Face the Change

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In those days, the government was no longer a party whose influence was one to fear and respect. Rather, it had only been reduced to the status of a single rebel fighting against the overwhelming force of a society gone mad. The gangs ruled the streets now, and those who trespassed in their territory had to pay the price of intrusion on their grounds. Yet, this was not a rule brought about by chaos and anarchy. This was simply the emergence of the real souls of the poor, untamed by the outside control of an authoritarian group, set free in the wind by the wild inferno of turmoil that swept across the land. And in the midst of that magnificent storm, people slowly came to realize that true freedom might be something they could never have, for it was slavery that had brought meaning and order into their lives before. It was structure beneath a leader that brought about civilization. And the gangs slowly began to rise up from the ashes of burnt rubble, for the rule of the few was never so much banished as it was passed on...

The gunman's parents had been killed when he was twelve. He had had to stifle back his tears and screams of horror while he hid beneath a pile of disregarded trash and watched the gang leader of the Lords beat their flesh with a metal pipe until their bodies lie still and the end of the dull bludgeon made only a muffled sound because there were no longer any bones left to shatter. It had been hard enough to try to forget about it, but it had been harder for him to watch his older brother suffer that pain. He was only four years older, but he had been much more vehement in the aftermath, and sought bloody vengeance at any cost. The gunman had drifted from his elder kin then, but not by choice. Certainly not by choice. He had wanted to love him all the same, but how could he love the brother he knew when that man had been laid to rest on that dreadful day, a new creature rising up to take the place of the corpse's unattended agenda. The man had said nice things, promised him that he would take care of him, but that wasn't what he wanted. He had only yearned to get his old life back. And slowly, day by day, he watched his kin fade away, and he slowly came to realize that he could never change the past.

"Brother... you don't need to do this..."

"Just let me take care of it, Joon! You'll see! I'll make sure those goddamn Lords get what they deserve, I'll make sure they all get what they deserve!"

"It won't solve anything..."

"You don't understand yet because you're young, but you'll appreciate what I'm doing when you're older. Maybe in the old days there would be someone strong to help us find our justice, but there's no one here anymore but us. I will show them that they cannot do what they want just because they have power. We have something better, something much better, and I'm going to make them regret hurting us when I hunt them down myself."

Four days later, the Lords were dead, all sixty three members slain by hand. But they had never had much of a chance anyways, for while they were a gang who fought only to entertain their insignificant fetishes, his brother fought to feed the insatiable beast growing within him with blood and lust, lest he be consumed alive by its fearsome power.

On that day, Joon had finally decided to leave. He had to seek out his own road of vengeance, his own justice. He would stop the tears of all the weeping children in the world, he would stop the warmth from leaking out of his heart...

"I did not think we would ever meet again, Han Kwan. We would never have any reason to."

"Why did you run away from me, Joon? I was only doing what I thought was best for us, and look where I am now! I have destroyed the murderers of our past and I will bring about a revolution of this dismal world when I destroy all the gangs for good."

"You know why I left. I don't think you can admit it to yourself."

"And what do you do that is so wonderful, my dear brother? You kill them just like I do, do you not? It's not like you are any different, and yet you claim that we are not the same. So why do you lie to yourself? Why do you continue to deny what you are?"

"No, I am different from you, Han Kwan. You kill to avenge the love you have lost. I only kill to preserve the love I have yet to find. And that, my brother, is what sets the two of us apart..."

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"Tatakai ni wa imi nado nai noni... kokoro ni motsu zaiaku no tame hito wa imi wo kimetagaru... okashinahanashi... tada tsuyokunaritai dake no kokoro ni [seigi] mo [aku] mo [ai] mo [tomo] mo hitsuyounai..."

("Even though there is no meaning in fighting, people create one for to explain the vice in their hearts. It's a strange story... to the heart that only wishes to become stronger, [justice], [evil], [love], and [friends] are not necessary things...")

--- the 58th Sevalle, "G" Kain Faranks (Megumu Okada's "Shadow Skill")

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Yoshiki folded his arms across his chest as he briskly walked out across the courtyard. The golden mecha and his demonic companion had long since left his presence, holding his attention just enough for him to miss realizing that their other companions had fled with Fumiya in their grasp. By that time, it was already been too late for him to track them on his own, and though re-enforcements had come soon after, it had become a moot point. His prey had eluded him, that was what mattered the most. Unfortunately, it was not an issue that he could afford to address at the moment, unless he desired to risk his own life.

"Toy's representatives should arrive shortly, Yoshiki-sama," said Seth beside him as his legs moved quickly to keep up with his master's pace. "We've received a message that they will fly in at the north bay entrance and meet you in the usual spot. Unfortunately, he's expecting you to have already taken care of the business that was agreed upon. I believe he's only sending in his units to observe the situation as is, sir."

"Let me worry about how to handle this," said the gangster, brushing the butler's comments to the side with his sharp tone. "There's room for error in any operation no matter what advantages one may hold, and I am no exception to that. He's a reasonable enough man to understand that I don't have control over everything. I doubt he'll do anything too drastic. Besides, he needs me as much as need him. We have a business agreement, after all."

His shoes began to click on the hard metal that took the place of the brick pathway as the setting sun's last rays glinted off the wide platform that he had stepped up upon. Purple and orange splashed across the afternoon sky as it set into the evening, and in the distance he could hear the roaring engine of massive devices of destruction as they made their way to his establishment. Toy would certainly not be pleased to discover that the prisoners whom he had been entrusted with had been able to slip away from his grasp. If it was one thing that he had learned early on about his client, it was that the man strongly disliked failure. Yet, it puzzled Yoshiki as to why Toy had obtained such interest in such a scattered groups of travelers. It was not that he questioned their strength, for they had held at least enough power to make an escape that few had attempted and fewer still had succeeded. Rather, he did not understand what sort of threat such a band might hold. He did not understand why he could feel some of the confidence slip away from Toy's voice when he spoke of them.

Yoshiki closed his eyes as he fidgeted with his tie uncomfortably. He couldn't let his worries bother him now. He had to be ready to greet the forces that were quickly approaching for their rendezvous. The alliance they held was one of business, and as long as he did everything he could to respect that contract, then there was no reason why he should fear requital. As the heavens continued to darken all around him, his sharp vision caught sight of a single beacon that flared in his direction from the heavens, and he made a silent hand signal to Seth for the perimeter defenses to lower their guard.

"Our guests have arrived," he said simply, his eyes fixed on his visitors. Nearly four dozen mecha soon loomed into view and began to touch down on the platform, their heavy weight causing the landing to creak under the pressure. Most of them were sleek in shape without any visible weapons, but the gangster already knew that to underestimate the marine-class designs was as bad as turning one's back on an armed opponent. However, it was the two gigantic monsters in the lead who garnered most of his attention. One of them appeared to closely resemble the style of Asimov's construct with a very human appearance, though his enormous size and the massive armor that adorned his shoulders easily denied the fact that he could be anything but an android. Even though his eyes were void of irises, Yoshiki could still sense a distinct glare of discontent aimed in his direction even as he observed the landing of the troupe, but he choose to ignore it the best as he could, instead staring up at the even taller mech that had landed directly before him. This one's design made it very clear that he was made purely for battle, as thick armor plating covered nearly every inch of its body. Towering over him at nearly ten feet tall, the entire stage shook dangerously from the impact of his landing, bearing the weight of the behemoth with as much integrity as it could. Yet, the gangster refused to let himself be intimidated by Toy's latest ambassadors and courteously bowed at the waist as he addressed his new visitors with poise and finesse.

"I'm delighted to see that you've arrived safely," he said politely, straightening himself and looking back up into the eyes of the leading mecha. "Though I have not yet been acquainted with the newest officers under Toy's command, I'm sure that your master has properly informed you of my identity and connection to him by now."

As the shorter mech's mouth seemed to tighten in irritation, the larger machine moved forward to address the man's welcome.

"I am Neon," he said stolidly, the foundation creaking with his movement. "I've come to confirm the disposal of the renegade Edge unit and his comrades."

"Unfortunately, we have a problem that has arisen in that particular category," said Yoshiki in disdain. "I assure you, I had everything under control. The information your master gave me was of the utmost value in arranging their capture and captivity. Unfortunately, what he didn't tell me was that they had a hacker, someone who was capable of parsing the defensive program barriers that had been specially designed by my engineers to be unbreakable to even the best government agents on this planet. As a result of that lack of information, they have managed to escape from my grasp, as well as take my son captive as well."

"It is regrettable that you are unable to comply with what we have asked for," said the behemoth coldly, its lifeless eyes leering in his direction.

"Yes, I must concur," said the gangster softly beneath his breath, being careful to observe his visitors for any unexpected movements. "However, we do have some good news to present amidst this ill fortune. We believe that they have somehow managed to access our underground shipping passage, a secret tunnel I've had constructed to discretely bring needed materials into the compound. While we will be unable to engage them while they transverse the tunnel itself, there exists only one exit and I believe that we may be able to cut them off at that location if we move quickly."

The gigantic mech looked down on him for a moment, its electronic brain quickly calculating risks and variables into the equation that the man before him had just presented. Yoshiki simply waited calmly for it to make its decision as he retained his confident posture, his overcoat hanging heavily on his shoulders. This was a delicate situation that he had to handle carefully if he wanted it to go his way. He had already made one request to Toy, that being to freely do away with Fumiya as he personally wished. However, it might now appear to them that allowing him that freedom had also allowed their enemies enough time and room to break free of their cells and escape the complex beneath his own personal vendetta. With the leverage on their side, he had little room to argue for what he desired the most, but smart politics could sometimes bring about a favorable solution to even the most dire of situations.

"Your suggestion seems reasonable," said Neon finally. "You will give us the coordinates of the exit point we seek and we shall carry out the execution ourselves."

"I'm pleased that you agree with me," said Yoshiki. "However, there is still the issue of my son, Fumiya, to deal with. As you know, I take great importance in---"

"Unfortunately, we do not have the time to consider your son as a priority in our operations," cut in the behemoth. "If you did not expend extra hours in interrogating your son, you might have been able to detect the problem that led to the subjects’ escape and prevented it before it could occur. Seeing as how they have already managed to escape your cells, we are at a loss for time and must catch up with them at all costs so as to exert the proper punishments for their crimes. While Fumiya himself is not a major threat to us, we can no longer afford the time to single him out from the other targets. He will be eliminated along with the rest of his companions."

Yoshiki forced himself to suppress a vexed sound from escaping his throat as he forced his dagger stare into the ground before the statue-esque creature to avoid attracting its malice.

"That was not my fault," he said calmly, though his teeth almost seemed to grind together in irritation as he spoke. "The cells were designed exactly as specified, but they weren't made to withstand the assault of such a seasoned hacker."

"Regardless of fault, I must stand by my decision, as we can no longer risk a wide margin of error," said Neon. "I must also request that you let us handle the closing of this operation as well. We understand your special concerns regarding Fumiya, but we also no longer wish for you to mix your personal vendettas with business. Please recognize our decision here to be in the best interests for both of our parties."

However, the gangster did not reply this time, and instead rose defiantly to his full height as he faced the creature who stood at nearly double his own. The best of interests? Not only had he quickly come to dislike Toy's new negotiator, but he also quickly came to dislike the way in which the thing treated his own personal matters. What did it know of his best interests? What did it know of what he desired and yearned for, of what he was attempting to accomplish through the capture and punishment of his own kin? Nothing. This thing couldn't possibly understand any such things that had to do with self-fulfillment for it would never be able to conceive such notions of its own. And for it to even attempt to speak as if it was capable of comprehending such problems now was nothing more than a dreadful sin against his own ambitions.

