Coup d'�tat

October 24th, 2022 a.t.b.

Kururugi Suzaku,

Your commission as Knight of Seven has been officially withdrawn as a result of your obviously treachery and rebellion . . .

“This is becoming the royal equivalent of junk mail,” Lelouch commented as he took the letter from Suzaku. The official crest of the Rounds embossed in gold leaf gleamed in the last few rays of sunlight streaming through the window. “At least they’re doing everything by the book. Look, they’ve even revoked your Honorary Britannian status.”

“What do they gain from all this?” Suzaku asked, ignoring the issue of his nationality for the more immediate concerns. The withdrawal of Britannian forces from occupied territories was foremost on his mind, as was the return of sovereignty to the now-defunct Areas. The labyrinthine workings of Britannian politics and the sophistry associated with it, he left to Lelouch. The trouble was, with Schneizel involved . . .

“Absolutely nothing. Which means it’s a blind for something else and they’re just reminding us that they’re still out there.” Discarding the letter, Lelouch narrowed his eyes at the tactical maps. “As we’ve managed to track down Odysseus and Carline, I can safely say that they probably aren’t in on whatever Schneizel is up to.”

“You don’t really want to hunt down all your siblings, do you?” In his quest for vengeance, Lelouch had been prepared to do a lot more than that.

“Euphemia would disapprove.” Lelouch barred his teeth in a parody of a grin. “I was thinking about a few years on a nice cold rock out in the middle of the ocean.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *
August, 1010 a.t.b.

Ten year old boys, in Suzaku’s limited experience, did not hate the way adults did.

But Lelouch did—black venom spilling forth from his words as he vowed to crush the country that had spurned him. Mixed into that poisonous hate was the bile reserved for his father and his mother’s killers.

Perhaps that was why he had felt a chill when Lelouch had sworn vengeance. He would not forget and he would not forgive, this child of foreign kings.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

October 26th, 2022 a.t.b.

“So the arrangements have been made on this end,” Suzaku said in his native tongue. “All that’s left is to ensure that Japan is capable of getting onto its feet again afterwards. With all assistance rendered, of course.”

The rebuilding of the war-torn regions were the most pressing issue, right next to the defensive capabilities of the fledgling armed forces.

Captain Kouzuki Kallen, currently the official liaison of the UJDF, stared back at him from the screen. It was just past midnight in Pendragon, so it was probably fairly early in Tokyo.

“Aah, we’ve got heaps of applicants for the Volunteer Corps and with the EU and Chinese Federation pledging to invest in the rebuilding, we should be able to make a start on it.” It was a little strange to see her in the new olive green UJDF uniform--Kallen was most at home in her flight-suit and the cockpit of her KMF.

“So you’re retiring from the armed forces?” he asked by way of making conversation. She was the best KMF pilot he had the pleasure of battling and one of the veterans of the war who was near his age. In their recent communications, Suzaku had been getting hints that she would be hanging up her flight-suit one day to pursue a more civilian mode of life with her biological mother.

“Peace and independence . . . It’s what we’ve been fighting for,” she said after an awkward pause that told him that his question had caught her by surprise. “I haven’t officially tendered in my request for a reassignment . . . but I might go into the Volunteer Corps.”

“I see. I wish you all the best.” Japan needed its best men and women to rebuild itself from the ashes.

“Will you . . . will you ever come back?” It was her turn to ask the uncomfortable questions. Despite her dual heritage, Kallen had chosen one nationality irrevocably over the other. She had always wondered how Suzaku could give up a part of his own identity like that.

You’re still one of us, right? You’re still Japanese . . .

“I don’t think I ever thought about that,” Suzaku said carefully, picking his words the way a man would diffuse the ignition device on a bomb. “I--we’ve never planned beyond the dissolution of the empire.”

More to the point, they had not actually planned that far because there had been such a slim chance of success. But now that they had achieved the almost impossible goal, there was still the matter of surviving through the transition period. A great many things could happen between now and the hazy, undetermined future. And it was best not to tempt fate.

“How’s he been?” Kallen asked after a brief internal struggle that Suzaku could read from the lines between her brows.

“Aloof. Focused. Obsessed The usual.” He looked at her again and relented. “It’s good of you to ask. He’s been working late. I should get him to contact you.”

“Same old stubborn prince, huh,” Kallen said, not bothering to mask her concern.

“I’ll tell him you asked after him.” Once he found Lelouch and dragged him to bed. He was probably in the Imperial archives, pouring over records with a fine-toothed comb.

“Not just myself alone. We were his comrades-in-arms, no matter what he thinks.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t trust you . . . he’s just--” Just too stubborn to accept friendships out of the fear or paranoia that they would be used against him. Just too used to distancing himself from others. Just the result of caring too much for the people he knew. “--just too involved in every single thing that crosses his desk. You know how he gets when he’s focused on something. Now that Schneizel’s made his presence known, he’s doubly engrossed with outmanoeuvring his brother.”

“Suzaku . . . Take care of him--even if you do need to tie him down to the bed.” A few years ago, Kallen would never have said anything like that. Not without blushing at least. “And Toudou said to get in touch, when you have the time to spare.”

“Aa, all right then.”

