The forest was strangely quiet for a supposedly lawless no man's land. But it was stifling all the same. Where were the birds? The crickets? Even the wind was only a faint whisper.
Like a forgotten tomb, desolate to the end.
How many deaths it was home to, she couldn't fathom.
And maybe she wouldn't have the time.
Again, she found her fingers gliding to the knife in her belt, her mind wandering.
There was no enemy. No ambush.
Not even a rustle that could indicate lurking predators.
Only the man walking ahead of her, his back stiff and his steps heavy.
The handle of the knife was cool as she wrapped her fingers around it. In just a short time, it had become an unwelcome habit.
There was no threat here.
Unless...
No.
No.
No.
But it would be so easy, wouldn't it?
Just to—
To—
"Stop!"
Her hand jerked.
"Don't!"
He paused upon hearing that ugly, desperate yell. Not the abrupt kind. Slowly, but deliberately, he turned on his heel, then walked toward her.
Instinct almost made her take a step back, but she managed to muster the last vestiges of her courage to stand her ground.
Every step he took was like a hammer against her. Her heart pummeled against her ribcage, threatening to burst out.
It shouldn't be like this.
Not like this.
But he didn't stop. Not until he was...
...next to her?
"Can you keep going?"
Not soft, but not hard. Not cruel.
She didn't trust her voice. Not yet.
So she nodded, and he waited.
For her, not for him.
It took a moment, but she forced herself to walk.
He matched her pace, never overtaking, never straying, and he never left her sight.
Not even once.
Maybe he was still leading her. Maybe they were simply following the road now. But...he was there.
And her hand slowly fell away from the knife.
After a while, he signaled a stop, but it was not for a break. Not with how his eyes scanned the area.
"Yuuno-san?"
"Keep your eyes open, and be ready to move at any second. I saw something."
Something.
Something could mean anything.
Something could be a person.
He whispered for her to move, but as furtively as she could. Stay on the road. Keep moving.
Eventually, they came upon a body lying on the pavement. A fresh corpse. The smell was not the problem.
What was, however, was the sight.
He didn't try to shield her from it.
She could see the wound on his neck, not surgical but ragged, the blood had long coagulated and dried. His right arm was lying a few paces away, and the left leg was nowhere to be found.
But it wasn't the fatal wound nor the frozen expression of horror that was burned into his features that chilled her.
It was his clothes.
The black, hooded cloak and the black uniform, with the insignia sewn onto its breast. It had gashes all over the fabric.
He crouched before the body and pulled the cloak over. The hip holster was empty, and whatever weapon it held was not on him.
There was a trail of blood leading away from the body.
But he stayed put, rifling through the pockets. She made no comment about that, only keeping her eyes open.
Coins, a lighter, and a crumpled piece of paper. He read through it, and his eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. But there was a hint of grim satisfaction.
"What's that?"
He folded the paper and tucked it inside his vest. "Something that could lead us to your teammates. A manifest of...'merchandise,' and where they're being kept."
Her throat closed, and she had to force her next words out.
"And that means..."
"We need to move. This man was killed by a wild beast, and this is their home. We're intruding, just like he was. They will find us eventually."
She nodded and followed him, but something she didn't notice caused her to stumble. He caught her by the elbow.
"Wha—"
She followed his gaze and saw the dead animal.
It was a baby.
A wolf, its body small, with short and stubby limbs. The fur was a mixture of white and gray, with black and brown splotches. Its muzzle was short, and the ears were smaller and rounder.
A child who didn't get to live. Not with that burning hole on its chest.
"Let's go," was all he said.
She followed, and as her gaze swept the surroundings, her eyes were drawn to the bushes.
A low, menacing growl, cutting through the silence.
He dropped the duffel bag and readied his rifle.
She unsheathed the knife.
The bushes parted, and out came the wolves, one after the other. Their hackles raised, and their fangs bared.
Their eyes were a cold, pale gold.
One, two, three, four, five...
Five.
She counted them in her head.
They were larger than she'd expected, with matted fur and lean muscles.