"Didn't you hear the first time around?" suddenly interrupted the large mech who stood behind Neon, his white eyes flaring with light as his long cape flared up about him and trailed in his advancing wake. "We don't have time to deal with your goddamn spawn, so don't bother trying to push your own foolish needs."

Yoshiki snorted and crossed his arms at the unexpected rebuttal. This one was clearly a corazon chip model, his response easily distinguishable from his apparent commander. Yet, even though he stood in the place of an inferior behind the monstrous android that the gangster had been talking to only a moment before, he carried himself with a pride and stature that was more befitting of someone who knew what such things meant and reveled in their generous shower. This one was obviously experienced in the art of war. Unfortunately, he also seemed to lack the charisma to present himself in a sympathetic manner, something the gangster's ego did not appreciate at all.

"I think you should watch yourself before you begin to berate me," he said casually. "It's usually best not to supersede your own ranking officer with your own hasty presumptions, whatever they may be."

"You're in no position to argue, seeing as how you just botched a whole operation," hissed the mech, leering in dangerously close to the man's face as emerald waves of energy began to ripple upon his muscular figure. "We'd still have them all if you weren't so busy jerking around in your spare time."

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you," muttered Yoshiki as he felt his body tense with anger, though he refused to outwardly show it with the flames he wielded so strongly. "You might find that it's just as unhealthy for that 'body' of yours as it is for your business."

Yet, before he could even drive up the fearsome fire from his fingertips, several enormous fingers had already grasped the mech by the skull and roughly threw him back towards the other drones as Neon took the early initiative to subdue his aggressive officer. Though the gigantic android could not replicate a semblance of emotion on his face, he still managed to exhibit a fairly convincing show through his words alone.

"Please excuse Yujin's actions. He has been a little restless lately," said the robot bluntly.

Behind him, the general's eyes flared with alarming intensity as he shot up from the ground with frightening swiftness. He did not look pleased at having his confrontation undermined by the larger officer.

"Neon," he hissed, crouching over like a massive beast as his hands slowly turned into vicious claws. " I'll rip your head off for---!!!"

Yet, the last words never escaped his mouth, and Yoshiki watched in surprise as the caped figure simply came to a halt, his body jolting in place as if its motion was suddenly withheld by an unseen wall. Yujin seemed to be equally surprised at the unexpected intervention, but from the way his eyes glared at the larger android, he seemed to know far better as to why and how he was being limited in his otherwise violent intentions. But for all the animosity that left his colleague's eyes, Neon only lent him a careless glance over his shoulder before he refocused on the business at hand.

"I trust you understand our reasoning on this occasion," said Neon emotionlessly. "It is regretful that your personal interests have become mixed with our affairs. Nonetheless, we must push ahead with the larger goals in mind. I'm sure you will do what's best for both of our concerns."

Yoshiki ground his teeth silently as he ran the situation through his head. He would be a fool to contest against Toy, but he also refused to let himself lose out on the only treasure that mattered to him. He needed this more than anything so that he could put the past safely behind him and move on to future possibilities. Until he had completed his concerns with Fumiya, he could not have a unified family. He would not be complete. If he gave in now, he might miss his only chance to settle his own business by his own hand. He had to at least make a bid for his own desires, even if he made the risk of pushing his authority farther than its limits reached.

"May I propose a compromise?" he asked carefully, and when he saw no sign of protest from the towering monolith, he continued with his approach. "I am aware that you do not want my personal accompaniment on this task for manners of efficiency. You're worried that I may accidentally interfere in your actions, do you not? However, why not let several of my elite soldiers accompany your troupe? It would be no more than a dozen, I promise that, and I would order them to stay out of the elimination of the prisoners whom you had ordered me to hold earlier on. They would not intrude on your hunt, but if my son somehow manages to isolate himself from the main group and there is a chance that he may be subdued if only for a second, my troops would be on hand to take care of the job. If no such window of opportunity appears, so be it, and I will presume that Fumiya simply got caught in the crossfire and perished with the others. Yet, this allows me a chance to get what I want without damaging your own scheme. In addition, if I do manage to repress my son during the struggle, it will simply mean one less opponent for you to face. Would this be an acceptable plan of action?"

He watched somewhat hopefully as Neon stood still, calculating numbers and risk factors over and over in his head to search for even the slightest imperfection in the proposed layout. And finally his dark eyes gleamed over with a dull light and he focused on Yoshiki once again.

"This is an acceptable procedure," he said. "However, you will not order your soldiers to act unless you are sure that they will not hinder our assault. If they do interfere, there will be repercussions as to your carelessness in protecting our agreement."

"Of course," said Yoshiki, and bowed politely. The odds were against him in reclaiming anything at all, but at least he now had a chance. For years, he had plotted as to how he would bring back his son to his arms. For years, he had prepared carefully and waited patiently, knowing that he simply had to wait until an opportunity presented itself. But when that chance had finally come, it was attached to a factor that he had never considered in the vast blueprints of his design. Somehow, his son, his vengeance, had melted away through his fingers, stolen from his grasp by a scattered band of random mercenaries. Somehow, fate had conspired against him to set Fumiya free once more, unleashed into the untamed and violent world and never again to come into his loving father's arms. However, this time he would not let go so easily. If the boy refused to be his heir, then he would have no son at all. He was Yoshiki Sang-Wu, and he could not have his life fragmented in dissention. Soon, very soon, he would finally be whole again. And soon, he would no longer have to worry about anything, for once he was sure of his power and place in the world, he would be the one to lead the successors of man into a brave, new future.

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I am broken. Will you help fix me...?

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Fumiya stared dully into his hands as he sat cross legged in the dirt, long shadows blanketing him in darkness as the morning star finally came to rest across the horizon. The past half hour had been swift but silent as the group wordlessly fled from Yoshiki's mansion, finally exiting the concealed passageway and quickly continuing south into the sprawling wilderness to put distance between themselves and the landmark. Even though they had desperately needed time to regroup after the brutal assault, resting then could have easily allowed the gangster to catch up before they were even allowed to escape the facilities. It wasn't for another thirty minutes until they finally paused to recuperate in the midst of sparsely wooded forests. And though they were all low on energy and strength, it was not a lack of vigor that dragged the mercenary down now. Rather, it was a lack of direction. A lack of hope.

Why had those fools bothered to stay? Why had they bothered to save him at all? He had specifically stated that he did not plan to leave by their side, and he certainly didn't remember asking them to come to his need if he met any complications. He had never intended to leave there alive. From the beginning, he had already planned to die.

"Goddamnit..." he hissed vehemently, his burning eyes drilling holes into the ground. "Goddamnit, WHY?!" Shouldn't he be thankful that he was still alive? Shouldn't he have thanked Double and Kouryuu for coming to his aid and saving him from bloody execution instead of snapping at them so violently like he had done? Somewhere beneath his scars and tough exterior, he could feel a thin string that reverberated with a pang of guilt because he did not, and began to wonder why that was so. Was he truly so bereft of future that there was no other alternative for him other than to perish? Was such a man as himself truly so unworthy of life that he could no longer taste the air of freedom and continue to subsist in serenity? He had entered the dark towers of the mansion with the intent of murdering his father, a sin he had come to be more than willing to bear in order to ease the immense weight that had been placed upon his back. Yet, by the time he left, the weight had only gotten heavier, and his spine was beginning to crumble beneath the burden that threatened the integrity of his being. Ravaged by the truth, by what his father had intended for him since his very conception, he could no longer look at the world in the same way ever again. How could he face anybody knowing that if Yoshiki's desires had been true, those people could exist only as pawns beneath his iron hand and nothing more? How could he continue to live his life as though he wanted to be normal when in reality he would never be granted such a mercy? What value did his existence have if it only meant destroying the lives of others? Had his mother been the only one to meet such a fate? How many other untold numbers had been put to death so that he could live into the future? How many? If he actually knew, could he carry that hardship with him for the rest of his life? But someone as horrible as himself could not really be [human], could he? He was only a beast, without the fortune to be born into an innocent time, but rather produced without meaning independent upon itself to be used as a tool for its master's ambitions. He had been brought up in the world as a tool, and because he would never have a life to call his own, he must therefore perish into the same meaningless dust from which he was derived...

However, as much as he wanted to accept all of that, it was not all true. As long as his father continued to live, his life would always have purpose. As long as Yoshiki Sang-Wu existed upon the earthen plane, Fumiya would never break free of the chains that tied him down, a slave to a monstrous legacy that would forever haunt his soul. He may only be a clay doll brought into the world without love or care, but he could still think and act for himself, and he knew that he did not want to die as the son of his father. He wanted to die as Fumiya, as himself. He had to, for if he did not then everything he had done would have been meaningless dribble that he accomplished only in being led along by his callous creator.

Leaving others to deal with his own problems...

Had the rebel really been right to claim such a thing? He wanted to say no, but he knew that doing so would only be denying a truth that hurt too much for his heart to bear. Yes, he was a coward. All he had ever wanted was for the endless string of pain to be put to an end, to finally achieve some kind of order and harmony in his black reality. And just when he thought that he had finally pushed through all the clouds that blocked his view of the clear blue sky, the storm always came back to haunt him, drenching him in rains of sorrow and anguish, forcing him down to his knees in hollow despair. But this time, he couldn't give up. No matter how much they threw at him, he could not simply let the blood helplessly drip from his face without retaliation. For if he did not stand up and take charge of his life now, when would he ever do so? The next time he met his accursed kin? In a year? A decade? Or would he simply fade away without ever fulfilling the one goal that existed in his mind's eye? No, he could not accept that. He simply could not accept that. This time, he would succeed. He would prove to everyone- to himself- that he was more than just an object of violence and hate forged to carry out another man's sin. He would destroy Yoshiki. It was the only way for him to become whole.

Ever...

Even Fumiya had enough sense not to let loose the scream of agony that tore through his body for fear that the sounds would alert their pursuers of their presence. But his eyes went wide in horrific pain nevertheless, and as his teeth clenched shut to keep the wail from escaping his throat, his clawed fingers ripping into his skull and drawing blood as they tore into his scalp, his life dripping down his cheeks as the world turned red with madness.

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Kouryuu sighed wearily as she sat still for the first time in hours, watching as Yoshime and Iesu resigned themselves tiredly in the dirt after their long journey. Fumiya had somehow managed to wander off shortly after they had stopped to regain their energy, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. They were going to have to make their halt in progress temporary if they didn't want to get discovered by the forces Yoshiki was sure to send in their direction. If they had been able to recover the hovercraft, they might have been able to outrun their foe by virtue of speed alone, but without vehicular assistance they were not going to able to keep a strong enough pace to escape without collapsing from a lack of energy halfway to their destination. How in the world were they going to make it without being brought down by the gangster's forces? Or did they even stand a chance at all?

"You realize that I can always tell when you're stressing out by that little crinkle in your forehead that you make when you're thinking too hard," muttered Double as he walked up and stood over her with his arms crossed across his chest. "I know that things still seem bad right now, but we're in a much better position that we were just an hour ago. At least try to appreciate the situation that much."

"I know," huffed the rebel tiredly. "But how long can we keep up this chase before their numbers overtake us? And I do not crinkle my forehead when I think."

The assassin almost chuckled at the last part, and Kouryuu would have furrowed her brow a little further and punched him in the groin from her advantageous viewpoint if she hadn't been so preoccupied. Instead, she began to absently try to trace their progress in the dirt below with her finger, trying to figure out where they should head next.

"They're going to come hard from the north once they realize where we've gone," she muttered. "Continuing south would be the logical way to go. We might be able to hide behind the border of Kei-Shu if we can get in, I doubt Yoshiki would want any bit of his cover blown even if it’s only to capture us."

"We're not going to be able to make it in our current state though," said Double as the sides of his mouth tightened in dismay. "If we still had the hovercraft, maybe, but there's no way we can outrun them on foot with humans dragging us down. It's bad enough that we don't even have time to recharge as it is, and we're certainly not going to be able to run at full performance with only a fraction of our reserves."

