When it feels like laughing

When it feels like laughing

The pine spirit softly carried the silence of the forest. The ringing of distant gurgling grew louder and louder. 'Water!' the thought made the thirst bake his throat even more. However, nothing raw could be eaten or drunk, Lelouch had already learned that after suffering with a sore stomach under the bushes all day. First you must boil — that is, heat the water very hot, that it comes out of the bubbles. It turns out that is what is done to any water with a kettle before it is served. Lelouch used to believe that water was heated only to make it more pleasant for the princes to drink. “Aren’t you tired yet?” he asked, turning around. Suzaku shook his head. He had carried Nannally for too long, and it was Lelouch’s turn. But Lelouch was weaker, so Suzaku often volunteered pulling double duty. However, his own weakness was not something Lelouch was willing to admit. “All right, so be it, you can carry my sister a little longer,” he allowed. Suzaku snorted cheerfully in response. The trees had thinned out, and the firm, mossy ground went downhill. Lelouch froze in front of a smooth slope. A small watercourse flowed below, but a single-lane road stretched out in front of it. And roads are dangerous. There are bad people walking on them. However, the road and the river together would definitely lead to a settlement eventually. Lelouch looked up at the sky. The sun was casting thick ginger rays between the mountain peaks. It would be sunset soon, and he did not want to spend the night in the forest again. In summer in Japan, the nights were full of fresh warmth, but Lelouch was not afraid of the cold, but of being bitten by a bug or a snake. And he was thirsty… and hungry, too. He noticed a white spot on a post by the roadside and decided to go down. Suzaku followed him cautiously. The white spot was expectedly a pointer. The first of the three hieroglyphs was difficult, so Lelouch started reading the second one, which looked like a ladder. “Day… and this is… mura? Village?” he rejoiced. Yes! “What does the first kanji mean?” “Morning,” Suzaku gave him a friendly hint. “That’s what I thought,” Lelouch nodded smartly as he saw the familiar ladder as part of the first character. “Morning-Day-Village.” “Actually, it translates as morning sun village. Asahimura.” “What a beautiful name!” Nunnally marveled. “Dawn village! It must be very cozy. We’ll go there, won’t we?” Suzaku looked questioningly at Lelouch. “Of course we’ll go there.” “Are you sure? What if there are men with assault rifles again?” “I’m always sure!” Lelouch said. “I’m the brains of the team, Suzaku, I know what I’m doing. I have a plan.” They headed towards the village. It was easier to walk on the asphalt, the heat of the day had let them up, and the fantasy of a warm, soft bed loomed ahead. The mood of all three of them began to creep upward. Lelouch, meanwhile, was outlining his ingenious plan: “First we’ll observe. If the Britannians are there, well, the ones that aren’t completely evil, then you, Suzaku hide, and I’ll go to the village. If they’re Japanese, Nannally and I’ll hide and you go beg for food.” They better be Japanese, because an abandoned Japanese boy is less likely to be questioned nowadays. “Will they even give me food?” “Of course they will! Just say that the evil Britannians execu… captured your family and cry,” Lelouch censored himself, because he and Suzaku had agreed not to talk about the murders in front of Nunnally. “But I can’t just cry for no reason,” Suzaku said a little resentfully, and his voice sounded like he was about to cry. “Rub your eyes with your fists and put water from the river on your face. It’ll work, it’ll be fine, I tell you,” Lelouch took a breath and continued. “And then you’ll wait until nightfall and steal their blankets and more food. Oh, and, uh, what’s its name, a boiler.” “Kettles don’t work if they’re unplugged. And I won’t steal anything!” Suzaku was indignant. “If they’re good people, I might be able to convince them to let you in too.” “You’re so naive,” Lelouch sighed, thinking about how to boil water without a kettle. The governor in history once told him that ancient people used something called a tinderbox to make a fire. But since ancient people are extinct, who should be ordered to bring the tinderbox now…?

