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Venia
By : saxonjesus
Category: +. to F > D. Gray Man
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Chapter List
- 1-Venia
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 1
- 2
- 3
Part 2:
Things remained awkward between them for the remainder of the voyage. After Lavi had stormed out like a whining toddler who hadn't gotten his way, Yuu had tried to return to his work, but he had soon found his mind too roiled up to make any further headway. With them one hammock short, Yuu had thought that he'd see the other man again in a few hours. The fight had been stupid, and though he thought he was right to be peeved, he wasn't going to hold a grudge for the loss of an afternoon's work. Lavi had consistently robbed him of such time back in the Order, it was just that it was essential that Yuu learn quickly, especially since he was doing this as a favor to the idiot rabbit.
He was thinking of the man as a rabbit. That meant he was no longer angry.
But Lavi hadn't returned that evening, and by the next, he'd gotten a new hammock and remained in stony, infantile silence as they prepared for bed. This behavior continued until they'd gone down the gangway at Port of Key West, at which point the anger and frustration was back, simply because Lavi could not get over a petty fight that had not meant anything at all.
Yuu stewed as he followed Lavi about the port, passing by Cubans and Americans alike as they set out on their endeavor to get to Cuba before nightfall. He barely paid attention as his supposed lover talked up anyone with a uniform for information on traveling. Eventually, he prodded Yuu up a small gangway and into an even tinier schooner with barely enough room for its two minute masts. It hardly looked sea-worthy.
"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" He mumbled in question to Lavi. He wasn't expecting an answer, but the redhead regarded him with a shocked expression and shook his head emphatically.
"No," the rabbit insisted, sounding horrified. It was as if he had taken Yuu's comment seriously. In an attempt to gloss over the miscommunication, the Japanese man rolled his eyes. He didn't scoff, though the notion was clearly stated on his face, he thought. But sadly, Lavi didn't seem to understand and moved to the other side of the boat for the entirety of the voyage.
Dusk had begun to fall as they stepped onto the small, war-torn island, though from the port, it looked anything but. A large fortress stood forbodingly erect in relation to the rest of the city, which seemed to surge out from behind it. Each of the canons, glinting ominously in the orange-gold cast of the setting sun, left Yuu feeling very glad the Akuma had never accessed that level of fire power. Apparently, not even this amazing defensive beacon, most likely stolen from the Spanish when the Cubans had petitioned for independence, could kick its original owners out.
They disembarked and walked the dimming city streets. Yuu let Lavi lead, taking in their surroundings so that the other man could concentrate on where they were going. He noticed that while the first few rows of houses and buildings showed signs of severe fire damage--some of them were seared to a crispy, hollow shell of a house, while others were merely rubble and broken glass. As they moved further into the city, though, the quality of living seemed to improve. A few blocks away from the port, far enough so that the water could not be seen, the houses began to look as untouched as the fortress, as if spared by some heavenly hand from the horrors that the outer buildings--and perhaps their inhabitants--had not survived. The city was still run-down as all hell, though, Yuu thought with a sadistic smirk.
The bar in which they were supposed to meet this Captain Marsain was shady, even by shady bar standards. It was more like a shed with chickens outside and was missing half its roof. Actually, that was exactly what it was. But Lavi marched right on in as if he had been there a thousand times before. The one good thing about being around a Bookman was that they always knew the language, so it was always safer to be around one in a country where you could be killed for speaking anything other than the inhabitants' native tongue.
It wasn't difficult to spot the person they were looking for. He stood out--and up--because he was standing on the lone table shouting in very clear and extremely crude English. He had the entire place, which consisted of about ten people, in a state of uproarious enjoyment. Captain Marsain was all of five-foot-nine, lean, and on the surface appeared to be someone who would not be able to hold a crowd's attention for longer than a few seconds. But when he spoke, as was made abundantly clear by the shouts and cat-calls of the ten men, it was obvious that he knew what he was doing and how to get others to follow him.
It made Yuu at least a little hopeful about surviving whatever was going to be thrown their way.
