Chapter Six: The hero humanity doesn't deserve, but needs

Do you know when you are dreaming and you feel yourself plummeting into the void? The labored breathing, your body twitching with spasms, and blurred vision? I don't remember much of what happened next, but of one thing I was definitely certain: I had lost my mind and fainted.

The voices to my ears came muffled, and no matter how hard I tried to open my eyes again, my vision was unable to focus on who was in front of me: How much time had passed? Had other soldiers died? Where was I standing?

I managed to ask myself questions, but to no avail; I could not give myself answers on my own.

I slowly opened my eyes and blinked slowly, when a cold chill made my hair stand up from the roots. My head gurgled and so did my throat, feeling the necessary need to drink water. I heard a voice utter, "She's waking up!" and the presence of other people waiting for movement on my part to confirm the hypothesis.

The only thing I thought, in that bad condition, was that I did not want to wake up anymore. I had become a coward who trembled in the face of death and escaped it as if fate had been on her side. Was it right to think such a thing? Wishing for death, even knowing who had lost his life, he wished to go on living to try to regain his freedom. Sometimes fate was so cruel.

Suddenly I felt touched as if I had been a precious object, the rarest and the most beautiful. I gave vigor to my will to focus on those hands, thin and soft, not at all calloused and intrusive. My eyes rested on those dull blue straws that I knew so well, admiring them in every way possible.

I had never missed someone so much as at that very moment, even though I should have hated him with all my strength, with all my heart, yet my eyes tingled as I saw his face upon first waking.

"R-Rivaille." I whispered in a stunted voice, catching sight of his daily frown rising in a smile of pain, feeble and full of regret.

I had ensured his survival, but my comrades had paid with their lives for their role.

"... You're here." He muttered under his breath, resting two fingers in the hollow of my cheeks, turning my face left and right, trying to control my emotional state more than my physical one. Pulling my nose up, I did not respond to his words, lacking the strength to do so.

"Where are we?" I had the courage to ask, putting my arm over my eyes so as to cover them.

"We are outside the base, but the mission has failed and Chris has ordered us to abandon the mission and return. For now, the soldiers are busy recovering the bodies of the fallen to take them to their families." He explained, and I voluntarily caught my lower lip between my teeth.

I shifted my arm a little and let my gaze fall on the profile of his nose: thin and upturned.

His air was somber, quite different from the mask he often wore to frighten novices into submitting to his pleasures. But I knew, deep in my heart, the traumatic events he had faced that had made him what he was.

The Rivaille of today was totally different from the one he had met by pure chance long before. Sometimes, skinny as he was, he cried like a baby in his sleep. I often found myself not waking him up and asking him the next morning what he had been dreaming about, but rather holding him to me, to lull him from whatever distress his mind was giving him at that moment. Who knows if it was still happening to him and maybe, to ease the suffering, he would pass into someone else's arms to fill it.

I put my hand on his leg, and at that gesture he abruptly turned his head toward me. His gaze landed first on my hand and then in my eyes. "My companions..." I saw him catch his breath and look away, distracted, get up from the ground and wipe his white uniform pants. "Rivaille!" I called to him in the highest tone I could find, abruptly rising to my feet. At that impact, I felt a twinge in my right side that made me groan in pain. I rested my hand on the painful part, noticing only at that precise moment that I was wearing one of the uniform cloaks to cover myself.

"You are wounded. You have a big bruise on your side." He voiced my thoughts and frowned. I rested a hand on the grass and gave myself the push I needed to infuse my shabby legs with strength.

As soon as I was on my feet, I looked around and noticed the soldiers who were loading the bodies of the fallen into wagons wrapped in white tarps.

"Rivaille..." I repeated. "Alois, Alexandra, Isak..." I muttered, forgetting the sentence. I felt tears at the edges of my eyes and quickly chased them away with the palm of my hand, bewildered.

"We recovered them, too." He said, looking at me for a long time. "... My team also fell." I widened my eyes slightly, bringing them to his. Rivaille stared at a fixed point in front of him. "Every person, the same one," he raised his index finger, "who has anything to do with me in any way ... dies." He added in an angry tone.