***

There were thick bushes growing near the bend of the Chain River and the road. Lelouch, Suzaku, and Nunnally huddled there, watching the village. From here they could see several houses standing far apart from each other: they were separated by patches of fenced greenery. At the entrance, near the post labeled “Asahimura”, a pale, withered sakura tree was sticking out in a bundle. It was so short that it looked more like a rosebush than a tree. “What is it, what is it?” Nunnally asked excitedly. “I don’t see anyone. No lights in the windows, this place looks kind of empty,” said Suzaku thoughtfully. “What are the houses like?” She was, as always, more interested in what things looked like. “Two-story, yellow ones, or brown and white. Modern. I guess it isn’t really a village anymore, but part of a small town on this side of the river.” Lelouch, meanwhile, was looking at the wider road flowing into the narrow one they’d been following along the river. Trails of mud stained the asphalt. Two ruts, each of which was itself made up of three lanes: a center wide one, from the rear wheel, and two on the sides, from the wheels in the feet. “Suzaku…” The friend looked at the same spot, and then at Lelouch. As always, they understood each other without words: those were the Knightmare’s tracks. “Then we shouldn’t go in there,” Suzaku said hesitantly. Lelouch shook his head stubbornly: “They’ve already left. It’s so quiet.” “Who’s left?” Nunnally asked worriedly. “The villagers. They left the village, they decided they didn’t want to live here anymore. So we can all sleep in the house together, isn’t that nice?” Nunnally shone like the sun, and Lelouch smiled against his will. “Yay!” After a brief war council, Suzaku came forward. He ran fast and agile, so he should be able to retreat quickly if something happened. Lelouch watched tensely as his friend darted between the walls and bushes along the river. Soon he was out of sight. A deafening silence pressed down. The day birds had hidden in their nests, and the night birds had not yet awakened. Only the brook chimed above his ear. Lelouch reassured himself that if no shots were heard, all was well. After a while, Suzaku finally returned from his reconnaissance. “I checked everything, there’s no one here. But I only got as far as the bridge, I don’t know what’s beyond, it looks like woods and a road. There’s a house nearby, it doesn’t stink, we can go there.” The last phrase meant that there were no corpses there, and implied that there were corpses somewhere around. Lelouch and Suzaku, under Nunnally, were used to talking about them as stinking garbage. It was easier for them, too. Suzaku couldn’t stand the sight of corpses at first, Lelouch coped better. He didn’t want to think that it was because he’d seen worse. Death itself.

***

The fence was divided into two parts: a concrete slab at the bottom and a hedge of green and red photinia leaves at the top. Behind it was a cozy house with a brown roof of artificial tiles and neat bullet holes in the wall. Most importantly, there was almost no blood: the owners had been shot by the river. The door hung wearily on one hinge, pushed sideways and stuck. Suzaku climbed through, followed by Lelouch with Nunnally on his back. She took a deep breath of air. “Smells like wet wood. And the air is moving. Someone forgot to close the window! Nii-sama, you’ll close it, won’t you? We’ll catch a cold from the draft.” Nunnally was learning Japanese, too, and she liked these suffixes and addresses terribly. Her childish mind quickly began to blend the two languages into one stream. She did it so adorably cute and with such ease that Lelouch envied her whitely. “The window’s broken, but I’ll figure something out.” Large glass shards were strewn all over the floor. Underneath them were chains of rough boot prints. Layers of dirt overlapped each other, hiding the once shiny wood. Even so, Suzaku still politely pulled off his shoes on his way out of the hallway. Everything that could be lifted and carried out of the house was taken out. Even the kettle! Though there was still no electricity. Nor was there food. “Maybe there’s something to eat in the other houses?” Suzaku asked as Lelouch sat Nunnally on the futon. The futon looked something like the sleeping bag for the military camping trips sister Cornelia had told him about. Lelouch thought for a long time that the Japanese kept futons in their closets because they liked to go camping. Then Suzaku explained that it was just the kind of bed for the house. One compact bed like that was found in the far corner of a closet on the second floor. The recollection of the camping trips finally gave Lelouch a long awaited epiphany. “Suzaku, we need matches!” “Well… yeah? That would be good,” Suzaku shrugged. “We’ll search the other houses, find food and matches, and make dinner! We’ll have a fire to boil water on!” “Yay, dinner!” Nunnally clapped her hands joyfully.

