Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha Fan Fiction ❯ My Road, Your Road, Our Road ❯ Ｄｅｌｉｖｅｒａｎｃｅ ( Chapter 8 )

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

The truck the prisoners commandeered rumbled away from the camp. Some of the men recovered from the mental toll of captivity quickly and sufficiently to keep watch and drive. The girl, Masha, was fast asleep in someone's arms. Her teammates, too, were slumbering after they patched each other up. Some of them looked worse for wear, but none were mortally injured—at least. The slavers didn't want them dead because they found no worth in corpses.

And he was there, too, sitting across from her.

That exchange with the slaver leader, who unexpectedly came to when they were searching him for the keys to the collars, must have affected him in some fashion. Or maybe it was the fact that he, disarmed and cornered, slit his own throat with a hidden knife before anyone could react. Maybe the combination of both.

He occasionally eyed his injured arm—the same backlash from magic use as hers. But maybe he wasn't wondering if he could use magic the same way again after this, unlike her, because he hardly needed to cast any more spells.

The slaver operation they had just dismantled was only a speck on the grand scale of what was happening in this world, and the leader was just one of the many nameless men involved, who could easily be replaced by another nameless thug. They would find more in their wake.

But to him, that man was perhaps the symbol of his failures.

And to her, the most important thing was finding her comrades.

The prisoners were dropped off at their respective villages, and little Masha was welcomed with a tearful embrace. The villagers didn't allow them to leave until he came out to meet them to receive their gratitude and blessings. He still looked uncomfortable being showered with appreciation, but smiled anyway when the girl hugged him and cried as he told her everything would be all right. She braided the girl's hair as a farewell gift.

The road back was quiet and uneventful. The truck was filled with supplies they salvaged from the camp and the slavers, and though he ate little still, at least he didn't refuse any offers to eat something, though the portions remained small. His silence said enough.

The royalist outpost was soon in sight. The truck almost got shot at due to its markings, but the driver quickly informed the sentries about what happened, and the rest of the drive was a lot easier. And it was only when the truck had parked and he had disembarked that he said, "Thank you...again."

He wasn't looking at her, not really—but he soon did, after she seized his coat and spun him around.

"What...are you—"

"You are welcome."

Her eyes were narrowed and her grip firm, as if to keep him from moving.

"No more running."

And that was that.

***

The district capital was different in size and scope from the town she woke up in. It was largely untouched by battle, but still, there was a heavy feeling in the air as she and the others made their way through the streets. She'd never seen so many roadblocks, checkpoints, and guards, and many of the rooftops had been fortified with sandbags, turrets, and snipers.

Still, there was life here, albeit muted and subdued. Radios blared on from storefronts as people walked down the street in clusters. A news channel reported on the state of fighting on an unknown front.

He left her teammates at a medical building to be checked for any further injuries, and then brought her to a nondescript building. Within, she could see soldiers, as well as men and women wearing dusters similar to his. He acknowledged them with a slight bow—a gesture they were quick to return—before filing out, not minding her presence.

He went to a woman seated behind the main desk and exchanged some quick words. She could pick up snippets of their conversation from their expressions, though she did her best not to eavesdrop.

"The Hospodar could arrange for contact, but..." She paused to glance in her direction. "We'll see. Come in, he is free right now."

A middle-aged man in a sharp suit waited in the office beyond the reception, and he rose as he entered. They shook hands briefly before he was introduced, and they all sat down.

The Hospodar had a long face with a cleft chin and short, graying hair. His gaze was intense, but it didn't seem like he was studying them as much as sizing them up.

"TSAB operatives, attacked by slavers. I believe they are growing desperate enough to target people from other worlds."

"...Don't tell me you tracked them down and raided their hideout..."

"We. I had help," he corrected. "That's one more cell to worry about gone. This girl, one of those attacked, helped me."

"I know you would. Well...whatever. Nobody's going to miss those scum. I could arrange a contact with the Bureau if that's what you want, but you will have to wait a little while longer. In any case, I haven't heard from their representatives about this...botched evacuation, so either they are unaware of this incident, or simply cannot be bothered. Either way, goes to show they cannot keep the people they send safe."

She caught her breath sharply, feeling a surge of annoyance, but said nothing as he turned his gaze on her—though he did give her an apologetic glance, as if to say that he understood how she felt.

"Apologies, young lady. And sorry you have to be caught up in all this mess. But feel free to stay a while in my territory. It's as safe as it could get around here."

"Th-thank you."

He nodded. "I know you want to go home. You'd best hope your Bureau responds. That's all I can give."

***

She and her teammates were given guestrooms for each of them, which were more than a little generous. A guard escorted her to her room and gave her a change of clothes and a bathrobe, which she gladly took, as her own clothing was not in a condition to be worn for much longer. It was nice to get out of those dirty, tattered rags.

She spent a little time taking a shower in the adjoining bathroom to her room. It was strange, being able to have hot water running after being exposed to cold, harsh realities outside, but the warmth felt so good on her skin. It reminded her of being home. It helped with the lingering hurt, too.