The captain looked over as the door's bell rung over their heads. He smiled companionably and jumped roughly down from the table. His men parted like the red sea to let him through. The man didn't swagger, but each click of his boots' heels on the wooden floor rang with authority and confidence. His posture was straighter than Yuu could ever hope to accomplish.
"What can I do you for, gentlemen?" He asked, giving the two travelers a broad grin. Lavi returned the expression with an intense fervor Yuu had only seen in the few years that he'd actually been "Lavi," back when Bookman's gaze was cast upon everything the redhead did. It was hard to believe it was so long ago, and yet here they were, ten years later, in a sad excuse for a tavern with drunken men and an overabundance of chickens.
"I believe I'm here to relieve that person in the corner," Lavi replied, offering his hand, which the captain shook vigorously. Yuu looked over and found an eleventh person, this one female, faded away into the shadows of the dimly-lit corner. She was old, but her eyes were sharp, sawing through the crowd and latching onto the bustle of activity at the door. There was no doubting that calculating expression.
They'd found their Bookman.
Or Bookwoman? Yuu never really cared to ask, as the issue was trivial, and even now, he really didn't give enough of a shit to find out. He was here as a scribe and nothing else.
"Ah," Captain Marsain said. His smile flickered briefly. The Japanese man knew immediately that the man's expression was fake, and if he knew Lavi well enough, the redhead did too. "Well, she's been expecting you for some time now."
"I do apologize for the late hour, but it was astoundingly... difficult to find safe passage here." Lavi excused himself and went to talk to the middle-aged woman in the corner.
"And you? You're not as skinny and helpless as that schmuck over there." At this, he gestured to Lavi. "Unlike him, you'll probably last at least a day." Captain Marsain offered his hand. Yuu took it and shook once, very firmly.
"I'm his scribe." He couldn't help but act a little cold toward the man, even if he and Lavi were currently fighting. If that was what being ignored was called these days.
The captain laughed, his hair falling behind him as he whipped his head back in amusement. He looked back to Yuu and wiped a tear from his eye. "A scribe? You don't look like the scholarly sort at all!"
Perhaps it was a mistake, but Yuu did not really remember doing it anyway. Whatever. All that mattered was that his grip was steady, his feet were planted, and the tip of Mugen lay exactly halfway between the captain's eyes. Shiny boots and swotty uniform or not, he would not take that insult to his honor. Yeah, Lavi deserved to be brought down a few notches--he would have smirked at that had he not been concentrating so hard on holding his position--but he did not. Not after all the shit he'd been through in his life. Not after being torn from his family, his sister. Not after being on the battlefield for eleven long, tiring years. This captain was young, maybe in his early thirties, though Yuu was sure that the man did not understand what constant peril truly was. Not if he and his men were letting loose like this. He knew perfectly well that he didn't look scholarly, Captain Marsain had not needed to point that out.
There was a multifaceted clicking sound of ten guns being cocked and aimed, but Yuu didn't care. He held his stance; his sword did not waver. He'd been in worse situations and come out without a scratch (granted, he had healed too quickly for them to show, but that was not the point he was trying to make to himself). Even though he no longer had that capability, he was confident in his ability not to get shot. He was very, very skilled at dodging bullets.
"I was an Exorcist, a member of the Dark Order. You will not patronize me," he hissed. Then he lowered his weapon. He'd made his point.
"It's alright," Captain Marsain informed his men, gesturing for them to relax and go back to their festivities. "We're all a bit jumpy."
But Yuu saw a glint of respect in the man's eye before he turned around to see what he could do about ridding the now off-duty Bookman from the tavern.
---
"You'll be staying with our company, then," Captain Marsain said, sounding less than pleased with the evening's proceedings.
"Yes," Lavi confirmed.
It was well after dark now, and the men had all retired to their tents out back. The tavern was now solely theirs, with the exception of the barmaid, who looked less than enthused that people were still hanging around so long after closing.
"Do you at least know how to use a gun?" The question was phrased very cynically, with a small touch of hopelessness.
