Chapter 43: Chapter 43

My mom wakes up early the next evening in a room that’s dimly lit. It used to be a dormitory for soldiers who lived in these tunnels a long time ago.

“Only a few of the old beds are still intact when she’s there. She’s lying on a rusty metal cot, covered with Sanoske’s sleeping bag and a couple of jackets.

“She makes her way back to the big room with the windows. It’s dark again, and the moonlight is shining brightly through the dirty glass. She can see the ocean, the waves moving slowly, tilting, and crashing.

“The room used to be a lookout station. The Kagegun turned it into a kitchen.

“They stocked up on supplies before leaving Resistance. My mom goes through the bags filled with dried oats, rice, dried seaweed, salted meat, barley, limes and a lot more.

“There are also a couple of large containers with water and a small measuring cup, used to ration food and water.

“The men are cooking oatmeal, and she’s quickly handed a bowl by Kazuya, who sits her down next to him to eat. Sanoske is nowhere to be found.

“While she eats, Kazuya explains they’ll be staying for at least a week and that they’re expecting contact from Europe.

“The thought scares my mom more than she expected. She’s used to the Kagegun, their faces, their dark hair and almond eyes.

“She’s grown used to the Resistant faces, their different-shaped mouths, their coarse hair, and different-colored skin.

“She has no idea what the people from mainland Europe will look like. And she doesn’t feel very inclined to find out.

“Sanoske shows up shortly after breakfast and quickly starts assigning jobs to his men. They scatter quickly.

“My mom is assigned to weapon verifications and cleaning, something she doesn’t mind doing. She accepts her task and gets to work quickly with the rest of them.

“The Kagegun picked up fifteen Resistance soldiers, some of whom she recognizes from their training sessions. They tell her they don’t like the way the mayor is leading.

“They knew Len and Harry and didn’t like the way they were treated. They were at the front line during the Perfect attack and now all they want is revenge.

“The Kagegun doesn’t mind having them around, but the two groups stay slightly apart, though they take their orders from Sanoske.

“They stay for about a week in the old tunnels. It’s much needed for my mom, who sleeps a lot, eats a lot, and spends her time polishing, checking pieces, and repairing the men’s weapons.

“She feels a slight difference in her relationship with the Kagegun men. They talk and they’re glad for each other’s company, but they stay more distant.

“Sanoske often disappears with Kayuza and Saito, and they often come back covered in ash and frowning.

“The first night, my mom borrows a needle and thread from Kazuya and starts fitting her Perfect uniform. She shortens the pants, takes in the waistband, wraps a large black belt around her waist and tightens it.

“She keeps the gray shirt knotted at her back and fills her boots with two layers of socks and extra strips of cotton so she can wear them correctly. She washes her hair and keeps it in a long braid tied with a ribbon.

“She spends days exploring the empty tunnels, the many chambers full of rotten junk. Most things she doesn’t recognize. She overturns frayed plastic furniture, heavy plastic boxes bursting with broken wires and shattered screens.

“She finds papers that turn to dust when she touches them. In one chamber, she looks up at the one thing she recognizes: a flag that hangs half-torn, half-rotten from the ceiling. The Union Jack.

“She’s only seen it in Resistance before. She spends a long time staring at it, the faded colors, wondering who made it, what it means, who carried it, and who was buried in it.

“Below it, she finds a picture frame. It’s fallen to the ground, the nail holding it completely rusted. When she picks it up, she dusts the glass and looks at the image.

“They’re soldiers, five of them. But they’re not wearing Perfect uniforms, they’re wearing dark cotton clothing and carrying heavy-looking guns, with rounded helmets. She stares at her ancestors for a long time.

“On the third evening, she wanders into what used to be an armory and is perhaps the best-kept chamber in the tunnels. The walls are lined with rotten hooks, shattered empty shelves, and large rusted iron trunks.

“She pulls at what looks like a tarp to find an iron chest, still locked. She drags it out into the middle of the room and scratches at the rusted top. With a heavy stomp, she breaks through the rust easily.

“In the trunk, she finds fifty black semiautomatic handguns and, below them, thirty boxes of bullets. She shows her finding to the Kagegun men, who pour over the antiques with glee.

“She chooses one, it’s not too heavy. She loads it, then sticks it into her waistband.

“Dawn is her favorite time, when the men gather in the main room to eat. Sanoske often shows up, wraps his arms around her waist, and holds her against him as they eat.