"How about if we cut back west to Sen Shu Baan?" suggested Kouryuu. "Getting across any country border would be a huge help in putting distance between us and Yoshiki. He might not expect us to go that way as well, so we might be able to buy ourselves some extra time."

"It's a thought," started the assassin. "But I don't think it'll help much in the end. He's still got advantages in speed and numbers, and I doubt very little that he'll spare much expense in scouting for us. There's also a chance that he could pick us up on radar just from our energy outputs alone since we're all at a dangerously low state and can't erect the usual defenses we'd otherwise have from sensors."

"So you're basically saying that we don't have a chance?" she said with more than a bit of annoyed sarcasm tinting her voice. Yet, rather than grow harsh in manner as she had expected, the crimson assassin only sighed and shook his head, his eyes closed and lost in anxiety.

"I don't know," he said, half to the rebel and half to himself. "I just don't know this time. We've made it this far, but how long can we run for? Kei-Shu is hundreds of miles from us and Sen Shu Baan isn't much closer. Even if we reached there, would it do any good? If Yoshiki's eyes and ears stretch as far as the rumors say, then maybe no place is safe, regardless of whose government we try to hide behind." Dusting the ground with the back of his hand, he sat down beside his comrade, leaning back and looking up into the darkening purple sky above. "But all we can do is run, na? Even if we knew it was impossible, we'd still run, just like everybody else..."

And Kouryuu somehow managed to crack a small but satisfying smile. Sometimes, you had to do that even when things seemed to be at their worst.

"I think our problems may be getting more complicated than we can handle," came a voice, and Kouryuu refocused her vision before her as she watched Clef approach them with his omnipresent grim look on his childlike face.

"Is something the matter?" asked the rebel carefully.

"Since our capture in Yoshiki's prison, I've been running programs to attempt to figure out the cause of Edge's collapse during the ambush we experienced earlier," said the child in the disturbingly mature voice that didn't seem to suit his body. "At first, I had presumed that it was simply a malfunction of his cpu. It has not been unheard of for corazon chip mecha to display malfunctions in later stages of growth, but upon further inspection there was no problem to be seen. I was eventually able to garner what the cause of his ailments were, but it’s something far worse than I could have predicted. It appears that he is suffering from a viral program that has spread throughout his system. The bad part is that I cannot even begin to understand the construction of this particular infection, let alone fathom how to solve it."

"I don't understand," said Kouryuu, sitting up straight as her ears absorbed the conversation. "Technology has advanced so far in the past millennium that viruses have been rendered almost completely outdated in computer warfare. Are you sure it's not a tactical bug, something to take over his system instead of destroy it? That would make a lot more sense to me. I don't even see how someone could create a modern virus powerful enough to penetrate our defense walls anyways."

"It is definitely not a bug, otherwise his basic programming would have been completely re-coded by now for a new master," said Clef. "That isn't what this program appears to be doing and I don't believe that it's going to head in that direction in the near future. And though you are correct in your statements about our defenses, you are forgetting that those walls are constructed to keep things out, not trap them within."

"Are you trying to say that the virus was never actually contracted by Edge, but rather just appeared in his system?" said Double, sitting up for the first time since the childish figure had approached them.

"That would be a possibility beyond my ability to explain," said Clef solemnly. "But there are no other alternatives to explain how this virus entered his body."

The rebel mulled over the situation as she tried to assess the problem. Not only were viruses considered dinosaur technology these days, but they also tended to be as effective as breathing on the machine you wished to affect. It didn't make sense that Edge had been infected by one, yet that was indeed the case that they now faced according to their comrade. Why wasn't his system protecting him from such outdated data attacking methods? As a government produced mech, his defenses had to be better than her own and at least on par with Double's, so why was he suffering from this now? Why had he suddenly become so vulnerable to something so trivial?

"There's something wrong here," said Double as he stroked his chin with gauntlet hand. "Edge is- for all intensive purposes- 'not active' at the moment. He might as well be on an extended stand-by status by the way his systems appear to be acting. But even if he had contracted a foreign trap, it shouldn't be able to develop while he's unconscious. It has nothing to feed from."

"You are correct in saying that he is essentially experiencing a stand-by mode at the moment," said Clef. "However, this program is far from inactive. Not only is it drawing on his resources to fuel its objective, but it even seems to be interacting with Edge himself, drawing on information in his cpu and utilizing it to its own advantage. A typical virus concentrates only on destructive measures, but this one is creating something, though I am unable to say what it might be. Again, normally I would say that such a thing is not possible. However, I have deduced one possibility that might explain this phenomenon. Let's begin by saying that this foreign program was indeed not incurred by an outside source but rather spawned in Edge's system spontaneously. Let us furthermore presume that this 'virus' is actually not quite a virus at all, but rather a self-created program that stimulates his thought process, allowing him to create simulations of scenarios that he can depict in his own mind."

"What the hell are you trying to say?" said the assassin incredulously. "Robots can't do that. Why would Edge cripple himself willingly? It doesn't make any sense!"

"But what if it wasn't necessarily willingly?" added the childish figure, his sterile eyes casting a haunting glare in the killer's direction. "Let's say that this wasn't a conscious decision, but something that arose from Edge's subconscious, causing him to loose touch with the real world while this program began to construct a series of scenarios and fantasies for his mind to run through. Let's say that what we may think to be a virus may not be a virus after all, but rather only a sub-program within his head, no different than a data compiler or a visual testing scan in terms of existence."

"Are you saying that his system is doing this to himself?" said Kouryuu slowly.

"I am saying that the progression of his corazon chip is moving faster than any of us could have predicted," said Clef. "I don't know what this program's intentions are, but Edge is believing the images that it pulls in front of his eyes to be reality, and to an extent where it's linking his thoughts within that illusion to his nerves and components in the real world. Whether he wants to or not, he's being pulled into a world that doesn’t exist, and it might very well destroy him if he can't escape it."

"Can you do anything to stop it from doing this to him?" said Double. "He's a burden to us as he is now. We can't afford to be pulled down by unnecessary weight if we can help it."

"I can barely touch his consciousness through the program's barriers, let alone even try to discover the source of its strength amidst his hardware. Whatever this thing is, it's managed to deeply root itself in Edge's thought patterns by linking itself to his own deliberations and desires. Breaking that link could possibly destroy Edge as well, a risk that I'm sure you're not willing to take. Regardless of our own abilities, this is something that he must overcome on his own. The program is slowly turning in a self-destructive cycle that will consume the host as well, but it is not something in which we may assist in escape for it is simply a thing that Edge himself created. It is what he desired, whether he personally realized it or not."

"He's killing himself?" said the rebel, the hope dripping away from her eyes. "Why would he do something like that?"

"Nothing in the history of mankind has been able to explain human's methods of love and hate," said Clef stolidly. "Nothing can explain why he inflicts pain on himself and his fellow kin again and again without failure. For you who possess a heart created by man within your shell, you should understand what it means to possess the things known as vice. Perhaps this is simply his way of dealing with it. Perhaps he has yet to come to terms with what it means to possess imperfection."

...

...

...

...

...

The great, deep bass of the cellos began to drift into view, and they were gradually accompanied by the full, bold sound of the french horn and baritone. However, for all the strong flavor that the instruments themselves possessed, the notes they played were trimmed not with strength, but with weakness, with instability and doubt. Each instrument seemed ready to shatter at any moment, breaking that delicate harmony that was so carefully created across the invisible waters of the air. And they built upon themselves in layers, moving up and up, higher and higher, growing in volume and courage as they seemed poised to leap out into a broad new horizon. But just as suddenly as they had risen, they fell back and collapsed into the black depths once more, for in the end they were not able to overcome the quandaries within their souls.

...

...

...

...

...

Edge felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably as he rode atop the horse drawn wagon, instinctively grabbing his abdomen as he tried to repress an urge to vomit. Normally he would not have felt such a sickness from bodily movement alone, but it was quite obvious that his body was still rebelling from the previous night of celebration. Though Falcoon had ordered them to prepare for evacuation shortly after Kannuki's assault, the rebels had still managed to find ample time to celebrate their victory. Though Edge was familiar with the substance known as liquor and its effects on the human body, it was still very vibrant and uplifting experience consuming it firsthand, especially under the influence of his newfound comrades. The taste was certainly more bitter than he had anticipated, but it was the effects of the alcohol itself that had surprised him the most. Had he still had his internal computer, he would have easily been able to calculate his limits according to his size and weight. Instead, he had quickly learned that morning what it was like to suffer from over consumption.

"Still feeling the hangover, eh?" questioned Mikaeru jokingly as she drew her horse up besides the wagon. Edge could only hold his head in pain as her voice boomed through his skull like a horn.

"I... don't really drink often," he managed to mumble out, though it almost felt like he was shouting. "But I don't think I could have refused everyone's offers if I tried."

"Not often?" said the windrider with a raised eyebrow and a hint of a grin creeping on her face. "You could have fooled me with the way you were going last nigh with the way you were going last night. You must can downed a whole keg on your own at the party! Even Falcoon would have trouble keeping up with you if it came down to a contest."

"Mmm," muttered Edge in grudging agreement, though it ended up being more of a motion to quell his stomach than to create a response. He wished he could add more to defend himself, but the reality of the situation was that he couldn't even remember enough to put together the whole night if his life depended on it. He was unused to being disoriented, but it was something that he was willing to put aside for the moment. With the previous day's battle, he had finally been able to find a solid place amongst the rebels as a comrade rather than an outsider, and that mattered far more than a simple headache. Alone, he hardly stood a chance in this foreign world. But together with allies who sought the same things as he did, perhaps he really did have a chance to get back his family, his dream... maybe it really wasn't so impossible after all.

"It's going to be tough trying to find another place where we can set down a semi-permanent camp," said Mikaeru, breaking his train of thought. "Shin's forces have been able to claim a surprising amount of land within the last three months, and that place we just left behind will probably be chock full of sentries for miles around before evening falls."

"Falcoon's not... angry with me, is he?" asked the boy meekly as he tried to straighten himself a bit in his seat. "I mean, those soldiers probably followed us all the way to the base, I can understand if he's upset."

But Mikaeru just chuckled, bouncing in her seat with amusement.

"He's no more agitated than he usually is," she joked. "But you don't need to worry about that too much. It was more a fault of my own for being careless when we ran. Yet, whatever error you might have had in his eyes before, I think you easily redeemed yourself with your performance against our unwanted intruders. You put up quite a fight for a country bumpkin!"

"Thanks... I think," said Edge hesitantly. Combat was something he excelled at on Akuji, but a good portion of that 'skill' still came from raw data encoded and preserved in his memory banks. Logically, there was no possible way he should be able to battle with the same amount of proficiency as before, and yet he managed to hold his own against seasoned warriors such as Kannuki, a general of Shin. Why was that so? Did it mean that his ability to fight was ingrained far deeper into his manner of thinking that he had first presumed? But he thought he felt that strange energy that he had wielded before, back when he had communicated with Adam. He thought it might have been connected to the angels themselves, but that did not explain why he could use it now, in this place where the seraphs could not touch him. If that was the case, had he been mistaken? Had the energy come not from the angels, but from he himself? How was that possible? Maybe it could be explained in his present human state. Even the mortal hero, Kai Dochira himself, had wielded powers beyond the reach of his normal kin. But how did it account for his contact as an android before? How...?

"...unfortunately, it's pretty unlikely that we're going to be able to find a new place to settle down in anytime soon," said Mikaeru, peering ahead to the front of the wagons to observe their direction. "There is one good thing that has come out of this, and that's something that you helped bring about."

"Me?" blinked Edge in surprise. "What did I do?"

