Clipped Wings
A Clover fanfiction written by: RinoaDestiny
Chapter 8
Outside, beyond the window, sunlight gilded the surrounding area, including a town not far from their current temporary quarters. Glass cool against his bared arm, 284 stared blankly at the quiet ongoings in the distance. Tears drying on his cheeks, he pondered why his nightmare had to be about that particular subject. While the sedative did its job, the imagery and emotions attached to them came a scant few hours before he awoke; they were always vivid during that time.
He wished they weren't.
Ryuu. Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu, his former deputy commander and long-time friend. He'd been dead for over two years ever since that horrific day and only today, did he have time to properly mourn. With Azaiea's immediate actions upon his capture, that time had been forfeited to him. He had it now, but felt hollow and still grieved.
There hadn't been a body, only a photograph his captors showed him. Ryuu had been buried in a mass grave, his throat slashed and nearly beheaded. From what he knew and was told by the Azaiean high command, Ryuu had attempted to reach him, fighting through enemy lines. He'd been unconscious by then, injured by the peripheral blast of a nearby explosion and had no awareness of this. Jarring and brutal, to hear the news from his enemies.
A severe psychological blow, enough to undermine his resistance and destroy any hope of rescue. Not long after, he was handed over to Barus for further softening. Afterwards, the specialists finished the process, eroding his sense of self.
It'd taken a long time for it to return, only to be threatened again.
The captain, having risen earlier than him, had left him alone. If the superior officer or Barus had called, asking questions or making demands, the information hadn't been disclosed to him. Instead, the captain provided breakfast and was likely checking on the remaining squad members. Part of his responsibility, but it also gave him space. 284 understood, having been a former leader.
However, he still struggled with being addressed as Gingetsu. It was different, coming from the captain and yet…
Not a name he deserved, but it was his name. Or had been.
How to reconcile the past and the present? Not an answer he knew.
Ryuu was gone and with the memory of his late friend rushed in his remembrances of Ran. When he'd left for the front, Ran was in his fourth year and heartbreak awaited them both. The Three-Leaf, so much older, had looked at him fondly through old-young eyes and wished him well. Gray in his dark hair and frailty had begun its slow work. How were they to know what the future held?
He became a statistic on the battlefield and disappeared, becoming a prisoner of war and…
He'd endured. Two and a half years, approaching three once this season was over. If there were search parties from his former home country, he wouldn't have known. Azaiea wouldn't disclose that information to him if they had. Perhaps, mirroring his dark thoughts, the Council believed him deceased and didn't waste resources to check. Too risky, after a colossal blow to their military.
Understandable. He'd only been a lieutenant colonel.
Ran was likely dead by now, unless the Council returned him to the cage separate from A. If so, if he still lived…
An unthinkable idea and impossible, hopeless to dwell upon. As a traitor to his own former country and as he was now, he had no right to see Ran. His former ward was lost to him, even if the catalyst for his current situation hadn't all been his fault. Consequences, again. Complaining was pointless – he'd understood this even as a child brought into the Clover Leaf Project.
He turned away from the window as the door opened behind him.
"How are you feeling?" the captain asked, approaching him slowly and carefully.
"Tired." It was the truth, although not all. His personal grief was his own, not to be shared with anyone. Enough had been given away already – why offer more to a stranger? He probably would never see the captain again afterwards anyway.
"Did you eat anything?"
"Yes." He didn't have much of an appetite, but he'd forced himself to. The captain looked weary, handling business here and to his superior in Azaiea, possibly. "Has my handler called?"
"No."
It allayed his anxiety a little, yet he couldn't relax. "If he does, I need to know."
The captain nodded. "I can't prevent communication between you and him – he has the right of it – but know that whatever happens, you can bring it to me." A pause, the other man's brow furrowing in thought. "Since you can't return with us, have you decided what to do next?"
"No." Just the idea of escaping seemed beyond his reach. "Where would I go?"
"You're stateless, I understand. But better your former country than Azaiea, correct? At least you have a chance there."
"After what I've done?" Even the Council would look askance at four assassinations done by a former officer. The captain wasn't privy to the details, though; professionalism kept him from saying more.
Across from him, the other man stepped forward. "What about mercenary work?"