With whip-like speed, Lavi reached out and pulled the captain's gun from its holster, spun it around his finger, cocking it in the same motion, and pointed it at Marsain's chest. For the first time since discovering their identities, the captain smiled fully. It was obvious he was pleased.
"And you both know how to handle yourselves in war?" He questioned further. Yuu rolled his eyes and nodded, a stony expression no doubt lurking on his face. Lavi responded aloud what Yuu's body language spoke, and the captain rubbed his hands together, his smile turning devious. "Excellent."
There was a brief silence as Captain Marsain finished off his last pint of beer. The glass was immediately swept away the moment it was set on the table. Yuu watched the barmaid's glare turn positively feral as she realized they were not leaving quite yet. Lavi played with the table's tarnished centerpiece. Bits of it looked as if it had been pecked away by chickens.
"Both of you will comport yourselves with the highest care. You will report here tomorrow at dawn."
There was no space for argument in the captain's tone.
"You will respond to me with 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir,'" he ordered, "and you will salute me like a proper American soldier. You will not talk back, nor will you get in the way. Put away that sword, man, you won't need it on the battlefield. Tomorrow, we will find you some guns. I assume you know how they work?" His eyebrow raised in expectation.
"Yes, sir!" Lavi barked, saluting, as Yuu did the same, replying in the negative.
The captain paused and took a look at Yuu. He didn't like bending to the whims of others, but he was not in a position where he could fight authority, so it was best to wait it out and see if he could find a way to flaunt Marsain's rule without being overtly insolent. He'd done the same with Komui and Tiedoll, so he was positive he could do it now.
"You will teach your scribe the workings of handguns and rifles, you hear me, Bookman?" Marsain ordered. Something in the way he'd said "scribe" struck Yuu as odd, but he quickly discarded the notion, as it was probably unimportant to the mission at hand. Lavi's eyes narrowed for a split-second, which was a little more interesting, although the redhead said nothing on the subject.
"Yes, sir."
"Then you two are dismissed." The American man sat back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and seemed to relax. The barmaid looked irate. Yuu had a nagging suspicion that the captain was doing all this just to annoy her.
They saluted and went out to find somewhere to spend the night. They found a nearby inn and soon made their way into their shared room. There were two beds; Yuu snagged the closer one. He was facing Lavi, who had already turned away. A prickle of annoyance ran up Yuu's spine.
"Lavi, stop ignoring me," he said quietly. There were other travelers, other customers in the rooms adjacent and across from their own, and he didn't wish to disturb them, especially with a matter so trivial in comparison to their mission.
"I'm trying not to annoy you. Isn't that what you want?" Lavi replied in the same downcast and childish tone he always did when he felt like he was in trouble.
"You kept telling me how important it was that I study and then when I do, you bother me. When you can't sit still, it's distracting."
"Oh."
"What do you mean, 'oh?'"
"I mean... 'oh.'"
"Lavi."
"What?" He sounded genuinely confused.
"You're such an idiot."
He made the sad, weepy eyes, the ones that he knew Yuu despised. He also knew--and Yuu knew he knew, which made it that much more angering--that they were the eyes the Japanese man couldn't refuse. He sighed, knowing full well that he couldn't fight himself. Lavi just looked too... pitiful. Yes, that was it. He had always felt a little bit like he'd had to take care of Lavi, and those eyes just made the man look so pitiful that it was impossible to not to cave.
"I guess... you could say... maybe... that perhaps I was a little... harsh." The words sounded so foreign on his tongue, but he forced them out, lest those eyes become wider and more pathetic. "I suppose I am... sorry." He mumbled the last word, looking away.
When no reaction was forthcoming, he chanced a glance out of the corner of his right eye. Lavi had dropped the expression and was blushing.
"I--I'm sorry, too," the redhead said, much louder than Yuu's own apology had been. Rolling his eyes, the dark-haired man walked over and pulled Lavi into his arms. He didn't always understand why he loved this idiot.
---

They met at dawn, just as they had been ordered. Captain Marsain was waiting, rather impatiently, for them on the street outside the tavern. They left the city quickly, continuing until the sun was already starting to fall through the thick forest that seemed like the perfect hiding place for an invading army.
