Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha Fan Fiction ❯ My Road, Your Road, Our Road ❯ Ｏｄｙｓｓｅｙ ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

The town was mostly ruins, but it had people in it—ragged but surviving. Some were armed, but nobody was killing each other.

Not yet, anyway.

The place was one of the many frontier settlements under the loose control of the royalist forces. A detachment of them was here, with a few hundred soldiers, most of them looking like they'd never been trained to fight. A small band of mercenaries also made their home here. But no one was questioning or bothering her. They seemed to recognize him and left them alone.

If he was a mercenary—and that thought sent a pang of dismay through her—he couldn't have been allowed to wander so freely. Or if he was, he must have done something quite impressive for them to leave him alone.

Was he, then, one of them? But he didn't look like a regular soldier.

The locals were more open about their wariness of her. As she walked through the town, she was stared at with open curiosity, suspicion, and, on occasion, hostility. Apparently, this was mostly because of Chris or maybe her unusual eyes. However, many of them, too, seemed to recognize and were respectful towards him, so to speak.

She overheard some of them referring to him as a "ranger." And whatever they did, it seemed to be far from what mercenaries or frontline fighters would do.

Apart from telling her to keep the hood of the cloak he gave her on, he remained quiet as he guided her through the settlement to a guarded compound, a repurposed mansion of sorts.

He spoke in low tones with the guards, who saluted him, and she was let in without much fuss.

The building had its windows boarded up, but despite some disrepair, it looked much better than the safehouse she woke up in.

"Wait here," he told her. "I will ask around for transportation. Don't talk to anyone unless you're spoken to. And if you are, don't talk more than you need to. And keep Chris away from sight."

She could only nod, her throat tight.

But that was all he said before he left again.

There were only a few people in the front room. A few soldiers, a couple of people in civilian clothes, and a young girl sweeping the floor.

The girl stopped and gave her a curious stare. She couldn't be older than ten.

She waved awkwardly, smiling at her. "Hi there."

The girl looked away, blushing, and continued with her sweeping.

"I saw you coming with Ranger Mikhail," she said shyly.

"Mikhail...?"

"Yes, I saw you two coming in."

"But I don't kno—"

She stopped herself.

It dawned on her then. He must've adopted another name.

Casting away the old, along with all the memories he wanted to forget.

"Hm...?"

"...Yes, you're right."

It didn't sound right. She had to force out the words.

"You two are friends? Or...? I've never seen you before. Are you a new recruit? Sometimes, Rangers come in here with recruits they found. Or just...people they picked up on the road."

"I'm..." She hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I'm just here...for a while."

The girl seemed to be satisfied with the answer and went back to sweeping.

"Good for you, lady. I don't know how, but if you can leave, you should. I heard there is something called...the Bureau or something that takes people off-world. I wish I could leave, too."

She blinked. "What?"

"There's some kind of organization that helps people who want to leave," the girl continued. "TSAB or something like that. I've heard from some of the Rangers."

She felt her head spin. The girl didn't seem to notice and kept talking.

"I want to go there, too. A place with no war. Just like the stories told. A place with lots of food and safety and nice people. Ranger Mikhail is nice, but he is often gone, and people are too busy with their own problems to help us kids."

The girl spoke with an earnestness and a dreaminess that only a child could have, without trailing off like it was nothing but a casual conversation. Like her desire to leave was natural, not desperate.

Loving parents, enough food to eat, and a school where she could learn. A home, a warm bed. She had it all.

"Ah, sorry. I have to continue sweeping, or I'm not going to get my food." The girl bowed her head and turned to leave.

But she wouldn't let her, not after hearing that. She moved quicker than her common sense could tell her, grabbing the girl's shoulder and turning her around and pulling her into a hug.

"H-huh? What?"

The girl seemed too surprised to say anything else.

"Don't lose that," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Don't ever lose that hope. That one day, you will find those things."

If she could, she would have done more. But she couldn't.

She could only offer this, something so little in the face of this vast conflict.

Yet, she hoped it was enough.

The girl stiffened, then relaxed, and when she let go, she was smiling.

"Thank you, lady."

She allowed the girl to go and continue sweeping, just as he returned from wherever he was, only to approach the girl and pass a loaf of bread to her, her toothy grin welcoming the gift.

She watched as he gave the girl a pat on the head before moving on.

Another ache. Another sting of the memory.

She was on the receiving end of that gesture countless times before.

They were all different, but at the same time, all the same.

And now...

Now...

"Here."

Another loaf of bread was right before her.

She blinked and looked up to see Yuuno standing in front of her.

"Eat."

"Thanks," she mumbled.

She bit into the bread, warm and soft in her mouth, but it didn't chase away the cold settling in her chest. That little girl smiled at him like he was a hero. And once, she had smiled like that, too.