***

Lelouch found a dirty, crinkled bag. Great! Fleeing the chaos of a lost battle, they took the bags of food, but they had to leave them behind. The evil Britannians were snooping around, found their food, but they forgot to look under that porch. Decided no one could get under there. Trapped in the stifling darkness, they lost track of time. The world outside cracked and showed its ugly fracture. When they made their way outside into this other dark reality, it was a hungry time of wandering. But now things would finally get better! Lelouch shoved everything that seemed useful into his bag. A skein of rope, clothespins, a metal pot, a spoon, a soiled pack of Band-Aids. He also needed a knife to cut food, ropes and enemies. No, a rifle was better for the last one! With a rifle, he would be feared by everyone. Lelouch smiled widely as he imagined this picture. Everyone would do as he ordered, and then he would no longer have to worry about Nunnally, about Suzaku. He could almost feel that calm, almost see the moment when he could finally relax. All worries would blow away like the wind. Right now, though, everything was fine. Suzaku had stayed behind to guard Nunnally, so there was absolutely nothing to worry about. Lelouch would trust him with his life completely. They had traveled through fields of corpses together, they had hidden from the military together, they had survived because of each other. No secret lay between them, and there couldn’t even be one. His feet carried him to the narrow bridge. Several corpses lay in a dirty heap by the water’s edge near the abutment. There was no strong stench, so Lelouch sat down and took a closer look. The corpses were all swollen and blue underneath, but not yet blackened. Died a few days ago, probably. The evil Britannians, who kill everyone without distinction, had been here recently. It felt coldly unsettling on the inside. And yet it warmed him a little with hope: no looters or bandits had come here yet. With a dare, Lelouch made his way to the bridge. In the middle of the river, so far from the trees, he felt vulnerable to this wide open space. But the sky blazed with the peaceful flame of sunset, not fires and bombs. The cicadas sang, the wind played quietly with the leaves. And the rivulet was tinkling over low ledges, washing the banks and the feet of bodies with its light current. Everything around lived in tranquility, and whatever was not capable of it — lay dead. Between the crowns of the trees flashed yellow. It was the wall of the house on the other bank. Suzaku must have missed it. Lelouch hesitated for a moment, but finally decided to go there. Maybe he could finally find something to eat there. Sneaking, he ducked into the trees, fences, and plastic walls of the greenhouses, glancing around every minute. Finally, once he was against the wall, Lelouch peered through the window. Empty. After waiting a moment longer, he stepped through the broken door.