Around dusk, they had entered into a clearing where a large series of tents were set up in neat military lines. The soldiers were busy at work, running drills, cooking, taking care of horses, practicing their marksmanship on nearby trees. It would have appeared chaotic to anyone who did not understand what was going on, but to Yuu it seemed as normal as picking on Moyashi.
The Captain led them to a tent on the far side of the camp, indicating that that was where the old Bookman had slept. It was a bit larger than the other tents, but Lavi seemed displeased, mumbling something about not being able to store his logs properly.
"I'll expect you to be out for evening drills in a half hour," Captain Marsain said to Yuu as he left.
The dark-haired man sighed. It was going to be difficult keeping up with the trained soldiers. It had been far too long since the war, since he'd been in top form. Plus, it would take time away from his real mission. Eating quickly, he left Lavi to his record and ran to join the gathering soldiers.
They were as mismatched as the Exorcists once were. Some were tall, some so short it seemed as if puberty had left them behind. Some had beards, others didn't. Most were tanned, some were burned, and others were pasty--those ones had to be the newer recruits, Yuu reasoned. But above all, they were all soldiers in the same company, and that seemed to be a uniting feature among them all. When he went to stand among them, he was met with a few nods and a couple suspicious glances. He had been expecting that. He had never been to America, but he assumed that racism was just as blatant as it was in Europe, where he'd sometimes been ostracized for being Asian. He'd learned to ignore it, but the signs of discontent would always prickle at his temper.
"Attention!" A shout rang across the small field, and the soldiers on either side of Yuu snapped into a posture so straight and tall that it put trees to shame. One hand was firmly against their side, while the other held the butt of the standard-issue rifle. Yuu immediately mimicked this position and watched as a man in uniform approached them.
Major Samuel Brown's one distinctive feature was his immaculate mustache. It was sleek, black, and manicured, as if it was the only thing in the world that he cared for. He wasn't tall, but his demeanor sent him towering over the men in line, who lost their perfect posture within seconds of coming into contact with the man's withering glare. He walked down the formation, his boots shining, his steps assured.
"You all look pathetic. Chin up, Grant! You! Straighten that gun, I don't want no amateur pointing a rifle in my direction. Parsins, is that a beard or a bush? I expect clean-shaven or well-groomed, none of this half-assed bullshit. And you--" The man had come to a stop in front of Yuu, his piercing blue eyes were calculating, inspecting every inch of his new target, trying to find something to berate. Yuu held eye contact and didn't let his muscles relax a hairs; width. "--Where's your rifle?"
"Just arrived, wasn't issued one, sir." This man needed to be referred to with respect. He demanded it, required it. Yuu didn't want to undermine his authority in front of his troops. That would have been counterproductive. He didn't want trouble; he just wanted to survive.
"Jennings, go get this man a rifle!"
A trembling youth saluted and stepped out of line. He sprinted off to a large tent by the officers' quarters near the treeline. While he disappeared into the tent, the Major rounded in on the Japanese man once more.
"What is your name, soldier?" It was clear from the way he leaned forward, from the way he looked directly into Yuu's eyes, that he was trying to intimidate.
"Yuu Kanda, sir." The Japanese man stared right on back, not budging an inch in his own pride. He stood as erect as he could, attempting to prove that while he would respect the man ordering him so, he would not allow him to rule his every action. He was a free man in a trapped environment.
"Kanda... Never heard a name like that before. Where are you from?"
"Japan, sir. I've spent most of my life in England, though. Sir."
Major Brown looked intrigued, an eyebrow cocked and a tiny smirk formed. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something, but Jennings returned, huffing, with a rifle. He offered it to the major, who stared at him incredulously for a moment before presenting it to Yuu.
"Do you have much experience with guns, Kanda?"
"None, sir."
The man's mouth opened slightly. Yuu anticipated some sort of snide comment, meant to humiliate or break down his pride. But instead the man merely clapped him on the shoulder and told him to "get his ass to the shooting range and not to come back until he could load, fire, and reload with some sort of accuracy in under a minute."