What could her mamas be doing right now? Were they unable to convince the Bureau to mount a search, or had they not been made aware of the situation yet? If only she could tell them that she was alive...

But she would have to wait and hope that they would respond soon enough. And hope that the people in charge won't forget them in this world.

Just as she stepped out of the shower, someone knocked on the door to her room. It was gentle enough, but—to her dismay—it got her on edge anyway, however briefly.

"Yes? Who is it?" she called out after regaining herself.

"Vivio, it's...me."

It was him. She thought he had left for another mission, but she was glad he didn't—not with that injury.

"May I come in?"

"Of course it's okay," she laughed softly to herself. "You did tell me that I don't have to hold back on you. But just wait a bit while I dress myself, okay?

It didn't take too long to do that. When she was done, he was there waiting.

Surprisingly, he was not wearing the duster. In fact, he looked as if he'd just showered himself. He was wearing a black shirt, its sleeves rolled up. His injury was covered with bandages, and that arm was mostly hanging limp at his side. His other hand was holding books.

"I...brought you these because I know you'd want to do something in your time here," he said. "I know how you must feel...like a prisoner, I mean...but this is all I could do for you, at least, until we hear back from the Bureau. It's nothing heavy, just something light and enjoyable. You'd read just about everything, I remember."

"Thanks, Yuuno-san. It's really appreciated."

She took the books before he could place them on her bed and inspected the titles. None she recognized, but she was inclined to believe what he said about them being something light. More importantly, he still remembered her reading habit. It warmed her heart that he had not forgotten her after so many years.

"Do you want me to...leave? I mean...I could come back when you're done reading and—"

"Are you alright?" she asked, then looked down at her hands, still not sure if he felt uncomfortable with her questions—especially so now that they were alone together.

"Nothing major. What about you? Still hurting?"

She shook her head. "Just some ache from all that...you know, but I'll live. My magic will be alright again...in time. I hope. After all, not my first time getting my magic burned out like this."

"I see...well..."

"Yuuno-san, sit down."

"Oh, alright..."

He sat down beside her on the bed, though he made sure there was some distance between them. Whatever. She could take the lead just fine. She shuffled closer until their knees were touching.

"Are you not worried...about your magic, I mean?"

"No...I guess not. After Nanoha-mama blasted me inside the Saint's Cradle, I was no longer able to fight like a Saint King. But that doesn't mean I could not do anything, either."

She looked down at her hands, opening and closing her fists. "I'm me, and as long as I improve myself, train myself, that is what is important."

She laughed, then added, "It's just like you, isn't it? Magic or not, you've learned to survive. That's no small thing."

His face turned grim, and she worried she'd struck a nerve—until he turned away.

"Sorr—"

"It's just things I've learned as an archaeologist in the field. Surviving on modest rations, reading signs and tracks in the field...negotiating with people with limited means to get the cooperation I need...getting by on my own. You get the picture...all I needed to make that jump was..."

"Crossing the line, isn't it?"

The shame bled off him in waves. His face, too, was the image of regret.

"Just a dig, I thought. Nothing more. Something I thought I could do to make myself useful again. People moved on without me, without needing my help anymore. The Library, too, was growing more and more efficient on its own."

She took his hand in hers, and though it was stiff at first, he soon relaxed his fingers.

"So when someone offered me the job, I took it, even if I knew it was in a far-off world the Bureau has written off as not worth keeping watch over, except to get potential mages. But...the benefactor was shady, unscrupulous. I didn't know. The security detail was...underpaid, underprepared...we had a security perimeter...but...it wasn't enough. Soon enough, we were attacked."

The hardness was there in his eyes, like cold iron. His fingers clenched into a fist. But she didn't let go.

"Somehow...I ended up with that gun in my hand. And the rest you know."

He pulled back from her grasp as if he could not bear the warmth of her fingers. He rose to his feet, pacing slowly around the room with his hand on his face.

"Three...or four. I know I was doing something I wasn't supposed to. I could've shot them in the legs to bring them down, but no. Heads, or chests, or any vital spots...I had to shoot them down. Magic was useless, I learned the hard way. And my colleagues were dead anyway. I hardly knew them, but their faces I could never forget...their pleading, desperate looks, as if asking me to save them, begging for me to do something...it's a sight that haunts my dreams even to this day."

His face was contorted into a disgusted grimace, but she held back her hand to keep from reaching out, even if seeing and knowing that he was so tormented was a torment in itself.

"I'm disgusting, I thought at that time. I keep puking and puking until my throat burns and there's nothing more coming up...I'm a killer. And that's when I knew I could never go back...to my old life, I mean."

"You killed for your own survival, Yuuno-san. And I don't blame you for it."

"Neither was she. She arrived too late to stop the carnage, but she drove the rest of them off. She didn't offer me a hand—just a command for me to be up on my feet like a soldier."

She remembered the conversation he had with the slaver leader. How she overheard that man gloating about killing someone whom she figured must be important to him. And her name was...