“During the day, she sleeps in her cot, with only a handful of others in the same chamber.

“Sanoske always takes the first and longest watch, coming to wrap himself around her every day in the afternoon and disappearing again before she wakes.”

***

Haruhiko sits next to me while I count the bullets for the revolvers. We’re alone in the grand room, facing the windows and the dark waves.

He hums softly, every so often scratching his spiky hair and healing cuts on his scalp. He smiles at me as I hand him another dozen bullets, which he puts in a small box and piles on top of another.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks me, leaning back against the corrugated wall.

I glance at him, arching a brow. “A secret isn’t meant to be told, Haruhiko,” I answer with a small smile. He nods solemnly in agreement.

“This one concerns you,” he replies.

I purse my lips and put the bullets I was counting down. My fingers are slightly tainted with gunpowder.

“Okay, tell me.”

“You kneeling before that Master didn’t sit well with me,” he admits, his voice soft. I nod, stealing a glance at him. He’s not meeting my eyes. “It’s like you’re one of them.”

I stay silent for a moment, then reach out to take his hand. He looks at me, surprised.

“I get it, Haruhiko. I think you all feel that way about me now. But I am one of them. I’m a Perfect.” I pause, “Well, officially a Traitor now.”

“When Sanoske sent Saito and Kazuya to get you from the cell, I didn’t know if I could trust you. I didn’t even know if I wanted to see you again.”

He frowns. “But when I saw you, all those doubts vanished. Now, I know who you are.”

He grins at me. “You’re Alex. And I’m Haruhiko. We don’t need to be anyone else.” His smile grows. “I’ll protect you with my life, Alex. Because I care about you a lot.”

“I care about you a lot too, Haruhiko,” I tell him, smiling and trying to hold back the tears welling up in my eyes.

Haruhiko grins at me. He reaches out and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers lightly brushing my cheek. His smile fades a bit.

“I wish you weren’t Sanoske’s girl. I would have liked to make you mine. We’re closer in age,” he says softly.

I smile at him, gently pushing his hand away.

“I wouldn’t be a good match for you, Haruhiko. You deserve someone who loves life as much as you do.”

I smile at him, but I can tell it doesn’t reach my eyes. He gives me a tight-lipped look.

“If you were my girl, I would—”

“But she’s not your girl, she’s mine.”

Haruhiko and I both jump at the sound of Sanoske’s voice. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, watching us with an odd expression. Then, he grins at me. I can’t help but grin back.

Haruhiko lets out a dramatic sigh and jumps to his feet. He darts out of the room before Sanoske can catch him.

“How are you feeling today?” Sanoske asks me, sitting down next to me, his sword resting at his side.

“Better,” I reply.

I’ve been feeling better each day. Eating well, sleeping without having to dig holes, and wearing clean clothes have made a world of difference. I feel strong again. I watch Sanoske as he looks at the boxes of bullets.

“That’s good,” he says. “We might be moving out tomorrow, I think. I’m not sure.” He makes a face, then turns to me. “Come with me.”

He stands up quickly and extends his hand. I take it and let him pull me to my feet. I brush the gunpowder off my lap and let him lead me, hand in hand, into the dark tunnels.

He brings me to the armory and shuts the door behind us. The room is empty of people, though the Kagegun have started using it to store all their weapons.

Sanoske lets go of my hand for a moment and walks over to the wall of daggers. He turns to face me, a dagger spinning in his hand. His face is serious.

“I know you have a gun. But target practice would be too complicated down here,” he says.

My eyes widen, and I can’t help the smile spreading across my face. “You’re going to teach me to fight?” I ask him. He frowns.

“No. I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself,” he corrects, pacing slowly in front of me. I watch him. “Defense is your best option. Your goal is to run away. As far and fast as you can. Survive. Got it?”

“Got it.”

He looks at me. “The Perfect soldiers start their training at fifteen. They specialize by seventeen and by nineteen they’re off to battle, but not before visiting at least one establishment.”

“I know how the system works, Sanoske,” I remind him.

He nods solemnly. “Kagegun is a highly specialized stealth team. Most of us have been training since we were kids, mostly in the old martial arts.

“I think the Resistance soldiers start their training at sixteen. You start today. No matter who it is—friend or enemy—everyone will have more experience, more training, and better instincts than you.

“Your job is to defend yourself and run. You have to be smart.” Sanoske’s face is hard, serious, the same look he gets when he’s training his men.