---
Life at the training camp was not that bad. Every morning, they both participated in drills. After lunch, Lavi toured the clearing, interviewing soldiers and generally gleaning as much information as he could. Every few hours, he would catch sight of his lover. It was an excellent treat to see the dark-haired man sweating with hard training. It reminded him of toned muscles hidden behind bandages, of sharp swords cutting so swiftly through the air that they were barely audible, of clenched jaws and hardened eyes carving determined expressions on the man's face.
It reminded him of the press of Yuu's chest against his and the sometimes painful grappling of hands and the feeling of Yuu's hands in his hair and the feeling of his lover's lips on his neck...
His logs would have to wait.
Casually, he leaned back in his chair and cast about his mind for random facts. There had to be one somewhere--no, not the one about the thumb and the penis size. He heard the flap of someone entering their tent and began to panic. It would not do for anyone to catch him like this.
He crossed his legs.
Yuu walked--perhaps stumbled would be a more appropriate term--into the room, making a beeline for his bedroll. Without even a greeting, the man collapsed to the floor and dug his head far into the pillow until only his long hair, greasy from several days' hard work and few bathing opportunities, seemed to emerge from nowhere.
"You alright?" Lavi asked, inopportune erection forgotten.
Yuu's head rolled to the side, and he said, "I hurt."
"I could make you hurt more," Lavi suggested, half in jest.
"No." It was the don't-fuck-with-me voice. The warning signs were clear.
"I could make you hurt less," he said softly.
The Japanese man didn't move for a while. Obviously, he was deliberating. A few moments later, a cross "fine" emanated from the pillow, cuing Lavi to come closer.
He was careful when he sat atop Yuu's bottom; he didn't want to surpass whatever strange boundaries were currently restricting their relationship. They were already walking on a bed of nails, feet bleeding from their latest fight (if it could be called that). Surprisingly, the man did not protest. Apparently, his pain far exceeded whatever need he had for emotional and physical exclusion.
Putting his hands to Yuu's shoulders, Lavi immediately understood. It had been a long time since the dark-haired man had been so tense. It was no wonder that he was feeling irritable.
"You do realize that you still have translations to do when I'm finished, right?" He asked, working on a particularly bad knot near the Japanese man's spine. Yuu made a disagreeable noise that sounded a lot like a hiss.
"Shut the fuck up, you bastard rabbit."
Lavi leaned down to kiss the back of Yuu's neck. "I'm sorry, Love, I'll help you out if you want."
"Just..." The man stopped. Lavi wasn't sure if it was the massage or not, but the back of Yuu's neck was a bit red.
"Just what?" He wasn't entirely happy with how light and airy his voice sounded.
Silence dominated the pillow for a good while. When he realized no answer was forthcoming, Lavi began recounting his day, telling of how he'd met with the officers, how he'd learned the basic plan, how they had previously fought the Spanish out of this territory, how the Spanish were still attempting to get it back. There was no commentary, but he knew that Yuu was listening, probably very intently.
"How was your day?" He finally asked, leaning down and kissing Yuu's ear. The man jolted beneath him, making a noise that could have been a shout but came out more like the gasping yelp of a drowning man. "Sleepy, huh?" He teased, and tugged on the man's earlobe with his teeth.
"Nn." For such a short sound, it managed to capture Yuu's mood eloquently. There was irritation in his voice, but also something forgiving, which Lavi took as the go-ahead to kiss the juncture between ear and neck. Yuu breathed in deeply in response. Lavi smiled. Perhaps there weren't as many boundaries as he thought.
He pushed his limits, nibbling his way down Yuu's neck and to his collarbone. Each second, he waited for the other man to stop, shiver, push him away, but that didn't happen, so he kept going.
"Turn over," Lavi said, releasing most of his weight as he moved backward. Freed, the Japanese man did exactly as he was told. He looked up at Lavi with a fair amount of lust in his gaze. His face was bright red, but it looked kind of sexy, especially with how his lips were hanging just on the tail end of open, probably to admit more air into his mouth.