***

The shadow of death was especially thick in this house. Half of the top floor had been torn up so that the debris piled up at the foot of the stairs. It was no longer clear which damage had come from vandalism and which from a stray missile. Lelouch rummaged through the yellow-dirty kitchen cabinets, looking for something that the other’s hunger hadn’t picked up. A slightly battered apple in a bowl, stale bread, packages of wasabi and teriyaki: these strange sauces, according to the Britannians, were only good for making poison. He almost blew out a bottle of strawberry-flavored soda, but stopped himself in time — he had to share it with Suzaku and Nunnally. Even the scattered rice he’d scooped into a baggie. Suddenly his hand came across a rectangular plastic bundle piled behind a large pot. Lelouch pulled it into the light and gasped in astonishment. Unintelligible kanji were crowded on the mottled package, but the picture made it clear — it was noodles. A cartoon cat was beaming contentedly from the wrapper, and Lelouch grinned happily back at it. The empty, tired feeling somewhere in his stomach disappeared, replaced by a hunger. But that didn’t matter, because Lelouch was already imagining how he would finally eat, how easily he would fall asleep that night. How happy Nunnally would be when he returned! “Oi! …kusu gaki… ?!” An incomprehensible shout suddenly broke into his happy world. The rough voice rattled in his ears. Lelouch flinched, a wave of icy panic crashing over the nape of his neck and back. He squirmed and froze, not knowing what to do. “Mimi ga… noka?!” ‘What does he want from me?’ The man behind him spoke quickly and slurringly, saying something about ears. Lelouch could only catch the occasional Japanese words, and they didn’t form into meaningful phrases at all. Fear only prevented him from concentrating on the stranger’s speech. Suddenly a rough hand tugged at his shoulder. Lelouch shrieked and jumped back, hitting his lower back on the table. “Temee Buritanniajin ka?!” Now that was a phrase he understood very well. ‘So you’re a Britannian?!’ — is what the man standing in front of him said. And in an insulting manner. Lelouch swallowed heavily and mumbled in a trembling voice: “Watashi wa…” Steel glinted with the scarlet blood of the dusk sun. Lelouch hesitated, staring at the knife in the stranger’s hand. All the Japanese words spilled out of his mind. Something heavy squeezed his throat and pressed behind his eyes with heat. He would have burst into tears of horror, but princes do not cry, they must be able to keep their faces. “Look, sir, I don’t mean to hurt anyone. I only wanted to find some food, but I can see I’m disturbing you. If you’ll let me go…” The stranger suddenly burst into hoarse laughter. “You little fucking Buritanniajin! You talk funny,” he waved his knife and pointed the tip at Lelouch’s chest. “And you look funny too. Like a spoiled little brat. You little piece of shit son of an nobleman or something?!” Lelouch squirmed even more, fighting the urge to cover his worn, but still expensive-looking silk shirt with the ornate embroidery. “I-I’m nobody. I swear! You can just leave me alone and no one will have any problems. Everybody wins…” he moved a little sideways along the table. Closer to the exit. Run! He have to run! But how, if the enemy has a knife? He’s bigger, stronger… Lelouch felt like as if not the man, but the real mountain rising in front of him. And he, overwhelmed by its power, forced to shake with terror in its shadow. Utterly powerless. “You’re not going fucking anywhere! You little Brit prick. You hear me, bastard? You’re the kind of scum that should be eliminated.” Lelouch dashed for the exit. Blindly, stumbling over debris, he raced through the corridor, sprinted out of the doorway, turned the corner, rushed along the greenhouse. “Kuso Buritanniajin!!!” an angry shout caught up to him. The rows of greenhouses blurred into murky streaks. Sweat poured down his eyes and neck, his heart thundering with thudding beats. Lelouch broke through the bushes, trampled a seedbed, and darted between the greenhouses again. Around the corner he slowed for a moment, because his lungs were already burnt and convulsively fluttering in his chest. He looked around the corner. No one was there. Did he break away…? The blow to his stomach flew in like a freight train. “Aa-ghhh-ahhh-ahhh-ahh!” instead of a terrified scream, it came out as a groan. Lelouch elbowed the bastard in the face, kicked him in the stomach, but he just waved it away. “Pfft,” he snorted and threw Lelouch into the dirt. “Let go-o-o-of me-e-e-e-!” Lelouch floundered, flailing his fists mindlessly in the air. His cheek was quickly pressed into the ground, the other’s knee pressed painfully