"It's been a long time since we've been able to put real pressure on Shin's forces," said the windfinder. "The other night brought about the first, solid victory that we've had in a long while, and that's put what might have been considered a nicely-sized assault team on the run. If my calculations are correct, they're only a half-day ahead of us in terms of travel, and we're quickly catching up to them with our current pace. Falcoon knows that there's no way they're going to be able to flee all the way back to empire territory without us taking them down beforehand, which could be disastrous for them if we can take some prisoners and get their guys to talk. They'll most likely head to some sort of outpost for safety, and that's where we'll head them off and take them down. If we can take over that outpost, not only will we be able to secure a good foothold for a new base, but we'll might even be able to gain some attention for ourselves from the local public!"

"Does everybody else not see your cause as a worthy one?" asked Edge. "Surely, if the conditions are as harsh as you say they are, I don't see why they wouldn't stand by your side. I myself watched my village burn to the ground without provocation. I can't see how people could just stand to be abused like that."

She only shook her head sadly, a distant smile still lingering on her lips.

"It's all fear, Shizuru, Nobody likes being hurt, let alone dying. Many are already doing too much just to get by in daily life. They don't have the strength or willpower to spare to risk their lives in war. Shin knows it too. He knows that as long as he promises safety for those who support them, the masses will not endanger his operations. But he's broken more than enough of his claims, and now the people lie listless out of the fear of retaliation alone. I refuse to give in to someone like that, and I refuse to live my life according to someone else's treasonous will. That's not the way human beings think, is it? We're more than just puppets on a stage because that 'stage' has never been enough for us. We have always felt the need to cut loose the strings, leap out to the audience and search out new ways to live. As long as people have dreams, they will always seek freedom. Don't you think so too?"

Edge simply nodded with a smile on his face, and he thought back to the world he once knew. Dreams... some things weren't so different after all.

"Our small group has only been made smaller by the lives that were senselessly taken from us by Shin's blades," said Mikaeru bitterly. "But now we have something that can show the people that he is not invincible, that he is not the god that he thinks he is. And that's all the people need, because if they know it can be done, then they will try. We just need to figure out a way to show them that."

He had already learned what it meant to be strong for himself, but could he be that strong for others as well? Kouryuu had done so for years as she stood up for the ideals of her rebels, but how could he do likewise when it had taken him so long to look for that same thing within his own heart? How could he, someone who had yet to fulfill his own dream, try to fulfill that of another...?

... no.

He did know how to fight for another's hope. Had he not done so already? Had he not protected Yoshime in her time of need?

His solid resolve to rescue his family suddenly loosened at the thought of her very name, and he felt himself shamed as he was drawn between the two forces, refusing to abandon either as false no matter how hard the strings in his heart and mind pulled. In the end, he had to force himself to pry his fingers away from the image of Akuji, from the world that had brought him so much grief, and steel his eyes straight ahead towards the front of the wagons. Even if he did stand up for the ideals of hundreds of others now, he also stood up for his own aspirations as well; to bring back the wife and child who had brought such bliss into his life. Here, he saw a clear remedy to all the things he feared and loathed in the other world. Here, it was not dirtied and discolored by a haze of dark clouds, but rather polished and defined, gleaming with brightness as he dashed towards it with ever growing haste. This day, he would fight not because of an order or an obligation, but because he wanted too. Because he knew it was right. In this mysterious world, he had finally been set free, and he would not return to a life of fear so easily anymore.

"The people need a champion," said the windfinder, turning to him with a smile. "And whether you like it or not, you already proved yourself yesterday to be a contender for the top."

Edge simply grinned back, somewhat meekly, but grinning nonetheless, trying to keep his weak composure in check. He managed for about a second before his stomach lurched in the wrong direction and set him reeling over the side of the wagon, finally learning what the vice of alcohol brought as it spilled out upon the ground below.

...

...

...

“Hokori mo! Shinnen mo! Kakutou gijutsu mo! Kono Freud teki akumu chisei naku kyokon no mae ni wa muryoku nanoka? Wareware wa kono chinpo… iya, kono genjitsu wo! Ukeirezaru wo enai nodeshouka?”

(“Pride! Faith! Sheer fighting technique and skill! Are these all powerless before this intellectually devoid Freudian nightmare? We, before this [-----]... no, before this reality! Do we have no choice but to accept our fate?”)

--- Professor Super Nova, “Gunnm: Last Order”

...

What is it that creates those things called [heroes]? What creates those people who we look up to in our weakness and yearn to imitate for strength?

Why do we build when we know it will all crumble away in the end?

Why...

... do you fight?

... Edge?

...

...

...

It took several hours before Edge was able to purge all of the vile substance from his stomach, and by then it audibly cried out for solid food after being deprived of it for so long. With Mikaeru having gone ahead to consult with Falcoon, he settled in on the back of the wagon to try to get some rest after his violent purge, munching absently on a half-loaf of somewhat stale bread as he desperately tried to wipe any desire of consuming beer again from his tainted mind. The scouts had already been able to calculate the fleeing soldier's retreat to a nearby fortress that had been confiscated several months ago by empire troops as a wedge against an assault on the main country. It was actually a much larger target than they had anticipated, but that wasn't going to stop the offensive from happening. They were carrying momentum now that they had not possessed for months and it could take years to get it back if they waited to plot for too long. Shin would only get stronger in that time, something they could not afford to risk. One victory would be all they needed to encourage the locals to join, and if they could get involved in the numbers game to the extent that they matched the empire, they might have a chance.

"Because of me...?" he said to himself absently. Mikaeru had told him as such before, saying how impressed she and everyone else were at how easily he had plowed through Kannuki's forces, but he alone still found it hard to believe that he was that sole factor that somehow managed to turn around the rebel attitudes. Perhaps his presence had indeed been a factor in deciding that outcome of that battle, maybe even a major one. The fighting skills he possessed were not necessarily something that this world had, and both sides had been particularly surprised and intrigued by his energy-wielding abilities, something they had thought to only be a magic of Shin's legions up until now. Still, he could not accept himself as the driving force behind this new charge, and he began to wonder if his influence would drive these brave men to their graves instead of victory. But he would not allow that to happen if he could help it. He was one of them now, and he would fight to the end right along their sides. He did fear that perhaps this move against the enemy was far too hasty to be successful, but maybe Falcoon was correct in taking such a chance. Their conditions would not improve if they simply waited, and their own numbers would never increase unless they gave the citizens something to put their trust into. Even one victory could win over some of their confidence, and once they began paving the way for success it was just a matter of time before they drew out even the most timid of protestors from the 'safety' of their homes. It was just a matter of time...

"You seem particularly cheerful for someone who's stepping into war," came a sudden voice below him, and Edge looked over the side to find Clef's cloaked figure keeping equal pace with the wagon, looking straight ahead rather than addressing his comrade. "I hope you realize what it will mean if you participate in this attack. These rebels have prepared themselves to risk an open declaration of battle for the sake of attracting followers. Are you prepared to suffer the repercussions of such an action?"

"Risks have to be taken no matter where one is," said Edge firmly, distancing himself from his mentor. "I'd have to do the same thing even if I was on Akuji."

"You've never had to go to real war there either," said his companion in a stolid voice. "You've been lucky up until now, Edge, for the losses you and your party have seen have been relatively minimal. Yet, full warfare will take thousands, perhaps millions of lives, regardless of the winner and loser. It is far, far different from anything you have ever done, surrounding you with a level of violence that not even the survivors of such events can explain. Are you prepared to see that through for this illusion that you fight so resolutely for?"

But the young boy did not listen, sparing only a single, fierce glance at the hooded figure.

"If it's anything I've learned in my life, it's that I must be prepared for painful repercussions no matter what I do. Life on Akuji has brought me plenty of that so far with little relief in sight. At least this world has let me glimpse at peace, at a chance for solace. It's let me know that there is a place somewhere for somebody like me, and I have to at least try to get that back."

"What is it going to cost you though?" questioned Clef, his emotionless mask coldly looking up to the top of the wagon. "You can't go on wasting your time with these illusions Edge. They're going to tear you apart if you---"

"You can't prove they're illusions!" said the young boy fiercely, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the smooth mask of the other man. "You can't prove anything yet!"

"And what do you plan to do if I really am right?" said the passionless figure dully. "What if you're wrong? Do you think you can just pick up where you left off? What if we're already dead in the real world? What if it's too late? What if this world tears you apart with its delusions? You're taking too many risks for a prize that you can’t even prove exists. You must come with me before it is too late."

Edge's face softened as he stared at his companion, but something in his eyes still refused to reveal the answer his mentor sought. In his heart, he found himself looking at both worlds and being pulled between the people he cared within them. And one simply pulled so much harder because it had given him that dream that was always out of reach on Akuji right from the start. Even if this place was just a mirage, he had to see it for himself. He could not throw it all away for nothing, even if he wanted to. He had to see it for himself...

"I can't," said Edge softly. "I can't..."

Clef's image sudden began to flicker, his cape dissipating as lines of static began to cross over his perfect face.

"Edge, I can't maintain form in this program much longer, I will be expelled from this place very soon. If you have the will to fight this virus, then I can help you. However, if your willpower continues to flow along with this illusion, then I too can only be swept away in its influence and I can do nothing to alter your destiny. You yourself must escape from this, Edge. It's a trap that will eat you alive if you continue to remain. Let me help you, my friend. Let me help you."

But the young boy watched as the cloaked figure began to fade away, disappearing into thin air until only a faint outline of his body remained. And he smiled a sad smile to his past, wondering if only now he had been able to purge his mind of its influence or if Clef really had visited him in a dream that would destroy him.

"If I don't do this, then maybe I'll never find out what it is I want," he said. "Is being human something that I will fight a war for? Is it something that I will risk my entire existence to preserve? I have to do this, Clef, because if I don't then I'll always wonder if I made the right choice. I've seen nothing but hatred in the existence I know up until now, a world consumed by its own inhabitants in a place where hope is something that most do not even dare to embrace. I need to know if there's something beyond that for me. I have to be willing to try."

The remnant of the faceless mask paused as he watched the man atop the wagon dispassionately, and then it finally stopped its steady stride, falling behind as the wagon moved onward, knowing that it would only be fruitless to follow any further.

"You have chosen," said Clef simply. "And I can do nothing to stop you."

And the dark mantle gently floated down to the ground, its owner lost to the winds. Edge looked back for several minutes even after the figure had disappeared. He had put his trust in Clef before. Was it wrong for him to not to it again? But this time was different. This was not like fighting the angels or facing Toy's legions. It was not about Akuji or its people. It was about himself, and only he knew what was right for himself. Somehow, he knew that this was what he wanted. He could not give that up, not for anything.

"Is that so wrong?" he said to himself absently. This was the life that he sought out so badly. And if there was anything that he had learned upon Akuji's black surface, it was that you had to fight for those things that you wished to always hold close.

...

...

...

Stars twinkled into existence in the depths of the dark midnight sky. Their party had long since set camp and fallen asleep after a long, laborious day of traveling, but Falcoon and several of his men continued to congregate beneath a dim lantern in one of the small tents, plotting out strategy that would direct their movements when the sun rose. The scouts had reported that the enemy had fled to a local outpost as predicted, a medium-sized stone fortress fortified by fifty foot walls of stone that circled the circumference of the compound. On the plus side, it was built in a position from which it could potentially be attacked from any direction. On the other hand, it was also built in the middle of nowhere, meaning that Shin's forces were going to be able to see them coming from miles away. It was rumored that the outpost actually used to be part of a massive wall that stretched all the way across the plains, protecting the main continent from outsiders. However, time had worn down those stories to mere legend, and nothing remained in the present day except for the final stronghold and piles of rubble.