They didn't lunge at them.
Instead, they paced, their growls becoming louder and fiercer.
She gripped the knife, and her eyes darted between the five of them.
"Yuuno-san..."
He glanced beyond the pack and into the overgrowth, his brow furrowing.
"Vivio, put the knife away."
"Huh? But..."
Before she could ask, the largest of the pack, a grizzled and battle-scarred gray one, lunged with a snarl, its fangs glistening.
The beast was onto her, but the butt of the rifle smashing against its head threw it off course. It fell, but not down.
The rest looked at each other, as if silently coordinating, before rushing them.
With a grunt, he charged, his rifle raised, and smashed the first wolf against its face.
Its yelp was drowned out by a thunderous, guttural howl.
Then the pack was upon him, clawing and snapping and growling, but he fought back,
He could easily shoot them.
But he didn't.
Not once.
That means...
"Yuuno-san, hold on!"
She kicked the one closest to her, sending it staggering, before collapsing. Not dead, but not getting up.
The others turned their heads toward her, their growls growing louder, more intense.
One, two, three...
One tried to lunge, and she sidestepped, her boot kicking its face and sending it rolling. Another one down.
Once she got hold of their pattern, she could match it. Always aiming for the head, but instead of bullets, palm strikes, elbows, knees. Whatever she could use to incapacitate.
Rolling, pirouette, and somersault.
Dance.
A dance of survival.
The last one standing, the smallest of the five, was still standing, despite the bruises, while the rest were lying on the ground. Alive, but not getting up for a while.
The wolf growled, but the sound was not ferocious. More like...wary, and almost fearful.
She had long put the knife away, now beginning to see the truth.
A litter of four emerged from the bushes and surrounded the adult.
It must be a female, she realized.
A mother.
The wolf nudged her pups to go behind her.
Only now did she realize why she was told to put the knife away. Why he didn't shoot.
"I...don't want to fight you," she whispered.
The wolf didn't react, but her ears were pricked.
"I don't want to hurt you."
It cocked its head.
"I'm sorry...but..."
The wolf regarded her for a moment before slipping back into the undergrowth, just as the pups followed.
"Vivio...we need to go."
His voice, calm and steady, cut through the tension.
He propped himself up using the rifle, wincing when he put pressure on his ankle.
"You're bleeding."
"I'll live."
"But..."
"Let's go."
He moved toward his bag, but she was quicker and snatched it before he could. He said nothing, just a tired nod.
She took his hand and supported his weight, allowing him to lean on her.
He resisted, but not much.
At least he wasn't pushing her away.
Even after what she'd thought about.
No thanks, no congratulations.
Nothing.
But it was better that way.
Even injured, he was ever alert, not delirious nor sluggish.
The sun had already begun to dip below the horizon, casting everything in an ominous orange glow.
But there was no stopping until the trees gave way to a plain.
There was a hut, not too far from the tree line. It was a bit decrepit, but its fences were still intact, and its doors closed. The door was open.
"Hunting lodge. Or used to be. I'm not sure."
"But..."
"I've spent nights there. It's not the best place, but it's one of the few safe spots we know. Nobody else has ever tried to use it. The forest is dangerous, and the locals around here are superstitious."
The inside was dusty, with cobwebs clinging to the corners, but there were no signs of rodent droppings or any other vermin.
And a bed, covered in a thin, scratchy blanket, but a bed nonetheless.
She laid him down, and he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut.
"Yuuno-san? Can you hear me?"
"Yeah...it's not serious."
She helped him with his boot, and as expected, his ankle was swollen and turning purple.
"Get me one of those red tubes. From the bag,"
"Tube?"
"Biogel."
She fished through the bag and pulled out the tube. "This?"
"That."
With some effort, he sat up, discarding the duster. His shaky fingers reached for the clasp on his vest, but the injury on his shoulder proved too much, and his jaw clenched.
She wasted no time in kneeling before him, not bothering to state her intentions.
He stiffened, but not as much.
"Do—"
"Don't," she hissed. If he was going to act all hardened, then fine.