into his stomach, and he was immobilized. “Stop kicking, you little brit. You’re not going anywhere,” the voice hissed in his ear. A bright accent cut through the Britannian speech, stronger than before. Lelouch froze, breathing hard. His head was spinning. “That’s what this is about?” he muttered. His voice grew louder, filled with venom. “You’re just going to kill me? How would that make sense?!” His head slammed forcefully to the ground again. The cold blade slid menacingly across his throat. A wave of goosebumps ran through his body, and Lelouch sobbed quietly. “You know, I thought about spooking you and letting you go… before I saw your Britannian face. And now…” the thug pulled his hair up. The knife slowly crept down his cheek to the corner of his eye. Lelouch froze in horror, even held his breath. All he could do was stare into the black feverish eyes of the terrifying man. “You will beg me to die, for you are one of them.” “N-no… I’m not one of them! They took everything from me, just like they took everything from you! I’ve done nothing! Please…” he whispered. “You’re all the same,” the thug sealed it. “All of you scumbags, you sons of bitches, you robbed us, you took our land. Go on, take a look!” he shouted and pulled his hair again. “How many senseless deaths! O-o-and you’re going to pay for it, you fucking Buritanniajin!” It was so unfair. So unjust. Lelouch didn’t deserve it at all! But it was happening again: he was powerless, and someone was taking advantage of him. The chill of fear that had been suffocating him before suddenly boiled over into rage. “You racist pig!” “What did you say?!” A hand pressed on his throat, Lelouch coughed, and black spots sprayedof his body in front of his eyes. His throat clenched tighter and tighter, and with that, the rest of his strength drained out of his body. ‘No… I can’t just… I can’t just… Nunnally!’ The world was blurring. In that slurry mushness, he was yanked upward, spun around. The thug pressed his back against him and finally let go of his throat. Lelouch breathed hard and often, tears beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes. “No-o-o-o, it’s not that easy. Oh, what are we going to do now?” the knife returned to his cheek. “Yeah, we’re going to cut out your eyes for starters. Hmmm… but then you won’t be able to see me cutting off piece after piece of you, right?” and he turned the knife away from his face thoughtfully. The other man’s forearm flashed close by. The sleeve of a plaid shirt rolled up to the elbow, exposing pale skin. Now. Lelouch twisted and sank his teeth into that hand, as hard as he could. The hot taste of metal filled his mouth. The thug growled and dropped the knife to the ground with a thud. Lelouch jerked back and darted away, almost crashing into the greenhouse, hurtling the other way… A violent jolt threw him back into the plastic wall. He rolled on down it, elbows on the ground. The thug’s hand grasped his ankle with an iron grip. Pulled him back to his death. No! In desperation, Lelouch clawed at the ground with his fingers, but there was nothing to cling to. He jerked, rolled over, and kicked the thug blindly. A vibration echoed in his heel, the grip loosened, and Lelouch reached forward, his hand catching something. Cold, long, hard. Knife handle. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, flooded with fierce energy. The thug lunged forward with a wild scream. But slowly, as if he were struggling to sink through the jelly air. Lelouch squirmed in horror and put the knife out in front of him like a weak, trembling barrier. The heavy body rolled on with crushing heat… and fell aside. Lelouch was pulled after him, and he opened his eyes. Scarlet spots bloomed on the thug's shirt. They were spreading rapidly, taking on more and more of the fabric with their heavy moisture. The thug’s gaze, blurred with pain, stumbled to the knife handle sticking out of his stomach. Lelouch looked there too, at his whitened fingers clutching it. The shiver of fear slowly resolved into emptiness. He pulled the knife from the body and slowly stood up. A different shiver was gripping him now, one so delightful… For he now towered above this worthless man. He had power. Delighted relief ripened in his chest and blossomed with a deep exhalation. “Ha, who’s going to die now?” Lelouch snorted. Yes, that’s right. Let that thug lie here and die. His pant leg was pulled. A hand clawed at his ankle again. Lelouch shook his leg, irritated, and commanded: “Let me go.” He bent down, tried to unhook the thug’s hand, but the grip was ironclad, gripping his leg in a vise. “Why the hell don’t you just die already!” “What, you’re not even gonna finish me off? Scared, you fucking little Buritanniajin?” Lelouch felt the anger ignite