The rebels’ only advantage came from the position where they had chosen to hold camp; roughly three miles away from the fortress and hidden behind a rising crest in the earth. An assault from such a vantage point would not hold much surprise as their foe would surely see them coming long before their managed to reach the walls. Yet, the fact remained that Shin was not yet aware of their intentions nor their presence, and that would surely be a deciding factor in the following battle.

Edge watched the men and women consult with one another in a gathering of bustling silhouettes, he himself being unable to sleep as anticipation and nervousness for tomorrow's event racked his mind with uncertainty. For all of the rebel's confidence in him, they had not yet approached him with any sort of orders for his role in the battle, something that began to worry him as to whether or not he would even have one. It was not that he was eager to fight, but rather that he had begun to worry about their strategy for such a crucial confrontation. They were poised to gain a lot of ground in their campaign if they could storm the battalion successfully, but they were also poised to take major losses if their plan failed. Was Falcoon so confident so as to think that he could win this fight without his own assistance? Edge felt a bit of his pride twisted with that thought, something that he was not quite accustomed to being bothered by. Yet, it was worry that dominated his mind more than anything else, and when he finally put his petty bravery aside to consider the statistics, he wondered if they really did have a chance against an entire empire...

"You should be resting," came Falcoon's low voice from behind the young boy, and Edge nearly jumped at having not noticed the rebel leader's approach from his rear. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day. You should let us worry about the planning and get some sleep."

"A...ah," replied Edge nervously, taken off guard by the man's approach. "I was just getting some air. I guess I'm nervous about tomorrow's battle."

The commander studied him for a long moment, his sharp eyes delving past the mere aural things that the boy had said and looking much deeper into his soul than he would have wished him to.

"Are you worried about our expectations in you?" he asked mildly, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"That's not quite it," lied Edge, but the rebel was already moving on.

""You're probably quite aware of the hope that my men have in you now, having had time to communicate with them after your commendable defense of our former hideout. I'm also sure that you're aware of the power you possess and the potential difference that you could make in the next assault. However, I don't want you to worry about it. I don't even want you to feel guilty if we happen to fail tomorrow. After all, that's not what you're here for."

Edge looked up into the man's cold, unchanging eyes as he tried to search for some hint of an answer. What did he mean to say by that? Tomorrow would be the day that either elevated them to new heights and possibilities or broke the little will and strength that was left in their bodies. Tomorrow would be a day that could change everything for these men and women who were already on their last legs of hope. How could Falcoon tell him this now when so much relied on this one victory? Why would he tell him this now...?

"I know that I'm here for my own reasons," he said slowly. "And I know that I want to win for those personal reasons as well. But there's more on the line than just that, and the more I look around me, the more I wonder just how much I'm risking not only of myself, but of the lives of others, just so that I can get my wife and child back."

Yet, Falcoon only grinned a cold, sadistic smile, the edges of his mouth tightening as he clamped a firm hand on Edge's shoulder.

"You're a good man to think like that. Not many people try to consider the welfare of others when their own interests are at stake. But this is also war, and such a thing does not take favors in its casualties. As in the past and what will be in the future, the passage of time does not change the destructive passage that this event wrecks upon man, and yet it has often served as an essential tool through which we have and will bring about change to our own species. Men will die tomorrow, as they have died in centuries in the past and years into the future, and that is regardless of if we win or lose. You must not blame yourself though, for they will not die in vain. War happens for many reasons, both good and evil, both with political intention as well as personal indignation, but it always has purpose, and it is for that purpose that men fight and die over and over again." He looked up to the stars with heavy eyes, the lack of sleep showing heavily in his gaze. Despite this, his stare still shown with strength and determination, and it was then that Edge realized just how strong of a man he stood before.

"I don't expect you to carry the lives of my men on your shoulders," said the rebel clearly. "Each and every one of them has come here willingly and knows what risks they take by doing so. None shall have regrets by the time the sun sets. That is the way our lives turn, and that is the only mantra that people like us can live by."

He could not share the older man's enthusiasm though, and looked down to the ground in dismay.

"I've... I've already watched my village be burned to the ground by Shin's soldiers, searching for something hidden in my house," he said. "I watched them threaten my wife and child for something that was probably my fault. I'm where I am now because I already let others be hurt by my frailties, and I don't want to have to see that ever again."

"Then you must understand that I can't have men like that in my team, regardless of how strong they may be," said Falcoon resolutely. "We all have demons that haunt us, but reviving them now won't help our movement forward. You can't let yourself be consumed by your worries if you want to look ahead. Let me worry about my men. That's my job. You just keep that head on your shoulders long enough to pull through on your orders."

Edge felt a folded sheet a paper roughly shoved into his hands by the man, and before he could ask what it was, Falcoon had already turned back towards the dim tent with a vigilant sway in his stride. The young boy simply watched him go as he turned the parchment over and over in his hands, dwelling on the rebel's words. Maybe he was right. His love for his family would always remain, but worrying now wasn't going to do a whole lot. He couldn't afford to screw up anymore. He just needed to look towards the future if he hoped to get anywhere at all.

Falcoon had mentioned the future. Maybe that was what he had to start aiming for.

Unfolding the dirtied cloth in his hand, his eyes were greeted by a small map of the area as well as several descriptive diagrams that had been hastily etched into the margin. In the upper left corner he found a small "x" denoting their own location, and near the center of the paper he found a sizeable circle, the obstacle that lie before him. And Edge allowed himself a smile of relief. Falcoon really had thought everything through a lot better than he had thought. He himself just needed to keep moving forward... forward...

...

...

...

--- theoretically, an object can move onward for an infinite distance if force is exerted on it in a frictionless environment. However, we know that such an environment is nearly impossible to find. Perhaps we might find something similar in the depths of space, but only in limited stretches before gas and dust particles obstruct the path of an otherwise free-floating item. So what happens when friction is encountered? Heat is produced, and often the energy from that heat causes deterioration on the said object. And sometimes, like a meteor falling through the atmosphere of the earth, that object burns into ashes, its integrity unable to withstand the crushing pressure that falls in around it...

...

...

...

Falcoon had put Edge in charge of nearly two dozen mercenaries. Unfortunately, none of them were anywhere near the level of fighting prowess that even the WNHR's human forces had acquired, but there was little that could be helped about that. These people weren't soldiers. They were farmers and craftsmen who took up arms to defend what was theirs. For however noble their cause might be, it did not help that any ten of them might be overtaken by a single experienced warrior. Yet, they were all he had to work with, and Edge would have to make up the difference with his own strength.

He woke up far earlier than anybody else in the camp, rousting the men assigned to him from their sleep before briefing them on their instructions. A frontal assault was not going to give them the results they wanted, but that didn't necessarily mean that Shin's forces were aware of how tactically sound they might be. He had heard Kouryuu observe an important point first, and that was that even the worst of vermin needed to rid themselves of their own waste, and surely such a building meant for defending over an extended period of time would not be bereft of some sort of draining system. In order to exploit the fortress' weakness, he was going to have to somehow get in close enough to the walls to scour the area for a way in. Once he was inside, they would surely be able to take the compound if he could open the gates. It was indeed a big "if," but they seemed to have more than enough confidence in his abilities. Edge himself was somewhat doubtful, but he vowed to try his hardest. It was the only thing he could do.

"Geez, Falcoon's going to have to treat me to more than just one drink after this one," muttered Mikaeru as she sleepily trudged behind Edge with the other mercenaries in tow. "The least that the inconsiderate bastard could have done was TELL me that I had to get up this early. I would have been left behind if the others didn’t wake me up."

Mikaeru's unique windrider magic had several very potent abilities. Besides the forceful display of strength that Edge had seen her exhibit earlier, she also apparently knew a spell that could displace a human being from one location to another by way of highly concentrated and tightly woven wind currents. It was not quite teleportation, but the subject moved so fast between two points that the only noticeable thing that might give the incantation away was a miniscule displacement in the atmosphere between the two locations in concern. Up close, it appeared to be a light blur that rippled through the air, but it was barely visible at a distance. The only disadvantage was that Mikaeru needed to have the landing point of the spell within eyesight or she could not judge where to place her subject with the wind currents. One miscalculation could theoretically prove fatal if the victim was unintentionally crushed against some sort of solid object. Therefore, in order to get close enough to the walls without being noticed, they had to travel around to the backside of the castle so that the windrider could active her spells uninterrupted while Falcoon utilized the remainder of their forces to stage a false assault on the front gates. Once the attack began, the opposite end would be their best chance to get in close without being noticed by watchmen or scouts, and it would only take a minute for Mikaeru to get them in position for their assault. However, she seemed to heartily disagree with the scheme no matter how sound it might have seemed. Naturally, the argument seemed to come more from the early waking hours rather than the actual plan itself.

"I'm sure he had his reasons," said Edge as he peered over the small knoll that they used for cover. There was still well over three miles between them and the stronghold, but all it took was one man to see them and their entire cover would be blown. Surely they had some sort of surveillance on guard about the fortress’ circumference at all times, and he wasn't about to risk their position if he could help it. "All we have to do now is wait until they start moving on the other side and we'll get our part of the plan underway as well."

The windrider just stared at him with baggy eyes, her merciless gaze suggesting that she did not quite share his level of enthusiasm.

"I don't see how you can be so awake right now with the amount of rest you got," she said. "Anyways, once the attack starts, we're going to have to make our half of the deal move as quick as possible. It probably won't take too long for them to start wondering why a full frontal assault is holding back, and that's when they start thinking about other possibilities. They already know of my presence in the rebels and I'll be joining the front lines as soon as I send you guys off so they won't start suspecting that my absence means I'm poking around in other places. You're a little less obvious since you just joined our ranks, but with something as big as a fight with Kannuki under your belt, you might have already gotten a lot of unwanted publicity throughout our foe’s numbers. Since you're so obvious a target, you could be one of the first ones they start looking for when they get suspicious of our real motives. Hit them hard and get to the front gates as fast as you can. If we can get into the city itself, we'll be able to cover you. Otherwise, you're just one guy against an army. Don’t take unwanted chances."

"Don't worry about me too much," grinned Edge. "I have my own ways of making things work." In truth, he was a bit worried about the time factor. Once Shin's forces realized that the frontal assault was just a set up, he would most likely have to face numbers much stronger than he could handle when the legions flowed back on him. With the given resources, he wasn't going to be able to play a very strategic game either. Everything depended on him to come through in his role, and he could not accept failure as an option this time around.

"Shizuru," said one of the rebels, quietly walking up beside him and laying an old parchment upon the ground. "I know this isn't much, but this should give us a general idea of where we need to go in order to carry out our mission." Pointing to something that seemed to resemble the castle's front gates on his rough ink blueprint, he continued with his explanation. "The building that we're attacking is pretty old, so it's layout has been fairly predictable in terms of comparison to other structures of similar age. Our scouts have already been able to see from the exterior that the gate is a standard 'drop-down' model that is lowered by two winches on either side above the main entrance. Normally, it is very easy to close such a gate; one only needs to release the chains holding it up. However, it's going to take considerable manpower to open it back up again, as well as time. Even if we have three men attending each crank, it could take thirty seconds to a whole minute to open that door and allow the rest of our forces to get inside. That may not seem like a whole lot, but it can make a world of difference when there's a lot of enemy pressure."

Edge absently scratched at his chin as he studied the crude map intently. Playing war games was not his strongest suit, but he had been through more than enough battles to be able to recognize some of the more basic strategy techniques. If six of his men were going to be put aside for their main objective, it would mean that he only had eighteen left to work with. If he counted out more to protect that investment, it only meant that he was going to have a lot less men at his side that he had first presumed, and this was presuming that would have no casualties up until they reached the gates.

"Is anybody in our group proficient in long-range arms?" he asked curiously.

