would be a mock-trial; they had already decided that I was the scapegoat. I was sentenced to be executed by the court martial in three days. They were going to make a big show of it, parading me through the city before killing me, and airing it on live television.
Most people would be outraged and terrified if this happened to them. But I didn't particularly care. This whole policy of being righteous and humble, accepting foreign invasion, and trying to changing corrupt systems from within was only something I tried to practice while waiting for death. I wanted to die. I believed I deserved to die. That was why it was always so easy to risk my life without thinking. It's also the real reason I joined the military. And the reason why I now cared so little when I heard about my death sentence. Death, to me, was like a Goddess that I strove to reach. One day, she would come and take me away, wrap me in her black wings, and bring me peace. Every single day, I thought about killing myself. But suicide has always seemed cowardly to me. I would much rather wait and die in battle, or perhaps be murdered or executed by some racist Britannian bastard.
Why did I feel this way, you wonder? For starters, I had murdered my father. Killing one's own blood-related parent warrants death for punishment. Some would say I wasn't culpable because it happened when I was only ten. Others would say punishment was not needed because the end justified the means; my father's death led to Japan's surrender and thus saved thousands of lives that he would have sacrificed by continuing the war. Those valid arguments sound like excuses to me, however, and do not alleviate my guilt in the slightest.
Even if I hadn't committed that irredeemable sin seven years ago, I still tended to think of death as an escape from the dark world of reality. After all, I had already seen a multitude of horrors, a single one of which can destroy a person's sanity. War and destruction. Cruel acts of racism. Civilian slaughter. Corrupt judicial systems. Selfishness, hate, bigotry, deception, and every other dark aspect of humanity's true nature. I was sick and tired of a world filled to the brim with such things.
I could only think of one thing that would keep me interested in living in this world: having someone close to me who understands exactly how I feel, and knows my sins, and loves me anyway. A strange thought had crossed my mind earlier that day when I saw Lelucia in Shinjuku Ghetto. What if she were to become my special someone? If she knew of my sins, would she still like me? If she did, would that motivate me to live?
It didn't matter though; I was certain that Lelucia was dead. That goddamn General must have killed her after shooting me down. If Lelucia was dead, that was the last straw. Just to be sure, I asked Lloyd to look at the list of casualties that had been compiled by the day after the Shinjuku disaster. I gave him detailed descriptions of Lelucia and the green-haired girl, and of course I gave him the name Lelucia Lamperouge. When he came to visit me my second night in jail, I expected Lloyd to confirm the deaths.
"Omedetou!" cried the genius inventor of the Lancelot. The exclamation meant, "Congratulations!" Lloyd explained, "Neither of the people you asked about were on the confirmed casualty list. Without the one girl's name, I have no way to confirm if she's alive, but the other girl you mentioned is a different story. The student, Lelucia Lamperouge. I called Ashford Academy and they confirmed that Lelucia attended school today."
I thought that all the hope in my heart had died, disappearing like the flame of a candle when a cold wind blows by. I was wrong. My hope was still alive. It started as a spark, but then quickly leapt into burning, colorful fire once again. Lelucia was alive. I still had a reason to live.