inside. He gripped the hilt of the knife harder. And this thug was not scared, as Lelouch had recently imagined. The near death had not broken his spirit. “Pfft, you weakling. That’s what you are, you can’t even kill properly.” The phrase penetrated deep down and struck hurtingly something inside of him. That man! He was just like… His eyes went black. The world was rapidly narrowing down to the two of them. “Shut up and let me go.” “What you’re gonna do, huh? You useless piece of trash, you ain’t even have the balls to kill me,” the thug continued to taunt. “Shut up!” How dare he! That moron didn’t know anything! “Of co-o-ourse, your daddy and mommy just threw a weakling like you out in the cold. That’s what you’re doing here alone, you little fucking Buritanniajin.” “Die already!” Lelouch grabbed the hilt with both hands and swung it into the nightening sky. His heart was beating hard, furiously. And only one thought pulsed in his head: destroy the bastard. He was aiming for the heart of the enemy. With a sharp exhalation, he stabbed at his chest, but the knife, instead of sinking into the flesh, slid down his ribs with a scrape. The shirt swelled with new blood. The thug frowned, writhing in pain. But a mocking grin crept back onto his face. “Come on, make your mommy proud,” he coughed. “You bastard brits are all the same… And you’re one of 'em.” “I said DIE!!!” Lelouch yelled in a rage. And stuck a knife somewhere in his chest. “YOU DON’T KNOW! YOU’RE ONE OF THEM! YOU’RE JUST LIKE HIM!!!” A creature that sees no good in people. It only appreciates their power. Anyone who isn’t Britannian is by definition weak — and so deserves to be destroyed. “W-weakling…” Lelouch plunged the knife in again. And again. With that disgusting squelching sound. But if anyone deserves to be destroyed, they’re like this. Who dare to ruin other people’s happiness just because they can. Who dare exploit the defenseless for their own vile ends. “You…” Lelouch breathed heavily. “You will never… use me again! I…” he shoved the knife in asliquely again, tearing through the meat. Blood splattered in his face. “I will no longer be your pawn!” The thug’s grip loosened, his gaze went empty. But Lelouch didn’t notice. Because he had won. He survived. Another blow ripped through thug's stomach. For Nunnally. For mom. Now to the ribs. Got to get the heart. He’s in control. He’s got the power. “Ha!” a big grin spread across his face. The air tasted so intoxicating! And it felt so light and airy, as if the bubbles of the recently drunk soda were bubbling up inside. This feeling became stronger and brighter. His smile turned into a snarl, and Lelouch bent in half as his insides trembled. Bubbles were bursting out. “Huh…” He sobbed hysterically, then sobbed again, but it was more of a quiet chuckle. His face was contorted in vague anguish, his trembling hands clutching the knife frantically. For a second he was frozen, like a spring compressed to the limit. Then he let it out. The laughter, like a hurricane, blew away the remnants of his thoughts. It rang deafeningly in his ears, inside his head, tore mercilessly at his throat and lungs. In this blissful madness, Lelouch raised the knife again. It was covered in blood, drops dripping down thickly. It was not enough. Lelouch thrust the knife into the body again. And again. And again… But this time he savored every stroke. Each wet sound with the quiet crunch of torn meat. Every spurt of fresh blood. All the hatred that had gathered in him was spurting out in jolts. So good! He laughed again in a fit of painful glee. His legs trembled, and he sank to the ground, still sobbing. His breathing had finally collapsed, and weakness spilled heavily over his body. But Lelouch was still laughing and laughing, fainter, but there was no way he could stop it. “N-no… s-s-to… haha… p… hah… enou…. hahahah-gh…” His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, he was already choking on laughter, suffocating with hysterical sobs. And the same trembling fear began to brew within him. He’s going mad, he’s not controlling it, he… He killed a man. Deep wounds gaped red darkness right in front of him. The mutilated torso didn’t even look human anymore. Lifeless eyes stared at him judgmentally. And everything, everything was covered in blood… Lelouch staggered back in horror, slamming into the sloping wall of the greenhouse, but as if he hadn’t noticed. His hands were also covered in sticky blood, as was the knife he was still clutching. With a shriek, Lelouch flung it away, making sure to get the instrument of his cruelty as far away from him as possible. This… all of it… what had he done? He stood up, wobbling, still unable to look away from the gruesome scene. Then he turned and ran as fast as he could.