"Three of our men have ample skill with the longbow and five more with the shortbow," said the rebel. "The shortbow can pick off a soldier at one-hundred and twenty yards if used properly, but the longbow can nearly double that. Otherwise, only six of the men are good with small arms and the rest have little knowledge of battle technique at all."

Fourteen out of twenty-four were fit for battle. Not good.

"Do those six men have shields? Can they defend the archers?"

"I doubt that they've had a lot of experience doing so, but I think that they can learn quickly," said the man after thinking about it for a minute. "It doesn't take too much skill to hold up a piece of metal."

"Okay, then this is what we'll need to do," said Edge firmly. "Assign six men to getting that door open, that's our main objective. Is there any sign of cover around the winch areas?"

"If this building is similar to others of its time, each winch will probably be contained in a small room above each door," said the rebel. "Since this room only has one purpose, I doubt that there will be any more than one entrance to it."

"Then we need to protect those doors at whatever the cost," said the young boy. "One of the doors will get two longbows and two shortbows, the other will take the remaining archers. I want those men who know how to fight to make sure to keep a strong guard at any cost. Use shields or whatever cover you can find up there, protecting those men up there are the top priority. As for the remaining people, two will cover each winch as a backup and assist in getting that door open as fast as possible. There's nothing to say that a man can't be shot down in the heat of battle, so we'll need to keep extras ready just in case."

"But... what about you?" asked the man carefully. "Where are you going to be in all of this?"

"Don't worry about me for now," said Edge. "You just make sure that everyone does their jobs and everything will be fine."

He looked off into the distance with a wary eye as he desperately hoped that he could rely on his own words. He was nervous, but he had to be strong if he was going to pull through for these people, for his family, and for himself. If he wavered now, he would have already lost. This plan put himself at risk in a way that stacked the odds highly in his enemy's favor, but he had little choice in the end. He had limited resources to work with and he could not afford his men to be pressured while they did their job. He was going to have to take as much heat as possible until Falcoon could breach the gate, and that meant showing everybody that he was not afraid to fight.

Somewhere over the hills, a single flaming arrow shot high into the air as a mass of cries coming from hundreds of people erupted over the plains. And Edge stood tall as he listened to the rumble of the charge reverberate across the plains, knowing that he had to make a stand now or lose everything he ever wanted.

"Showtime, kid," said Mikaeru with a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and Edge could only nod grimly, watching as the dust rose in the distance.

...

...

...

Mikaeru's magic was far more disorienting than Edge had first anticipated, and his stomach felt an unpleasant sensation similar to his hangover by the time the world had stopped flying in his face. It was not that he had never traveled at such a high velocity before, but rather that his human persona did not have the same hardened form of an android to withstand the strong motions that churned his organs in disagreeable ways. The rest of his troupe seemed to be used to the travel though, and he did his best to hide his discomfort as they quickly settled down in the dust and began circling the outer walls in search of a way in. Sure enough, he found a small rectangular grate near the ground from which foul smelling water flowed out onto the open ground. It didn't appear to be much, but surely he would be able to slip through the opening if he flattened himself against the ground. The only problem would be removing the grate itself without drawing unwanted attention to their little group. They had the advantage of secrecy right now, but that was something they could lose as easily as the steady flow of time that slipped through their fingers.

"Don't worry about that too much," said one of the soldiers, as two others slid past him and began applying a dark gray paste to the edges of the bars. "Falcoon anticipated this, so he had Mikaeru cook up a special treat."

Finished smothering the thick substance around the edges of the small entranceway, one of them lit the edges with a flint box and quickly backed away. Small trails of smoke floated up from the dark adhesive for several seconds before it abruptly exploded in a silent puff that managed to shatter the cement surrounding the bars without making too big of a sound. Yet, Edge was so tense that he found himself wincing at even the small noises that the broken rock made settling on the ground. He was not used to dealing with nervousness in the midst of a mission.It was simply something he had never had to address with before. But now the pressure of others depending on his success was beginning to weigh in heavily on his mind, and it wasn't a thought that he could simply file away for later consideration this time. Was this something that human beings had to deal with every time they faced a situation that had a chance of failure? Was this the way Yoshime had to think every time she made a conscious decision that might risk her own life? Or that of another?

"Okay, let's go," said Edge as he forced the words out of his mouth. He was afraid of failing these people who looked up to him, relying on his actions to achieve his goals. He was afraid of being unable to fulfill their expectations. But he could not let himself cave in before he actually reached his objective. Letting himself despair before he even tried was admitting a loss before he even took the chance to fight, and he refused to let himself do that. He was only a small part of this operation, but a part nonetheless. And just as he always had done before, he planned to make good on that part to protect his comrades. To protect his friends.

Holding his breath as he sank into the puddle of sludge that gathered around the hole, he quickly crawled through the opening on elbows and knees, springing up cautiously once he had made it to the other side. The ceiling was far lower than a normal building with design that more closely resembled a giant pipe than a room, and he quickly deduced that they had just entered the internal sewer structure of the stronghold. Most likely they would receive little resistance to their unauthorized entrance down here as there was very little to watch over. However, one guard might be all it took to give away their plans. He would have to tread carefully in order to make sure that he could keep their assault in silence for as long as possible.

As soon as his men had all entered the dark tunnel, he signaled for them to follow his lead with a quick wave of his hand, and cautiously began to move forward into the darkness. The grate had exposed enough light for them to keep from tripping over their own feet as they entered, but as he delved deeper into the maze of halls, he found himself blinded by the ever increasing darkness that swept over his vision. Soon, he moved simply by touch and sound alone, reaching back to keep a grip on the closest man and telling the others to do the same so that they would not lose themselves in the black pool. For he second he considered a torch, but immediately stamped the idea out of his head. These sewers must have access points in the upper decks of the castle. Creating a fire would only wave a red flag in the face of their enemy when they spotted the smoke that would come out of their drainage system. They did need speed for their mission, but they also needed patience. He was simply going to need to endure the lack of clear vision until they found a way out, even if it meant that their progress crawled at a much slower pace than he was comfortable with.

Turning blindly at a corner, Edge tried to correct himself as his foot made a loud splash in the water beneath his boot. The thought momentarily occurred that they might be running around in circles without proper sight to guide their progress, and he had to grit his teeth a little harder so he wouldn't panic. His anxiety finally started to ease when the tunnels gradually began to brighten, and it began to disappear completely when he realized that the light was coming from the ceiling, not the floor.

Rounding another corner, he halted in his tracks as he stared up at a grate in the ceiling about three feet from his head. The top of the tunnel was elevated around the iron slats, and Edge could smell the pungent odor of some sort of manure wafting about the air above them.

"Must be the stables," whispered the closest man to her ear. "This is probably a drain for trough and wash water. This might be a good place to move upwards, I doubt they'll be using any of the horses right now since they're on the defensive side. There might be a couple stable boys, but it's nothing we can't handle."

Edge nodded in agreement as his hands fingered a short sword slung at his waist that they had insisted he carry with him.

"Any idea on how to get this grate open without them noticing?" he asked. "Nobody was around last time, but there's no way for us to tell who's on the outside of this one."

"We have another trick for this one," grinned the mercenary, holding up a small leather pouch. "Just leave it to us, we'll make sure we go unnoticed."

Standing on each other's shoulders, two of the rebels quickly applied the same paste to the grid's perimeter, working quickly as they kept a close eye out for shadows from above. Once the job was finished, the mercenary bent down and scooped up some of the dark water that pooled on the ground, tilting his full palm over into the pouch and making sure that every last drop made it in. Covering his mouth and quickly moving beneath the grate, he hurriedly tossed the bag up between the bars and Edge heard it land on the other side with a dull thud against the ground.

"That'll emit an invisible gas that should knock anybody in a ten meter radius out for over an hour," he said. "If all's going well with Falcoon, then I doubt the people here will bother wasting their resources checking this part of the complex. After about three minutes, the gas should neutralize itself with the air around it and the air will be perfectly normal again. Once that's done, we can move out just as planned."

The young boy smiled with confidence. They had thought just about everything through so far. Even though he was leading these men into a mission that he himself feared failing, they were completely prepared for all the obstacles that they had been faced with. Had he been alone, he might not have been able to progress much further than the outside gates. It was comforting to realize that he did not have to fight his enemy alone. They were a team. If nothing else, he began to felt some pride in being able to command such a capable group of soldiers.

After a couple minutes, the rebels proceeded to light the grate and blow it out of its frame, careful to catch it as it fell to the ground so that the sound wouldn't disturb their foes. It took a little while for all of them to lift themselves out of the hole in the ground, the distance between the ceiling and their heads just enough out of reach so that they required the assistance of one another's shoulders in order to progress to higher ground. They all made it up fairly quickly though, and Edge took the lead as he tried to assess which way would take them to their destination. The stable appeared to be isolated from other parts of the castle, as he did not see anybody in close proximity and his ears did not detect the approach of any guards or servants. Still, it was outside in the main courtyard, and the sounds of battle could already be heard quite strongly.

"That's the way we need to go," he said quietly, peering around the corner of one of the barns, realizing that the front walls lay just opposite of their current position. The forehead of the castle stretched nearly one hundred meters on either side of the main gate, giant turrets on either end the only apparent entrance to the walkways above. On the walls themselves, archers rushed to the tops of the battlements with quivers of arrows in hands, many of them already aiming their artillery towards the rebels on the other side. In the center of the courtyard, other soldiers scurried like ants prepping ox-driven catapults and stones that must have weighted at least several tons to volley at their enemy beyond the wall. And as Edge's heart sank a couple inches in his chest, he realized that the archers were funneling themselves into towers at each corner of the front rampart, and it didn't appear that there was any bridge that connected the left side to the right. "Not good," he muttered to himself. "We're going to have to split our forces at one point or another to get to each side of the gate, and that cuts our chances by a lot."

"Those towers are probably the only way to get where we need to be," said the mercenary closest to his ear. He pointed to small cubic structures that rested near the tops of the main gate, tracing along the tops of the walls with an outstretched finger as he spoke. "Those are probably the rooms we need to get to, and we're going to have to brave the archers up top before we can even get that far. It isn't going to be an easy task, especially if they cut us down in the courtyard before we can even get to our goal. Any ideas on how to make this work?"

Edge scratched his head in disdain as his eyes watched the enemy rush about their work. It wasn't going to be long before they realized that Falcoon's premise of an assault was not genuine, so he was going to have to move quickly before they grew suspicious as to why the rebels were only poking them about instead of stabbing.

"If you can get to those rooms, can you hold them?" he asked quickly.

"I think so," said the rebel. "There's only one entrance and those tops look pretty narrow. That'll make an easy choke-point since they won't be able to fit too many soldiers up there at once. Of course, it will also make our assault to get up there a little harder as well."

Edge nodded grimly and continued to stare at the ramparts.

"If I can hold the courtyard, do you think there's a chance that you can get up there?" he added. "The archers may be out of my reach, but I can try to tackle them as well if I get my hands on a bow."

"Sir, with all due respect, you don't think---"

"Can you or can't?" said Edge curtly, this time staring the man hard in the face. The rebel must have been taken aback by such a young boy dictating the orders of his unit, but he nodded nonetheless with a sparkle of confidence in his eyes that affirmed his answer.

"I'd say yes," he said. "It looks like they only have shortbows up on top, and that'll give our longbows a distinct advantage. Since it's the top of the walls, we may even receive a little unexpected help from Falcoon if he realizes what we're doing. The courtyard is the main threat. They could easily pick us off from below if they wanted to. The top will be narrow and that will give us a small advantage as we press them for space in close range combat, but if we have to deal with attacks from multiple sides, we're done for."

"Good," said Edge, and he smiled. "Then I'm handing over command to you for now. Do any of you have a staff of some kind?" The rebel seemed confused, but a straight wooden stick about five feet in length was eventually passed from the backs of the ranks up to the young boy, and he hefted its even weight in his hands in approval.