They kissed. It was long and messy, with much untoward groping and far too great a quantity of tongue, but it was good, and Lavi couldn't remember how long it had been since they'd been like this. He no longer cared about boundaries; he just wanted in. Yuu's pants, that was. Now.
Without care for grace, Lavi laid himself fully upon the other man, sliding his hips to grind with Yuu's. A moan, wanton and desperate, seeped up to Lavi's ears from below. Yuu's hands scrabbled after the moan, hooking vice-like around Lavi's biceps. Their hips clashed again, this time accompanied by the arching of Yuu's back. Greedy to see more, Lavi shifted his weight so that he could hold himself up on one arm while undoing the buttons of Yuu's army-standard shirt. The army's uniform was relatively easy-access in comparison to the Order's, so the task wasn't difficult.
Yuu's chest was softer than it had been five years ago. The man had not let himself go by any means, but he had lost some definition in the stomach area. But only a little bit. Still, Lavi didn't care all that much. He'd always found Yuu sexy, and a little bit of stomach flab wasn't going to turn him off. It was called aging. Lavi wasn't a muscleman anymore either. He shrugged and returned to kissing his lover.
"La...vi..." Yuu gasped, pulling away from their ongoing kiss.
Damn, he'd missed that tone. That... edgy, throaty, I'm-actually-not-being-an-asshole tone.
He rewarded his lover by kissing down his chest, running his tongue around his left nipple, near to where the tattoo once was. That action merited a gasp, and the hands moved from Lavi's arms to his own buttons.
Shirt dispensed with, their pants soon followed, and their undergarments after those. Their hips still clashed together, groans of pleasure escaping as rough, experienced hands moved downward.
"Lavi, I'm not comf--" Yuu began, pulling away somewhat. Through his lust, Lavi heard the plea to stop and somehow managed to slow down. He was gripping Yuu's arousal in one hand, he noticed, so he dropped it. Even though it looked so tempting. What he wouldn't give to have it up his--
"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt you during your time off, but I would like to--oh, dear Lord! Put some clothes on, will you!?" Captain Marsain had entered the tent, though Lavi had no inkling as to when that had happened. His jaw fell open a little, such was his shock. To his credit, the captain looked equally gobsmacked. He did not blush, but he did not meet their eyes as he continued to speak. "Yes, well, er, I would suggest you not do that while here, but to each his own. Without further ado, I would like to introduce you to the new, ah, Bookman. He has orders to join you." The captain held himself with a fierce rigidity that made it clear he was not pleased with this situation. "I would, however, suggest you both dress and meet him outside the tent. I am frightfully glad I did not have him follow me in. As you were, gentlemen." He bowed his head slightly, perhaps with respect, perhaps with disdain--Lavi didn't rightly care--and turned on his heel, exiting the tent.
They scrambled to get dressed.
A new Bookman was an alarming thought. Lavi himself did not want the organization to learn that he was emotionally attached, but when he thought of danger, it was Yuu he was truly worried for. Yuu had worked very hard to pull off the role of a scribe, but any trained Bookman would be able to see through it immediately. The organization was nothing short of ruthless--it had to be, sending its own men out to war as it did.
Lavi remembered a time when he was still young. He and his mentor had had to return to headquarters to deal with what Bookman had called a "situation of grave parameters," whatever the hell that meant. The redhead still saw the blood spatter in his dreams, still remembered the calculating, impassive face as a middle-aged Bookman struck down an older Bookman. The elder one had committed no crime, he had just affected the wrong facial expression; he had worded his sentence incorrectly; he had cared.
You would think, Lavi often reflected after waking from that particular dream, that they would give the man a break. He was old, so why did it matter if he cared a little? He was going to die soon anyway. But no, there had been a flash of a mirrored blade and a gurgling hiss of the old man's last breath instead.