***

Lelouch ran blindly straight ahead, almost hitting the translucent walls of the ghostly maze of greenhouses. In the twilight, he tripped over something and went tumbling downward. The earth touched his hands wetly. The fresh, ringing air chilled his burning lungs and throat. Water coolly enveloped the wrist of his right hand. Lelouch reached for the water, as if its current could carry away the horror. Sat down on the grassy bank at the very edge. His hands all scratched and covered in blood, the right one a little lighter now, they seemed not scarlet but dark brown in the dusk. Something unpleasantly stiffened his lips, and Lelouch automatically licked them. He shuddered when the taste of metal hit his tongue again. He slowly turned his gaze to the surface of the water, where his dark reflection was wavering. The reflection had large eyes wide open in fear, his entire face splattered with blood, his hair sticking out in all directions. But there was something different about this reflected boy, something wild in his gaze. Something desperate, determined, and angry. Lelouch didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t recognize the prince he still technically was. And his silk shirt that he had brought back from Pendragon, it too had been tainted by the thug’s blood. Lelouch either howled or sobbed and began to undo the buttons quickly. His fingers were trembling, not following, and at the last buttons he almost tore off his clothes and threw them into the water. The fabric blossomed into a white veil in the dark surface. ‘Murderer…’ whispered a judgmental voice. Lelouch began to rub the cloth, desperately, hoping to wash away those horrible bloodstains. It was self-defense, for once! He had no choice! ‘Then why didn’t you stop? When he was already dead?’ “I…” Lelouch sobbed. He rubbed harder and harder, streams of red stretching downstream. But the bloody stains were embedded in the very fabric, in his very soul. He was scared, really scared, so he thrust and thrust and… ‘Because you loved it. You enjoyed it.’ “No!” Tears ran down his cheeks, leaving light streaks on his dirty face. His shoulders shook again, but now with heavy sobs. He hadn’t cried when his mother died, when he found out his little sister would never stand up or open her eyes again, when his father sent him away to a foreign country. But now… ‘Yes. Why else were you laughing?’ Lelouch didn’t know why. He didn’t know anything at all, he didn’t understand, he was just a child — but all of that, this nightmare somehow went on and on. And he… he couldn’t take it anymore. ‘You know, people laugh when they’re having fun. When they feel good. And you were feeling good, weren’t you? Because you had…’ He had control. What he craved had suddenly became a reality in the most perverse way possible. It was no longer the fragile power of a child prince, which had been a sweet illusion built by the will of imperial schemers since his birth. It was power, real power, over life and death itself, over other man’s fate. Even as Lelouch vowed to destroy Britannia, he could never have imagined that revenge could be like this. That the unleashed hatred would grant a brief moment of blissful freedom from the sharp bonds of anxious strings… and turn inward. “I’m not… it’s not my fault! He deserved it!” Lelouch was tearing his shirt even more. But no logical arguments could calm him down. He felt so sick, crushed by his rage to a bloody mush with shards of regret. He felt dizzy. And finally vomited his own guilt. The dirty bile dripped and dissipated in an underwater mist. Immediately, the image of the mutilated dead body flashed before his eyes again, and the body still alive twisted with another spasm. ‘Murderer…’ “A-a-ah” Lelouch tugged at his shirt in a most desperate attempt, and heard a quiet cracking sound. Sobbing, he wiped his mouth with a wet, torn rag. And froze, trembling slightly from the remaining waves of nausea and sobs. ‘Murderer.’ His mind went deaf. Even his own thoughts felt like they were bogged down in absorbent cotton. ‘The murderer must be punished. Otherwise, there is no justice at all.’ Lelouch hugged his bare shoulders. Right now, he was so exhausted that he just wanted to disappear, to die on the spot. To feel nothing. Lie down in the cold, dark water and dissolve… Not to exist. But somewhere out there, across the river, his little sister is waiting for him. Waiting for him to bring her delicious steamed noodles so that she could give him a sunny smile like only she can. And for that smile, he’ll get up and go do his duty. He must, he must pull himself together! ‘What will Suzaku think?’ Lelouch opened his swollen eyes, blinked. The chill of the night crept under his skin. Suzaku… he would be upset. Disappointed. He’ll say, ‘you’re just like your father.’ But he can’t be blamed for that, because he’ll just be scared. As soon as he sees that monster of hate and hears his insane laughter, he’ll recoil in disgust. Lelouch would have wanted to do that too, but there was no escape from himself. He would be honest with his friend, his only friend. And he would lose him. A lump rolled down his throat, and Lelouch would have cried if there had been any tears left. Because he knew he couldn’t bear it if Suzaku left him. He couldn’t let that happen! No, he wouldn’t show up in front of his friend like that. He would hide what had happened, he wouldn’t talk about how he hated that man to death. It will remain his secret, locked away from everyone. Maybe he’ll be able to forget it himself. None of it happened, no blood. Hate does not exist. Lelouch stood up, staggering. The rag that had been his shirt was dripping in his hands. The clothes of a prince… which he no longer felt he was. It didn’t matter what his father thought, let him not strip him of his rights to the throne for his own pathetic political manipulations, as long as he didn’t get bored. It didn’t matter, because Lelouch vi Britannia was dead from now on. Lelouch threw the rag into the water. It unfolded a white ghostly flower and drifted away.