But now, she was just another mouth to feed.

Halfway through the loaf, she noticed he wasn't having any, even—as she recalled—if he hadn't eaten since morning.

"You're not having any?"

"Supplies are scarce, as you can see," he said, almost absently. "Apart from what is inside this bag, I couldn't requisition any more than necessary. I'll be fine. I can live off the land."

"No—"

Live off the land? Like...a wild animal?

The thought of that made her feel ill.

But when she looked up, his back was already turned, and he was walking away, the duster swaying as he moved. He merely looked at her, and only briefly, to tell her to follow.

"Come. The next town is a ways off."

"...All right."

He didn't say another word, not until they were in a garage. Workers were fixing and tuning up a fleet of dilapidated cars, the clatter of metal tools against metal hulls echoing in the large room. None of the sleek, aerodynamic vehicles of the city, but something more rugged, suited for the wastelands.

He approached one of the workers, a burly man with grease-stained overalls and a red-stained cloth slung over his shoulders. He presented a paper and had a brief conversation with the man, gesturing at the vehicle in question, and soon enough, the man handed him the keys.

"Don't know how far she'll take you, Ranger, but the tank's full and she's been checked for everything," the mechanic said. "Good luck."

"Thank you," he slipped him some money, and the man counted it with a hum.

"Pleasure's mine, Ranger. If you find some salvage or scrap, I'll be sure to make it worth your while."

He nodded and walked away.

The mechanic glanced at her. "You a recruit? Welcome to the world, kid."

He laughed, but she wasn't sure why.

The inside was hot and stuffy, and the seats were old and torn and smelled of many things she didn't want to think about. But the engine rumbled as he started the car and drove off.

Outside the walls, there was a road that obviously had not been maintained in some time, distant mountains, and trees—some barren, some not—and a stretch of open plain, with grass swaying gently in the breeze.

She was reminded of his remarkable talent to juggle many tasks in his hands at once, as she watched him keeping a close watch of his surroundings while also focusing on the road.

She read about it in the books—in places like these, staying off the road could mean death.

She tried not to think too hard about it.

"You can rest. We won't get there for a while."

"Huh?"

"I said, you can rest. Don't worry about the road being rigged. We cleared it out a few weeks ago. And there's nothing ahead that will bother us, either."

She didn't know why he felt the need to reveal such a specific detail. She wasn't going to ask, either.

But it was still relieving.

"Okay," she nodded. "Thank you."

He said nothing, and they were back in silence again.

The ride was long, and her eyelids were heavy, but her mind was wide awake.

The landscape rolled past her. The grass grew longer. Trees became more common, and the hills grew steeper.

She glanced at him every so often, but his expression was the same, as though carved from stone.

"That girl..."

"Hm?"

"That girl in the mansion. The one with the broom."

"What about her?"

"Her name. Do you know it?"

"Olga," he answered. "An orphan."

"Why is she...working for food...? Can't...you just give her some?"

His face barely changed, but there was a shift, and she wondered if she said the wrong thing.

"Sometimes we just can't," he said, his voice quieter. "We can only give them the basics. We don't have enough."

She had no doubt about it.

But...

"But we draw the line on putting someone to work without giving them something in return. We...are not like the slavers."

His face changed again for the briefest moment. A twitch of a snarl.

But that wasn't what bothered her.

"Slavers..."

"...Raids settlements. Takes people away. Those who can't protect themselves. Nobody is too small, young, or old, so long as they have a pulse and can move their body."

She clenched her hands, blood draining from her face.

She remembered. Only the vilest, cruelest Belkan nobles would do that—to see fellow humans as stock.

Olivie and Klaus were among the most prominent opponents of such practices.

"Some work for factions, mostly for conscripts. Others are used as forced labor until they are no longer useful or given to soldiers."

He didn't need to say more. The horror was plain in her face, and the anger must have been just as plain because she saw him look at her, and he nodded grimly.

"We don't. And for the Rangers, Her Majesty's order is clear. Shoot on sight, no quarter."

He was rather blasé about it, and she had no doubt about it.

He must have done it.

She wasn't sure what to think about that. Even the Bureau, with all its problems, will not go that far. But then again, they could afford to give even the worst criminals due process.

But the image of that little girl flashed before her, and a part of her was glad she was safe within the walls and that anyone who could be seeking to exploit people like her was being shot on sight.

Still...

"I'm taking you to a bigger city. It's the capital of this sector and has a port that ships goods to and from the capital and other places. From there, you can try to contact...the Bureau. Or, at least, find some people who can help you. There is no legal protection for off-worlders, so I will warn you now."

"Okay," she said softly.