"Ranger Kalinka...wasn't it?"

"...You've overheard," he said, turning back to face her. Fury and regret, disgust and remorse—they were all there on his face, seething behind his eyes.

"I couldn't help to," she answered softly, letting go of her urge to reach out and touch him, knowing he would need a little space for his own thoughts and feelings. "I wish I could say I understand that pain of losing someone. I never experienced it myself...I've never even been to a funeral."

"It's...enough. The person who killed her is dead, even if...by his own hand. Maybe...it's for the better. Maybe she wouldn't even want me to try and find justice for her...or revenge...maybe it was...just..."

His hand was clutching the collar of his shirt. And then, he seemed to regain himself as his hand dropped. He looked down, letting out a small laugh—perhaps at the state he had shown himself in.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I'm a mess right now...I shouldn't even be thinking about this while I have you here, too. It must've been hard...I've dragged you into my own mess...you didn't need to be—"

"I chose to come," she said. "And everything after that? I chose to. If I...decided to take in your pain as well, that was my choice. And you don't need to apologize."

He turned back and stared at her. His eyes were clear again, his gaze softening.

"...She...yes, the same thing she said. Maybe you two could've been friends if only she could have met you. You're both strong-willed...You both see people, no matter what they've been through, even if it hurts..."

And now, he reached out to touch her—and she gladly let him. She placed her hand in his palm, and she smiled as his fingers curled around hers.

"You're stronger than you think, too...Yuuno-san. She'd be proud, I'm sure."

They didn't say anything as he let himself cry once more into her shoulder—not until he was done and pulled away with a heavy breath.

"I...don't know what else to say."

"And that's enough. And...even if you don't come back to Midchilda...I...I just want you to have a little peace and hope...just like I do."

"Th-thank you, Vivio. For...everything."

He likely had more he wanted to say—and she wanted him to—but for the moment, she thought, they were done with what needed to be done.

"Are you busy?" she asked. He shuffled slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. It was always more amusing than anything else, that once familiar sight in her childhood.

"No...not really."

He sounded defeated, like a child who had just finished an argument with a parent and lost. But it was what she needed.

"Then, stay a bit and read with me, just like back then in the library," she said. He blinked in response, as if not sure what she meant.

"The books you brought?" she added. "I would like your opinion on them."

"Of...course."

***

She waited for the transport to land, the first of what would be regular arrivals of refugees from Orusea. It was worth the fight, especially for a rookie that the higher-ups would never even bother with.

No more just taking those with magic potential. No more just keeping silent about the refugees. It was difficult, but she had allies that she could call on. Her mamas, Aunt Hayate and the Wolkenritters, the Nakajimas, Uncle Chrono and Grandma Lindy, and even the Saint Church. And all the footage Chris had taken in secret had done its part, too, in swaying public opinion to pressure the TSAB higher-ups to change their policies.

She'd decided not to stay silent about what she'd witnessed. Orusea might be a world that had been cursed, but that didn't mean she didn't care. He cared about those people in his own way, and that was the only way she wanted to do the same.

It was one of the things he'd left her that night. They may have parted, maybe for good, but his presence still remained in her mind as she stepped into her future. If it could ease his mind to see the children going to a place where they would be safe, and she would be there to make sure it would be so, she would gladly do it.

She held her hand up against the sun as the transport was descending. The vehicle was coming to rest, and when the door opened, a small cluster of people, including those with children, emerged. They all looked around warily at their new home, but that soon turned into joyful smiles. She went down to meet them and introduced herself.

"Ah! It's you!"

She smiled. She'd hoped the girl would be among them—and it seems her prayers had been answered.

"Olga, you look so good."

The girl's clothes were in a much better state now. She still looked thin, but not so gaunt that she was on the brink of death. Her face, too, had brightened up as she ran up to her and gave her a hug.

"Ranger Mikhail told us we're really going to a nice place. He personally escorted us to the port. Said I will meet you again!"

"Good girl...you held on to that hope...didn't you?"

"Mm! Like you said! And...thank you! Ranger Mikhail said you fought so hard for us, too. You really are so nice!"

She returned the embrace gently, as the girl looked like she might cry at any moment.

"Welcome to Midchilda...welcome home."

It wasn't a perfect world, but it was one she could help shape—a place where people could live and hope again. The Saint Church had said the same. And she hoped, somehow, someday, he could see it and share it, too.

She waved as church officials ushered the group for processing.

When they had disappeared, her hand glided over to his journal that she'd brought along with her. She remembered everything he'd bared, all the ugliness he'd laid out for her. She'd yet to tell her mamas about it, but she'd decided that it wasn't her place to. And, maybe in time, when he'd been ready to come home, he would be willing to do it himself. Or maybe he will continue fighting.

Whatever his choice may be, the road they shared was over now.

But he at least knew someone was still out there, still remembering.

That he was not alone, even treasured.

Even when he walked another.

 

And if she had to take a step into her future now, she would not be alone either.