A new Bookman, therefore, was a truly alarming thought. They had all been taught to tune out any attachments. It was easy, then, to cross out a simple word on a solitary sheet of paper. Whoever this Bookman was, if he discovered Lavi's attachment or Yuu's false identity, he would not hesitate to do what was necessary for the good of the clan.
Everyone was ink on paper. Everyone could be blotted out in an instant.
Lavi included.
The flap at the mouth of the tent opened, admitting a much older man. He was olive-skinned--putting his birthplace somewhere around the Mediterranean--but it sagged. A myriad of liver spots dotted his exposed skin. His teeth were yellowed as he smiled briefly, politely, and completely falsely at them. From his silvered hair to his brown eyes--hazel, perhaps, though Lavi was not close enough to be sure--he reeked of Bookman. A wise aura surrounded him, but it was punctuated with a carelessness that could not be defined.
"I am Angelo. I was ordered here to accompany your record with my own. Have you been here long?" He offered a gnarled hand that looked like the only better days it had seen were now forgotten.
"I'm Lavi. We have only been here a few weeks. And I didn't believe my records had been labeled incomplete." The redhead spoke coldly, sizing up the intruder as best he could with such limited information. Already, his mind was blowing past third gear. He needed to meet and neutralize the potential threat. He would not allow Yuu to be hurt on this trip.
"They have not been," said the other Bookman, "but since this is such an important record, the higher-ups feel it is best to have more than one man on the job."
"Oh." He didn't know what to say to that. At least the Bookmen had not found his logs incomplete in any form. "Well, if they feel it is necessary..." He trailed off, hoping that would be the end of the meeting and that the Bookman would excuse himself.
"They did not inform me that you were in possession of a scribe."
Nope. His lucky streak had run out when he'd been able to win Yuu back. "I found him necessary for this particular mission. War zones often require either an apprentice or a scribe to translate the logs quickly so that they can be sent and processed with precision and ease."
"I do not recall seeing him when last I was at headquarters." Angelo raised an eyebrow.
"He's new, I'm afraid. Bit of a dunderhead, too, but I put up with his mistakes. He's a fast learner." Lavi shrugged.
"I thought they took them in young?"
"He was an exception. Showed a fair amount of talent, I think. Regardless, he's been a real asset of late." He tried to sound nonchalant, uncaring, and the acting seemed to work. The old man gave a nod of recognition and made to turn around.
"I will be in the next tent over. I'll be conferring with you several times a day." He left the tent.
Walking over to reset the tent's flap, Lavi heaved a sigh. The conversation had gone better than planned, which was definitely a plus, but he wasn't sure how long the act would be able to stay in place. Especially with such an experienced Bookman on hand.
---
The bullets made heavy drumbeats in the trunk of the tree he was leaning behind. The battle had long been going south, the soldiers having been caught off guard by the sudden attack. He had had just enough time to grab his rifle and sword before being lost among the scrambling crowd of panic and slaughter. He had lost sight of Lavi soon after the first shots had been fired, but he figured he had better think about his own survival when he knew without a doubt the redhead could take care of himself in these situations. He no longer had his lotus, so he had to be on his guard more than he would have needed only a few months before.
Soldiers ran past, blind with fear and unfamiliarity with the region. Rifle-fire still clogged the air, and there had been no signal of retreat, so the battle was still going strong.
A loud thunk signaled that he had been spotted.
Running from his resting spot, Yuu scanned the vicinity for the perpetrator of the attack, loading his gun as he went. Heading toward the line of trees to the North, Yuu spotted his attacker. The man was struggling to reload, but he was a bit too slow. The soldier sunk to the ground with a bullet to the head.
The trees didn't offer much cover, but they did expose where the rest of the battle was taking place. Rifles lay discarded on the ground, either because of malfunction, loss of ammunition, or death of the soldier, and the two sides were caught up in a show of swordplay or brute strength for those who did not wield a weapon.
Men on both sides were dropping like flies, so Yuu drew Mugen and ran out onto the field. Fending off the poor skills of some Spanish private, the dark-haired man scanned the field for any signs of advancement or signal of retreat. There was none, but he could not look for long, as he was confronted which another target.