My legs trembled and a single tear furrowed my cheek, proving treacherous.

"When I saw you faint, I thought you had abandoned me too, Kesey." He cracked his voice, making me wince. "I didn't make it this time. I lost Fan, Cassie, Peter, Thomas," he brought his hands to his face and passed them nervously, "...Ed." I took a step forward, but Rivaille instinctively stepped back.

"Rivaille." I barely whispered.

"I didn't leave you because I didn't love you anymore, Kesey..." Without meaning to, I opened my lips as his eyes pierced my insides. "I want you to keep that in mind." I remained petrified in place, not moving, as Rivaille's warm breath beat forcefully on my face, to the point that I felt my lips tremble at that contact. Instinctively, I bit my inner cheek and he pulled away.

I looked at his back covered by the beige jacket and white pants that generously wrapped his sturdy legs.

He was wearing a cape this morning. I sank my nose into the collar of the cape I was wearing and a manly scent intoxicated my nostrils.

Rivaille insisted on tying my horse to his, forcing me into the wagon where Edward and Edmund were. Edward was still unconscious, while Edmund was wide-eyed and pointing distractedly at the sky. I sat uncomfortably on one of the wooden boards, twiddling my thumbs. They had filled the wagon with the bodies of the fallen, the ones they had managed to find to transport them inside District 16. In those sheets, blood and soil had stained them.

Only the ghost of myself knew how selfish I had been.

I ran a hand through my hair and ruffled it nervously. I thought back to Alexandra's words, Alois's look, and Isak's smile. I would never forgive myself: I hated myself more than I had ever imagined. I had gotten away with a "harmless bruise" on my right side on which I instinctively rested my hand, clutching the fabric of the bandage between my fingers.

Suddenly, my distracted gaze stopped on the horizon, and I felt the ground tremble beneath my feet. Two behemoths were coming in our direction, chasing a soldier on horseback who was clutching the body of another soldier tightly to him. I widened my eyes and leapt to my feet, watching the wagon that was to carry the bodies.

Rivaille was on horseback and running alongside the wagon, casting a furtive glance at the giants behind him who were quickening their pace.

"Rivaille!" I called him at the top of my lungs, immediately attracting his attention.

"Not now, Kesey. They're getting closer!" He answered me and added, "We can't attack them. We have lost too many men and a counterattack means further losses..."

"That must be your friend's idiot?" he turned to the two soldiers in charge of the wounded man's wagon, who looked at him wordlessly and amazed by his sharp gaze, "Damn it! I ordered him not to go back!"

"If we don't do something, he will die." I intervened. "I will take care of it!" And without waiting for any response, I prepared the harness of the two-dimensional device.

"Are you crazy?!" He exclaimed, blocking me. "What don't you understand about: 'there will be more leaks'?! You can't risk it, stupid! Me, I can't risk it!"

"If I had not hesitated from the beginning with my comrades," my heart quivered, "they would still be alive!" I shouted. "You... you, you cannot allow that soldier to die for retrieving his brother's body to return it to his family!" I replied, bewildered.

Rivaille, faced with my anguish with relative chapeaux, turned his gaze away from mine and returned it to the two soldiers in the wagon. Dull blue eyes passed over the bodies of the fallen and then over the giants. "You two, throw the bodies we have recovered off the wagon. We will lighten the run of those two giants." He ordered, making me pale.

"What?!" I exclaimed stupefied and at the same time furious.

"It's the only way" He replied dryly. "We cannot save the dead Kesey, but we can try to save the living..."

I leaned my torso forward and rested my hands on the wooden plank so that I could look at him more insistently, despite the fact that the passage of both wagons was going at a speed of 80 km/h and Rivaille, with his horse, as much.

"There are my comrades in those sheets! Your comrades! How can you throw away their bodies to relieve the rush of those two giants?" I made a nervous gesture, "Don't you dare throw away their bodies!"