He stared. "Because of my stateless status?"
"Only part of it. I saw the way you fought back there, injured as you were. You thought fast and dispatched the enemy in a way I haven't seen before. Could've called for help, but I suppose you noticed we were preoccupied."
"Yes."
"With your abilities and former rank and knowledge of command, you'll be invaluable in a mercenary unit or working solo. We do train snipers initially in close-quarters combat, but it's not their specialty. You don't seem to have that handicap."
"I do whatever is asked of me."
"I can see that." The captain looked him over, as if deciding something. "How old are you, Gingetsu? The official records as provided to me redact your year of birth."
Not a detail he was aware of, but redactions in spy records were to be expected. "Twenty-nine, sir." Ran was much older than him now if he still lived, a fact that brought back despair at the lost years.
"And you made lieutenant colonel younger than that."
"I was an exception." Being a Clover did give him some advantages, especially regeneration. He'd also been a quick study, trying to shape a meaningful life after the experiments. One of the fortunate few – not too powerful to require being encaged for life and not powerless enough to be forgotten. Oruha had defied that as a One-Leaf, however – had impacted all the lives around her, including his.
He always wondered where she got her courage from.
"If it's possible, you should leave before your handler or my superior calls in," the captain said, the suggestion startling. "Get a head start and find your way back." The expression on the other's face softened. "It may not be so bad, returning home. You have ample reasons to offer for your current circumstances. How are your injuries?"
Still processing what had been said before, 284 registered the question a second later. "Better." His shoulder was almost normal and his side no longer pained him. The wounds on his arms were healing well, too. "Sir," he said, realizing the likely fallout if he followed through on the captain's suggestion, "wouldn't this lead to insubordination and treason charges for you? An agent under your surveillance and command vanishes without warning? Will you report my disappearance to cover yourself?"
"That defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"
"Sir," 284 said and fell silent.
"The Azaiean black ops will mobilize to find you, Gingetsu. If I report you've gone rogue and missing."
"I know." Barus would be one of them, personally hunting him down. He'd no doubts about that or what'd happen if he was captured. "Still, sir – you must. No suspicion must fall upon you regarding me."
"A bit late for that, I'm sure." Once again, the other man scrutinized him. "I'll give you three hours. Will that suffice?"
He wasn't familiar with this country, but was certain he could adapt quickly. It was either do or die. "Yes."
Already, the captain moved swiftly, retrieving his sword and handing it to him. "Get some spare clothes and take the food and canteen from my pack. Do you smoke?"
"Used to." Because of the need for stealth, his sword returned to its vanished state. The last time he had a cigarette, Ryuu was with him. Quickly, he packed, folding and stuffing a spare pair of pants, a shirt, and a jacket in his bag. The captain's rations and water canteen fit snugly on top. Imaging a small sidearm inside the bag, he included it just in case. Best to travel light.
"Here."
Catching the unopened pack of cigarettes, 284 stuffed it into his shirt pocket. "Thank you."
"Most of the others are recuperating and one or two are in town. If you move fast, no one will spot you. Good luck, Gingetsu and be careful."
Shouldering his bag and giving his identification papers a final check, he nodded. Silence from hereon and he exited the captain's room, leaving the door open. Behind him, as he crept down the stairs, he heard the door quietly close. Seeing and hearing no one nearby, 284 approached the entrance, took his boots in hand, and left. Once outside, he quickly put them on and orienting himself, ran.
He needed immediate distance. Three hours was more than enough.
Probably best to leave before the borders or ports (if they existed) were sealed off. This country did have a treaty with Azaiea, after all.
The communications device he discarded an hour into his escape, burying it on the outskirts of a busy city. While he could've destroyed it, 284 wasn't sure if doing so would alert Azaiean headquarters, as government or military property were usually closely tracked and accounted for. No need to inadvertently tip his hand regarding his disappearance before the captain dutifully reported him missing. With two hours left to go, he had to decide his next course of action.
Azaiea bordered his former home country, divided only by an enormous mountain range. Their inhabitants traveled by zeppelin or train, being landlocked. This country – Callais, going off the signs – had a coast and therefore, port cities and ships. Port cities were hectic places, easy to get lost in, but also had multiple conveniences. For one, there were pawn shops and black markets. Two, depending on his luck, he might have a way out. Three, soldiers and mercenaries were familiar with and to these places.