But she could feel it.
Cracks, even if they were small.
And he will soon remember why she's a Takamachi.
The vest was unbuckled and tossed aside, leaving just the tunic.
She lingered on the buttons and looked at the tired eyes, waiting.
"Go on."
The tunic fell to the floor, and the undershirt followed.
The skin on his back and torso was marred with old, faded scars and new ones. But nothing was infected.
She only had a fuzzy memory of seeing him shirtless. A long time ago. Maybe it was by accident. Maybe it wasn't. But she was sure he was not scarred.
He wasn't exactly lean or lanky, but not rippling with sinews and muscles either. Yet it had endured more than a man should have. More than he should have.
The biogel was sizzling when it made contact with the wound, but his only reaction was a sharp intake of breath.
"Sorry," she murmured.
But the medication did wonders in helping the wounds knit without sutures. Next, she went for his boots, removing them.
The ankle was swollen and ugly.
"Yuuno-san, are there ice packs in the medkit?"
"Yeah. They're...blue."
She went back to the bag and found the pack.
"Here."
He managed to apply it by himself, but this time, she no longer felt the need to hover over him. Chris hovered from the bag, and though she felt bad for keeping her Device there, it was safer.
"Are you injured...?"
"Huh? No, no. I'm not."
"Good."
Was that relief?
She was tempted to ask.
But she didn't.
He didn't look as tense, not as guarded.
Just tired.
She decided to leave him be, and idly wondered if there was a working shower. Maybe not, but if there was clean water, maybe she could make do.
"I...I'll take a look around..." she said, tentatively.
"Yeah."
He was already standing, eyes on the bolted door. His sidearm was still holstered in his belt.
"Yuuno-san."
"Yes?"
"Will you...lie down?"
"I can't."
"But..."
"...Just do what you need to do."
Not there yet. But close. She shouldn't push too much.
"Come on, Chris," she beckoned to the Device and headed for what she thought was the shower.
"Vivio."
She nearly stumbled over herself at the sudden call. "Y-yes?"
"...Th—thanks."
Yes, closer.
She smiled.
"No problem."
The shower was functional, but the water was ice cold. No shampoo, let alone the brand she really liked, and the soap must've been there for maybe at least half a decade.
But it was better than nothing, and her body felt lighter.
And more importantly, clean. In more ways than one.
Never in her 20 years did she ever imagine that she would appreciate a shower so much. But she would never take anything for granted ever again.
There was a towel, old and ratty, but it did its job.
She found a flannel shirt that must have belonged to a previous owner in the closet. It smelled old, but it was clean, if a little tight. She also found a pair of drawstring trousers that didn't fall off. They were less conspicuous than her uniform, which she tossed into the empty laundry bin. Her gaze lingered on the crumpled shirt and skirt.
She used to be so proud of finally being able to wear them just like her mamas. But here, the uniform was useless.
But she wasn't giving them up anytime soon.
Back at home, they would regain their meaning. But not now.
He was no longer standing by the door when she returned. A sentinel all the same.
Sitting on the bed, looking at the ceiling. The lights were not on, but there was a small lamp on the floor, dim but enough to illuminate the space.
The curtains were drawn, and the door was bolted shut, with a chair pushed up against it.
His sidearm was resting on the table.
He turned his head when he heard her footsteps.
"Better?"
She nodded, and he turned back to the ceiling.
"We will move tomorrow morning. Do you want food?"
"Do you?"
He hesitated. "I'm not hungry."
She knew that tone. "Then, me neither."
"You know that's not true."
"And so are you."
"But..."
"If you want me to eat, then you should too."
He chuckled. It was a low sound, raspy and hoarse.
It was not unpleasant.
"You really are...just like her."
She ignored the pang and rummaged through the bag, pulling out another can of stew. Only a day past the expiry date. Should be safe.
"Here," she said, offering him the can.
He was still hesitant, but this time, she didn't need to wait with bated breath.
"I told you I can help find food. Don't be stubborn."
"You're the one who's stubborn."