"The city is much less lawless than other settlements. There is an order maintained by the royalist garrison and the city militia. You will be safe. Just don't make trouble."

"But...what about my team? I...I can't just abandon them..."

He didn't answer right away, and she was certain he knew exactly why she asked the question.

"...I will find out, but first, you need to get out. Once I am certain you're safe, I will try to locate them. It's a promise."

Promise? Now?

It felt wrong.

When did she last hear him promising something?

Was it a promise to get cake together after school, or was it a promise to help her study for a test?

...Or was it a promise to never leave her?

If that was the case, then he had already broken that promise.

"No. What difference will it make...if we look for them now...or later?"

"Vivio."

He looked at her, his face hard.

"The thing is, you are still in danger. The moment you arrived here, you were put in danger. Many people are dead men walking here."

"And I...I don't want to run while they are in trouble. I don't know if they're even alive. I must..."

"Enough. I am not arguing with you. You are going. That is final."

He looked ahead again, his face hardening.

"Why are you so...why are you so dead-set on getting me out of here...? Just because you cannot face the past?!"

She could see his fingers on the wheel twitching.

"And what if it is? The only other option is for me to leave you here to fend for yourself."

"I can! I can survive on my own!"

"Do you?"

His words silenced her.

"Don't you see why your team was captured? That your magic failed to protect you? You are not prepared for this world. And the world won't be kind to you."

No more words. She didn't know how much more she could take.

***

There had been no danger, as far as she could tell, and there were no incidents, not even a single stop. But the road was long, stretching like it was never-ending. The sight was mostly dull, though there was scenery here and there at times. They passed posts along the way, each marked by the flags of the royalist army.

The car, though sputtering more often than not, kept going, even over the rough roads, and the hours seemed to blur together.

But when the sky had darkened, they didn't even seem to be halfway.

"We're stopping," he announced. "It's getting too dark."

He found some cover from the open plain and stopped, then went to get wood. She decided not to offer help.

Instead, she set up camp. It was the least she could do.

She had some experience in this. Back when she joined the Bureau, they had survival drills, and pitching a tent and making a campfire were among them.

He soon returned, bringing firewood and a bunch of other things, which he spread before him.

She received the canned stew he took from the duffel bag, but couldn't help but take note of what he'd gathered. Things she'd never even think she would ever eat. Roots of some kind, some herbs, and meat, raw and bloodied. Where he got the latter was anyone's guess because she didn't hear any shot.

Sitting a little further from the fire, he ate his share quietly. No enjoyment registered on his face. No delight like the one she'd seen from him whenever he ate Nanoha-mama or Auntie Hayate's cooking.

But then again, when was the last time he had a meal with them?

She wasn't sure. It must have been a long time.

But she could remember his smile, bright and genuine, when he dug into the meal.

Not like...this.

It was not food he was eating. It was mere sustenance.

No methodical, slow bites or proper chewing. Starvation wouldn't allow for a controlled facade, no matter how hard you try.

She wished she could come closer and give him her share. But she stayed still, knowing it was futile. But knowing was painful. Seeing him like that was painful.

The kind of pain that made it hard to breathe. Queasy.

She didn't realize she was tearing up until she, by chance, saw him throwing up.

Coughing, retching.

That was the last straw. She scrambled to him.

"Yuuno-san!"

He didn't react.

She held his shoulder, and he didn't push her away.

"Stop it! Stop eating that!"

"What?"

"Stop eating that! I...I'm begging you. It's no good. You don't need it. I'll give you mine. Just..."

Her voice cracked.

"Stop..."

He didn't move, not at first. He didn't even turn his head, his eyes staring straight ahead.

"We won't have enough. You..."

His hands felt like they were trying to push her away, but feebly.

"Enough!"

She screamed, catching his hands and forcing them down.

"I came here to prove myself to my mamas. So...stop...stop coddling me already. I know what pain is—don't treat me like I don't!"

Raw, painful tears poured out. He didn't fight back from being pinned down.

"If I had to find my own food, so be it! Just...just eat that canned stew. Or eat that bread. You're not an animal! You're not!"

Her hands trembled as she shook his shoulders, trying to make him look at her.

"...And damn it...for once...just...let me...let me—let me...in."

She let go. He was quiet.

She didn't say anything, not trusting herself to speak further than everything she had. She went to the bag, took a can of stew, and shoved it against his chest.

But she will not tell him what to do.

She didn't think she had the right.

So she stepped back, giving him back the space she'd taken, went to her sleeping bag, and lay down, waiting.

And hoping.

And praying.

And then, sleep.

The next morning, she woke up to find him inspecting the car. Quietly but not furtively, she went to the campfire, now extinguished, and found the empty can by the ashes.

 

She had her first smile of the day.