Someone like him could blend in, become invisible.
The nearest port city, Lile, was approximately an hour away.
Rearranging his belongings, 284 headed in that direction, pacing himself. There were things he had to do, yet time was running out. He never had enough of it when it mattered.
"The simulations," Deputy Commander Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu said, speaking casually about their latest risk assessment and leadership evaluations done via digital mock battles. "Were they meant to be this difficult? So many scenarios and outcomes." The other soldier stopped, falling silent for a few seconds before continuing. "How'd you do, Commander? Got your results?"
"Not yet." Gingetsu had undergone similar simulation runs, except his were tailored specifically to someone of his rank. "Focus on improvements for yours, Deputy Commander Ryuu. You'll be expected to hold secondary command in the field, should the need arrive. I need you prepared for all possibilities."
His deputy commander nodded. "Understood." Pulling out the chair by his desk, the other man sat down and swung a leg up, comfortably ensconced. "Will I be scheduled for more simulation training in between missions?"
"If necessary." Usually, field experience carried more weight, since digital simulations could only replicate so much before becoming static and repetitive. "You may not need it after several battles or skirmishes. But I need you to be attentive – aside from logistics, all of this may determine if we live or die on the battlefield."
"That's a lot of pressure, sir."
"Yes. And I rely on you to help me shoulder it."
Again, Deputy Commander Ryuu nodded. "Gotcha. Say, Commander – is this life for you? All this here?"
He knew what the other man meant. The military was everything for him and had been for years. "Yes."
A heavy-set man twice his age – former military, judging by the scars and his body language – turned his watch face down on the dark glossy counter. "I'll give you three hundred," the pawn broker said, squinting at him. "It's a solid piece and in decent condition. No one else will offer as much."
Despite being in the black market where shady business occurred, the pawnshop's interior was bright and lit, showing off all kinds of goods. An antique plate, colored glass jars, and some rare brass guns. It reminded him of his former home and what he used to own. Bittersweet memories, those. "Four hundred," he responded, countering the offer. He needed money and more would carry him further.
"Need cash bad, eh? Three hundred fifty and no more." The ragged scar on the man's face moved as he spoke. "You active military? Looking to have a good time down by the docks?"
"I'm on leave." Denying he was military in front of this man would be a mistake; 284 knew he too carried himself as a soldier. What mattered was acting like everything was normal. "I'll take it." He ignored the question about the docks, for it hit too close on what he despised about himself now.
"Three hundred fifty. No receipts here, understand?"
"Yes."
The pawn broker paid him, watched as he counted the money – he'd no intention of returning here – and then gave him a curt farewell. Leaving, 284 checked his surroundings and made for the closest port. Being able to purchase a ticket for a ship wasn't guaranteed, but he needed to leave soon. With half an hour left before Azaiea got word from the captain and sent out special forces to retrieve him, his window of opportunity was closing and fast.
The problem, of course, was that availability for latecomers was scant.
"If you want passage to Yuten, you'll have to buy for the next ship."
"When does that depart?" he asked, scanning the changing schedule monitor above the female ticket seller.
"Two hours from now. Dock E."
"One for the lowest class. How much?"
"Three hundred." Near his hand, a slot opened between him and the woman. "Chip or cash?"
Pushing the bills through, he watched as three hundred were taken. Fifty left, not much for food and supplies. Two hours until the ship departed port. Could he still make it before Azaiea searched Lile and found him? A ticket was handed to him; he took it, thinking quickly. He couldn't stay outside, not even in a dingy alleyway. Either a bar or whatever passed for a drinking hole here.
Having unsavory types of people there could be a benefit, though they came with the usual detriments.
His decision made, 284 sought the rowdiest bar available near the docks. Too far away and he'd miss boarding; too close and he'd be discovered should the search parties arrive. The perfect middle ground offered a seedy one called Kime, windows begrimed with smoke. Upon entering, he met the hard and suspicious gazes of the locals and curious or wary glances from other strangers.
"A beer, please." Quietly placing down some money, he waited for his drink at the counter. A booth in the back would be safer.
"New face, huh? Never seen you before." The bartender placed a full mug before him. "What brings you here, soldier?"