"It's us or them." He interrupted my monologue of insults and expletives, surprising me. "I'm sorry, Kesey!" And he sounded genuinely sorry: "You two, drop the bodies until they dissolve. Carry out your superior's orders!"

"Rivaille!" I shouted.

"But the General..." He hesitantly sought out one of the two soldiers, receiving a glare.

"Do it. Now!" He ignored both me and the soldier, and the latter nodded sourly, unable to disobey the order.

My eyes widened as they executed Rivaille's authority instead of mine and threw the first body, which fell violently to the surface of the ground. My breath stopped in my chest as I saw the body swept by the giants' large paws and then crushed.

"Rivaille! Please!" I shouted, unable to look away from that event.

Two, three, four, more bodies were falling, and each was being crushed or kicked violently by the behemoths. The ground presented itself with a thick streak of blood, causing the eating of the previous days to rise up in my throat. A moment later, the lifeless body that had been thrown from the wagon, Cassie's bloodied face, appeared out of the sheet. I noticed Rivaille's eyes filled with melancholy and anger, but she masked everything so well in that impassive, emotionless gaze.

I put my hands over my mouth and hot, bitter tears ran down my cheeks. I collapsed onto my knees and closed my face between my palms, unable to look anymore. I felt pain. I felt a strong fatigue that I could not master. It had been my fault. All my own fault. How could I live peacefully without blaming myself for the rest of my days?

"Please forgive me, guys. "...Forgive me." I murmured through tears. "Forgive me!" I shouted in a loud outburst.

I felt the eyes of Rivaille and the two soldiers who had managed to rescue the soldier on horseback, carrying him to the wagon, but without the body of his comrade who had slipped in the heat of the chase. I wept. I screamed. I punched the surface of the wagon beneath my feet, cracking my knuckles. I only wished to disappear.

"Please t-tell my father that I fought as he taught me, giving my best to become what I have become. Also tell her that I love him and that it is not his fault. I chose to become a soldier to work alongside him," she coughed. I lifted her head. "She... She has been like a sister to me, General Schwarz."

I sobbed, bringing my hands to my temples, as if to interrupt those thoughts.

Isak's gray eyes, veiled with tears, stared at me one last time with a sincere smile, curving his pouty lips.

"No..."

Alois's magnetic eyes were dull, dead, like everything about him.

He covered my mouth with his hand and I felt the food from the day before rise in my throat. I sagged forward with my head out of the wagon, throwing up my soul as well. I continued to cry, feeling my head burst.

"Kesey!" I heard before I closed my eyes and sank into darkness.

The jolting of the wagon wheels, which ended up in a deep ditch, made my eyelids suddenly open wide and I immediately sat up agitated. I looked around and rested my palm on my forehead, feeling my head throbbing.

I reflected on where we were, and when I realized we were at the entrance to District 16, I let out a big sigh. I looked at Edmund beside me who was sound asleep and Edward who had not yet opened his eyes. I looked at both of their wounds and a lump of saliva clutched my throat. I barely touched them with my fingers, for fear of hurting them and waking them up. I didn't have the courage to face their distressed expressions.

The gate of District 16 opened wide, and the horses pulling the war wagons and those on which the deceased soldiers stood tiptoed into the base. I chose to go on foot, because I no longer wanted to be treated as a wounded man. With a small jump I got off the wagon and landed with my feet on the ground, proceeding slowly beside it.

I touched the bruise on my side and sighed.

I tightened my shoulders and turned my gaze to my feet, which moved independently. Citizens from all over the District positioned themselves on the sides of the road and watched us in silence. However, some were muttering among themselves, and my ears continued to be muffled by the voices of my comrades so that I could not understand what they were saying.

I looked up slightly and saw the back of Rivaille's head sticking out behind the wagon, flanked by a man addressing him with a smile on his lips. I could not hear their conversation, but, seeing Rivaille's bowed head, it was definitely someone

he knew.

I looked away. Both of us had lost our companions. I could understand the latter's difficulty and anguish.