"All you need to worry about now is getting the gates open," he said. "Don't worry about me. I'll make sure that the archers are the only ones you need to worry about."

"Are you serious?" said the mercenary incredulously. "There's at least a hundred men out there right now. You can't possibly be able to take them all on at once!"

But Edge wasn't listening, already moving out towards the center of the fray with the staff in hand. If it were a fight of numbers, then he surely would not have a chance. Taking on over a hundred men was asking for an early death, especially in his present human state. Yet, there was a bigger picture that he needed to focus on, and that was to make sure that those gates got open no matter the cost. If that didn't happen, then he might never get the chance to find his wife and child. Now was the time for him to risk it all just for the chance to get his life back. If he couldn't do that much, then maybe it wasn't worth fighting for in the first place.

"Get the gate open!" he said urgently as he leapt out to wards his prey, holding the piece of wood tightly in his hand like he would a sword. "I'll take care of the rest... I have to."

...

...

...

Adrenaline burned in Edge's blood as he brought the stave down on the back of the neck of the closest soldier he found, the man's back still turned as he tended to the reloading of a catapult. A man on the opposite side looked up from the crank of the machine in shock and fear just as the young boy reared back and crushed his windpipe with an acute stab from his weapon. Normally, he would not have thought a wooden stick to be a very effective weapon, but this one seemed to have been tempered especially for fighting purposes. It probably would not do a very good job if he applied it to a metal surface, but he doubted that he would encounter many problems if he stuck to exploiting the cracks in his opponent's armor. Even the sturdiest of shielding were designed to air out their host to some extent. Besides, he had already discovered earlier that the things that people called swords in this world were far too bulky and cumbersome for him to wield as an actual weapon. This was a much better alternative, allowing him to stick to the fighting style that he was accustomed to.

"Intruder!!!" shouted several guards throughout the complex, and troops suddenly began to converge on his position all around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the rebel company took advantage of the distraction and slid behind the backs of the guards as they dashed towards the towers, splitting up in two directions once they reached the front walls. Edge made sure not to let his eyes linger for too long on their progress, lest he tip his foe off to his true intentions. Still, it gave him hope that they could indeed come through on what seemed to be an impossible mission. As long as he could hold down his part of the bargain, those rebels still had a chance.

A battle axe whistled through the air and narrowly missed tearing off his shoulder as Edge sidestepped a troop and rammed his staff through his skull. Moving to the side, he managed to keep his back solidly against the artillery as he fended off his foe. He'd quickly be overcome if he had to deal with enemies on all sides at once, but making sure that there was an obstacle in the way of their intended attack gave him a little more room to work with. Not a lot of room, but a little was a lot better than none at all.

As his assailants began to realize his tactics, they began to attack from several directions at once to throw him off guard. The staff began to whirl faster and faster about Edge's fingers as he felt his body attune itself once again to the sword techniques that he was most familiar with. Keeping his body in constant movement, he used both his feet as well as his weapon to keep his foe at bay, and they seemed to quickly learn the consequences of moving too close without planning their offensive in advance. Time was also working against the young boy though, and the longer he stayed in action, the more winded he began to feel. His body did seem to hold pretty formidable endurance by human standards, but he began to discover that the fighting style that he had accustomed himself to as an android was quickly draining his body of energy as a human being. Glancing towards the ramparts, he noticed that the rebels had been able to make it to the top of the wall, but they seemed to be having a bit of trouble dealing with the archers. Luckily, the enemy wasn't receiving many reinforcements due to his own distraction, so it was going to be vital for him to live a little longer if he wanted to ensure victory. The only problem was that he was going to need to change his strategy in order to pull through on that task.

The hairs on his neck suddenly pricked up as he sensed someone approaching from behind, and he looked up just in time to dodge a rabid sword slice by a soldier who had managed to climb up on top of the catapult to attack him from above. Frantically rolling to the side to avoid a further surprise assault, he lashed out with a wide roundhouse kick that snapped into the heads of several unlucky attackers as he moved closer to the winch. Snatching up an abandoned blade from the ground, he cleanly sliced through the ropes holding the massive arm down, and the grunt suddenly found himself airborne as the machine launched him cleanly over the gate to the mercy of the ground on the other side of the wall. The move was probably a little more excessive than he needed to be, but it seemed to be impressive enough to temporary shock the rest of the troops back a little. Anything that could buy him time. And yet, even he himself could grow careless when he failed to pay attention to his surroundings.

By the time he noticed the spear that a hulking man covered in plate steel was driving towards his head, he already knew that there was no way that he was going to be able to dodge it in time. He feebly held up his hand in front of his face in an instinctive reaction that he knew would not keep the pointed blade from gutting out his brains. And even as he felt fear grip his heart at the sudden thought of death, he kept his eyes open, wondering what might have happened to him if he succeeded, watching as a brilliant blue light filled his vision with a bounty and mercy.

The spear never touched him though, and the thug had abruptly ceased his mad charge as an invisible force flung him across the yard and smashed him into the stone wall, his limp body falling to the ground even as others stared in disbelief at the crater he left in the hard stone. Edge suddenly realized that just as many were staring at him, looking at that open palm that had blazed with the energy of the heavens as it smote down the guardians of hell.

"Is this the guy?" said one of Shin's men apprehensively, slowly backing away as he shook in his armor. "They said that he could use the same power as the generals, but I didn't think that it was actually possible..."

Edge's confusion slowly changed to confidence as his mind raced on the edges of hope. He was not quite sure how he had been able to summon the energy he had wielded in his battle against Kannuki the first time around, and he had gone into battle anticipating that he may not be able to depend on it to assist him now. But its powerful force was already running through his body as he began to catch a second wind, and as he watched his foes reel back in terror, he realized that possession of the power alone gave him an intimidation factor that overwhelmed the normal human being. The only thing left for him to do was take advantage of it.

Summoning up a light wave of force before him, he drove a fierce blow into the abdomens of several of the soldiers standing before him, thrusting forward with his right palm as he wheeled his body back for a second strike. A few of the men seemed unfazed by his abrupt transformation and proceeded in charging at him from several directions with lances and battleaxes, but their numbers and speed were reduced to a crawl as Edge deftly wove his body around the sharp thrust of one attack and smashed the owner's face in with a powerful elbow to his nose, immediately ducking low to evade a wild swing by a second assailant and bringing his heel crashing into the unfortunate man's jaw. By the time the young boy had recovered from the first surge of aggressors, the others appeared to be a lot more careful about how they chose to poke at him, some even backing off completely as they fled to the deeper regions of the castle's interior.

A loud shout caught his attention unexpectedly as his head whipped towards the walls to find his comrades in distress. The team on the left side of the gate seemed to have made it successfully to their destination and managed to keep the enemy at back from the safety of the doorway. However, the team on the right side faced certain danger as they held the battlement's archers at a stalemate atop the stone monument. They didn't appear to be in too dire of a situation, but two men were already hounding them from behind, and if Shin's forces solidified their pincer then the team would surely go down.

Edge didn't think much as he aimed his open hand towards the archers, letting the energy well up inside him as he prepared to release it all in a single powerful blow. He knew very little about his abilities at the time, but if they were as similar to Kannuki's as these soldiers feared, then perhaps he could project it in as a long-distance missile like the general had in their earlier battle. He had no actual knowledge of how this might be accomplished and the furthest he had been able to pitch his power thus far had only been a couple feet, but perhaps if he simply directed all of his efforts at the target he was aiming at and released it all in a single burst, maybe it would get the desired effect...

Edge nearly fell down when a blazing blue fireball the size of his head burst free from his palms and collided in a smoldering explosion with the group of enemy archers atop the barrier, toppling them over the side with the force of the blast. Luckily, the rebels immediately took advantage of the opening and sprinted across the ramparts as soon as they saw that the way was clear. The young boy was about to sigh with relief as he watched the last man run through the stone doorway at the top of the gates, but a sharp pain shot up his left arm and harshly reminded him of where he was standing. Looking down, he grit his teeth in pain as he saw that an arrow had embedded its iron head in the flesh of his forearm, blood freely trickling from the wound and nourishing the parched ground beneath his feet. His hand felt numb when he tried to move his fingers, and he slowly began to realize that the carelessness of that single moment was going to have a far more severe consequence on his fighting abilities than he had ever anticipated. Yet, he didn't have time to apply medical attention to the wound in this environment, and he quickly bounded to the side as a new salvo of arrows flew in his direction. The previously trembling soldiers appeared a little more confident now, especially with a newly arrived squad of archers covering their assault from the rear. With the rebels now in a position to open the gate, it wouldn't be much longer until Falcoon's forces would be able to break through. He just had to make sure that he lived long enough to see that happen.

He winced as another arrow snapped at his ear and drew blood, narrowly missing his head by mere centimeters. His arm was feeling worse by the second, and he quickly determined that it was no longer going to be of much help to him in battle. Tucking it in near his stomach, he sprinted forward towards the archers before they could nock another volley and knocked them down with a wide blast of force that swept up their legs and toppled them on their backs. An acute kick to the head of the closest enemy easily knocked the consciousness from his body, and Edge immediately whirled about to deal with the others ready for the worst. As long as the archers continued to stand, he would have to pay twice as much attention to simultaneously fight off his opponents at close range while making sure to avoid the missiles that were hurtled at him in the distance. Taking out one of those groups would make his job a lot easier, but he was losing energy fast and there was no telling how long it would be before he himself fell under exhaustion.

Using his free arm, he hurtled his staff at a soldier like a javelin, spearing him in the head and sending him crashing to the ground. There was no way that Edge was going to be able to use the weapon with only one hand, so he might as well put it to some use before he got rid of it. A solid straight kick to the gut doubled over another approaching attacker, and an elbow to the back of his head brought him tumbling towards the ground. His strength ebbing away at an alarmingly increasing rate, Edge began to find it difficult just to move as he desperately fended off his enemy. Fatigue was finally catching up with him to the extent where he wasn't even sure if he could summon up his energy powers anymore if he wanted to. The battle would have to be resolved quickly if he wanted to stay alive, but with a seemingly endless stream of opponents coming at him from all sides, it seemed doubtful that that was really an option.

Pain ran up his free arm as one of the soldiers used his spear like a bat to swat at him from a distance, the strong wood cracking hard against the young boy's body. He lurched back in surprise from the blow, and before he knew what had happened, another man ran in and tackled him to the ground, pulling his legs out from under his upper torso as he held him firmly in place. Edge tried to struggle free, but his body refused to listen and placidly let the troops hold him down as several others grinned with glee and brought their swords high above their heads to cut down their prey. He had fought for as long and hard as he could have, but it had not been enough to save himself in the end. He felt weak as he watched himself helplessly lie in wait for the inevitable death that would surely befall him, despairing that he could do nothing to save himself from peril. And yet, it did not seem to be such a foreign emotion, and Edge realized that it was just the same thing- the same helplessness- he had felt back when he feared the type of person he really was and why he might unintentionally do to those he cared for. The only difference now was that he could not break free, and no matter how strong his mind may be, the weakness of his body would not be cured before he died. No. This was a different type of weakness entirely. And Edge wondered if he was truly qualified enough to fight for anybody, much less himself...

A strong wind blew above him as the soldiers brought down their blades, but it was not from the actual swords themselves. Instead, Edge watched in confusion as several of his attackers cried out in surprise and were flung against the walls of the compound by an invisible force, their weapons falling from once tight grips as they were knocked unconscious by the blow. Shouts rang out all around him now, and the men holding him down suddenly burst up from the ground with looks of panic painted across their faces and ran towards the safety of the main building. And as Edge slowly and painfully lifted himself from the dust, he watched as hundreds of shadows blocked out the morning sun all around him, the rebel forces charging through the gates to claim the castle as their own.