"On leave."
"Well, welcome to Kime." Although the man's frame was slender, there was wiry strength in the hand that clapped upon his shoulder. "Watch your belongings, don't be an ass, and you'll be fine."
Having flinched at the unexpected touch, 284 nodded and removed himself, trying not to offend. He didn't need enemies here. Positioned in a far booth with a clear view of the clock – digital, not analog – he took a sip of beer and tried relaxing. It was difficult, knowing time was up. Azaiea's manhunt for their missing agent would begin and in force.
Lile's ships traveled to Azaiea, Yuten, and a few other countries, but not his former homeland. From Yuten, he could book passage to a small island nation and then make his way back from there. However, with forty in cash left and black ops with full resources after him, he wasn't sure how he'd sustain himself. It was an issue he needed to consider before it became a big problem.
Forty in Yuten currency would feed him for a day. Afterwards, unless he sold the gun, there was nothing left to trade. His sword was necessary and wouldn't leave his side. Stretching out the rations would reduce him to starvation before long. A mercenary unit, then, or different side jobs that guaranteed meals and shelter while also permitting mobility. Anything to ward off desperation.
He didn't want to reach that point, when vulnerability was highest.
There were possibilities he didn't want to consider.
Shuddering, he took another drink. Kept his eyes on the clock. Around him, noise rose and fell like waves: cursing, raucous laughter, drunken garbling, the scrape of chair legs, and the door opening and closing. A deck of playing cards scattered, covering the floor. Someone swore and knelt, picking them up.
A shadow fell over his table, blocking his view. "Alone, eh? Want company?"
"No."
The person's shadow didn't budge. Wary, 284 sized up the intruder into his personal space, keeping his face neutral. A big man, close in height and build, arms bared and huge. Brown hair and eyes, no scars, a stained red shirt that stank of alcohol and smoke, and nondescript pants. A regular here? The man stared at him – didn't look drunk. Wasn't Azaiean, so perhaps native-born? It still didn't explain why he was here.
"Heard ya was a soldier. Having a good time here?"
Staying quiet, he simply watched the other man, hoping he'd leave.
"New guy like ya shouldn't be alone." Without waiting for his reaction or response, the stranger slid into the seat across from him. "Where ya from? Where ya going? This your first time here?"
He didn't answer. Too many questions and for what purpose?
"Careful, huh? Not much of a talker, are you?" A lazy smile crossed the man's face. "Ya don't have to be so cold. Just want to know things, is all."
Keeping his face impassive – the words sounding too familiar – 284 knew exactly now what was happening. Didn't seem possible to escape it, no matter where he was. It hadn't always been like this. Back when he used to serve as a Hisoku officer, people used to respect him, but usually steered clear due to his reputation as being strict and impersonal. Ryuu had been the exception; then again, Ryuu had always been the outlier. His late friend and former deputy commander was…couldn't be aptly described.
But things had changed. As a fugitive from Azaiea without meaningful prospects, he was subject to the whims of others, including distasteful ones like this.
"Thinking, huh? Least you nice to look at."
He did not need to hear comments like that. It clenched his stomach, giving way to bad thoughts. At least he was in public and not trapped alone with this stranger, whose intent was obvious. He wasn't Barus and the conditioning didn't extend to non-Azaieans and those without authority.
284 glanced at the clock, now visible again. An hour and a half. Boarding time wasn't until the last half hour and he couldn't leave, because there wasn't anywhere safe to go. Despite the situation he was in, it was still better than running straight into an Azaiean black ops search unit specifically tasked to find him. Nowhere to go, then, unless he fought to the death.
He hoped the captain was okay.
"Got somewhere to go?" the annoyance across him asked.
He stayed silent, yet felt his gaze harden.
"Hey, no need to look like that," the other man whined, leaning forward. "Say, what's your name?"
Having drawn back, putting distance between him and the persistent stranger, 284 said nothing. Gingetsu, his mind knew; yet, he dared not apply it to himself. It remained remote – a worn-out relic from a dead past – and only a few people called him thus. The captain, a good man. Barus, making mockery of it during savage moments. Ryuu, when they had both served the Special Forces Hisoku together. The Council, when they didn't address him by rank. Ran, growing older, anticipating his return after the conflict.