I nod. “I understand, Sanoske,” I reply.

He presses his lips together.

“I can’t be worried about you. I can’t be thinking about you when I’m on the field, Alex. I need you to be safe.”

He steps toward me, gently stroking my cheek. I look up at him, my heart pounding erratically in my chest.

“I need you to survive, Alex.”

“I need you to survive too,” I say.

He gives the smallest smile. “I always do,” he replies, then steps back from me, spinning the blade in his hand. “Training starts now. Get ready.”

“How do I get ready?” I ask.

He smiles. “Take off the jacket. You need to be able to move freely,” he says.

I nod quickly and take off my jacket and jumper. I adjust the knot on my shirt so it’s tied tightly around my waist.

I look up at Sanoske when I’m ready. His eyes are wide, and he quickly clears his throat and spins the blade.

“When you attack, aim for the soft spots. Avoid the chest and back. There’s a lot of muscle and bone there, you have to be strong to get the blade in.”

He circles close to me. Slowly, he lifts the dagger and places it on my throat, at the hollow between my collarbones.

“Just push down,” he instructs, guiding the blade from my chest to my stomach. “If you can’t reach the throat, aim for the stomach.”

He pulls back, leaving a trail of tingles where the blade had been.

“Soldiers—usually men—rely on their momentum in a fight. You’re small and not as strong, so you need to be smart to escape.”

“I’m not weak.”

“You are in comparison. You need to use their strength against them.”

“How?”

“That’s what I’m showing you. Now, try to attack me.”

He hands me the blade. I take it, careful not to cut myself.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

A playful smile dances on his lips. “You won’t.”

I shift in my boots, then, gripping the knife, I lunge at him. Sanoske steps back, giving me room, then grabs my wrist and guides it to the ground.

Suddenly, he twists my wrist up and against my chest, pulling me into him. I gasp at the sudden pain. The dagger slips from my fingers, and he plucks it up.

His breath tickles my ear. His arm wraps around my waist. “Your turn,” he whispers, releasing me.

I stumble back, rubbing my sore wrist, and face him. He lunges at me, aiming the dagger at my heart. I barely dodge in time.

He spins and grabs my arm, pulling me against him. I look up at him.

“You forgot to grab my wrist,” he points out. “Try again.”

He releases me and lunges again. My heart pounds as I reach for his wrist and guide it to the ground, just like he showed me.

He goes along with it. I try to twist his wrist up, but he resists. His other hand appears over mine and pries my fingers from his wrist. He pulls me against him again.

His heavy breathing matches the intensity of his gaze.

“Try again. Find the tipping point, where I’m about to fall. That’s when you have the advantage. Don’t twist too early, or I can overpower you,” he instructs, pushing me away.

He lunges again. I step back and grab his wrist, guiding his hand to the ground. When I feel his balance shift, I twist his wrist up against his chest and pull him into me.

His body collides with mine. He opens his hand, and I take the dagger.

I spin away, grinning. “I did it!”

His dark hair falls into his eyes, and his expression hardens. He looks dangerous.

“Again,” he commands.

He lunges at me over and over. Most times, I don’t get the blade. Sometimes, I do.

Sanoske and I move around each other. Each time I fail, he pulls me against him, tracing the blade slowly over my skin, showing me where he could kill me.

We repeat the dance, round after round, until the movements become familiar and sweat coats my body.

I guide him down and twist his wrist up. Too soon. He regains control and spins me around. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him.

My chest heaves with exertion. I can feel his hard, warm body against mine.

“Alex,” he growls in my ear.

Suddenly, he spins me around. The dagger clatters to the ground. One arm wraps around my waist, the other slips behind my neck, pulling me into him.

His lips meet mine, soft, warm, and urgent. In one swift move, he pushes me against the wall. One hand tangles in my hair, the other presses me to him.

My heart races, and my skin burns where he touches me. I pull him closer, clutching his shirt and pulling him toward me.

The world fades away, leaving only Sanoske, his movements, his strong hands, his hot breath, and his soft lips.

He breaks the kiss with a groan and trails hot kisses down my throat. My head falls back, and I gasp for breath.

His hands slide down my body, hooking under my thighs. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. My arms around his neck pull him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere, wanting him to consume me.

When he pulls back, his expression is wild, and his dark eyes dart from one side of my face to the other. He holds me, pinned between the wall and him.

My chest heaves, my breath is short, and all I want is for him to kiss me again.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,” he confesses softly.