She rolled her eyes and opened her can, then handed him the spoon. He didn't bother with the utensil, just downing the contents in a few gulps.
"So you are hungry," she said.
"A...little."
Another lie, but at the same time, honesty.
And maybe there was something to gain from this.
"Do you want another can?"
"No."
She didn't argue.
"You can rest first. I'll take the first watch, Yuuno-san."
"Why?"
"You are injured."
He sighed and sat up, but his expression wasn't an annoyed one. Just...something. "Fine."
"Thank you."
He insisted that his sidearm be kept close, and she was fine with that. She didn't mind.
For someone who had insisted he was fine many times before, he fell asleep fairly quickly.
Not exactly what she would call a good rest. His breathing was not steady, his lips kept twitching, and his brows would furrow every so often. But he wasn't thrashing about, and his hands were not balled into fists.
Outside, the wind was howling, but no storm was brewing.
Chris was resting on the floor next to her.
Her mamas and friends must be worried sick by now.
But she didn't know how far the TSAB would even search for the missing team.
The evacuations were, to begin with, rooted in pragmatism, done in uneasy agreement with a foreign power of an alien world that rejects its principles. They were not supposed to be attacked.
Then again, she was not supposed to be that desperate to prove her worth.
And him...she wondered if her Yuuno-san was the same.
Desperate to prove himself, to become someone else.
Maybe.
But until he decided to lay himself bare, if ever, all she could do was guess.
Soon the watch became tedious, but she didn't want to let her thoughts wander into darker territory.
Looking around, truly looking, she noticed how sparse the place was. A stove that she wasn't sure could work, a sink, and a cabinet.
A bookcase stood against the wall, and she could not stop the curious tug, pulling her to take a closer look.
Did he read? The few books there seemed like handwritten manuals and bound notebooks.
What are they about...?
The covers were worn, the pages yellowed, but the print was still clear.
'Hunt'
"Trapping'
'Field medicine'
Mundane enough. Useful. They explained a lot.
'On Survival'
The particular book was smaller than the others, and the cover was nondescript.
She flipped it open.
'You have nothing else to lose, and you are stronger for it. Remember that.'
'Forget the past. Keep moving forward. No rest. No history, no retreat.'
"What is good? What is bad? You decide. No one can tell you otherwise."
'What is your sin? What is your crime? You decide. No one can judge you otherwise.'
'But the crown.'
There was an uncomfortably vast blank space before the last line on the page.
'Or is it?'
The book almost slipped out of her fingers, but she held on.
The next page was torn, but the following was still intact.
'Shouldn't have lost my faith too quickly.'
More spaced void.
'No primped-up dress, only a uniform. No scepter, only a sabre. No dainty heels, only mud-caked boots. No well-tended hands, only broken nails. No fragrance, but the smell of gunsmoke and blood. No gentle smile, but a kind one nonetheless. No throne, only whatever chair she could sit on. No crown, only a headband. No royalty, only a human. A person who smokes more than even the most tired soldier, but speaks to you like a mother would. No towering figure , only a woman wounded, callused, real.'
'Now I understand. That creed did, suddenly, not feel so empty.'
More torn pages.
'I was never one for journaling. I was advised to do so before, but besides cataloging finds and the like, I saw no need to put my thoughts into writing. If I were to record anything, it would be my observations, my studies. My work. That's what I've always done. What I'm doing.'
'But when you have nothing left, you try anything, right?'
'This is my war as much as it is theirs. A cause to believe in, for the first time in a while. You showed me that. She showed me that. And you two'
The sentence was incomplete. Next to it was a page entirely blacked out with furious scribbles forming a wall of ink.
But she could, with effort, make out the first sentence.
I.
did
it.
The stew she had eaten churned, and a wave of nausea overcame her. She staggered away, leaning against the wall. The sheets rustled, and there was a low moan. Chris floated over and gently nudged her arm.
Breathless, she took the Device, her fingers trembling, and the book slipped out of her hand.
It thumped onto the floor, its cover snapping open, revealing that final page.