The ground was already soaked through with blood, and the hot Cuban weather did nothing but give a welcoming call to the local insects. Flies and mosquitoes swarmed around the bodies and around the fighters, fatigued from battle.
Gunshots once again rang out from the North, and he ran off, leaving another child to die in the summer heat.
He ran through brush and more forest, searching for the source of the noise. The foliage thickened, becoming impossible to run through without the risk of being clothes-lined by some plant.
There was someone off to his right, but he couldn't slow down in time to turn and hide. He had just enough time to bring up his rifle and aim. There were two shots fired, one hit its target in the chest of a Spanish officer and the man fell. The other found its home through Yuu's leg and into the base of the tree on his other side.
He didn't know if he yelled out of not. He fell onto the ground and tried to assess the damage, trying to tell himself that he was fine, that we wouldn't die from a gunshot. He knew it was okay, he could get up and walk away if he only tried. But images of the last time he had been shot brought back the fear he had been fighting to suppress for years. The fear of fading away into dust as poison burned its way through his veins, leaving his skin pock-marked with stars. That was the fear every Exorcist faced, and he had to face that too, because he had lived through that vision far too often for his liking and he knew this would not kill him. He was stronger than his memories. Besides, he still had things to do, and he wouldn't let fear or pain keep him from his mission.
So the Japanese man stood up. Using his rifle as a make-shift crutch, he limped away toward the sounds he had heard before.
He paused after a few minutes to listen. There was no more gunfire, no more screams. Had he misheard the direction in which the sounds had come? Maybe he was losing his touch, maybe the pain and loss of blood were becoming to much.
A branch cracked, and he was facing the danger in an instant, Mugen at the ready, ready to attack, ready to...
Major Samuel Brown jumped down from his perch in the nearest fig tree. It appeared that even in the heat of battle, there was no disturbing that mustache.
They nodded at each other in recognition. The Major's eyes flicked for a moment to Yuu's leg. He could see that it was nothing to worry about at that instant.
"The gunshots?" Yuu questioned quickly, not wanting to remain in one place for too long.
"Heard them, can't figure out from where. No blood, no bodies." Somewhere in the pit of Yuu's stomach, a sense of foreboding lurked. And it had nothing to do with the terrible rations provided by the army. With what the Major had just told him, they very well could have just fallen into a trap. Perhaps Brown sensed this as well, because he did not let his pistol rest.
There was a rustle of underbrush and a metal jingle a couple meters away. Without a single spoken word, both men hid themselves behind the tall palm trees that were everywhere. Hastily, Yuu began to reload his gun. There was nothing for a few moments, but soon a man appeared, limping from what appeared to be a gunshot. He made his way slowly, agonizingly. He carried a small pack with him. Two spoons hung freely from the side, clacking together with every step.
As he passed Yuu's hiding place, the jingling paused, and he heard the loud click of a pistol being loaded right next to his ear. He stood up gingerly, leaving Mugen and his gun to rest in the grass, and raised his hands. He knew when he was caught. So did the Major, it seemed. In the corner of his eye, he watched his action mirrored.
"Qué artesanía fina," muttered the Spanish soldier, his eye on Mugen's gleaming blade.
In the distance, as they were marched away, the trumpeted retreat sounded loudly.

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A/N: Now, we will have part three up tonight as well, but the last part is still being written. We went to an Irish festival this weekend, and we lost two days of writing because of it. Those two days of writing would have been the days we used to finish this. So as soon as Venia is finished, we'll edit and post it. Then we will write more of HtSaL. If we meet our daily quota of 1000 words, we should have it for you before we get back to school. Also, please note that we have changed the order of our fics-to-do.

Qué artesanía fina = hopefully this is the correct translation for "what fine craftsmanship." If it's wrong, please let us know! Em1 speaks German, and Em2 speaks French and a little Japanese. Spanish is like a foreign language to us. :P
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Venia	By : saxonjesus Category: +. to F > D. Gray Man Views: 1355 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We do not own D. Gray man and this a purely not for profit endeavor.

Venia