“You look like you need some sleep yourself.” Kallen saluted briefly before signing out. Not a formal one, more of a good-luck-you-crazy-bastard kind of thing.

“Will you call Toudou?” Legs swinging idly from her perch on the map table, C.C. was suddenly behind him. Suzaku supposed that she had been there the entire time and overheard everything before choosing to reveal her presence. It was not eavesdropping to her.

“Maybe later.” If they could see this through, there would be time for that later.

“Pot, kettle--no wonder you share the same bed,” C.C. said.

“What do you mean?” he asked despite knowing full well what the witch was implying.

“You were doing a great job of walling yourself off before you even met me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

August, 2010 a.t.b.

The devastated landscape was bare of life. Except for the car that was disappearing into the distance.

“Will you--I mean, will you be all right?”

“Yeah. I’ll head for the base at Wakasa.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

August, 2010 a.t.b.

The base at twenty-something kilometres away from where he parted ways with Lelouch and Nunnally. Suzaku figured that he could make it in a day or so if he walked along the highway.

When he started walking, it seemed to take forever. He thought that if he just concentrated on putting one foot in front of another, it would stop him from thinking. Put the fields of corpses out his mind for once. It worked as far as the daylight held out and he stopped to rest for the night.

The darkness brought no respite as Suzaku faced the first night alone for the first time in his life. He might as well have been the only living soul in the vicinity after the numerous air raids.

Bleary-eyed and numb from spending the night on the ground, he walked on until he came to the coastline. The low dark shape of the military base could just be seen on the horizon. Heartened by the thought of finding people--someone, anyone—again, he quickened his pace down the empty stretch of road.

But as he got closer, he realised that the cluster of buildings appeared dark because they had been thoroughly shelled and then scorched by the resulting fire.

Dismayed, he had no other option but to move on. Following the road in the blind hope that it would lead somewhere he could find--

Find help? Find his relatives? He did not deserve anyone’s help now.

It took a while for him to register that the buzzing noises in the background were not insects. Looking up, he saw the dark shape of an aircraft carrier flying low over the hillside. A hatch in its belly opened and the carrier disgorged its cargo.

Suzaku gaped open-mouthed at the strange machines that were moving down the hillside to the road. Were these the new battle machines Britannia had been using? The Knightmare Frames? They looked a little like the robots he had for toys. And they were headed in his direction.

Anxiety took over as he realised that they were not going to stop for one insignificant boy by the roadside. The machines were headed for the base--probably to secure it for the Britannian invaders. In fact, he was probably going to get run over--

He was suddenly amidst the wheeled-limbs of the Knightmare Frames, the speed of their passage knocking him off his feet and sending him rolling like one of the pebbles in their wake

Shaken, but not so much that he could not move, he instinctively got up and stumbled to get under cover.

A drainage ditch by the roadside yielded a tunnel made of reinforced concrete. But his intended shelter was already occupied.

He thought it might have been a wild animal, driven into hiding by the war machines, but those tawny eyes were far too intelligent to be that of a beast.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realised that there was a girl seated in the deeper recesses of the makeshift shelter.

“Hello?” he ventured tentatively. One blink, then another was his only response.

“You don’t have to be scared . . .” Even though he was scared and doing his best not to show it.

No, she was not afraid of him. She was studying him. Any further attempts at talking to her yielded nothing but that neutral stare. In the end, he stopped trying. It was not an uncomfortable silence that permeated in their shared hiding place and somehow, he dozed off while she watched him, too exhausted for the nightmares to reach him.

When he awoke hours later, the tunnel had not collapsed on them and the sounds of the machines were long gone. There was only the girl, watching him in the silence. Moving slowly, Suzaku backed out of the tunnel. The skies were clear of any enemy or friendly craft.

“Hey, miss . . . Miss?” he said, peeing into the tunnel. But she was crawling out after him. Dusting off her pants, she looked at him as if to say now what?

In fading daylight, he saw her more clearly and knew that he had been right to assume that she was older. She was slightly-built even thought she was an adult. Not really old, but to a ten-year old, she simply fell into that category.

So why was he making the decisions?

There was nothing to do but continue walking down the road. She followed him wordlessly. Perhaps she was mute. Suzaku was just glad that there was someone else on the road with him.

They came across a petrol station along the highway. Deserted, but still stocked with odds and ends of food. Miracle or not, the electricity was still working and there was still running water. They did not turn the lights on as the night finally took back the summer sky--there might be hostile aircraft in the vicinity.

He insisted that they leave some money on the counter, digging out the coins from his pocket when she patted her own apologetically--no money, sorry. They ate their fill from the not-that-stale bread on display and still valid milk and cheese in the chiller unit, rounding it all off with ice-cream.

It felt odd, eating ice-cream in the middle of nowhere with a stranger that had somehow become his travelling companion. Even though she was older, she never said anything about his washing hands--which Suzaku did dutifully anyway--or cleaning up afterwards. Suzaku tidied up as best he could before using the bathroom to wash up and tend to the bruises he had sustained.

That night, he dreamed of his father in the field of corpses. Unable to go back to sleep again, he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling until dawn broke.

They took some bread and snack bars with them when they left the next morning, following the road again into the uncertain world that lay ahead.

* * * * * * * * * * * *