"General Schwarz?" I froze and turned my head slightly, wedging my chin between my shoulder and the crook of my neck, when I saw a man running toward me. I arched an eyebrow and squinted.

"Yes...?"

"Oh, are you really General Schwarz? So I wasn't mistaken seeing you from there...," he pointed to where he had seen me from. I returned my gaze to him. "It is indeed an honor to meet you. My daughter Alexandra has told me a lot about you and said that you have been given the role of personal advisor lately." My irises widened at that revelation. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was rude of me!" he bowed his head in a sign of respect, "I'm Joe Petrovich: I have a store in the center of the base, for fruits and vegetables," he raised his head and scratched his temple.

"If someday you want to eat some quality fruit, you are welcome," he said, chuckling, as my face darkened. Joe looked around, "I was looking for my daughter. She sent me a letter this morning saying she was leaving today on a very important expedition," the man's eyes screamed hope, "Do you happen to know where she went? I didn't see her at the door. I'd like to say hello to her!"

My gaze weakened and I stood staring at a fixed point in front of me, not saying a word. My hands began to shake, as did my body. It was a bad twist of fate.

Joe Petrovich, a man with a full three-day beard and hard worker, continued to look at me with bright, trusting eyes, waiting for me to reveal to him where his daughter actually was. I swallowed the lump in my throat and started walking slowly again, not finding the words or the courage to reveal to him what had happened to his only daughter.

But the man seemed to be more persistent than my old comrade and grabbed my wrist firmly, curbing my pace.

"General all right?" He exclaimed, making my nervousness go away. "She's pale. Maybe she needs - -"

"She's... dead!" I hissed through clenched teeth, clenching my hands into two closed fists, sinking my fingernails inside my palms. The grip around my wrist loosened, and I slowly lifted my head, casting my red, swollen, weeping eyes into the man's grief-stricken, aching ones. "She died during the mission to... to save us." I whispered in a cracked voice, lifting my nose up. Joe staggered backward.

"W-what?" He stammered on the verge of bursting into tears.

I quickly chased away a tear. "It was an unplanned attack," I replied bitterly, "I'm s-sorry... Mr. Petrovich." I would have told him everything, if only he had asked.

The man squinted his eyes, much more than he had already done, and slumped with his knees to the ground, where I rushed to rescue him. He, however, grabbed both my wrists and I held my breath, sensing the fiery eyes of the people watching the scene in silence on me. "Mr. Petrovich....." He did not answer me and lowered his head, from whose throat escaped a choked sob from his thin, chapped lips.

"My baby..." he muttered to himself. "My sweet baby." He reiterated, making my heart flutter. Mr. Petrovich looked up veiled in tears and suddenly did something that left me stunned: he let go of my wrists and squeezed my legs. His groans were loud, so loud that the footsteps of the soldiers and superiors, Chris and Rivaille, stopped being heard. I no longer cared about the role, or who the man was, or even who I was.

He had lost his daughter and was crying in front of me clinging to my feet.

I laid my hands on his shoulders and knelt down; to hell with everything that had been imposed on us in the hierarchy of the oath. The man continued to whine aloud, and I bit my lip violently and then said loudly, "Forgive me. I failed to protect your daughter, sir." I moved my hands away from her shoulders and sank my fingers into the ground, arching my torso forward. "Forgive my selfishness, my stupid fear and not being a good team leader. Please..." I squinted my eyes and breathed deeply. "...I will deserve all your resentment and contempt, sir." I drowned my fingers in the dirt, soiling it.

Soiling myself.

Guilt involved every single cell in my body. I looked at my hands stained with the blood of my comrades and shook them fiercely in the dirt. But Joe Petrovich surrounded my shoulders with his arms, hugging me, and I gasped with wide eyes.

"Mr. P-Petrovich....," I whispered wordlessly.

"Please..." And for the first time in a long time I felt my heart beating in a different rhythm from the steady one.

"Don't do that anymore. Don't kneel anymore..." he said. "...General."