***

Need a distraction. Focus on the mission. It’s simple. First wash up, then find clothes that fit. Somewhere nearby, Lelouch saw a dead schoolboy. Take off his clothes, good thing his head was pierced as he lay with that head down the mossy slope. The moss was soaked with blood and the clothes were still clean. Simple. Now to find the lost bag. It’s not easy to see in the coming darkness, but it’s manageable. Got to get back to that house. A lump of anxiety strings twist inside again, what if someone creeps up again? Scary. Need something for protection. Find a knife? The thought of it sends shivers down the spine. But it has to be done. Hate doesn’t exist. The blood on the blade — whose blood? Doesn’t matter, just another dead body. It’s very, very simple. The bag is still where it was. No one’s here. Great! Sneak back to the bridge, wash the knife, make sure everything’s okay. Face is clean. Cross over to the other bank and follow the hedges to the right house. Yeah, it’s no big challenge. At the house, a red light flickers unevenly under a canopy of thick bushes, dispelling the darkness. Lelouch hesitates warily. He resolves to clap his hands in the proper rhythm. The ringing claps carry a question. Suzaku answers in the same way: “It’s okay.” The different signals Lelouch has invented make life easier. It makes it possible to speak in a way that no bystander would understand. Suzaku has found matches and lit a fire. Something smells tasty.

***

“Hey, you’ve been gone a long time. Did something happen?” Suzaku stood up and looked at his friend worriedly. He was squinting slightly at the contrast of the night darkness and the flames of the fire. “Huh? Nothing’s wrong,” Lelouch snapped out of his trance. The world returned it’s depth. Tears began to pool, so Lelouch hurriedly sat down in front of the pyre. He stared into the flames, letting the heat dry his eyes. Suzaku shoved a scalding mug of tea at him. The teabag was a little torn, so the teas were floating around in the steaming water. They were bitter on the tongue, but what a pleasant bitterness it was! And the moisture that finally came to his eyes was definitely caused by the hot tea, and nothing else. “You got new clothes?” “Yeah. I took a big fall and tore my old ones. So, it took me a while to find something that fit,” he smiled weakly. “I think we should all look for something newer! Or at least wash the old stuff.” The lie squeezed its way down his throat and settled heavily in his stomach. Lelouch couldn’t remember his smile ever being so fake. He felt as if both Suzaku and the blind Nunnally could see right through him. And now their faces would contort with horror and disgust. ‘Murderer!’ “Do you really know how to do laundry, nii-sama?” Nunnally asked. “I am very bad at it. I thought I could get the dirt out of my shirt, but it just ripped worse,” Lelouch said, unable to stop his lies and hating himself more and more. He could have just said no! But he felt that if he told a false version of those events, he would believe it himself. Hate doesn’t exist. Everything is fine. “Because you have to use soap!” Suzaku said with a knowing look. “Ouch!” He held up the twig he’d awkwardly stuck the sausage on, tearing its side. It now had a pink gaping gash, oozing juice over the heat of the fire. Lelouch felt nauseous again. “Those sausages had been in the refrigerator unplugged for two days. But I thought if they were cooked well, they’d be eatable. However…” Suzaku awkwardly ran a five-fingered hand over the back of his head. “It’s a little burnt. Take it anyway.” Lelouch got a twig in his hand, which immediately stained his palm with bark scales. On the other end of it weighed a dead sausage. Blackened from the bottom like a rotting corpse. Lelouch was disgusted to look at it, but somehow he couldn’t avert his eyes. “I’m not hungry.” Suzaku looked at him incredulously, as if Lelouch had made a joke so bad that no one understood him. “Really?” “You have to eat, nii-sama!” Nunnally protested. “You gave me your bread yesterday. Now it’s your turn to eat!” “Well, if you ask,” Lelouch smiled sincerely this time. And stuck his hand into his bag to get noodles and soda. “Look what I have for you!” Suzaku and Nunnally got excited and were immediately distracted from the sausage and Lelouch. That was a good. He just needed a pause to glue up the mask that had gone cracked. He was relieved to let an expression of disgust show on his face, and quickly hid it. A strange sensation befell Lelouch. As if it wasn’t him sitting here in the warmth, with the long-awaited food in his hands. And the real him hid and cautiously peeked out of the eyes of his body. Nunnally rested her head in his lap, drunk on strawberry soda. “I like the texture of your new pants!” “Me too.” The dead boy’s pants really were nice. Lelouch finally forced himself to take a bite of the sausage, even though there was no room in his stomach because of the lump of lies. Everything was going to be fine now. He felt like laughing.