He never did.
"See them pretties down by the water?" Undeterred, the man continued asking questions he refused to answer. "Got a taste?"
His gaze only got stonier, the muscles in his face setting.
"Not one for women, eh?"
Don't be an ass. Don't start a scene. Ignoring the man wasn't working, but the last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself. A ruckus in a bar – even one as noisy as this – would cause trouble and being thrown out would compound his problems. That worry aside, this man did need a lesson. 284 was tired of yielding, of being afraid – discomfort and fear always present – and he need not endure this.
"I said I don't want company. Leave."
"Ah, don't be like that. Why don't we –"
His hand twitched on the table, as if grabbing a weapon. "No."
For the first time, the stranger across from him frowned. "Why not?"
The other man was deliberately obtuse and 284 wasn't having it. Instead of replying, he reached out for the beer mug and took a drink, maintaining his glare over the rim. He wasn't leaving the table – it was his first – and giving way would embolden this aggravation to follow him. Beneath the table, his other hand remained still, but ready at his belt.
"Leave him alone," said a voice from the side, the bartender checking on customers or merely observing business. "Ain't your fucking hunting grounds, Sal."
"Ah, screw off!" Sal made a crude gesture to the bartender. "Don'tcha have other people to swindle?"
"Warning you. Don't start shit."
"Yeah yeah."
Putting his mug down, 284 watched as the bartender shot Sal a nasty look and left. Sal, having not taken the obvious hints to back off, smiled and leaned forward again. Alert, 284 shifted just in time to dodge Sal's clumsy grope at his knee; within a second, he had the other man at knifepoint, blade against his neck.
"Do not."
"Whoa!" It was satisfying seeing Sal scoot back, hands raised. "Overreacting, man!"
"You were warned. You persisted. Last warning." He kept the knife raised, the silvery edge of the blade a faint glint. Because they were in a booth, no one else paid attention to them or noticed the slight altercation. In a place like this, quarrels or brawls weren't uncommon and therefore, the staff and patrons were desensitized to it. The bartender's advice was likely to keep him safe, being a new face here and he'd no wish to instigate a fight.
He'd no wish to kill, either, especially with a lowlife like Sal.
"Fine! I'll find someone else!" Sal spat at him, scrambling out of the booth. "Fucking cold, you are!"
Nothing new in the range of insults, though again, his stomach tightened. Then Sal was gone, leaving him contently alone and looking at the clock. Less than ten minutes had elapsed.
He wondered about the captain. About the composition of the Azaiean black ops deployed to find him. If Barus was the one in charge, knowing what to look for and where.
He shivered, huddled deeper within the booth. Suppressed the urge to retrieve his sword.
"Make no mistake," Barus said, mouth close to his ear, uncomfortably intimate, "this doesn't mean I like you. I was robbed of my dear sweet Kazuhiko – my Prince – so I'll settle for you. Loathsome as you are and a silent brute, you're still pretty and have a nice body, so I'll take what I can get. For you, well…you don't like this, do you?"
Gingetsu shuddered, suspended as he was, vulnerable and within easy reach. His hands were tightly bound – couldn't bring forth any weapons or lash out – and the way how Barus's men stared at him was unsettling. Barus's hands groping, tracing scars and running down his body and there was nothing he could do. No one to rescue him. He was presumed dead.
Ryuu was gone because of him. Because of his failure.
"Before our specialists get to you and twist your brain around, I want to personally take my recompense from you for the loss of my Prince." Barus leaned closer, pressing tight against his body, hands gripping hard enough to bruise. "As his former commander, I'm sure you're aware of senior officers taking consequences for failure. You're responsible for his death, so this is a price you must pay."
He struggled to no avail, wrists chafing and panic rising. "No. No."
"Don't worry, boys." Barus laughing, speaking past him, as those rough hands on his thighs spread him open. "There'll still be plenty once I'm done. The lieutenant colonel's a sturdy man. He'll hold up. We've got time."
His throat went dry, fear a vise upon his senses. Everything seemed to magnify – sensations heightened – even as his focus dwindled to what was happening further below. The horrific realization that he was on his own among enemies struck him; he trembled and could not stop.