"Yuuno-san..."
The name came out strangled.
Did what?
What did he do?
What did they make him do?
The cold spot between her breasts pulsed, and the chill was not pleasant.
"Yuuno-san..."
"Nghh..."
Her knees buckled, and she dragged herself to the bedside, the Device still clutched in her hands.
She wasn't afraid of this man.
Not anymore. She shouldn't.
But she was still fearing for him.
The truth was terrifying.
And painful.
"Yuuno-san, I...can't help you. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do."
The words were tumbling out of her mouth, but she held back the tears.
"Why won't you...why can't you...tell me?"
She didn't know when her hands gripped the sheets, the fabric rough and scratchy.
"Let me in. Let me help you."
He was restless, his breaths growing shallow and quick.
"Yuuno-san!"
Why did she call his name like that? Desperate, pleading.
She shouldn't be waking him up.
But he did anyway, his eyes snapping open. But unlike the first time, when she had startled him, he didn't react with violence.
"Vivio...?"
He was disoriented. Not dazed.
"I'm sorry."
"Wha..."
"I'm sorry. I...I just...you..."
"Breathe."
Only a tad laced with...warmth? But the voice was calm.
"Just breathe."
"Yuuno-san..."
"I'm awake. You can sleep."
"No. I...no. I'll...I'm sorry. For waking you up."
"...Well, I was supposed to take the second watch," he groggily mumbled.
"...And...I...I'm so sorry. I...I read it. Your...journal."
His face, still hazy, went deathly pale, and the hand that had been resting on his abdomen froze.
"Vivio...what...which one?"
"The...the blacked-out one."
"That's—"
"You can...be mad at me. If you want to...but please, don't...don't push me away. Don't shut me out. I..."
His lips trembled, but his jaw clenched, his eyes darting everywhere, before settling on the book she dropped. He rose, slowly pushing himself off the bed, and walked past her to retrieve the journal, his bare feet padding across the dusty floor.
He picked it up, the cover still open, and stared at the page before slamming it shut.
"Now that you know," he said, his voice cracking, "do you realize what kind of monster I am? You may not see what was written beyond the ink, but you are a trained soldier. Your instinct has always been right. You can sense it. Can you? What are you feeling, Vivio?"
"Afraid. But not of you."
"...You're a terrible liar."
"I'm not lying."
"But I know what you were thinking."
"Yuuno-san."
"If you didn't see the book, would you still say the same thing?"
She didn't know how to answer that.
"You have never truly felt safe around me, even after I saved your life, have you?"
"Yes..."
She didn't like telling the truth now.
"What are you thinking now, Vivio?"
"I...want to...help."
"You can't save me."
"I don't want to. I just...I want to understand. Please. Let me understand."
"How? By making me talk?"
"It doesn't have to be that. Just..."
"Then, what?"
"Let me be with you. That's all. No questions, no expectations."
"I don't understand."
"Don't be alone."
"But why?"
"I'm here for you."
"Stop that."
"You stop."
"Vivio..."
"Stop it. You're not a monster. I know. You've done horrible things. I know. You've hurt people. I know. You're afraid of yourself. I know. You've made mistakes. I know. You've lost people. I know."
She didn't realize she was gripping his hands, the calluses scraping against her palms. He didn't pull away.
"You're not a monster, Yuuno-san. You are a person. You were kind in my memories, and I know you still are...in your heart."
"Let me see you."
"You don't want to. That's how you should think."
"But I know. Please."
"...I'm a...I've done unspeakable things, Vivio. Do you understand that?"
"Tell me and I'll be the judge of that."
"..."
"Yuuno-san."
"Sit, then, and we'll test that," he said.
She sat down, heart hammering.
He stared at the journal in his lap, fingers tracing the battered cover.
"There's a lot...," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can explain. More than you should ever have to know."
Silence. Heavy. Waiting.
"Not tonight," he said. "Maybe... someday."
Another promise, one that she wasn't sure he could keep.
But she would wait.
When she reached for his hand again, he didn't pull away.