"We were worried about you," came a voice, and Edge looked up to find Mikaeru bending over him with a smile, the air about her arms still swirling a bit from the spell she had used to punish his assailants. "I knew we gave you a tough job, but once we saw all of the others charging the top walls and you nowhere in sight, we began to fear for the worst." Edge winced in surprise and agony as she yanked free the arrow from his arm, barely noticing that she had knelt beside him to remove it in the first place. A quick bandage held the flow of blood quite tightly though, and he began to relax a little as the initially poignant suffering subsided into something more bearable. "That was a risky stunt you pulled there. Brave, but risky."

"I didn't see any other way to do it," said Edge through his teeth, still flinching from the contact of the cloth against his raw skin. "We were at a bad vantage point and there were far too many soldiers for us to face head on. I needed to shave those numbers off to act as a distraction and kill the pressure. The others did more than enough of their share to claim the territory without my help."

Mikaeru just smiled though, and as the gingerly lifted herself to her feet amidst the revolution, she offered his hand out to pull her companion up as well.

"You did good, Shizuru. Let's go finish the job."

...

...

...

Edge and Mikaeru delved deep into the bowels of the stronghold as the rest of the rebel forces flushed out the last of the enemy resistance. Edge had managed to knock out an astonishing amount of Shin's existing forces, and once Falcoon broke through the gates the remaining numbers either succumbed to the overwhelming odds or fled to protect their own lives. There was no question now as to who had won the battle, but there was still a chance that small numbers of the foe might remain within the complex, and they had to be flushed out before the rebels could rest for the night.

"News of this will spread quickly," said Mikaeru. "It has been a long time since anyone has been able to successfully defy Shin's armies. People have shunned themselves away out of fear alone, almost to the point where his enforcement of rule wasn't even required at all. But now that we have our foot in the door, the possibilities from here on are endless. Scouts are already moving back the way we came, spreading word to every village they pass. Nobody ever wanted to live in fear, and if they know that there's a chance, they will take it. They just needed somebody to follow before they could show their own courage."

"You really think others will come so eagerly?" asked Edge, doubt hinting the edge of his voice. "Are they willing to risk their lives for all of this?"

But the windrider just smiled as they walked, tracing her finger along the stone wall.

"I know you joined us only recently. Perhaps the spread of Shin's tyranny only reached your part of the world weeks ago. But he has been here for over ten years now. The first year was the most violent, when people were still used to their freedom and fought as hard as they could to resist suppression. But once the leaders were put down and executed, the others fell back. They only wanted to keep their lives and hoped that a peaceful existence under Shin's reign would be better than that of war, but things only grew worse every year. By the time they realized that conditions could not improve without change, it was too late. Nobody wanted to risk leading a new revolution against the empire. Nobody wanted to die as a shadow of the heroes who had faced him before. But it never meant that they forgot though, and they will rise up again now that we can show them that Shin is not invincible."

But would it be enough? Edge nodded to his companion's words as he turned to walk down a spiral of stairs deep into the castle's belly, but he wondered just how much of a difference it would make. If nobody came at all, what then? One castle and a couple hundred men were not enough to topple an empire, and Shin could easily overwhelm them with what might be thousands upon thousands of hordes if he did so wish. They had indeed gained a victory that day, but would it be the turning point in the war that Mikaeru made it out to be? There was no way that he could know for sure. He was still a foreigner in this strange land. Yet, he would have to trust her for now, trust that what they did today would bring him one step closer to Mu-Lan and Sanjuroh. It was all he could do.

His head abruptly jerked up as he heard a shouting in the distance. At first, he thought it might have just been the rebels outside, many of them having been caught up in celebration at their conquer. Yet, when he listened more closely, he heard that the voice was in distress, as if the owner was in danger. Furthermore, the sound reverberated from the basement down below, not from the rooms high above.

"Let's go!" said the young boy urgently, and Mikaeru nodded as they quickened their pace into a quick jog down the flights of stairs, careful not to trip over themselves in the process. As they narrowed in on the source, the voice began to grow higher and higher, and slowly Edge came to the realization that it was a child that was screaming, not an adult. But he also noticed something else, something that pricked the hairs on the back of his neck and nearly stopped his motions cold. The tone, the manner of the voice... it was not unfamiliar to him. He had heard it before, and it was someone close to him.

"They couldn't..." he whispered to himself, too soft for his friend to hear him. "They... they can't..." Mikaeru shouted something to him, and he suddenly realized that he had begun to sprint down the stairway at full speed, but he didn't care at all. He had to get down there, he had to get there before something happened to that child. It grew louder now, and he could hear that it was a young boy and not a girl who was in peril. With every step closer, he grew more sure of who it was he running towards. And with every step closer, his heart throbbed all the more painfully in his chest, despair fluttering in his throat as he fought to keep down its murderous black darkness.

He threw open the door in the bottom basement without ceremony, crashing so hard into the thick wooden surface that he nearly broke off its hinges as it smashed against the back wall. It was a fairly small chamber, about as big as the tavern's lobby that he had escaped from a while back with a single lantern dimly lighting the room from the ceiling. And in the center of it all stood a tall cross, his son tied by the hands and feet to its breast.

"Sanjuroh!!!" shouted Edge, starting to make his way towards the boy, but he never made it there. The shadows started to shift as soon as he put one foot forward, and he watched in horror as they gathered near his son in a lump of soot and death. The congealed blob gradually grew taller and more defined, the bottom stretching out into boots as the living silhouette began to flesh itself out. And as the tips widened into a flowing trenchcoat that rolled down the figure's back, Shinnuki tossed his head back in a cascade of silver hair as he rose to his full height before the warrior, victory plainly painted across his smiling face.

"I never thought you would live this long," said the general with a sadistic grin. "Maybe I should have killed you when I had the chance, hm?" Anger flashed violently across Edge's mind as he began towards the man with tightly clenched fists, but drew back when his opponent swiftly drew a large knife up near Sanjuroh's throat, the boy choking back a stifled cry as tears poured down his cheeks. "Don't be so hasty. That's the problem with rebel-types. You always like to leap before you look."

"Shizuru! What's the problem?!" huffed Mikaeru as she finally made it to the bottom of the stairwell, but Edge simply held his hand up, signaling for her to stay back as he kept his eyes on his prey.

"Leave him alone," said Edge as calmly as he could. "He doesn't mean anything to you. You aren't going to gain anything by killing him."

But Shinnuki only raised a questioning eyebrow, teasing Edge as he brought the knife a little closer to his son's throat.

"And the sad thing is that you really do believe what you're saying," he mused. "But it's not really true, is it? To you, a father, my holding this kid's life in my hands means everything to you. You'd do anything to save him, wouldn't you?"

"Please," said Edge as gently as he could, nearly choking on the words as he realized that what the man said was true. "Just... don't hurt him. He's just a child, damnit! If you want to kill somebody, kill me instead!"

"How far are you willing to go to save him?" mocked the general, humming as his foot tapped on the ground. "Would you kill to save him? Turn on these rebels who you just allied yourself with? Maybe you would even go so far as to assassinate their leader, Falcoon, and solve our problem in one fell swoop! What do you think? What does the rebel's sparkling new hero think about the possibilities he has for the future?"

And he could not bring himself to answer the man's questions, watching helplessly as Sanjuroh's eyes welled up with tears before him, watching as he could do nothing to help his only son.

"Don't listen to him, Shizuru," said Mikaeru carefully. "He's goading you on. Don't give in to his suggestions---"

"The fact is this, Shi-zu-ru," interrupted Shinnuki, etching out his enemy's name in three sharp syllables. "You are strong, and regardless of who you align yourself with, we still have ways to use that strength for ourselves. Why should I mark your son innocent just because he's a child? Or because he's your child? There is no universally moral code that I must abide by. Your perception is what you have created for yourself. Nothing is sacred in the real world, and what you may see as 'cruel' is just tactical warfare to me. Now, what will you do, my friend? What will you do?"

Edge trembled as he weakly fell to his knees, listening to his child's quivering voice, unable to control himself as his fists grew white and drew blood from the sheer pressure they exerted in upon his palms. How could he possibly choose between his own son and the lives of hundreds? If he betrayed the rebels, he might as well have betrayed the entire nation, the thousands upon thousands of people who lived beneath a reign of terror every single day of their lives. How could he make that choice? He was only a single man, somebody who wished for violence neither upon others nor upon himself. He simply wanted to live in peace, to never have to worry about fighting and killing ever again. But did such a world really exist? Did such a dream ever even have a chance at becoming reality? Or would violence always exist no matter what world he lived in? And if that violence did not befall himself, did it just mean that it would have to befall another? Did his own contentment sacrifice that of someone else? Was there an end to this horrible cycle of death...?

"And yet, today is not your day to choose," stated Shinnuki suddenly, and the look in his eyes suddenly bordered on insanity. "... for I have my orders, and they do not care about what you may think."

The tip of the knife plunged into the soft flesh of Sanjuroh's throat, and blood sputtered out of the twisted wound like a geyser as the boy struggled for breath. Edge sat on the ground stunned as he watched the murder occur before his very eyes, and it only took him a second before he leapt to his feet and dashed to his son's aid.

"Sanjuroh!!!" he cried out, gingerly pulling the blade free from the child's jugular and stroking his face gently as he tried to calm the boy's frightened eyes. "Oh please, don't die, don't die!!!" But there was nothing he could do. Even he knew that such a vicious thrust would be fatal, and even the best of medical treatment might not be able to save him. Still, he wished and hoped that a miracle would occur, that he could will his son to live long enough for them to be able to call a medic to their aid. He wished, and he cursed because he knew that it would not make enough of a difference in the end. Sanjuroh died because he himself could not protect him, because the father of this innocent child could not even do enough to save his own son's life. For that, he was ashamed. For that, tears of despair began to plunge down his face, his heart crying out desperately for something to save the one he loved.

And as the boy placed his gaze upon his father one last time, it grew calm and peaceful. Even as he grew soaked in his own life fluids, he smiled weakly towards the figure who had raised him, and the sparkle left his eyes in serenity as he knew that he had not been abandoned in the end. Slowly, Sanjuroh's body grew limp and slumped over, and slowly Edge forced himself to realize that he had not been able to save him in the end.

"This is war, Shizuru!!!" laughed Shinnuki cruelly, his body already melting back into the shadows and fleeing the harsh light of the lantern above. "There are consequences to opposing us, and you will learn them before this is over whether you like it or not. Nothing in this world is as sacred as you believe it is, and I will make you wish you never got involved in our affairs the next time we meet!"

"You heartless bastard!" shouted Mikaeru, and a fierce wind shot out of her outstretched palm as she aimed towards the wall where the general had disappeared. However, the invisible blast met only stone as it crashed into the granite substance, Shinnuki having already fled the scene through the tall shadows. The windrider cursed in vain at the escape of her opponent, and quickly rushed over towards Edge as she tried her best to console him.

"Shizuru," she said gently. "Shizuru, I'm sorry... I... a parent should never have to see their own child die."

But Edge simply could not answer, slumped on his knees at the bottom of the cross as his arms groped up at the bottom of his son's legs in futility. For just that moment, he wished that he could turn back into the gravity-wielding android on Akuji, the government prototype who had escaped the clutched of his masters. He wished he could go back to being Clef's student, to being the tool of angels in some great plot that he knew nothing about. He wished he could go back to his friends, to Double, Kouryuu, Asimov, Zero, and Terpfen. He wished he could go back to that time, to being a robot. With or without the corazon chip. But anything was better than this, and as the tears poured freely down his cheeks and his face crumpled in a mask of sadness, he wished so desperately that he did not have to know this horrible feeling of human grief...

...

When I first met... Yoshime...

when she found her only friends murdered by the police...

this feeling...

was this what she felt...?

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End "Face the Change"