"Relax, lieutenant," Barus purred, the words terrifying in its implication. "Enjoy it. Bet you don't get laid often, hmmm?"
The binding wouldn't give. He couldn't –
Agony bursting inside him, his head full of pain. Gingetsu screamed, a raw unfamiliar sound. Again and again and again, his voice drowning out Barus's grunts by his ear. His vision blurred, the ceiling above smearing into grays, and it was as if he was blind. Tears ran down his face, salt in his mouth. Hands against flesh. His body torn apart.
He screamed and screamed and only laughter. Only laughter and Barus.
"Mmm, Gingetsu. Under that uniform – who would've guessed?"
Incoherent sounds and he wanted to die. He wanted –
A hand against his abdomen, pressing down hard. Stabbing pain, smell of blood, the room closing in but consciousness remained.
Ryuu, I'm sorry. The thought lingered as the horror continued.
His beer half-finished and a small portion of rations eaten, 284 thanked the bartender and departed from Kime with forty-five minutes to spare. Cautiously advancing towards the docks, he observed the streets, the establishments (any watchers?), and even the other pedestrians. In a busy port city such as this, the black ops units would use subtler tactics instead of creating a big show.
Ambush in a secluded spot. Drugging and kidnapping, if possible. Creating a distraction just to get to him while the crowd was preoccupied. Avoiding the first was a matter of luck and awareness. The second, watching his food and drink and hoping no tranquilizers came his way. The third…would be more difficult; he'd have to notice signs ahead of time – signs that mightn't be obvious.
Were Azaiean soldiers in Lile now?
Were they already waiting for him at the docks? At Dock E?
He wasn't returning with them. Not to that. Death was better.
Anxious, 284 drew close to his destination and didn't immediately rush to board the ship. Scanning the other passengers and passersby from where he hid, he searched for soldiers incognito or for Azaiean faces. There was always a risk even a citizen might recognize him. Having come this far, he didn't want to jeopardize his escape.
He hoped they wouldn't search each outgoing ship, if Callais permitted it.
A few more minutes passed – passengers still boarding – and 284, giving his surroundings a final scan, slipped out from hiding and joined the line. It wouldn't do to miss departure, despite his paranoia. Even so, he looked around, trying to appear casual, although he felt anything but.
Out here, by himself and without allies, he was vulnerable.
The line moved forward. Another step closer to evading Azaiean forces.
A commotion in the distance, voices raised. He stared in that direction, trying to analyze the situation. Let it be the normal disturbances – angry customers, annoyed civilians having an argument, or just a common brawl – and not special forces. Short of leaping over the dockside into the water, there wasn't much he could do but stand and fight or cut his throat right here.
His gut wound tight. The line advanced again.
Keeping his sight fixed on the hubbub, 284 swallowed. His throat was dry, but he refused to reach for the canteen in his bag. Each time the line moved, it felt as though he'd never make it to the ship. As though he hung suspended in mid-action, denied the chance to have a decision of his seen through to the end.
It'd been like that for the past couple years.
"Your ticket, please."
Momentary relief, but he wasn't onboard yet. Taking the ticket from his shirt pocket, 284 handed it over, received a confirmation receipt and strode onto the gangway. Being of the lowest class, he hurried to the bottom floors of the ship, wanting nothing more than to lock himself in and sleep.
It'd been hours since his last true rest.
His room was akin to a closet, small and narrow; yet, it offered him a space of his own. Compared to the ground or a cot in a field tent, it was luxurious. After securing his temporary quarters, 284 drank some water, used the bag as a pillow and closed his eyes. Lulled by the slight movements beneath him, the world around him soon disappeared into darkness and silence.
Notes: Regarding the country names of Callais and Yuten, and the port city name of Lile, these were all made up by me for this story. The only country that is canonically named in the manga is Azaiea; we do not even have the name of the country where Kazuhiko, Gingetsu, and Ran come from. But because it gets a bit repetitive and also weird for Gingetsu to just say or think "this country" and "that country," I winged it and created some names as he's jumping locations.
Callais and Lile come from the "calla lily," whereas Yuten doesn't have any origin I pulled from. Because Azaiea reminds me of "azalea" and we have the name of the manga series as Clover, I thought going with plant and flower names would work.